“Herman, Caius, get over here,” his superior bellowed. “You’re needed on the barricades!”
Herman took one last look at the girls, then did as he was told. They’d just have to fend for themselves.
“Andrew,” Penelope said. “Is this normal – or have I just forgotten how to read German?”
Andrew turned to look at her. She’d unfolded her leaflet and was reading it, carefully. Her German was perfect – German was the second global language, after all – and Andrew would have been surprised if she’d had any trouble reading it, yet she sounded as if she didn’t quite believe what she was reading. He took the leaflet when she offered it to him and stared in disbelief as he read the words.
“No, it’s not normal,” he said. The British had had some links with the German underground, he’d heard through the grapevine, but the underground had largely gone dormant since the end of the war. He’d always assumed that its members had made their peace with the regime or had been quietly purged. “It isn’t remotely normal.”
He swore under his breath as he heard shouting ahead of him. A line of policemen had appeared out of nowhere and were hastily setting up metal barricades, trapping the two Americans – and hundreds of Germans – within Victory Square. He looked behind him and saw a number of young girls, wearing the same strikingly ugly uniforms he’d seen on the girl who’d given them the leaflets, being herded into the centre of the square. There would be no point in trying to go back, he was sure. The Berlin Police would have sealed off all the exits by now. If the girl they’d seen was trapped within the square, she was dead.
“I can hide the leaflet in my pants,” Penelope said. “I…”
“They may check,” Andrew said. He had to smile. He hadn’t expected Penelope to suggest hiding the leaflet anywhere intimate, although it was pointless. “And if they find a hidden leaflet, they will try to make life uncomfortable for us.”
Penelope blinked. “They can’t do that, can they?”
Andrew frowned. “You should have read your briefing notes,” he said. He put both of the leaflets in his pocket and gave her a wink. “They have been known to take Americans into custody if they think they have good cause. It’s happened to me before.”
He gritted his teeth at the memory. In theory, the policemen should either wave them on or provide an escort back to the embassy; in practice, they might be taken into custody and held until their credentials were checked against the Foreign Ministry’s records. The Berlin Police might be relatively gentle, but the SS would insist on a strip search, perhaps even a cavity search. They’d certainly insist on a full search if they thought Penelope was hiding something in her underwear. The embassy would protest, of course, and there would be a series of unpleasant exchanges, but nothing effective would be done.
“Remain calm and let me do the talking,” he said. Thankfully, they did have a legitimate reason to be in the square. “If they split us up, remember your instructions and follow them.”
Penelope nodded, her face pale. Embassy staff, even the ones who rarely left the building during their entire term in Germany, were carefully briefed on what to do if they were arrested or otherwise taken into custody. Cooperate, within limits; inform the Germans, at once, that holding an embassy staffer prisoner would cause a diplomatic incident; don’t sign anything, no matter what the Germans said. Andrew hoped she’d be fine; there were limits, unfortunately, to just how far training could actually go.
They joined a line of civilians waiting to go through the barricade and watched, grimly, as the policemen frisked the civilians, sometimes removing copies of the leaflets, before allowing the civilians to go onwards. A couple of middle-aged men were sitting on the ground in handcuffs, although Andrew couldn’t tell what they’d done to get arrested. He braced himself as the line moved sharply onwards, then met the policeman’s eyes when his turn came.
“My card,” he said, holding up his diplomatic ID. “We’re attached to the embassy.”
The policeman’s eyes narrowed sharply. Andrew could practically see the internal debate behind his eyes. If he frisked them both and the embassy complained, his career would be sacrificed to avoid a diplomatic incident. But if he let them go and his superiors found out, his career would be smashed flat. It wasn’t a surprise when the policeman motioned the two Americans to stand aside and called his superior on the radio. Moments later, a grim-faced man in an SS uniform arrived. Andrew was surprised to realise that he didn’t have any rank insignia at all.
He glared at Andrew, then addressed him in heavily-accented English. “Why were you in the square?”
“We had a meeting with Mr. Aldrich of the Ministry of Finance,” Andrew said, calmly. “We are currently heading back to the embassy to file the paperwork for the latest trade deal.”
And if you treat us badly, the deal may be wrecked, he added, silently. He was sure the officer would pick up on the subtext. You should let us go right now.
The officer’s mouth worked for a long moment before he said anything. “I will check it with the Ministry,” he said. “Wait.”
Andrew gave Penelope’s hand a reassuring squeeze as the officer lifted his radio and called the Ministry of Finance. Aldrich, he was sure, would tell the officer that there had been a meeting and an important trade deal, encouraging the officer to just let them go without further ado. But if someone had pulled off a coup in the middle of Berlin, handing out leaflets to hundreds of people, who knew what would happen? The SS might even try to arrange accidents rather than risk the news getting out.
“Mr. Aldrich vouches for you,” the officer said, finally. He waved to a pair of policemen, who strode over and scowled at the two Americans. “Escort these two back to the American Embassy and ensure they don’t get lost along the way.”
“Jawohl, Mein Herr,” the policemen said.
“Come on,” Andrew said, as the policemen motioned for the two Americans to follow them past the barricade. “We need to get back home before it’s too late.”
Penelope looked as if she wanted to ask questions, but thankfully she had the sense to keep her mouth shut. Andrew had no doubt that the policemen would overhear anything they said and report back to their superiors. They could discuss the leaflets once they got back to the embassy and then decide what, if anything, they should do about them. He tried to remember what the girl had looked like, but – if he were forced to be honest – he’d paid more attention to her uniform than her face.
It could have been worse, he told himself, firmly. Crowds were already gathering past the barricades, staring into the square. It could have been a great deal worse.
“There’s a crowd gathering,” Caius muttered. “Word is spreading.”
Herman looked past the barricade and swore, inwardly. Frisking everyone and then letting them leave might have been a mistake. By now, word was spreading through Berlin that the police were holding nearly fifty BDM girls in the square and worried parents were heading to the centre of the city, despite the risks. And what would happen, he asked himself, if the SS insisted on taking the girls away for further interrogation?
No one would care if they were a bunch of Gastarbeiters, he thought. It was perfectly true, after all. But young German maidens… their parents will be up in arms!