The other brownshirts guffawed. Before Weiss could respond, Charly broke the line and planted herself in front of them. ‘This man is Dr Bernhard Weiss, and he is the best police officer Berlin has ever known.’
The brownshirts stared blankly and a smile formed on Weiss’s mouth.
‘And you lot call yourself auxiliary police?’
‘Easy does it, Fräulein. It was only a joke.’
‘Then I’m glad you’re not a comedian.’
The man turned red as the whole queue burst out laughing, even the Stahlhelm officers and one of his SA colleagues. Charly reclaimed her place in the queue as Rath waited for the brownshirts to launch their attack, but none came. The comedian poked his colleague in the ribs and tried to stop him laughing.
Rath turned to speak to Weiss, but he had gone. He made a point of taking Charly by the hand. The brownshirts would have him to deal with if they tried anything, but he and Charly passed without further incident. The SA men gazed to the side or down at their puttees.
Standing in the booth, Rath hesitated for a moment as he skimmed the long list of parties. As a good Cologner he’d always voted for the Centre Party. The only time he’d voted in Berlin was last November when Charly had compelled him.
He hesitated another moment before placing his cross next to the SPD. The Social Democrats. Never again, he told himself. God knows he didn’t have much time for the workers’ party, but he thought them most likely to defy the Nazis. More likely than the Centre Party, which was yet to take a stance on the new government. Perhaps it was a little thank-you to Grzesinski, whom Rath had rated highly as police commissioner. Even so, he felt a little ashamed as he cast his ballot. Gereon Rath votes SPD! If his father learned of it, he’d be disinherited.
He smiled to himself as they left the polling station. Only one of the SA men risked an angry glance, but now it held respect. Charly refused to look at the brownshirts, but when she linked arms with him he felt proud. Perhaps she was right. Tomorrow it would be over, and the Nazis would creep back inside whatever hole they’d emerged from. If the election didn’t see to it, then at some point Hindenburg must put an end to this brown-shirted farce.
Outside Bernhard Weiss’s Steinplatz residence a dozen uniformed cops stood guard. He had lived here since being evicted from his police apartment in Charlottenburg, and Rath was relieved the Berlin Police hadn’t simply hung him out to dry.
He accompanied Charly to Carmerstrasse, where the Buick was parked, handed her Kirie’s lead, kissed her and made his way to the Castle. There were voting queues all over the city, each one accompanied by SA officers holding posters and shooting angry glances. Detective Zientek waited inside for him.
‘Haven’t you voted?’ Rath asked as he hung his coat.
‘Of course,’ Zientek said. He seemed to be in an excellent mood. ‘Zap, zap, job done. Doesn’t take much, does it?’ He rummaged in his in-tray and handed Rath a list. ‘These are ours.’
‘What is it we’re doing exactly? I’ll need more than just a list of names.’
‘They’re all Communists, I can guarantee you that.’
‘So?’
‘So, get going. Show me what you can do.’
‘What am I meant to extract from them?’
‘Whatever you like, Inspector. In the best case, evidence of a Communist revolt. If they should confess to a murder, a break-in, or even to being queer, that’s equally good. The main thing is to keep ’em here until six o’clock.’
Rath needed a moment. ‘Six? That’s when the polling stations close.’
‘Correct.’
‘We’re preventing them from voting?’
‘No flies on you CID officers.’ Zientek extended a hand. ‘Welcome to the Political Police.’
33
It seemed almost as if the entire SA had found its way to Steinplatz shortly before polling closed. All Charly wanted was to take Kirie for a walk before dusk, but the Nazis had turned the square’s green spaces brown. SA officers continued to appear in droves, and Charly’s evening stroll with Kirie was transformed into an obstacle course.
Men in brown shirts looked up at the apartment on the second floor of number 3, Steinplatz. ‘Isidor!’ they chanted. ‘Come out, or we’ll come in!’
A cordon of uniformed cops blocked Weiss’s apartment building on all three sides, preventing the brownshirts making good their threat. So, it wasn’t just the SA that had increased its presence here, Charly noted with relief. At least these officers were still on the right side.
She held Kirie at a distance from the mob. No one paid her any attention, but all these angry, red faces gave her the creeps. The SA were always unpredictable, especially in numbers. What if her friend from this morning spotted her and alerted his mates? Or one of them got it into his head that she looked Jewish? It wouldn’t be the first time; the fact that Charly had no Jewish blood didn’t matter. Her short, dark hair made her suspicious; SA men went wild for blonde pigtails. She crossed Hardenbergstrasse and walked north-west towards the ‘Knee’ and the green spaces of the technical college, where there were no brownshirts, just normal pedestrians enjoying a Sunday stroll. Berlin as it had always been.
She completed the short circuit back to Hardenbergstrasse, but something was happening over on Steinplatz. Quickening her step, she saw the mob surge towards the cordon.
‘Move to the side!’ the brownshirts cried, all the time chanting: ‘Jew filth! Jew filth!’
A uniformed cop raised his arm and shouted something. Not the command to attack, as she’d initially thought, quite the opposite: the police cordon dispersed, and the SA men stormed inside. By the time she finally made it through, Steinplatz was as good as deserted. Only a few brownshirts remained along with the cops, who suddenly looked strangely out-of-place.
She didn’t like to think what the brown mob might do with Bernhard Weiss and his family. ‘How can you just stand there?’ she asked.
‘Did you see how many there were? How can two dozen cops face down a hundred or more SA officers? It was only reasonable to withdraw. We couldn’t have held position another five minutes. People would have died.’
‘And now?’ Charly almost screamed. ‘What do you think’s going to happen when they get their hands on Dr Weiss?’
‘He should have gone before.’
She was about to head inside when she felt an authoritative hand on her shoulder. ‘I can’t let you go in there, Fräulein.’
‘You let that lot in, but not me?’
‘Too dangerous for a woman.’
‘Then you go in before it’s too late.’
‘I have my orders.’
‘What orders? To guard the lawn or the lives of those inside?’
Charly looked at the cop, who avoided her eyes, then towards the elegant front door she was forbidden from entering, and inside to the brightly lit stairwell. The first brown uniforms appeared by the windows on the second floor. What would happen? Would they start throwing out furniture, then people?
34
It started at a quarter past six, when Berthold Weinert took the first call from the municipal district of Brieg. Either it was a tiny ward or they were speedy counters up in Silesia. The phone hadn’t stopped ringing since.
He telephoned and jotted down election results as if he were working on a factory line. In fact, he was sitting in a well-heated editorial office high above Kochstrasse, savouring the warmth and view of the winter street below. Finally he could trade his freezing garret for the bustle of activity Voting Sunday had triggered in news desks across the land.