Then you return to Berlin. Any other questions? Gerts hands seemed to be writhing in his coat pockets.
He had none, or none that could be answered. At Bellevue Station they went their separate ways, Gert bounding up the stairs to the eastbound Stadtbahn platform, Russell ambling along the bank of the Spree to the kiosk beneath the Bellevue Schloss. He bought a cup of hot chocolate, took it to a riverside table, and watched a long train rumbling across the bridge to his left. Everything should be fine, he told himself in Gerts Bavarian accent. It was the should which worried him.
His next stop was the British Embassy. Rather than return for the car, he walked down the river to Kurfurstenplatz, and then along Zellenallee to the Brandenburg Gate and the western end of Unter den Linden. The queue outside the Embassy seemed longer than ever, the atmosphere inside the usual mix of irritation and self-righteousness. He asked to see Unsworth, and was shown up to his office. Once there, he admitted it was Trelawney-Smythe that he really wanted to see. But I didn't want to announce the fact in reception, he explained to Unsworth. I wouldn't put it past the Nazis to include an informer or two among the Jews.
Unsworth looked slightly shocked at the thought, but agreed to escort Russell to the MI6 mans door. Trelawney-Smythe looked startled to see him, and somewhat put out. I know why youre here, and the answer is no. We cannot make exceptions.
Russell sat himself down. I take it this rooms secure, he said.
We went over the whole building with a fine-tooth comb a few months ago, Trelawney-Smythe said proudly.
Russell looked up, half expecting to see a microphone hanging from the ceiling. How interested would the Admiralty be in the German Navys Baltic Fleet dispositions? he asked.
To his credit, Trelawney-Smythe didn't jump out of his seat. Instead, he reached for his pipe. Very, I should imagine. After all, if a ships in the Baltic it wont be in the North Sea.
Thats the conclusion I came to, Russell said. He smiled at the other man. Dont ask me how, but at some point in the next two weeks I should have my hands on those dispositions. Not to keep, mind you, and not for long. But long enough to copy them out.
Trelawney-Smythe lit his pipe, puffing vigorously out of the corner of his mouth.
A technique learned in spy school, Russell thought.
You would be doing a tremendous service to your country, the other man said in an almost torpid tone.
But not only for my country. Theres a price.
Ah. Trelawney-Smythes eyes narrowed. You want money, he said, with the air of a disappointed vicar.
I want you to make an exception, and come up with a visa for Eva Wiesner. And while youre at it, Id like an American passport.
That surprised the MI6 man. How on earth do you expect us to get you one of those?
Im sure youll have no trouble if you set your mind to it. I do have an American mother, you know, so its hardly a huge stretch.
Why do you want one?
Id have thought that was obvious. If theres a war in Europe, anyone with a British passport will be sent home. With an American passport I can stay.
Trelawney-Smythe puffed at his pipe, digesting the idea, and Russell watched the slight widening of the eyes as he appreciated the possibilitiesMI 6 would have a man in Germany once the war started!
Not that Russell had any intention of doing anything more for them, but they werent to know that.
In the next two weeks, you said.
Yes. But I want the visa for Eva Wiesner by Monday. That should give her time to arrange her exit visa, and she can travel with her daughters on Thursday. Theres no hurry about the passport, he added. So long as I have it before a war breaks out.
You must like this family, Trelawney-Smythe said, sounding almost human.
I do. The girls have only just lost their father, and theres no good reason why they should lose their mother as well. She left the communists twenty years ago, for Gods sake. Shes not going to start a revolution in Golders Green.
I hope not, Trelawney-Smythe said wryly. All right. I can get her a visa by Monday. The passport. . . . I cant promise anythingthe Yanks dig their heels in about the silliest thingsbut well do our best. You werent born in America, were you?
I was born in mid-Atlantic, if that helps. But on a British ship.
Probably not, then. He was sounding almost chummy now. If you come in on Monday morning Ill have the visa for you.
Ill see you then, Russell said, resisting the temptation to be churlish. On his way out he noticed that the reading room was empty, and took time to consult the Embassy atlas. Gorlitz was about two hundred kilometers southeast of Berlin, and about twenty from the Czech border. There were direct trains from Berlin, but they took most of the day and were probably checked as they neared the border area. If Albert got safely through the ticket barrier at this end hed probably be picked up at the other. Russell was going to have to take him in the car.
There were two obvious routes: He could stick to the old road or take the Silesian autobahn to just south of Kottbus, and join it there. He liked the idea of escaping Hitlers Germany by autobahn, but the old road, for reasons he couldn't explain, felt safer.
So, two hundred kilometerssay, three hours. Stick in an extra half-hour in case he had a puncture. If the car broke down they were sunk, but spending more than a few minutes in Gorlitz, with Albert eye-wrestling anyone in uniform, seemed like an excellent way of committing suicide. When it came down to it, the car seemed worthier of trust than Alberts temperament.
Russell walked out to Unter den Linden, climbed into the Hanomag and headed east. If only Albert didn't look so damned Jewish! The boy could hardly wear a mask, though the lifelike Goebbels mask which one of the American correspondents had made for last years Halloween party would have been singularly appropriate. How could he hide the boys face? A cap over the eyes, perhaps. Collar turned up and the required blue scarf. A pair of glasses? None of it would help if Albert insisted on vibrating with rage.
And where was he going to pick him up? Not at the flat, that was for sure. Somewhere crowded? Only if it was somewhere a Jew didn't stick out like a sore thumb, and places like that were thin on the ground. And the police would be looking for hima Jew who knocked down a Gestapo officer with a table lamp was going to be high on their wanted list. Theyd probably taken his picture in Sachsenhausen, and now all the Orpo stations would have copies hanging on their walls.
He parked the car in the Wiesners street and went up. The girls were outstarting to say their goodbyesand their mother seemed exhausted by grief and worry. Russell told her about Alberts Monday appointment in Gorlitz, and his own role as chauffeur. Tell him to join the visa queue outside the British Embassy between twelve and oneas one Jew among several hundred he should be invisible. Ill walk by and collect him soon after one. He should be wearing workingmens clothes, nothing too smart. But a decent coat on top of them for the queue. People try to look their best for the Embassy.
I will tell him.
He must be there, Russell insisted. If hes not, thats it. We wont be given a second chance.
Hell be there.
And I think Ive got you a visa. You should be able to go with the girls next Thursday.
She looked as though she was having trouble believing it all. Well know by then? About Albert?
We should, he said. One way or the other.
RUSSELLS WEEKEND FOLLOWED THE FAMILIAR pattern, but thoughts of the week ahead kept hitting him from behind, sending his stomach into momentary freefall. It wasnt every week he delivered a fugitive from the Gestapo to the communist underground, went looking for military secrets in a dockside bar, and played some lethal form of hunt the parcel with the border police. The only time he could remember feeling like this was in the trenches, on those few occasions when hed been ordered over the top. What had he gotten himself into?