His Majesty's Hope(41)

As she was copying, the door opened. “Nurse Hess!” she heard. “What are you doing in here?”

Elise startled and tried not to panic at the sight of Nurse Flint. “Oh, um, Dr. Brandt asked me if I could try to fix the photocopy machine. He said it was broken.”

Nurse Flint cocked one eyebrow. “There are protocols for handling a broken photocopy machine and you know that. And we must follow them. Ordnung muβ sein!”

Elise smiled her brightest. “I think I almost have it, Nurse Flint.”

“How would you feel if one of the technicians tried to perform a nurse’s duties?” She clapped her hands. “Step away from the machine, Nurse Hess.”

Before she did so, Elise tried to gather up the papers she had been copying.

“Hand them to me,” Nurse Flint ordered. She was taller than Elise and outweighed her by at least sixty pounds. It suddenly seemed close and hot in the room.

Elise handed over the files.

“Nurse Hess, these are confidential records. Why on earth would you be making copies?”

“As I said, I was fixing the photocopy machine.”

Nurse Flint’s eyes narrowed. “There seems to be nothing wrong with it.”

Elise tried to pull up the corners of her mouth into a smile. “Well, of course there isn’t—I fixed it.”

Nurse Flint threw the papers into a nearby bin. “Don’t do it again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nurse Flint seized Elise by the elbow and steered her out of the records room. Elise knew that her mission—or at least this particular attempt—had failed.


In another wing of Charité, Herr Mystery, also known as Patient No. 1564, was lying silently, staring up at the whitewashed ceiling.

The most pertinent thing about his case now was that he seemed to be unable to speak—even though there was no damage to his vocal cords that any of the doctors could find. “Shell shock,” Dr. Brandt called it. “Battle trauma.” It could be permanent, the doctors said—or it could go away at any moment.

Elise believed that all Herr Mystery needed was someone to talk to. And so, when she checked on his vital signs, she made sure to keep speaking to him. “It’s a beautiful day today,” she said, as she took his pulse with warm, steady hands. “You wouldn’t know it in here, but the rhododendrons in the Tiergarten are blooming.”

She opened the dressing on his wound. “Ah, that’s healing nicely,” she soothed as she removed the gauze and taped on fresh. “You’ll begin to feel like your old self in no time.” As she said the words, she watched his eyes, his pupils. He understood her; she was certain of it. She could tell by his reactions, even though he pretended to ignore her. Even though he looked afraid.

She lifted his head and plumped his pillow. “There now,” she said, settling him back down. “I’ll ask the doctor when we can have you sit up. Once you can do that, we can get you into a chair and I’ll push you outside. Fresh air and sunshine—won’t that be nice? Certainly nicer than in here.”

Herr Mystery reached out and put his hand on her forearm. He looked into her eyes. Elise could see his gratitude.

“You’re welcome.” She patted his hand. “I’ll be back to take your vitals again in a few hours.”


After work, Elise went straight to visit Father Licht in his office at St. Hedwig’s.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t get the files. I was so close. I was actually making the copies—and then I was caught.” She shuddered at the memory.

“I don’t want you to put yourself in danger,” Father Licht said.

“Well, I’m the one who has to see that bus leave, filled with children, every day,” Elise countered, crossing herself, “knowing full well where it’s going and what’s going to happen.”

Father Licht nodded grimly. “But if you suspect they’re on to you … I know your mother is quite high up in the party, but even she might not be able to help you …”

“My mother has nothing to do with this,” Elise said. “I’m the one who has to live with my knowledge. I’m the one who chooses to do something. I believe it’s what God would want.”

“Then, may God be with you, my child.” He rose and put on his jacket. “And now I’m afraid I must leave.”

“Where are you going?” Elise asked.

He smiled. “Bible study group.”


Father Licht’s weekly Bible study was held at the home of the widow Hannah von Solf.

Secretly, however, it comprised a Berlin-based Nazi resistance circle. They came from all walks of life: barons and shopkeepers, Catholic priests and Lutheran pastors and Communist atheists, factory owners and trade union  ists. The disparate men were united by their hatred of Nazism and their desire to end Hitler’s regime. Their membership, which had begun with only a few in 1936, had grown to more than twenty. And they all knew that if they were ever discovered, they would be murdered by the Gestapo—no questions asked.