His Majesty's Hope(63)
“Fräulein Hoffman!” she heard echo in the high-ceilinged hallway. Maggie turned. It was the golden-haired man from the party. “Guten tag, gnädiges Fräulein. I am Gustav Oberg. We met at Frau Hess’s birthday celebration.”
“Oh! Of course. Lovely to see you again, Herr Oberg.”
“I see you took Goebbels up on his offer. How did it go?”
“Not well.” Maggie shrugged. “Nerves.”
“Well, that’s good news—for me, at least.”
“Really? And why is that?”
“I’m looking for a—Well, let me start at the beginning. May I take you out for a cup of coffee, Fräulein Hoffman? Real coffee, I promise.”
Maggie was wary, but still intrigued. She had only one day left in Berlin—what did she have to lose? “Of course, Herr Oberg.”
Gustav Oberg took Maggie to a café not far from the Chancellery. He ordered for them both, then looked at her with appraising eyes.
“So, Göring’s loss may be my gain,” he said, as the waiter put down their cups.
“What do you mean, Herr Oberg?”
“I’m looking for a … companion.”
“Herr Oberg!” Maggie rose to leave.
“No, no!” Herr Oberg said. “No, you misunderstand.” He gestured for her to sit back down, and, after a moment, she did. “Not for me—for my daughter.”
Ah, thought Maggie. “What’s your daughter’s name? And why does she need a companion?”
“Her name is Alexandra. Her mother died five years ago. And right now she is … not herself. Nothing contagious, never fear. But she must stay inside the house, in bed or on the sofa, and it’s wearing on her, I can tell. She needs a companion, a young woman, who will read with her, knit with her”—he waved his hands dismissively—“do whatever it is you young ladies do together.”
“I see.” Maggie’s mind was spinning. Surely she could do that. And if she were hired, she could stay here, in Berlin; maybe she could learn something.
“Since I am a widower and my daughter is indisposed, I would also ask you to take on some hostess duties. At dinner parties and the like. Just sit at the foot of the table and smile, that sort of thing.”
And who are your dinner guests, Herr Oberg? And what, exactly, would I be in a position to overhear?
He took another sip of coffee. “Of course, it’s perfect—because you’ve already been through security.”
He thinks that I was cleared before the typing test … “Yes, of course, Herr Oberg.”
“All that red tape with security … I understand the need for it, but I’d hate to have to go through it with someone.” He paused. “I understand you have a boyfriend? The man you came to the party with?”
She thought of Gottlieb, of his mother and three sisters. If it were at all possible, she must leave him out of this. The dangers were incalculable. “No, Herr Oberg. Not anymore. Things … Well, they didn’t work out.”
“Good!” Oberg exclaimed. “Er, not good, I mean, I’m sorry—but we are now living in Wannsee, a little outside of Berlin, and it makes things easier. Our house is beautiful—right on the lake. What do you say?” He gave her a wide grin. “You will come and work for me? I will provide room and board and Tuesdays off.”
“And the pay?”
“Forty Reichmarks per week.”
Maggie didn’t want it to seem too easy. “Forty-five.”
Oberg sighed. “You drive a hard bargain, Fräulein Hoffman. All right. Forty-five per week.”
Maggie smiled, a Cheshire cat smile. “Yes, Herr Oberg. I would be delighted to come and work for you, to be a companion to your daughter.”
“Excellent.” He motioned for the waiter. “And now let’s order some oysters and champagne, to celebrate!”
In a daze, Maggie walked back to Gottlieb’s flat to pack her things.
“This is lunacy!” he shouted as she threw everything she’d brought to Berlin into her valise. “Absolute lunacy! You do understand that, yes?”
“I do.” Maggie looked up at him calmly. “It’s a calculated risk. And one I’m willing to take in order to get into the inner circle.”
“It was dangerous enough for you as a courier!” Gottlieb started to pace, ears flaming red. “If you stay, you’ll be completely on your own! I wash my hands of you.”
“Are you breaking up with me, Schatzi?” Maggie snapped the catches on her suitcase shut. “I’m devastated. But I have my proof of Aryan identity card. As long as they think I’m a fellow Nazi, it will be fine. I don’t need you.”