“I’m thirsty, Mama,” a little girl with dark curls cried. “I’m so thirsty!”
The woman turned to one of the guards. “May I get my daughter some water?”
“Nein!” he shouted, and struck her in the face with the butt of his gun.
The woman fell, then put one hand to her face. Blood ran from her nose. “It’s all right, Mama,” the little girl said. She had stopped crying. She had forgotten about the water. In that instant their roles had been reversed, and it was her job to comfort her mother. “It’s all right.”
They’re Jews, Maggie realized. She had heard about the deportations of Berlin’s Jews to ghettos and work camps, of course. Still, that was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to seeing it for herself.
Another train pulled up. It was rust red and boxy. Not a passenger train at all but one used for transporting cattle.
Maggie watched in horror as the people boarded, trying to catch a last glimpse of the little girl before she got on the train. It seemed as though hundreds were being packed into each car.
“Don’t look,” a young woman said softly to Maggie. She was blond and awkward, with fat braids and pink cheeks.
There were no toilet facilities on that train, Maggie realized, no water. If they were going to one of the ghettos in Poland, it would be days before they reached their destination.… She couldn’t look away.
Another train pulled up on the track in front of her with a shriek of brakes and a cloud of steam. She must put miles between her and the man in black, she realized. She stepped on, letting the doors slam behind her.
Gottlieb knew he had to get out, and fast.
Stopping only to put his papers, his wallet, and his rosary in his pockets, tugging his black hat’s brim low over his face, he opened the door to leave.
The SS officers had already reached his floor. Their commander pulled out his gun. “Get back inside,” he ordered Gottlieb.
Across the hallway, Frau Keller shuffled to her own front door, opened it a crack, and peeked out. Her dog started to yap. “Shhhh—quiet, Kaiser!” she admonished. She watched as the SS soldiers followed Gottlieb into his apartment. Then there was a single gunshot.
After a few moments of silence, Frau Keller could hear profanity, and then furniture being smashed. She saw one of the men take Gottlieb’s crucifix and throw it into the hall. At her feet Kaiser lowered his head and whined in fear.
That was when Frau Keller closed the door softly, bolting and then chaining it. “Come, Kaiser,” she whispered, reaching down to pat the dog’s head. “Let’s get you something to eat now, shall we?”
Maggie didn’t know what to do. She sat, paralyzed, as stop after stop passed by, hunched over, her hat hiding her face. She knew it was insane to stay on the train—at any minute the Gestapo could enter the car and demand to see her identification.
Pull yourself together. You can have a nice big breakdown after you get back to London.… She looked up at the S-Bahn map and realized that she was heading north, into Berlin. Two stations away, at Potsdamer Platz, not far from the Brandenburg Gate, there would be an intersection of four subway lines. It seemed like her best option for throwing the agent off her scent.
At Potsdamer Platz, she kept her head down and walked swiftly. She boarded the first train that pulled in. At Brandenburger Tor, she realized she was in Mitte-Berlin, the city’s center.
Charité was in Mitte.
Charité was where Elise worked.
Could she get there without being followed? There’s only one way to find out. And, since I’m running out of options … She took yet another train to Lehrter Bahnhof and then stepped off, exiting from the ceramic-tiled station into the punishing midday sun. There was a telephone booth outside the station marked OEFFENTLICHER FERNSPRECHER. Maggie opened the door and then slammed it closed behind her. She searched through her handbag for the correct change with trembling hands. Then she picked up the black and silver receiver, slipped a coin into the slot, and dialed Elise’s work number, which she’d memorized from the slip of paper her half sister had given her at Clara’s birthday party.
“Charité Hospital in Mitte,” she told the operator. Pick up, pick up, pick up! Maggie urged as she heard the shrill, metallic rings.
Finally, someone did. “Guten Tag. Charité Hospital.”
“Hallo,” Maggie said. “May I speak with Elise Hess? She’s a nurse.”
“Please hold. I will transfer your call.”
There was a silence, then a voice answered, “Hallo, fourth-floor nurses’ station.”
“Hello, I’m trying to reach a nurse named Elise Hess.”