going in small groups. The building is historic, so secular organizations meet there as well. If anyone else asks why you are there, tell them you have come for a history discussion. Early Christian settlements in Dahlemdorf.”
He then placed a hand companionably on Kurt’s shoulder and walked him downstairs. The sun was low in the sky, and soon it would be dark, but the man in the black coat was still at his post, smoking a cigarette. It now seemed more important than ever that Kurt not be seen.
“I’ll leave by the front door and go for a walk,” Bonhoeffer said, turning from the window. “That should distract him long enough for you to make a clean exit from out back. Good luck, and God be with you.”
“With you as well. And thank you.”
“No. Thank you.”
Kurt was fearful, he was excited, and he was already wondering what in the hell sort of foolishness he had just gotten into. Dahlem on a Tuesday, right next door to Niemoller’s house? Possibly with snoops just like the man across the street posted on every corner? Madness.
Then he thought of Liesl, her face turned toward his for a tender kiss, in contrast to the lonely agony of the past eleven months. And that was enough. Whatever the risk, Kurt was ready for it.
On Tuesday he would see her again.
FIFTEEN
Berlin-Tuesday,December 15, 1942
Kurt arrived at the church a half hour early. There was still enough light to show that every street corner was empty, which made him feel better. Nonetheless, he circled behind the building to approach the entrance through the cemetery, figuring it was the least likely path to be watched. The route took him by Niemoller’s house. Its gables and turrets loomed like a fortress.
The seven-hundred-year-old church was built of red brick, with a wooden belfry and steeple. He pulled back the heavy door and called out.
“Hello?”
No answer. He must be the first arrival.
Inside it was chilly and smelled of candle wax and musty hymnals. His footsteps echoed loudly, although the sanctuary was small and intimate. Medieval frescoes were faintly visible on plastered walls, but otherwise the place was unadorned. A placard up front explained that the altarpiece and other valuables had been moved to a safer location until the war was over. To protect them from what, Kurt wondered-Allied bombers or looting Nazis?
He checked every pew for anyone who might be hiding, then he sat, glancing at his watch every few minutes while he tried not to dwell on his father’s warning from months ago: “They line you up and shoot you, or drop you from a gallows. Or maybe they lop off your head.”
It was still only 3:40, so he decided to check out the organ loft. Someone might be hiding there, too, he supposed. What would he say if he came upon a Gestapo man? Or maybe the police were outside, after all, holding off until the entire group was assembled, waiting to arrest them all. And he, of course, would be remembered as the early bird, the most eager one in the bunch. What a catch, too. The son of a prominent industrialist. All of his father’s careful and dangerous work to prepare for their future would be down the drain, washed away by a foolish act of love.
Kurt fairly tiptoed up the creaking stairway to the narrow loft. He had decided on using Bonhoeffer’s cover story, if necessary: He was just looking around, soaking up the history. He knew nothing about any four o’clock meeting.
But the loft, too, was empty, and he took a seat on a choir pew. It was nice up there, more secure, a concealed position that gave him an upper hand. The feeling was reinforced the moment he heard the door opening downstairs. Two voices whispered in conversation, a man’s and a woman’s. Kurt leaned forward just enough to recognize two students from the regular gatherings at Bonhoeffer’s. Neither was Liesl. They didn’t see him, and he was fine with that.
A threesome of young men arrived next, closely followed by a young woman and two more males. Among them, he recognized the blustering Dieter Bussler and the likable Christoph Klemm. But still no Liesl.
Other than the creaking of the pews everyone was quiet, and they conversed in whispers. Such mice, these people. Where was all the boldness they had displayed so cavalierly at Bonhoeffer’s? Perhaps they were overwhelmed by the prospect of what they were about to do. And who was he to talk, up there in the loft, where he began to feel sheepish. It would be embarrassing to reveal himself now. He was on the verge of resolving to stay there for the duration when the door opened again and a new voice rose to his ears.
It was Liesl, speaking in a normal tone to a woman she had arrived with.
“What a nice turnout!” she said, as if they had gathered for tea and refreshment. “And I see that Helmut is here, so perhaps we should begin. It is only right that he do the honors, seeing as how he took the greatest risk by arranging this meeting.”
A pew creaked as she sat. Kurt stood as if hypnotized. He stepped gingerly toward the stairs and began descending as quietly as possible. Halfway down a step groaned, and there was startled movement in the pews below. But that was hardly a concern, because now he could see Liesl in profile through the slatted sides of the stairway. She was quiet, serene, not at all alarmed or turning toward him like the others.
“Hello?” a male voice inquired nervously. It was Dieter, whom Kurt had already pegged as the likeliest to betray them.
“It’s all right,” Kurt said, trying to keep his voice as strong and steady as Liesl’s. “I arrived early, so I waited in the loft. I wanted to make sure no one was up there to spy on us.”
“Good idea,” said the fellow Liesl had called Helmut. He now stood up front.
Kurt took a seat on the row behind Liesl, but not before she turned and offered an astonished grin, cheeks flushed. Already the risk was worthwhile. She reached back across the pew and squeezed his hand.
Helmut spoke.
“Many thanks to everyone for having the courage to be here. I chose this location for a reason, and not because I wanted to put anyone in danger. In fact, the Nazis prefer that such places be used for secular purposes, so I suppose that in that sense we are simply being obedient citizens.”
There was some nervous laughter.
“You cannot enter this building without first seeing the house of Dr. Niemoller. And I wanted you to see that house as a reminder of the possible consequences for your actions here tonight. Those of you who choose to go forward with us must realize that there will be no turning back. The gate will lock behind us. So while I ask for your utmost secrecy no matter what you may decide, I also will understand completely if you cannot accompany us further, even if that means that you must leave now, before even revealing your name.”
He paused. No one stood, and no one said a word. Kurt watched the back of Liesl’s head. She was the only one who didn’t turn to look questioningly at everyone else.
“Very well, then. In that case I will begin by telling you my full name, because I know there has already been discussion among some of you over whether that is a wise idea. My opinion is that if we are taking such a big step, then we should commit ourselves fully from the beginning, so I will set the tone. I am Helmut Hartert. Like most of you here I am a student at the Berlin University. I agreed to call this meeting after conferring with some of our like-minded colleagues in Munich. Two of them are here with us tonight to help pass the torch-Falk Harnack, who is now posted to an army unit in Chemnitz, and Jorg Strasser, who made the dangerous journey by train with a boxful of the daring pamphlets that you have already heard so much about. Falk is here without the benefit of either a pass or travel papers, so special thanks to him. He’s demonstrating just the sort of commitment that we’ll be wanting from all of you in the months to come.
“I also want to thank Liesl Folkerts for making sure that Jorg had safe passage through the train station to his uncle’s house. Believe me, if you knew how many policemen were there that day, checking papers, you would realize this was no simple feat.”
Kurt swelled with pride for her, and was more convinced than ever that he had done the right thing by coming here.
“Now,” Hartert said, “shall we all introduce ourselves?”
