Ugly though it was, Berliners loved it. When the bombs were falling, its thunder reassured them that someone was shooting back.
Still in a state of high tension, Carla walked from the station to Frieda’s house. It was mid-afternoon, so the Franck parents would probably be out, Ludi at his factory and Monika seeing a friend, possibly Carla’s mother. Werner’s motorcycle was parked on the drive.
The manservant opened the door. ‘Miss Frieda is out, but she won’t be long,’ he said. ‘She went to KaDeWe to buy gloves. Mr Werner is in bed with a heavy cold.’
‘I’ll wait for Frieda in her room, as usual.’
Carla took off her coat and went upstairs, still carrying her bag. In Frieda’s room she kicked off her shoes and lay on the bed to read the battle plan for Operation Zitadelle. She was as stressed as an overwound clock, but she would feel better when she had given the purloined document to someone else.
From the next room she heard the sound of sobbing.
She was surprised. That was Werner’s room. Carla found it hard to imagine the suave playboy in tears.
But the sound definitely came from a man, and he seemed to be trying and failing to suppress his grief.
Against her will, Carla felt pity. She told herself that some feisty woman had thrown Werner over, probably for very good reasons. But she could not help responding to the real distress she was hearing.
She got off the bed, put the battle plan back in her bag, and stepped outside.
She listened at Werner’s door. She could hear it even more clearly. She was too soft-hearted to ignore it. She opened the door and went in.
Werner was sitting on the edge of the bed, head in hands. When he heard the door he looked up, startled. His face was red with emotion and wet with tears. His tie was pulled down and his collar undone. He looked at Carla with misery in his eyes. He was bowled over, devastated, and too wretched to care who knew it.
Carla could not pretend to be heartless. ‘What is it?’ she said.
‘I can’t do this any more,’ he said.
She closed the door behind her. ‘What happened?’
‘They cut off Lili Markgraf’s head – and I had to watch.’
Carla stared open-mouthed. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘She was twenty-two.’ He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. ‘You’re already in danger, but if I tell you this it will be a lot worse.’
Her mind was full of amazing surmises. ‘I think I can guess, but tell me,’ she said.
He nodded. ‘You’ll figure it out soon, anyway. Lili helped Heinrich broadcast to Moscow. It’s much quicker if someone reads you the code groups. And the faster you go, the less likely you are to be caught. But Lili’s cousin stayed at the apartment for a few days and found her code books. Nazi bitch.’
His words confirmed her astonishing suspicions. ‘You know about the spying?’
He looked at her with an ironic smile. ‘I’m in charge of it.’
‘Good God!’
‘That’s why I had to drop the whole business of the murdered children. Moscow ordered me to. And they were right. If I’d lost my job at the Air Ministry I would have had no access to secret papers, nor to other people who could bring me secrets.’
She needed to sit down. She perched on the edge of the bed beside him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘We work on the assumption that everyone talks under torture. Knowing nothing, you can’t betray others. Poor Lili was tortured, but she only knew Volodya, who’s back in Moscow now, and Heinrich, and she never knew Heinrich’s second name or anything else about him.’
Carla was chilled to the bone.
Werner finished: I’m sorry I’ve told you, but after seeing me like this you were on the point of guessing it all anyway.’
‘So I’ve completely misjudged you.’
‘Not your fault. I deliberately misled you.’
‘I feel a fool just the same. I’ve despised you for two years.’
‘All the while I was desperate to explain to you.’
She put her arm around him.
He took her other hand and kissed it. ‘Can you forgive me?’
She was not sure how she felt, but she did not want to reject him when he was so down, so she said: ‘Yes, of course.’
‘Poor Lili,’ he said. His voice fell to a whisper. ‘She had been so badly beaten, she could hardly walk to the guillotine. Yet she begged for life, right up to the end.’
‘How come you were there?’
