‘How do you plan to do that?’ she shrieked.
‘I’ll hire a car and drive?’ Eleanor said dubiously.
Martha lowered her voice. ‘Darling, this isn’t like last August, when there were thousands of foreigners here. You’re conspicuous.’
Eleanor was about to argue, but she knew Martha was right. And Richard had more than warned her.
They were both quiet for a minute, smoking with quick, deep drags.
‘We’ll go in Mother’s car,’ Martha said suddenly. ‘It’s less suspicious if I’m with you…’
‘Oh, no, Martha,’ Eleanor said, alarmed.
‘… I’ll tell Dad we’re touring the new autobahn…’
Eleanor grabbed her friend’s elbow. ‘You are not getting involved in this.’
W ithin minutes of crossing into Germany Denham turned off the main route east and onto a sequence of minor roads, still strewn with branches and mud from the storm. They drove through villages with steep gabled houses, neat red-brick churches, and rolling farmland. The most glaring difference from the Netherlands, only a mile away, was the signs on the outskirts to each town and village, of warning. JEWS NOT WELCOME IN KALDENKIRCHEN; JEWS MUST NOT STOP IN HOLST! Some villages proclaimed themselves JUDENREIN — pure of Jews.
If the SD had seen them head to the frontier, then their head start on that Mercedes-Benz was only a matter of minutes. The Kontrolle inspector would confirm that they’d passed into Germany. Denham told himself that this wasn’t necessarily a complete catastrophe. There were some factors in his favour: he spoke the language; he knew the country. And Eleanor was here. But the truth was he knew there were dire factors against them. Friedl kept a lookout on the road behind but saw no one on their tail.
They’d been double-crossed by Heydrich. Of course they had. How did he ever think they wouldn’t be? But he was consoled by one thought: it had gone wrong for Heydrich, too.
At the market town of Viersen, some fifteen miles from the border, Denham parked in a quiet street behind a church just off the town square, taking only the satchel with his documents and passport. May Day banners with emblems of spades and corn sheaves hung dripping from the lampposts.
He found a telephone booth in the local hotel-the Westfalen-Stubchen. ‘They’re still fixing the lines,’ the landlord said, drawing beer into a tall glass. ‘But you might be in luck.’
Denham called the Dodds’ number at Tiergartenstrasse. To his surprise, Eleanor answered, and almost immediately.
‘Oh Budd, darling, I’m so glad to hear from you. Sidney Dean is here, too. He’s listening on the extension. How are you, dear?’
‘Safe and well at the moment. Just came back east, but you know how it is. My old creditors are after me.’
‘You’re back east? Oh, uh, how are you fixed tomorrow, sweetheart? Martha and I are having a reunion with Lester and Eileen Linderhofer and their daughter in Hamburg. It would be a blast if you could make it. They’d love to see you.’
‘Hamburg.’
‘Yes, you remember. We discussed it that day we had the picnic during the Olympics. It’ll just be a quick visit; then I thought we’d all take off together, you know, somewhere with a change of air.’
‘I’ll be there.’
‘I’m so pleased. It’s been arranged. Hotel Hamburger Hof at six p.m. Bye, Budd.’
‘Bye, Eleanor. Bye, Sidney.’
Denham put the telephone down in a daze.
Friedl was waiting for him outside the telephone booth, chewing a bread roll with cheese. ‘The baker over the road gave me these for free,’ he said with his mouth full. ‘It’s the end of the day.’ He offered one to Denham from a paper bag.
They walked out of the hotel bar just as a local Brownshirt Sturmfuhrer was entering, rubbing his hands, ready to begin the weekend’s drinking. He smiled at them both with a leery red face. ‘Heil Hitler!’
Quickly crossing the town square towards the church, Denham explained what Eleanor had told him.
‘Hamburg!’
‘Ye-es…’ Denham hesitated. And then it came to him. ‘It’s plain-code,’ he said, remembering that far-off picnic lunch they’d shared in the sunshine after watching Hannah fence.
‘Your frankfurter looks nicer than my hamburger…’
‘She means Frankfurt, that’s what she was trying to tell me. She couldn’t say it because the SD had wired the telephone. What’s the grand hotel in Frankfurt?’
‘Frankfurter Hof.’
‘We’re meeting her there at six p.m. tomorrow.’
‘That’s a long way,’ Friedl said, kicking a pebble.
‘We’re going to have to trust her. She was shocked to learn that we’re in Germany but I think she may have a way out… We could drive to Cologne tonight-that’s not so far-then take the train from there to Frankfurt tomorrow morning. But we’ll have to ditch the car as soon as it’s light. British number plates will be like fresh meat to a police dog.’
‘But why Frankfurt?’
‘It’s a big transport hub, I guess, and because Hannah and her parents are going to be there. Don’t ask me why or how.’
They turned the corner into the narrow street behind the church where they’d left the Morris Oxford, and stopped dead.
Two policemen in green Orpo uniforms were on either side of the car, one of them crouched with his hand to the side window to shield the light, looking inside. The Orpo wagon was parked behind it.
Denham grabbed Friedl’s arm and together they spun on their heels and walked briskly back the way they had come.
‘Did you take your passport out?’ Denham said.
Friedl nodded and patted his breast pocket.
‘They’ll have alerted the local stations. If they’ve got our car, then they’ll expect us to be on a train or a bus out of here…’
‘So we steal a car,’ Friedl said. They were back in the town square.
‘Isn’t that easier said than done?’
‘We have a choice of three.’
Parked in front of the Hotel Westfalen-Stubchen were a rusted Citroen, a newish, dark blue Adler Standard 6, and a large farm truck with empty churns on the back.
Friedl walked smartly to the driver’s door of the Adler and opened it. ‘Who locks their car in a place like this? Get in.’
Denham threw the satchel into the passenger side and jumped in. Friedl felt in the glove compartment, then ran his hand under the dashboard, then under his seat. ‘They’ll be here somewhere…’
‘Hurry.’ The two Orpo men walked a few feet past the front of the car and entered the hotel.
‘Hey, if I’d left it to you we’d still be out there like rabbits in a field.’
He pulled down the shade, and the keys fell into his lap.
The starter motor fired the engine at once, and he reversed the car smoothly into the square. ‘German engineering,’ he said.
‘You’ve done this before.’
Friedl looked ahead, his mouth grim, his eyes determined.
‘Not much petroleum,’ he said, ‘but maybe enough to get us to Cologne. See if there’s a road map in here.’
Denham explored the contents of the glove compartment and found that day’s Volkischer Beobachter, a Party membership book with dues paid, and some group photos from a Strength Through Joy Rhine cruise.
‘Marvellous,’ he said. ‘We’ve stolen that Brownshirt’s car.’
Evening was drawing in as they turned onto the Cologne road, the sky a peach colour after the storm, with feathered, golden clouds.
