They ate their rolls in silent harmony, staring out at the view. There was a good breeze this far up the mountain, and the heat was not oppressive.
'When they came to arrest me,' Effi said matter-of-factly, as if they were continuing a conversation already started, 'they rapped on the door really softly. I thought I'd imagined it until they did it again. But when I opened the door they just pushed me backwards into the room and closed it behind them. I thought they were going to rape me.
'But they didn't. They just told me to get some shoes on and come with them. Once I was ready they told me not to speak until we reached their car.' She grimaced. 'And now we know why. They didn't want the neighbours to know.'
She looked down at her feet and then up again. 'They told me nothing. They took me to a room in the basement where an old hag watched me change into that grey outfit, and then they took me to the cell. I had a bucket of water to wash with. No soap. I had another bucket to pee in. They emptied that twice a day. I was never questioned, never told why I was there.
'It doesn't sound bad, does it? I wasn't hurt. I didn't go hungry or thirsty. The thing was - they would come for other people at all times of the day and night. You'd hear the bootsteps, the bolts pulling back, the door swinging open, the shouts. Some people would start talking really quickly, some would sob. A few screamed. And then they'd disappear. An hour or so later the boots would be back, the door would slam. But you couldn't hear the prisoner anymore. You could just imagine whoever it was being shoved back into the cell, barely conscious. And every time the boots come back you think it's for you, and you're so, so, so relieved that it's someone else whimpering out there.
'And I thought - if I get out of here I can't forget this. And I haven't. I'm sitting here looking at this beautiful countryside and I'm thinking about those people in those cells who are dreading the sound of those boots. And that's just one building. There are all the concentration camps - more than twenty of them, someone told me.'
'I know,' Russell said. He had never seen her like this.
'We have to fight these people,' she said, turning to face him.
He felt shocked, and knew he shouldn't.
'I have to fight them,' she corrected herself. 'I don't really know how, but I can't go on living here and doing nothing.'
'You were right the first time,' Russell said, taking her hand. 'We're in this together.'
She squeezed his hand. 'So how do we start?'
With a leap in the dark, Russell thought. Or, given what they knew of the possible consequences, a leap in the light. 'A good question,' he said. 'There are some things I need to tell you,' he added, almost apologetically.
'I thought there must be.'
He smiled. 'First off, I'm sort of working for American intelligence.'
'Sort of?'
'They think I'm working for them, and I am, but it wasn't completely voluntary. I think I might have volunteered anyway, but they made it pretty clear that I'd only get the American passport if I agreed.'
'What...what do they want you to do?'
'They've given me a list of people. Most in Germany, but a few in Poland. Anti-Nazi people.'
'How did they hear about them?'
'From others who emigrated. I'm supposed to check them out, make contact if it seems advisable, find out where their loyalties lie. It's all rather vague, because they don't really know what they're doing. Basically, they've just woken up to the fact that a European war is coming, and that they have no ears and eyes anywhere on the continent.'
Effi looked thoughtful. 'I'm not doubting your journalistic abilities, my darling, but is this why you were given your new job?'
'The thought did occur to me, but I don't think so.' He shrugged. 'In practical terms, it doesn't make much difference one way or the other.'
'I see what you mean. So you're going to start checking these people out.'
'Slowly. And very carefully.'
'Good. All right. So that's what the Americans wanted for the passport. What did the SD want for me?'
'Not much. Yet. They may have big plans for the future, but the first thing they wanted me to do was re-enlist with the Soviets. The Sicherheitsdienst think they can use me as a conduit for false intelligence.'
'You've seen the Soviets already?'
'On Thursday. I told them I've been forced to work for the Germans and that the information I'll be giving them is a bunch of hooey. The ironic thing is - I was going to make contact with them anyway.'
'After last time?'
'Needs must. Effi, I'm all for fighting the good fight, but I'd really like us to survive these bastards. If the worst happens, and one or both of us ends up on the run from the Gestapo, the only people who could get us out of Germany are the comrades. They've had organized escape routes across the French and Belgian and Czech borders since the late 20s - it was them who got Albert Wiesner out. So I did a deal with myself - I'd work for the Americans, but only once I had our escape hatch arranged.'
'And the Soviets have agreed?'
'Not yet, but I think they will.'
'But what can you offer them?'
'Depends what they ask for. I could argue that I'm already doing them one service by telling them the German information is false.'
'Won't they want more than that?'
Russell shrugged. 'Who knows? It's all getting a bit surreal. Did you ever read
'When I was a child. Zarah used to have nightmares about the Queen of Hearts.'
'No wonder she married Jens.'
Effi laughed. 'Poor Zarah.' She held out her empty mug. 'Is there any more wine?'
He poured them both a generous measure, and they sat for a while in silence, sipping from the mugs and staring out at the landscape.
'John,' she said eventually, 'I want to help you however I can, but that's not all I want to do. You and I, well, we move in different worlds, don't we? The people I know...I have to do what I can in my world. I'm going to start talking to people - carefully, of course. There are thousands of people - millions for all I know - who think the Nazis are a cruel joke. I'm going...I don't know, you'll probably think I'm an idiot, but I've asked Lili Rohde to teach me more about make-up. I've told her it's because I'm getting older, and there aren't many parts for older women and I need to think about my future, but that's not the real reason. Make-up - disguise, really - seems like something that might come in useful in lots of ways.' She looked at him warily, as if expecting ridicule.
'It could,' he agreed.
Reassured, she went on. 'And I've been thinking about something else. We don't want to keep secrets from each other, but I think we may have to keep some. I was thinking that we could talk about what we were doing without using the right names. That way...'
'I understand,' Russell said. He had expected one of two reactions from Effi - either one of her trademark rants or a rueful decision to play it safe. He had not expected a simple statement of intent, let alone a cool appraisal of risk. He had underestimated her, and fear had been the reason. This new Effi was living proof that things had changed, and he was scared. For both of them.
'I was never interested in politics,' she said, 'and I'm still not really. You have to be for something in politics, you have to have some idea of a different world which is better than the one you've got. I just know what I'm against. Killing children because they're handicapped in some way. Locking up any-one who publicly disagrees with them. Torturing them. And all this violence against the Jews. It's just wrong. All of it.' She turned to him, angry tears welling in her eyes. 'I'm right, aren't I?'
'I'm afraid you are.'
