The traffic backed up at the entrance to the Kurfurstendamm entertainment district, so she paid the driver and got out at an intersection. The street was busy with people, and she weaved her way through the crowd. She passed several rowdy bars, and a group of young men tried to corral her into one. She politely refused, but asked directions to the Bierkeller bar. She tried again in vain to spot a tail, but there were so many people; none of them stood out. She started memorizing parked cars’ license plates; at least she could do that well enough.
The Bierkeller was quieter than the rest, and she took a seat on the small patio. She ordered a gin fizz as the note had suggested and saw the waiter talking with the bartender about how to make it. Then he came back with a menu and placed it on the table.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, but the waiter was gone. She flipped it open. There was a small square of paper tucked inside. Go out the back way.
She passed the bartender, still struggling with the gin fizz, and headed to the hallway leading out of the back end of the bar. It gave her déjà vu goosebumps from her training session with Hewitt in France, but at least there would be no going out the bathroom window this time.
The rear door of the bar led into a courtyard that was well kept, with a square of lawn and a bird bath. Three-story buildings, the same height as the bar, surrounded the courtyard. She glanced up at the windows and fire escapes surrounding her. No one had seen her cross the grass, as far as she could tell. A man was pushing a broom at the far corner of the courtyard. She approached him. He didn’t look at her.
“Keep moving,” he said in heavily accented English.
There was a tight passageway leading out of the courtyard. She could see a dark sedan at the end of it. When she emerged from the passageway, the rear door of the car was flung open and she could see Lydia seated inside.
Aubrey checked left and right before getting in the car. Satisfied, she slid in and closed the door, and was thrown backwards as the car jerked away. The two women were silent for a block.
“Are we clear, Ernst?” Lydia asked the driver. Aubrey recognized him; he was the one who had tailed her after she’d inquired about Lydia.
“I believe so.”
“Good. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“You’re lucky you caught me; I’ve been out of Berlin for the past couple of days. And I’m leaving tonight. My train to France leaves at eleven.”
“There are other trains.”
“I know, but I think I’ve overstayed my welcome in your country.”
“Will you not hear us out?”
“Sure, for all the good it will do. But my bags are packed.”
“My father is being released,” she said abruptly.
“Oh? That’s good news. I didn’t think they did that.”
“They do. There are so many people being put in camps that the state is scrambling to throw up new ones. Sometimes, with the right persuasion, or bribes, a person can be released. They released hundreds of prisoners in ’thirty-three, at Christmastime. A goodwill gesture—the last we’ll see, I’m sure.”
“Sounds like you have caught a bit of luck. I hope you and your father make out just fine.”
“There is a problem. He is a frail old man, sickly. A year in that camp will diminish him even more. He has to be helped.”
“And…?”
“We cannot show ourselves to the commandant of the camp. We will be arrested.”
“And I won’t?” Aubrey said, suddenly realizing what Lydia was asking.
“Doubtful.”
“Not a lot of reassurance there. Why will you be arrested? Because you’re Jews?”
“No, because we are political. The Gestapo has issued orders for our arrest. We are enemies of the state. You said when we first met that you wanted to help. Now we need you.”
Aubrey sighed. “I’m leaving in two hours.”
“If no one is there to assist my father, to sign for him, it is likely he will be incarcerated again.”
“Where is he? Dachau?”
“No, much closer than that – Lichtenburg. It is where Berliners are sent.”
“When is he being released?” What are you doing, Aubrey?
“First thing tomorrow morning. There is a train to France at noon. I’m sure you can be on it.”
“Where am I taking Lazarus?”
“Not far. To his farm. We will provide you with an automobile. The process is quite simple. You show identification, sign for the prisoner, and he is released to you.”
“They won’t mind a foreigner signing for him?”
“I think they will just be glad to get rid of him.”
“Very well.”
Spontaneously, Lydia leaned forward and kissed Aubrey on the cheek. “Thank you, Aubrey. Thank you.”
They had been driving in circles, but now they swung back towards Aubrey’s hotel. They let her off on a darkened street three blocks from the Adlon. Aubrey made plans to meet them at that same spot tomorrow morning at seven. They would be at the prison by eight, and she could be back in the city on her way to the train station by eleven. She made a mental note to cancel her train ticket for tonight and move it to tomorrow afternoon. One more night in Berlin, she told herself.
She walked along the darkened side street in the direction of her hotel. A car was idling up ahead of her, its exhaust blooming out. The shops were closed, their doorways dark and gloomy. From one of them she heard a snort and as she passed, she saw a figure hunched up in the darkness. She looked
