Roots of Evil (22 page)

Impassive-faced men, wearing the sharply efficient uniform of Göering’s Staatspolizei, erupted into the auditorium and ranged themselves along the walls. As the audience rose bewilderedly to its feet, and as women began to cry out in fear and clutch their escorts’ arms, four of the men mounted the platform and surrounded Conrad. He leapt to his feet at once, and Alice heard
him say, ‘This is an outrage! How dare you—’ and then one of the uniformed men who seemed to be the leader said, in machine-gun German, ‘We dare anything we wish, Herr Kline. The soldiers of the Schutzstaffeln have today marched into your city. Vienna is no longer a congress, and from today, you are all part of Germany.’ A gasp stirred the audience, and Alice felt, as if it was a solid thing, the fear start to fill up the auditorium.

The conductor was staring at the soldiers, and even from here Alice could see the horror in his face. He said, ‘Vienna part of Germany—’

Alice did not wait to hear the reply. She was already out of the stage box, running along the corridors that would bring her to the ground floor and the main part of the theatre, cursing the ridiculous shoes that had been so elegantly flattering but that now felt like stilts. She reached the head of the stairs and paused, impatiently tearing the shoes off, and then running on in her stockinged feet, heedless of the uncarpeted floors, because even if she tore her feet to shreds she must get to Conrad.

She had just started down the last curve of the stair, and she could see the deserted foyer below. But as she hesitated, the auditorium doors were pushed open and the SS soldiers appeared with Conrad, forcing him towards the street. The auditorium doors closed again, and Alice understood that the other officers were still guarding the audience and the orchestra. Until Conrad was out of the way?

The soldiers were holding Conrad firmly, but he was fighting them every inch of the way. His eyes were
blazing and his black hair had become dishevelled in the struggle so that it fell over his forehead in the way it did when he was working. He automatically tried to put up a hand to brush it back in the familiar impatient gesture, but the soldiers snatched his arms and pinioned them to his sides. The pettiness of this sent rage slicing through Alice’s entire body and her hands clenched involuntarily into fists. She would have liked to tear out the men’s throats with her enamelled nails, but she stayed where she was, listening intently, but pressing back against the wall so as not to be seen.

Conrad said angrily, ‘Where are you taking me? What is this about?’

‘You are listed as an enemy of Germany, Herr Kline.’ This time Alice caught a faint note of contempt under the steely voice.

‘That is ridiculous! I have no interest in your politics!’

The man who Alice had thought was the leader regarded Conrad for a moment. ‘You are half Russian,’ he said, at last. ‘You do not deny that?’

‘Certainly I do not deny it. My father was Russian,’ said Conrad haughtily, and even at such a confused and desperate moment he managed to conjure up old imperialism. ‘And my mother was from Salzburg.’

‘Your father was a Russian Jew,’ said the man coldly. ‘Therefore you are half a Jew. And you write and perform the music of the Jewish people.’

A cold fear began to close around Alice. The music of the Jewish people.
Deborah’s Song
! That’s what he means. But surely music isn’t something that the Nazi
Party would care about? Surely they would not arrest a man for writing music? Yes, but they burn books believed to spread anti-German sentiments, said her mind. They confiscate property and listen in to telephone calls.

‘We are pledged to the Führer’s vow that the security of Germany will be guaranteed,’ the man was saying. ‘And we are pledged, as well, to ensure that never again will the Jewish-Bolshevistic revolution of subhumans be kindled from the interior or through emissaries from outside.’

‘You’re mad,’ said Conrad angrily. ‘I’m not a revolutionary. This is the most fantastical nonsense I have ever heard.’

‘We are not mad. We obey orders, and we are sworn to be a merciless sword of justice to all those forces who threaten the heart of Europe and who threaten Germany,’ said the man, and Alice had the impression that he was repeating something learned by rote. ‘Jew,’ he said, and this time he made the word an insult. Alice saw him lean forward and spit in Conrad’s face.

Conrad flinched, but he glared at the man in fury. ‘You are all madmen,’ he said. ‘And your Führer is a postulating, prancing lunatic!’

The man’s lips thinned and his eyes resembled chippings of flint. He said in a cold rasping tone, ‘Herr Kline, you will regret ever having said that.’

‘I will not. And I will not go with you tonight.’

‘You will. We are taking you to one of Herr Göering’s camps,’ said the SS man.

‘On whose orders? I demand you tell me that!’

‘You are not in a position to demand anything. But
since you are insistent, I can tell you that it is the Kreisleiter for this area who has sent the order.’

Conrad said, coldly, ‘And who is he, this
Kreisleiter
?’

As Alice took a cautious step on to a lower stair, from the street door a voice said, ‘
I
am the Kreisleiter for this part of the City, Herr Kline, and it was I who gave the order for your arrest.’ And this time the horror engulfed her entire body.

The voice was the voice of a man she would never forget. A man who, all those years ago, had caused her to be thrown out of his parents’ house into the street.

Leo Dreyer. Miss Nina’s brother.

Alice pressed back into the shadowy curve of the stair at once. She was shaking uncontrollably, and she was more frightened than she had ever been in her entire life.

Conrad recognized Leo, of course. In a startled voice, he said, ‘Dreyer? What the devil is all this? For God’s sake tell these men they’ve made a mistake.’

‘No mistake has been made, Herr Kline.’ The voice was no longer that of the young man in the Vienna house; it was colder, more authoritative, and Alice recognized that it was laced with rancour. Was Dreyer still bitter against Conrad for abandoning his sister, and was it possible that he was using his position in the Nazi Party to mete out a punishment he thought due? Hardly daring to breathe, Alice edged a little way out of the shadows and peered down into the foyer. Yes, it was Dreyer all right.

‘You are to be taken to a place where you will be kept
with other Jews,’ said Leo Dreyer. ‘We are seeking them all out, and we shall find them, Herr Kline, be very sure that we shall find them.’ A pause. ‘We shall also find their families, and those they consort with,’ he said, and Alice felt a fresh wave of fear. Their families, and those they consort with…

At Dreyer’s signal, the soldiers pushed Conrad through the main doors and out into the street. There was the sound of several car engines being revved, and then the cars snarled away into the darkness. By the time Alice, still barefoot, had tumbled down the remaining stairs and reached the pavement outside, the cars were out of sight and there was nothing except the swirling exhaust fumes tainting the sweet-scented spring night.

The spacious apartment rooms that Alice had furnished with such delight no longer provided the haven they once had done.

We are seeking them all out, the Schutzstaffeln man had said. We are seeking out all the Jews, and their families and those they consort with…

Their families. Alice was not especially concerned for herself, but there was Deborah, sweet, helpless, trustful Deborah, who was known to be Conrad’s daughter. But surely they would not harm children, not even those steel-eyed, rat-trapped SS men would do that, not even Leo Dreyer with the bitter hatred burning in his face.

And yet…

And yet she found herself whisking around the apartment, flinging clothes into suitcases, calculating and planning as she did so, and rapping out orders to Deborah’s nurse, who only partly understood what was
going on, but who had heard the marching soldiers in the streets earlier on and had grasped that this was not just one of Madame’s tantrums. She dragged out suitcases under her mistress’s directions, stammering fearful questions. Where were they going? How were they to travel? Alice stopped in the middle of her bedroom for a moment, her mind working.

‘England,’ she said, very positively. And then, seeing the woman’s surprise, said, ‘It’s perfectly possible if you keep your head and do exactly what I tell you. You have your passport here, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, from when I first came to you from Eindhoven, madame, but—’

‘Good.’ Alice spared a moment to thank whatever gods might be most appropriate that when she engaged a nurse she had chosen a Dutch girl who had at least travelled a little and who possessed a passport. ‘Then listen carefully. What you must do is to take Deborah now – tonight—’

Yes, tonight, said her mind, because at any moment we might hear the marching feet outside, because if Leo Dreyer can order them to take someone as innocent as Conrad, he can order them to take Conrad’s family as well.

‘You can get a cab downstairs to the railway station,’ she said. ‘It’s barely ten o’clock, and there’ll be plenty still around – oh, wait, though, you’ll need money—’ She snatched folded rolls of bills from her dressing-case and thrust them into the woman’s hands. ‘And you had better have something to sell if the money runs out, or you can’t change it for English currency. Here – and
here—’ Shining tumbles of gold and silver went haphazardly into a velvet bag, to be thrust into the side pocket of a suitcase. Most of the baroness’s jewellery had been gifts from Conrad and a lot of it had been bought to mark special occasions – their first meeting, the premiere of
Alraune
, Deborah’s birth. Each one held a memory, but Alice would sell every stone and every carat of the jewellery and her entire wardrobe of clothes as well, if it would ensure Deborah’s safety.

‘Sell everything if you have to,’ she said, ‘but go to small, anonymous jewellers, and only sell one piece at a time because that will be less noticeable.’

‘Yes. I understand. But where am I to go—?’

‘I would like to tell you to get on the first train that comes in and get as far away from Vienna as you can,’ said Alice. ‘But that might be a train that would take you nearer to Germany, and because of what is happening here Germany had better be avoided. So if you can, go down to Salzburg – if anyone questions you, say Deborah is your daughter and you’re taking her to your family there. Can you do that? Can you lie convincingly?’

‘I dislike lies, madame, but in this case I will lie very convincingly indeed.’

‘Good. In Salzburg station get on a train for Switzerland. Or if there are no suitable trains, hire a car and a driver if need be. The expense does not matter, you understand that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Your papers are all in order, and you should have no problem in crossing the borders,’ said Alice. ‘From
Switzerland you go into France. Again, by train if you can, but by car if not. Have your passport always ready and do not seem to be trying to hide anything. Most big railway stations have hotels attached; book into them overnight when you have to – it’s probably better not to seem in a hurry with the journey. Keep Deborah with you at all times, of course. Once you are in France it should be easy enough to take the ferry to England.’

‘Yes. I’ll do my very best.’

‘Once in England, go to Mr and Mrs John Wilson,’ said Alice. ‘I’ll write the address down for you. You’ll have to ask people for help for that part of the journey, but there will be police stations, railway officials—And your English is very good.’

‘Who are Mr and Mrs Wilson?’

‘It does not matter. But you can trust them absolutely, and so can I.’ Her parents would disapprove of Deborah’s existence – a child born out of wedlock, they would say, shocked – but they would look after her, Alice knew this. She said, ‘I’ll write a letter for you to give them, explaining what has happened.’

‘But aren’t you coming as well? Madame, if there’s danger, you must come with us.’

‘I’m not coming,’ said Alice. ‘I can’t. I must stay here until I find out where Conrad is. One of the labour camps, the SS man said. If that’s true, I must find a way of getting him out.’

It had torn Alice apart to send Deborah away, but it had had to be done. And once the nurse had taken her, and Alice, leaning out of the windows, had seen them get
into a passing cab, she experienced a huge bolt of relief. They would be all right. They would almost certainly get to safety.

She moved swiftly about the rooms, flinging things into a suitcase, listening all the time for the sounds of heavy SS vehicles in the street below. Would Leo Dreyer come after her? Would he do so tonight? But don’t think about that. Think about getting out of this apartment, leaving no trace behind, and concentrate on vanishing, on becoming anonymous. This last was so nearly absurd that Alice could have laughed aloud. Lucretia von Wolff, anonymous! The infamous baroness with her strings of lovers and her exotic gowns to vanish into obscurity! Yes, but I came from obscurity, let’s never forget that. And now I can go back to it.

She had given Deborah’s nurse most of the money, but she counted what was left and thought there was sufficient to keep her for a while if she lived carefully. She was just searching the bureau for her passport when she became aware that the humming of the traffic outside had changed. She listened intently. Was she imagining it, or had she heard the staccato sounds of marching? Yes, she could hear the ring of boots on the cobbled street and the shouting of crisp orders. Some kind of heavy vehicle was lumbering along, and there was the growling purr of motorbikes. She darted to the light switches, plunging the apartment into darkness, and peered cautiously out of the windows.

The panic came in a huge breath-snatching wave because the soldiers really were here, they were halfway along the street, going systematically from house to
house, hammering on doors, peering through windows. With them was one of the Nazis’ large distinctive army-type vehicles, flanked with six outriders on motorbikes. If that really is for me, I’m getting the full honours, thought Alice, beating down the fear. Six motorbikes, no less. And at least twenty soldiers.

A thin dispiriting drizzle was falling, turning the helmets of the soldiers and the leather capes of the motorbike riders shiny black, like the carapaces of scuttling insects. Clouds of vapour came from the lorry’s exhaust and at intervals its powerful engine revved, turning it into a snarling surreal monster, its bulbous headlights searching the darkness for victims. I can’t fight that, thought Alice in horror. I can’t fight monsters, and I can’t outwit all those shiny-armoured men. But in the next instant she knew she must try, and she took several deep breaths and held on to the window-ledge as tightly as she could, forcing the narrow edge of the sill into her palms. The small pain helped clear her head, enabling her to think clearly again.

She stared down into the street. The rain had turned everything into a grainy monochrome painting: black and grey and bleak, a landscape from a nightmare, or a madman’s distorted ravings. Almost like a scene from one of my own films. But if I’m going to play the heroine in this one, I don’t think I’d better stay here long enough to risk any dramatic encounters, in fact I’d better vanish before the villain reaches me.

The villain. Alice could not see Leo Dreyer among the soldiers but she thought he would be there. She had no idea yet if he knew her real identity, but he had said
they were seeking out the families and the associates of Jewish people, and he would certainly relish capturing the infamous baroness…

But they aren’t going to capture me, she thought determinedly, and stepping back from the window she snatched a long dark raincoat from the wardrobe, stuffing the money and the few remaining strands of jewellery into the pockets and thrusting her passport into an inner pocket. She grabbed the suitcase, trying not to gasp at its weight, and went out on to the communal landing, closing the apartment door as softly as possible. But already there was the sound of the gilded-cage lift clanking up from below, and with her heart pounding Alice ran along the landing and through the door that led to the back stairs. She skidded down the stairs, praying not to miss her footing, and reached the bottom safely. As she went out through the side door into the narrow alley that ran alongside the building, she heard the angry shouts of the SS men from above.

Not daring even to glance over her shoulder, she half-ran into the maze of streets beyond.

The frightened lady’s maid of all those years earlier would probably have spent the night huddled miserably in a doorway somewhere, hoping to avoid the soldiers. Lucretia von Wolff, of course, would have sailed imperiously into the largest, plushest hotel she could find, and demanded a suite.

Alice did neither. She walked as far as she could, occasionally putting the suitcase down to rest her arms, and eventually came to a slightly run-down district on the
eastern side of the city. The houses had peeling façades, and some of them looked a bit seedy, but several had signs in the windows offering rooms for rent. This was what she had been looking for. After a careful appraisal she chose the one that looked the cleanest, but before approaching it she took from her case a silk headsquare which she tied over her hair. She would not be able to entirely obliterate the baroness, but she could at least disguise her a bit.

Once inside the small room, the incurious owner given a week’s rent, she felt safer, although the panic was still clutching her stomach and she was again aware of agonized fear for Deborah. Was I right to send her away like that? Should I have gone with her?

And abandon Conrad? said her mind at once.

When Alice thought of it like that, she knew she could not have acted in any other way.

Several times in the weeks that followed she considered taking people into her confidence – perhaps one of her friends from the film days, perhaps the lawyer who had drawn up the change of name documents – but she dared not trust anyone. Nazi rule was tightening around Vienna and people were eyeing one another uneasily. There were curfews for Jewish people in the city, and tales of ordinary men and women spying for the SS were rife.

Alice altered her appearance as much as she could. It was impossible to get rid of the baroness’s distinctive black hair – she would have to wait for the last lot of hair-dye to grow out – but she dressed unobtrusively and
tied her hair beneath a headscarf when she went out. She changed her lodgings twice, each time going to a different part of the city, each time making casual acquaintances in shops and coffee houses, listening to all they had to say.

But the summer wore stiflingly on, and although she talked to more and more people, and although she hired cabs which took her into the Vienna Woods on the east and almost to the German border on the west, she did not pick up any clue as to where Conrad might be.

There were more soldiers on the streets now – the sharp-eyed men of Göering’s Gestapo – and people scuttled along without looking to right or left. It grew colder; the leaves turned golden brown. Alice usually loved autumn, but now she found it hateful.

And then, just after October had slid down into November and there was a bite of coldness in the nights, a carefully casual remark to a chance acquaintance in a shop brought forth an inquiring look, and then the question: ‘You have a friend who was taken by the SS?’

‘A friend of a friend,’ said Alice, who by this time had worked out a reasonably safe system of questions and answers.

‘Jewish men and women from this area are being taken to Dachau,’ said the woman. ‘Your friend will perhaps be there.’

‘Dachau?’ Alice had never heard of the place.

‘A village in Germany. Fifteen or twenty kilometres outside Munich.’

‘That is a long way from here,’ said Alice thoughtfully.

‘Oh yes. Several hours’ journey. Four or five hundred kilometres certainly.’ A sideways look. ‘But your friend may not be kept there – we hear stories of prisoners being moved around.’

‘Why would prisoners be moved? Where would they be moved to?’

This time the pause, the sideways look were more pronounced. Then there was a shrug. ‘Who knows how the minds of Nazis work? Who knows what will happen to any of us next?’

Alice, not daring to appear too curious, said, ‘Who indeed?’ and left it at that.

And indeed, who could have guessed that the next thing would be for the intricate spider-web of intrigue and spying to pick up that fragmentary conversation? And who could have guessed it would be painstakingly traced all the way back to the quietly dressed, quietly living lady so recently moved into a small apartment on Vienna’s outskirts? Had that chance acquaintance been one of the spies after all? Or had the scrappy conversation been overheard?

Alice was never to know. Two days later, eating a modest and solitary supper in one of the little coffee-houses near to her lodgings, she was aware of the sounds of some kind of tumult from the direction of the inner city. People were looking towards the sounds, and pointing, and Alice saw that the sky had a curious dull reddish tinge.