The Serpent's Egg (2 page)

“Since the owners were forced to sell the store. Since all the Jews were sacked. There has been talk at work that half-Jews will be next.”

“You’re not half-Jewish.”

“It’s the thin edge of a wedge, Max. People talk. Rumors spread. If we were married all the rumors about me would cease.”

He said nothing. The blank look on his face was not encouraging.

“Don’t you want to get married, Max?”

“Of course I do. You know I do. I love you. I want for us to have children, but it’s just not possible.”

“It’s not impossible. Others have managed it.”

“Important people – rich people – can skirt the law, but not people like us. Now, let’s leave the subject for the moment.”

She jumped from the table, knocking over her coffee cup. A few drops fell on the tabletop before he grabbed the cup and righted it. “What gives the government the right to tell me who I can and cannot marry? Can’t you see how unjust that is?”

“It’s the law.”

Anna’s blood pressure rose a couple of notches. Max seemed to accept any injustice as long as it was ‘the law.’ Where was his fortitude, his conviction, his inner strength?

“And Madam Krauss —”

“— Is an old witch.”

“She’s nothing of the sort. She’s a gifted fortune-teller and a psychic. And she offered to help us. Don’t you think we should accept her offer?”

“You really believe that mumbo jumbo, don’t you?”

“It’s not mumbo jumbo. You heard what she said. She has friends in high places, friends who have been given permission to marry —”

“We have only her word for that.” Max snorted. “Where are we going to get a hundred Reichsmarks?”

Anna made an exaggerated pout. “How much am I worth to you? You wouldn’t pay a hundred marks to be able to marry me?”

“Of course I would, my love, but I don’t believe this Madam Krauss can influence matters one way or the other. She’s just trying to put her hand in our pockets.”

“You don’t know that. Why can’t you open your mind? Some forces that cannot be seen are real.”

He made an ugly face. “You mean like gravity or magnetism?”

“I mean like the force of the mind and the spirit world.”

“My mother has a saying, the only person more foolish than a magician is his customer.”

“And what makes your mother an expert on magicians?” She snatched his plate from the table and dropped it in the sink.

He stood up from the table and slipped his jacket on. “I’m going to be late for work. So are you. Can we agree to do nothing for the moment?”

“What will that achieve?”

“The law may change. The Nazis might lose power.”

She frowned at him. “How likely is that within our lifetimes?”

Chapter 4

June 1938

Two weeks later, on Friday June 3, Max took a half-day from his holiday entitlement and paid a visit to Gestapo headquarters in Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse. He was directed to Department B (Race and Ethnic Affairs) on the third floor, where he had to wait an hour sitting on a wooden bench in a corridor, playing mind-games with the plaster cracks on the walls and watching men in uniform coming and going. When he was called, he presented an envelope containing his paperwork to a uniformed official behind a counter in a smoke-filled office.

“Name?”

“Max-Christian Noack.”

The official placed his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. “Your application fee?”

Max handed over 20 Reichsmarks. The official opened a cash box with a key and took out a pad of receipts. He signed a receipt, tore it off the pad and handed it to Max. Then he placed the money in the box and locked it. Max put the receipt in his wallet.

The official ran his eyes over Max’s documents. The paperwork consisted of their two
Ariernachweise
together with 14 copies of birth certificates: his, Anna’s, their parents’ and their eight grandparents’, as well as marriage certificates for all sets of parents and grandparents.

He scanned Anna’s
Ariernachwies
before checking through the other documents. He stabbed a tar-stained finger at one of the marriage certificates. “These people are Jewish.” It sounded like an accusation.

The official picked up his cigarette, filled his lungs and exhaled the smoke, his eyes never losing contact with Max’s. “You are familiar with the Nuremberg Laws?”

The acrid smoke stung his eyes, but Max tried not to blink. “Of course, but I understand that exceptions can be made in some cases.”

“In marginal cases, yes, where there is only one Jewish grandparent. Not in cases where there are two. This person is a second degree
Mischling
. I must warn you that making a fraudulent application is considered a waste of official time, which is a criminal offense.” He handed the paperwork back. “You do, however have the right to appeal to the Reich Committee for the Protection of German Blood.”

“I’ve looked into that. There’s a 2-year waiting list and very few cases are granted.”

“Well, there you are, then. Let me see your personal papers.”

Max handed over his identity card.

“You are employed in the Reich Labor Service?”

“Yes.”

He clicked his fingers. “Show me your Party membership.”

“I don’t have that with me.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you, you must carry that at all times? As a member of the Party and an official of the Reich you should be fully aware of your duties. You would be well advised to familiarize yourself completely with the laws of the Reich.” He handed back Max’s papers. “You may go.”

Chapter 5

June 1938

Max left Gestapo headquarters grumbling under his breath. He still had most of the afternoon free, so he took a tram to the Brauhaus in Kurfürstenstrasss and bought himself a fortifying liter of Helles before making his way to Madam Krauss’s home.

He knocked on the door and waited. Madam Krauss opened it a crack. “You don’t have an appointment. What do you want?”

“I’m sorry, Madam. I need your help.”

She let him in, but he had to wait in the front parlor for 30 minutes while she dealt with an existing client.

The front parlor was stuffed with furniture, old and heavy, like an antique shop. There was a bookcase full of dusty leather-bound books, a sideboard of Black Forest oak and various armchairs and sofas that nobody ever sat on. He stood with an ear pressed to the door. All he could hear was mumbling voices, Madam Krauss’s and another, deeper voice. He couldn’t catch anything that was said.

The parlor door opened and Madam Krauss came in, carrying a silver tray with tea and Danish pastries. She set the tray on a table.

“You remember me, Madam?”

“Of course. Anna Weber’s sweetheart.”

“Our Marriage Application was rejected by the Gestapo today. You will recall you offered to help us.”

“I offered to do what I could. Tell me what happened with the Gestapo.

“I asked if they would make an exception for us. They refused.”

“Anna’s a Mischling?”

He hated the word, but passed no comment on it. “A quarter. Two grandparents on her mother’s side were Jewish.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m 25.”

“I assume you’ve done your national service?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re not with the Wehrmacht. What do you do?”

“I have a government job.”

“And are you happy in your job?”

He shrugged. “As content as the next man, I suppose.”

“Are you a Party member?”

“Of course. Every government worker must carry a Party card.”

“What does Anna do?”

“She’s a waitress in the food court at the KaDeWe department store.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s 24. Will you be able to help us?”

She poured the tea and handed him a cup.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Max thought he had. “Madam?”

“Tell me how you feel about working for the Nazis.”

What a loaded question! To avoid answering and give himself time to frame a suitable reply, Max stuffed his mouth with apple pastry.

She fixed him with her gaze. “Well?”

He swallowed. “Can I be frank, Madam?”

“Everything you tell me is in strict confidence, child.”

“The truth is I would never have joined the Party if I could have avoided it. I hate everything they stand for.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I can see you are a young man who thinks for himself.”

Madam Krauss raised her cup to her lips with a poised pinkie. “Far too many of our young people follow the Party line, these days, don’t you think?”

Max took another bite of his pastry. If she was going to continue skirting subversion like this he might have to reach for a second one. He nodded. With a mouth full of pastry he was freed from the obligation to agree verbally.

“I thought so. I knew from the moment I saw you. I said to myself, here is a young man of independent thought, a man of conviction, who doesn’t follow the crowd, a man of principle, who says what he believes and believes what he says.” Max swallowed and opened his mouth to speak. What he had in mind was to introduce a note of moderation, but before he could say anything, his host continued to gild the lily. “A man of action. A true patriot who can be relied on to follow his own conscience. Am I right?”

Max shook his head.

“This is no time for modesty. Your young lady must be proud of you. And you make such a happy couple.”

“Thank you. Madam.”

“More tea? Help yourself to another pastry.”

“No thank you, Madam.” Get on with it, woman!

She laughed. “When I was your age nothing would keep me from the pastry dish.”

He suppressed an unkind rejoinder. “Will you help us, Madam?”

“You have the documents?”

Max gave her the two
Ariernachweise.

“And my fee?”

Max handed over 100 Reichsmarks, a month’s wages.

Her face cracked into a sort of smile. “I will be happy to pass these to a friend who will be able to help.”

Max took a deep breath. “Thank you, Madam. When can we expect a result?”

“I would give it a week, perhaps two. Expect a visit from someone within the next two weeks.”

#

When Max told Anna about his visit to the Gestapo office, and the outcome, she dropped one of her mother’s precious cups. The willow pattern porcelain shattered on contact with the kitchen floor. “Oh Max-Christian, what did you do that for? Now that door has been firmly closed.”

He helped her tidy up the shattered porcelain. “It was always closed, Anna. Maybe we have to accept that we will never marry. Our union is forbidden under Reich law.”

“We agreed to do nothing and wait. You should have talked it over with me first. Now the Gestapo are aware of us, anything might happen.”

He reached out for her. “Like what?”

She flapped at him to keep him off. “I don’t know. I could lose my job at the department store. You could be kicked out of the ministry. The Gestapo might alert the Brownshirts and they could come and beat us. I don’t know.”

He managed to put an arm around her waist. “Don’t give up so easily, Anna. I also went to see Madam Krauss.”

She stared at him wide-eyed. “You paid her fee? But you said you never would. You said she was a confidence trickster.”

“I know what I said, Anna. But I gave her the money and she’s agreed to help us. She said we should hear something in about two weeks.”

“What else did she say?”

“She asked me a lot of questions. I think she won’t do anything to help Nazis or Nazi sympathizers.”

“She suspects you of sympathizing with the Nazis?”

Max loved her in all her moods, but she was at her most attractive when she was angry, nostrils flared, blue eyes blazing, blond hair scattered about her face, and her fingers arched like talons.

“No, but she knows I’m a Party member.”

“Only because you have to be.”

“I think that’s what she wanted to check out.”

Anna’s mood switched from anger to concern. Her brow furrowed. “What else did she say?”

“She decided I was a man of action, someone who thinks for himself.”

She snorted. “And she claims to be psychic!”

“And someone who can’t keep his hands from the pastries.”

“She said that?”

“What she said was that she couldn’t resist pastries when she was young.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It shows.”

He laughed. “I had the same thought.”

“You didn’t say anything! Tell me you didn’t insult the woman in her own home.”

“Of course not. I was very well behaved. We sipped tea in her front parlor. She said she would do her best, but she made no promises.”

Anna stood on tiptoe and put her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Max.” He kissed her. She responded eagerly. “I’m sure Madam Krauss will find a way.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Don’t you remember, she foretold that I will achieve justice with my tenacity and with the help of a wise old woman.”

“She said you’d have to break something first.”

Anna’s hand covered her mouth. “The cup!”

Chapter 6

June 1938

While Max and Anna were sleeping in their studio apartment in Kolonnenstrasss, the Anti-Nazi Resistance was busy in a secret location in a fashionable district in the west of the city. Adam Kuckhoff was putting the finishing touches to the editorial section of their latest leaflet. He handed it to Arvid Harnack who re-read the entire leaflet. A single broadsheet, it described several of the latest atrocities committed by the Nazi Brownshirts in the streets of Berlin and other German cities. The main article, written by Adam under the pseudonym ‘Grock’, warned of an approaching war in Europe.

Adam was 51, Arvid a mere stripling of 37, although Adam thought the age difference was not so obvious as he had a strong head of hair while Arvid’s was receding fast.