While Still We Live (36 page)

“But I’d like a short walk. I need fresh air. It is too hot in here.”

Hofmeyer paused in counting his change. “So?” he said slowly. He lifted the package and carried it towards the street without any more delay.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked as he turned in the direction of his office.

“Herr Hefner was too dignified to carry that parcel. He’s quite the most graceful snob I have ever met.”

“In the restaurant you were very serious for a moment. I knew you must want to see me when you ’phoned. But is it as bad as the way you looked when you said you needed a walk?”

She told him quickly about Casimir. “And I am sure there’s a dictaphone. There were too many workmen pottering about the flat yesterday with no obvious results to show for their labours. Where would that dictaphone be?”

“Anywhere. It’s a small thing. Probably linked up with the telephone.”

“Then our words would be heard as soon as they are spoken?”

“Yes. All telephones are operated by Germans, now.”

“Then Casimir could be arrested at any moment?”

“When we think it’s worth our while to arrest him. We’ve plenty of more important people to arrest. He will be on the black list for treatment as soon as we have the time. That may be tomorrow or next week. Today we are busy.” He paused and then said still more gravely, “Edward Korytowski was arrested at dawn this morning.”

Sheila turned white. She was going to be sick. She halted and leaned for a moment against a bullet-scarred doorway. The attack of nausea passed.

“For what reason?” For the meeting in his apartment? her eyes asked anxiously.

“Professors are being arrested. That’s the only reason.”

“What will happen to him? To the others? Most of them were too old for military service.”

“He is being sent to Dachau.”
A very interesting place,
Hefner had said. In spite of the midday sun striking through her new wool clothes, Sheila shivered. The pavement under her feet lost its even surface for the next few steps. Uncle Edward. Dachau.

“Polish culture must be destroyed,” Hofmeyer said in a hard
voice. “The orders were issued yesterday. No Polish universities, or colleges, or high schools. No Polish libraries, newspapers, priests, law courts or radio. The great silence has begun.”

Sheila couldn’t speak. She stared unseeing at the buildings in front of her.

“As for Casimir, either Department Fourteen will help him to leave Warsaw at once, or perhaps we could find some use for him with Number Thirty-one.”

Sheila forced herself to pay attention. Those who still could be saved must be thought of first. “Thirty-one,” she said. Casimir would rather be with those who helped the guerrillas than be sent out of Poland. “He’s so alone,” she added.

“As soon as you get back to the flat, send him away at once. To Warecka Street, Number 15. They will hide him until we can make arrangements for him. He seems a brave boy, this Casimir.”

Sheila nodded. “Worth helping,” she said. When Poland was free again she would need all her Casimirs. “Shall we ever see him, again?” she asked.

“No. And better keep the dog with you. Don’t let it follow him. It could give him away. You understand?”

She nodded wearily.

“We shall soon be at the office. It was better not to take a long walk today. I am bringing you back here to discuss the problem of Korytów, so that this journey here together will seem natural.”

Something in his tone aroused her. “Is Dittmar suspicious?” she asked quickly.

“He trusts nobody. There are too many gambling for power to let us be generous and trustful with each other. Don’t worry. The dictaphones and tapped ’phones are merely part of the Nazi
methods. They like blackmail. They don’t expect state secrets: they are content with an ill-chosen friendship or a hidden love affair or an unadvised opinion to give them a hold over their fellow spies. Dittmar thinks he is clever: he watches me because I’m a serious rival; he watches you because some day he may want to use you against me. That’s all. Besides, I watch Herr Dittmar just as carefully.” Herr Hofmeyer smiled, as he transferred the weight of the parcel from one arm to another. I, too, have enough influence to have dictaphones installed, he seemed to say.

“I still think he doesn’t accept me,” Sheila said. “He cannot forgive me the fact that I escaped and Elzbieta didn’t. He’s possessive. Her death was an injury directed at him.”

“He accepts you slightly more since Captain Streit approved of you yesterday morning.”

Sheila looked sharply at Hofmeyer. What riddle was this?

“Streit is Gestapo chief for our district. He commended your information on Gustav Schlott as a future helper of the Poles. Don’t look so distressed. I assure you Schlott was too warmhearted and simple; he had already talked too much. He would have been caught red-handed helping the Poles. Then he would not have been evicted. In fact, we saved his life. I forwarded your report on him two days ago. Yesterday, action was taken.”

“What a miserable kind of person you’ve made me out to be,” Sheila said resentfully.

“But what an excellent Nazi, Fräulein Braun. And after all, I have got to justify your existence here, from time to time.”

Neither of them spoke as they approached the large house where Hofmeyer had his suite. They kept their silence until
they were inside Hofmeyer’s own private office.

“I brought you here,” he said crisply as he rubbed circulation back into his fingers, “because a decision about Korytów has been reached. It seems that the village has been giving us trouble. A punitive expedition is to be sent against it. An example will be made of the village, and certainly the Aleksander woman will not receive permission to travel there. I, at the moment, am too busy to be able to find a solution for you. So are the other departments. For the victory parade into the city takes place on the sixth of this October; that is the day after tomorrow. The Avenue Ujazdowskie has at last been made fit for the parade, and our Führer will himself be present. Naturally, we are busy finding prominent hostages and arresting potential troublemakers. You can see how the problem of Korytów is now one for you alone.”

He watched the amazement on her face and continued: “I have done all I can at the moment. Here are the necessary permits which will allow you to make the journey. If you do so, it will of course be on your own judgment and risk. Herr Ditt—the other department which I hoped would facilitate your journey refuses to help at this moment. They consider the Aleksander woman and her children are of no importance.”

Sheila’s horror over the fate of Korytów gave way to dismay as she realised that if Herr Dittmar’s policy (for that slip of Hofmeyer’s tongue as he referred to the department which had been so uncooperative was no accident) meant no Aleksanders, then that meant in turn, no Sheila Matthews. As Anna Braun she would be given some real German work to do. Dittmar might even try to have her transferred to his department.

A telephone call interrupted Hofmeyer’s account of how she
might attempt the journey to Korytów if she decided to make it. Sheila sat tensely while he answered it. Surely Hofmeyer realised that this was Dittmar’s thin end of the wedge to ease her out of the Aleksander-Matthews relationship? Surely—and then, looking at the number of permits, clipped together, which Hofmeyer had pushed across the desk to her as he reached for the telephone, she knew that he fully realised that. He wanted her to go to Korytów and keep the Aleksanders together, together with her own excuse of being Sheila Matthews. He knew, too, that any other solution would lead her into grave complications, perhaps himself and Olszak into danger. He knew. Otherwise he wouldn’t have taken the trouble to get these permits for her. If his permission now seemed grudging, it was only because he was manoeuvring against a department or combination of departments which were powerful. She examined the permits: they allowed her considerable freedom of movement. She couldn’t help thinking what an involved way of wasting time and energy all these pieces of paper represented: this was carrying German method to a ludicrous extreme. She thought of Uncle Matthews for the first time in days: how he used to grumble over the inanities of income tax returns. He ought to see the complexities of German rule. And then she realised that Uncle Matthews, attached to some branch of British Intelligence as he must be, would probably see samples of all these permits. And Department Fifteen of Olszak’s organisation was no doubt making excellent copies of them, at this very minute. Department Fifteen. Stanislaw Aleksander. There was her plan. Her main problem was solved. Once she could get the Aleksander children and their mother reunited, Stanislaw could attend to their papers and
credentials. She would get them safely out of Poland, yet. The feeling that she must go to Korytów was strengthened. And she must go at once. If only Dittmar’s department had been helpful, she could have made the journey so quickly, so easily. With an official car, she would have been there in less than an hour. She would have been in time to warn Korytów. She stuffed the papers into her handbag, wondered how quickly she could make the journey on her own initiative, worrying if she would reach the village in time, wishing Hofmeyer would stop phoning and let her leave.

He ended his series of abrupt “
Ja!
” and “
Jawohl!
” He replaced the receiver, looking at her with eyes suddenly worried, with lips tightly closed. “Herr Dittmar would like to see you. He has sent Hefner round here to collect you. He wants you to identify Kordus.”

“Kordus?”

“Yes, they have a body over at the Gestapo headquarters which they believe to be Kordus. The man would not admit anything before he died.”

“I am to go to Gestapo headquarters?” The look on her face awakened Hofmeyer’s pity.

He stopped looking worried, and said lightly as if to cure her of this sudden stagefright, “Yes. They are in the former Ministry of Education building on Aleja Szucha. That isn’t so far from Frascati where you are living. Consider it just a break on your journey home with your new autumn clothes.”

Sheila smiled weakly. “That parcel is becoming a nuisance,” she said. “I think I’ll ask Herr Hefner to take me to Frascati Gardens first. That’s on the way, anyway.” And then I can at least tell Casimir to leave, she thought. Perhaps she herself would
never come out of the Gestapo building once it swallowed her up.

Hofmeyer was obviously relieved at the casualness of her voice, but he noticed the tense neck, the hands held too stiffly. “So we’ve got Kordus,” he said. But he shook his head wamingly. Don’t believe it, his eyes said, don’t believe it.

“Now I have some work to do, Fräulein Braun. While you wait for Hefner, here are some copies of the newest decrees and regulations. They will show you how we intend to treat the Poles.” He handed her a pile of printed sheets with impressive headings. On a slip of paper attached to the top page, he had scribbled: “Careful. Fake.”

She left him, with a newly lighted cigarette in his mouth and a piece of flaming paper in his hand. His eyes were on her as she closed the door. He gave an encouraging smile. That was the last time she ever saw Herr Hofmeyer.

* * *

Herr Hefner set himself out to be fascinating. He talked gaily all the way to Frascati Gardens. Sheila had an uncomfortable doubt as to whether all this charm was the result of a genuine liking for her, or he was only following special orders. He was extremely obliging about halting the car round the corner from Steve’s flat and letting her carry the heavy parcel towards the doorway.

“Only a few minutes!” Sheila called over her shoulder to the waiting car. As her neat new heels sounded smartly on the pavement, she was already planning how to use every available second.

She called out half-way up the staircase so that they would know she was coming. Madame Aleksander was blowing out a match. In a soup bowl, the pieces of paper on which she and Casimir had been writing, remained unburned. She was
smiling, partly in welcome, partly in relief.

“We have been playing that funny game you taught the children this summer,” Madame Aleksander said. “What
is
its name?”

“Consequences,” Sheila answered in a very normal voice, but her fingers had become all thumbs and she could hardly open the parcel. She looked sideways at the pieces of paper which Casimir and Madame Aleksander were now smoothing out to show her. So Madame Aleksander had been forced to tell him something about the dictaphone to silence his otherwise irrepressible remarks. Now he was excited. Like all children he loved a secret, especially one so strange and mysterious. His blue eyes were shining, and there was a flush on his pale cheeks. This was a game which he enjoyed, and perhaps even understood better than the two women.

Madame Aleksander had noticed Sheila’s clothes. “But how nice you look,” she said delightedly.

“I asked Herr Hofmeyer for an advance in my salary.” Sheila pulled out the dress for Madame Aleksander, the sweater for Casimir and the two scarves. “For you,” she said, and watched Madame Aleksander’s surprise give way to pleasure.

“I was feeling cold,” Casimir admitted, grinning happily because he had not been forgotten. Sheila had lifted his pencil and piece of paper. To Casimir, his head emerging with ruffled fair hair from the neck of the new sweater, she made a sign of silence. She began to write:—

“
Casimir! The Gestapo already know of the torn posters. You must leave at once. Friends wait for you at Warecka 15. Keep silent.

The boy looked wonderingly at the piece of paper, at Sheila,
at Madame Aleksander. The new game was no longer funny. He knew what the message meant. He was to leave this house, and his new friends, and all the happiness he had begun to find again. Madame Aleksander was clasping his hand with a pleading intensity. She was nodding and biting her lips and laying a finger on his to keep him silent, all at once.

Sheila said, “Casimir, we need some more wood for the stove. It is quite dead now. There’s supper to be cooked for tonight, you know.” She pointed the pencil to the written “Warecka 15” and kept it there.