Unrelenting: Love and Resistance in Pre-War Germany Read online

  Q shook his head, lifting his hands in question. “I’ve done nothing wrong. Tell me what it is I’m being accused of.”

  “Don’t play stupid.“ You’re an intelligent man if we can believe your biography. Trust me, this will all go better for you if you simply tell us the truth.”

  Q clasped his hands beneath the table to still their shaking. “I’ve done nothing.”

  Oberkommissar Strobel muttered a curse and once again left the room. Q sat there, his nervousness giving way to impatience as one hour became two and three. The more time that went by, the more worried he grew. His stomach growled and reminded him painfully it was already past lunch time, and he hadn’t eaten in more than twelve hours.

  They can’t keep me here forever. They have to produce some evidence or let me go.

  Just when he was about to knock on the door and demand to be released, the door opened again, and Oberkommissar Strobel entered the room with another policeman in tow.

  The second officer held a piece of paper in his hands. Q recognized the paper; it was an article he had written about gas masks.

  They must have searched my flat looking for evidence while I was detained here. That’s why this is taking so long.

  Q closed his eyes for a moment to keep the relief from showing in them. If the article was the only thing they had found to hold against him, he was out of trouble.

  The police officer put the article on the table, shoving it towards him. “Explain this.”

  Q forced himself to keep a straight face. This was not the moment for mirth or to give any indication of his sense of superiority. That would not go over well for him. No, he strove to appear daunted by the authorities, but cooperative and honest. A good citizen, willing to help the police.

  “This is an article about gas masks. Where did you get this?” Q asked.

  “In your flat. Amongst thousands of useless pieces of paper.” The officer rolled his eyes and turned to his superior. “Herr Oberkommissar, his entire desk is covered knee-deep with notes, sheets of papers, magazines, and newspapers.”

  Q’s mind formed the image of the carefully maintained disorder on his desk, and he groaned inwardly at the thought of how long it would take him to put everything back into its place. “For my research, I must collect all sorts of information and tend to retain every piece of paper I come across.”

  “That does not explain why you had this particular piece of paper, now does it?”

  “No, sir. It doesn’t because I didn’t find that piece of paper. I wrote the article.” Q pointed to his name on the upper right hand of the page. “See. That’s me.”

  “Why did you write such an article?” the Oberkommissar demanded.

  “Because I was asked to by my employer. I was tasked to research alternative and more economical ways of producing gas masks for the general population. To make them more affordable so all Germans could protect themselves. The article was published in Auer-Gesellschaft’s technical magazine, which is printed on a regular basis. It provides an update on the progress and developments made by our research team.”

  The officers looked at each other, and Q felt the tension in the room easing. “So, your work was designed to keep Germans safe?”

  Q nodded. “Yes.”

  “That is a very honorable and noble task. Were you successful?” the second officer asked, admiration now evident in his voice rather than accusation.

  “Yes. I believe so. With so much talk about war and our enemies, my company wanted to give the German people a sense of security.”

  The officers both nodded. Since chemical warfare in the form of hazardous gases had first been used in the Great War, the general population had become almost manic about protecting themselves. With the general sense of hatred the German people felt from the rest of the world, owning a personal gas mask had become not only a recommended safety precaution but also all the rage.

  The Oberkommissar gave him a smile, and Q nearly sagged in his seat. “Wait here.”

  Both officers stepped outside the door, and Q listened to their muted conversation.

  “Is that article all you found at his flat?”

  “Yes.”

  “No evidence of spying activity or communication with our enemies?”

  “None. We found no signs that he’s particularly active with any political party.”

  “Well then, he can leave. Let him go, but remind him that he can’t leave town as he’s still under suspicion.”

  Q tried to act as if he’d not overheard their entire conversation when the second officer stepped back into the room. “Did you have more questions?”

  “Not at this time. You’re free to go, but you must remain in Oranienburg until further notice. We will drive you home.”

  He could just imagine the face of his curious old landlady should he arrive home courtesy of a police car. He shook his head, stood up, and walked towards the door. “Thank you, but I prefer to walk.”

  The officer shrugged. “Very well. Your choice. Remember, don’t leave town.”

  “I won’t.” Q left the police station and stepped back out into the now diminishing sunshine.

  His flat was on the other side of town, and he found himself carefully observing the people he met as he embarked on the thirty-minute walk. He looked at every face, wondering what thoughts lurked behind their eyes. How did the police get suspicious? Had someone denounced him? And if so, who? Mentally, he examined each of his neighbors and colleagues, wondering who had informed on him. Whom could he still trust? Anyone?

  The answer was no one. He could no longer trust anyone.

  Gloom was in the air, and Q believed Germany was on the verge of something major happening. The mood on the streets was restless, as if everyone was just waiting for the signal to act. Since the July elections, Hitler had been stirring the masses against the current government, and people were growing increasingly agitated. Q was hopeful that change for the better was coming soon, but today’s events had him wondering.

  He arrived at his apartment to find it torn apart, books and papers strewn everywhere. A deep sigh escaped him as he found emptied bookshelves, dumped out drawers and clothing scattered on the floor. Even his mattress had been tipped over in the police’s futile search for compromising material.

  Q held his breath before venturing into his small study, his sacred space. Here, nobody was allowed in out of fear of upsetting the fragile ordering system.

  A pang hit him in the stomach, and he all but doubled over when he saw the devastation in his office. Every thematically sorted stack of paper had been turned upside down, and hundreds – no, thousands – of pieces of paper lay scattered across the floor.

  It’ll take me weeks to organize everything in here.

  Sighing, he returned to the bedroom and began to put things back where they belonged. For the next few hours, he folded clothes and placed them back in the dresser drawers. He remade the bed and hung his business clothes in the closet.

  The kitchen was next, and he was pleasantly surprised to find only one broken glass from the search. He tidied up the area and then headed for his study, where he gathered up the piles of paper filled with formulas, sketches, and calculations into several big boxes. He replaced the books on the shelves and arranged the chemistry magazines back into a pile.

  Once he was satisfied that the room at least looked tidy again, he opened the hall closet and used a bread knife to pry loose the floorboard at the back. He took out a handful of Reichsmark notes.

  His breath whooshed out of him, and he pressed his hand to his forehead. Thank God. They hadn’t discovered the hidey-hole where he’d stashed money, not completely trusting banks since their collapse a few years back. Each week, he added a few more marks to his stash. He didn’t know what he was saving it for, but he knew there would come a day when it would not only be welcome but necessary for his survival. He wanted to be prepared.

  Chapter 4

  Hilde Dremmer glanced at her watch a
nd groaned. Two hours left. Today had been a boring and tedious workday at the insurance company where she processed insurance claims.

  She got up and walked over to the small kitchen, smiling at two of her friends and colleagues, who were brewing coffee and making plans for the upcoming weekend.

  “Hey, Hilde. Are you sure you won’t join us?” Erika, a pretty, curvy brunette asked, a pleading note in her voice and a pout upon her lips.

  Hilde wrinkled her nose. “I moved to Berlin to have fun, not attend some boring political discussion.”

  “It won’t be boring,” Gertrud promised with a nod that made her ponytail hop up and down. Gertrud was the proverbial German girl with her sandy hair, blue eyes, and healthy pink cheeks. While Hilde herself had blue eyes, her hair was darker; long light brown strands she usually wore in a bun.

  “So you say. I really have no interest in politics,” Hilde answered. Her father had planted that seed in her head as a young girl, and it had stayed.

  Politics are not for women, and you’d be wise to remember that. Keep your hands as far away from politics as you can, and you’ll do fine.

  “Don’t you want to know what people are saying?” Erika asked, cocking her head to the side.

  “Not really. There are things more fun to do for twenty-year-olds like us, don’t you think? Let’s go to the moving pictures instead.”

  “We went to the pictures last weekend, remember?” Gertrud reminded her, then wiggled her eyebrows up and down. “We might meet some cute fellows at the debate,” she added, as if that was reason enough to be bored for hours.

  “Some of the politicians are really handsome,” Erika said, a pleading look on her face.

  “Handsome? Like who?” Hilde asked, her interest mildly piqued.

  Her friends shared a look before Erika answered, “Like Adolf Hitler and some of his party members.”

  She had heard the name before. “Isn’t he that politician with the National Socialist German Worker’s Party?”

  “Yes, the Nazis,” Gertrud said. “And you really should come listen to him. He has so many great plans for Germany.”

  “And he’s handsome,” Erika added.

  Hilde snorted, recalling a picture she’d seen of him in the local newspaper. “He’s not at all my type. And that ridiculous mustache of his. Come on, girls, you can do better than him.”

  She didn’t add that she’d read about some of Hitler’s ideas and was appalled by his ideas about racism. How could one even think about penalizing someone because of his or her race or ethnicity? Shouldn’t every person have the chance to be acknowledged for her character and not for her ancestors?

  Changing the subject, she asked, “There are so many entertaining and exciting things to do here, not like that boring suburb of Hamburg where I grew up. Why don’t we go out and have fun?”

  “There’s a new picture playing. We could go see that,” Gertrud offered as an alternative.

  “Sounds good,” Hilde agreed, warming to the idea. “And we can go to a dance afterward?”

  “I’d love to,” Erika agreed, worrying her bottom lip. “I guess I can hear Hitler speak another time, but I’ll have to make sure it’s okay with my parents first.”

  Hilde was torn between relief and sadness as she thought about her friends needing permission. She no longer had to deal with her overprotective father and step-mother. She’d left them behind, along with her two half-sisters when she’d come to Berlin to live with her mother two years ago. Her mother, Marianne “Annie” Klein, cared little for what her daughter did or how long she stayed out each night. She never asked about Hilde’s friends, where she was going, or what she would do once she got there.

  “Do that tonight,” Hilde suggested.

  “I will.”

  “If they don’t agree, we could always find something else to do. There’s so much going on here in Berlin. Culture and concerts, and museums…”

  Erika and Gertrud shook their heads, “Yes, but it’s not like it used to be,” Gertrud said, pitching her voice low. “Everything was a lot more carefree years ago, but now it seems everyone is so tense. Almost depressed.” She lowered her voice further. “And there are police everywhere.”

  “My father says Berlin is filling up with bad people,” Erika added, keeping her voice low too. “Everyone has to watch everyone else.”

  Gertrud nodded. “I can remember when the idea of a political meeting was unheard of. Now, there’s a meeting of some sort almost every night.”

  “That’s because people are scared. No jobs. No money. And the democratic parties currently in power don’t seem to be helping.” Erika’s voice was just above a whisper. “The Nazis and the Communists are the ones bringing us hope. A new government that’s not afraid to speak out for our nation and willing to turn the economy around.”

  The three women sipped their coffee, growing quiet as they reflected upon the changes Germany had already seen in the last year. The government had changed leadership twice now, yet unemployment was still on the rise, with a staggering six million people or thirty percent without a job. As a result, poverty could be seen everywhere, and even those employed had difficulties making ends meet in this declining economy.

  “Well, enough of this depressing talk. I need to get back to work and so do you two,” Hilde said. They grinned and returned to their desks. Hilde had no desire to join the ever-growing army of the jobless, desperate people they’d just been discussing and got back to processing the claim in front of her.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, Q arrived at his office, rested and in a good mood, considering how poorly his day had gone yesterday. He had a smile on his face as he approached the gatekeeper and gave the man a small wave.

  “Good morning, Herr Schmidt.”

  The guard looked perplexed for a moment and then his face turned sad. “Doctor Quedlin. I’m afraid I can’t let you inside the building. I’ve been instructed to escort you to the director’s office should you turn up.”

  His smile fell. “What are you talking about?” Panic gripped him as dread crept up his spine.

  “I’m very sorry, Doctor Quedlin. I don’t have a choice in the matter.” The poor man wasn’t able to meet Q’s eyes. “I’ve always liked you, sir, and I can’t tell you how much it has meant to me that you always treated me like a valued person.”

  Most of the scientists looked down upon anyone less educated. Q felt ashamed for the way his colleagues treated the guard like a non-person. “You are a valued person, Herr Schmidt, and never forget that. Any idea what the director wants to see me about?”

  The guard shook his head. “No, but I was instructed to take you directly to his office if you arrived or lose my job.”

  Q raised a brow. “Well, I wouldn’t want you getting into trouble on my account.” He allowed the guard time to lock up the guard shack and then walked beside the man as they headed for the director’s office, located in the administration building. On the way, they didn’t talk, and Q wondered what had happened. After the police let him go yesterday, he was sure everything was okay.

  As they entered the administration office, he passed numerous co-workers. Not one of them would greet him or meet his eyes. They all looked the other way or pretended to be too busy doing something else to notice him. So everyone knew he’d been accused of industrial espionage.

  The behavior of his co-workers stabbed his heart. He’d been working at Auer-Gesellschaft for four years now and been promoted to chief engineer three years ago. And while he wasn’t a close friend with anyone at work, he’d considered them good colleagues. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet everyone apparently judged him on the mere accusation and shunned him.

  Herr Schmidt stopped outside Director Hoffmann’s office and tapped on the door. “Doctor Quedlin has arrived.”

  “Thank you. Send him in and wait outside.”

  Q didn’t like the sound of that but entered the office anyway. He and Director Hoffmann had never
been the close friends the rumors about his quick promotion alluded to, but they shared a mutual respect for one another.

  “You asked to see me, Director Hoffmann?”

  “Doctor Quedlin, I’m going to get right to the point.”

  The director had never been a man of many words, and today was no different. Yet, Q sensed there was an underlying fear to his brusque words. “Effective immediately, you are no longer employed with Auer-Gesellschaft. The gatekeeper will escort you to your office where you can retrieve your personal effects. Your notebooks and research belong to the company, and they are not to leave the premises. You will then leave and not return.”

  Q’s heartbeat thumped in his ears. “Sir, I don’t understand. If this is about yesterday, the police let me go after realizing they had made a mistake.” Q couldn’t believe the words of his superior. His work was his passion and he was about to lose everything, because of…what? A false accusation?

  Director Hoffmann looked torn but stuck with his decision. “I cannot risk my own career and well-standing with the authorities by continuing to employ men who have been accused of espionage.”

  “But the accusations are false. They searched my apartment and found nothing. I have never done anything wrong!” Q raised his voice, trying to get some sense into the man who was about to fire him on a whim. “You should know that I’d never steal from my co-workers or our company. Haven’t I proven time and again in the last four years that I always have the best of Auer-Gesellschaft in my mind?”

  “That may be, but the suspicion has been cast, and I cannot have myself or this company under suspicion as well.” Director Hoffmann turned around, effectively dismissing Q.

  “There is nothing I can say to change your mind?” Q asked in one final attempt to salvage his job.

  “No. I’m sorry.”

  Q shrugged and stepped out of the office, looking at Herr Schmidt. “Let’s go. I’m fired.”

  The gatekeeper looked at the ground and shuffled his feet, murmuring some unintelligible words. They made their way back to the laboratory building and Q’s now ex-office. His mind worked overtime as he acknowledged he was simply a victim of the fear that seemed to drive everyone these days. Fear of losing their jobs. Fear of being under suspicion. Fear of the police. Fear of being alive, he thought bitterly.