Page 26 of Library of Forbidden Books

“Yes, and we want those words to be remembered. That’s why we’re creating the Secret Library of Berlin. We want to move your works there to hopefully keep them safe. Anton has agreed with this plan for all of your books that he has, including the unpublished manuscripts.” Helene held her breath waiting for his reaction.

“Isn’t such an endeavor quite dangerous? I don’t want to get you into any trouble.”

Helene gave a wry smile. “Life is dangerous.”

Zweig nodded gravely. “In these times existing is, in and of itself, an act of rebellion. Well, then, go ahead! Be the guardian of it all! We can only hope that within a few years there’s still a Europe left that might read those books and benefit in some way.”

Zweig’s words lodged into Helene’s heart. She knew that truly there was no freedom beyond choosing between good and evil. And she had thrown her lot in with the good.

Chapter 15

The Move

Berlin

July 1, 1933

Just after dawn, they started loading the boxes of books into two trucks, so they could take them to their new home, the Secret Library of Berlin. The heat was oppressive from the very start. Dressed lightly in T-shirts and hats to keep the blazing sun out of their eyes, Helene, Derek, Lena, and Klaus were not alone. Four of their other friends, along with Gabor, were there to help.

Over the past few weeks, they had stored all the books in abandoned buildings in the vicinity. Once Helene started accepting collections from other libraries and individuals, their original hiding spot, the butcher shop, was not big enough for all the boxes. The butcher shop was their first stop, and they emptied it in under an hour by arranging themselves in a human chain and passing the boxes down the line. While tiresome, the work went more quickly than they had anticipated.

The second location was less convenient. The boxes were in a basement. Hoisting the heavy books up the slippery, narrow basement stairs was difficult, and it took them over two hours to finish moving books from that one spot. By then everyone was sweaty and thirsty. Derek bought soft drinks, and they paused to eat the sandwiches Helene had made.

“Maybe we should finish tomorrow,” Gabor said, noting that one truck was completely full and the other only halfway.

“No, it’s too dangerous, and we’re already taking a big risk,” Klaus said. There was a halo of sweat around his neck and armpits. He splashed water on his face to try to cool down.

“Let’s make one last big push,” Helene said, groaning as she got to her feet. Her muscles were aching.

The last storage spot was a former barbershop that had closed just a few days after Hitler was named chancellor. The owners had family in the United States and had exiled themselves without a second thought. They had been regulars at the Neukölln library and always brought along their three young children. Every time that Helene learned of someone who left the country, she had a flash of disappointment, even though she understood that flight was the only way to escape the danger. Her Aunt Sara and Uncle Joseph had packed up their family and gone to Denmark. She had just bid them farewell a few days prior at the train station. Yet most of Helen’s family was still in Germany, including her grandparents.

The barbershop took just over thirty minutes to complete, then they secured the doors of the trucks and headed to their destination.

By then it was around noon, and traffic was slow. Passersby walked quickly in the shade of buildings and awnings, trying to avoid the sun. Behind the wheel of the first truck, Derek was grateful for the breeze that came through the little window. He had driven army trucks much bigger and heavier than that one.

It took them an hour to get to the Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse Plaza. Nazi flags billowed down from windows on every building in the plaza, since the district had become the de facto seat of the Nazi government. The National Socialists, obsessed with bureaucracy, were ever creating more organisms of control to supervise one another, as if no branch could trust any other.

The librarians and their comrades had no problem parking in front of the former Czechoslovakian embassy. The country’s new embassy was not too far away. The current owner of the old building was a German businessman who imported Hungarian ceramics. He had plenty of money and, wary of the financial system, invested his excess in real estate so that the banks would not eat away at it.

The day before, Klaus had set up road blocks to keep the front of the building clear. He now hopped out and removed them, allowing the trucks to park under the shade of two large trees.

“At least there’s shade,” Gabor said, giving Lena a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

“You sneak!” she mock protested.

Klaus opened the gate, unlocked the front door, and looked down. “There are five stairs. It’s not much, but with the number of boxes we’ve got, it’s going to break our backs.”

“We’ll knock it out in a couple of hours,” Helene said with a sprinkle of optimism.

They unloaded a couple of carts from the truck, but the carts did not significantly decrease the workload. After going a few feet on a cart, each box had to be carried by hand to the next cart.

The group got to work, staying as low-profile as possible. They had agreed on a script if they were questioned. The boxes were clothing and other items donated for a fundraiser. They had even put old clothes at the top of some boxes, though they desperately hoped that none would be opened.

After a solid hour of working, Klaus ran smack into two SS officers dressed in their black uniforms and shiny boots.

“What are you doing?” asked the blond agent. His gaze was icy, and his sweatless body showed no sign of the heat’s impact.

“Moving—all our papers are in order,” Klaus said, taking some paperwork out of his pants pocket. His hands were trembling.