Page 3 of Library of Forbidden Books

“Give me a second to get dressed, and let’s head to the library. The skies are gray enough without the Nazis putting a damper on the day.”

A short trolley ride would take them to Neukölln, which had been a charming area until the end of the nineteenth century. Now it was a dirty, poor, working-class neighborhood of some three hundred thousand people. Ten years prior, the first public library had been opened there, but its existence was not enough to get books into the hands of the impoverished masses of the neighborhood, who had only the most basic level of formal education. Helene worked tirelessly to help every child and teenager in Neukölln learn to read and write and have access to books. Since 1929, disagreements between the Nazis and the KDP, the Communist Party of Germany, had grown more and more tense, and the city streets seemed ready to erupt.

Out on the sidewalk, Helene and Lena could not help but notice the heightened excitement of the SA, the Brownshirts. Their posture seemed to indicate they were celebrating their paltry victory, though getting the conservative parties to work together with someone like Hitler would be a monumental task. Helene paid little attention to the National Socialist underlings, but Lena, who feared no one and nothing, sent the Brownshirts a steely glare.

“Cut it out, Lena. You’re just asking for them to come over and slap you,” Helene said.

Berliners were used to political ups and downs, and this day they scurried unaffected to their jobs. For the majority, it was a typical Monday: Christmas was coming, along with a long and cold winter, and everyone was fed up with politics. The crisis of 1929 had cut the legs out from under the already battered German economy, and most people just wanted peace and a plate of hot food to heat.

Helene studied the streets as they rode. She loved her city and never wanted to live anywhere else. The Nazis considered Berlin the epicenter of German degradation and had yet to win the hearts of its inhabitants. Yet they were more and more accepted in the working-class neighborhoods and twice already had made threats to the library’s employees. With the victory of yesterday’s election, Helene feared that things would be even harder for her and Lena’s work. Some of their colleagues took issue with the fact that a woman was in charge of the Neukölln library, but Helene was proud of being one of the few female librarians in the country.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and ran her hand up the trolley bar. “No more about the elections. What about the materials we need for going to the south side?”

Lena shook her head. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea to go today. It’s too risky. The Nazis and communists are likely to be at it, for sure.”

“Which is exactly why we’ve got to go. If books can’t rein all this in, what can?”

Chapter 2

The Hydra’s Children

Berlin

December 3, 1932

As assistant to army general Werner von Blomberg, Derek found himself in the office of the recently appointed chancellor of Germany, Kurt von Schleicher. Derek was well aware of the lack of sympathy between the men.

“General, have a seat,” the new chancellor said, seemingly with the confidence of one who believed he could rein in Adolf Hitler as easily as he had supplanted the former chancellor, Franz von Papen.

“As you wish, Chancellor.”

Von Schleicher, whose good-natured and friendly affect made him an effective negotiator, turned a serious gaze at the recently widowed officer. He knew that von Blomberg detested him.

“How did things go at the World Disarmament Conference?” von Schleicher asked. There was nothing jovial in the question.

Von Blomberg, with Derek in tow, had recently returned from an unpleasant gathering in Geneva, where delegates had spent months attempting to reach an agreement. Most had resigned themselves to enjoying the city and its expensive restaurants in the face of the standoffs: The Soviets refused to budge, and the Germans tested every angle to get their former enemies to remove the restrictions on their national army.

“Nothing much to report. Only the United States seems to understand our position—and the Soviets, to a degree—presuming that support for us would lead to their rearmament as well.”

Von Schleicher knew von Blomberg’s political tendencies, which is why he had called the general to his office. The chancellor had told himself it was time to face the devil, though his father had warned him that the devil always came for his due after a deal.

“I’d like to have more direct contact with Adolf Hitler,” said von Schleicher. “I’m already in touch with Gregor Strasser, though he’s losing ground in the Party.”

“I’m not sure that Hitler is interested in your Querfront strategy. He’s about to hold all the power. Why would he join a coalition with sectors of the Communist and Socialist Parties?” Von Blomberg made no effort to conceal the disdain in his voice. In fact, he quite enjoyed watching the confusion of the traditional politicians. Though as a Prussian he detested Hitler’s commonplace looks and shrill speech—not to mention the fact that he had only achieved the low rank of Gefreiter—what he liked was that the man knew how to control the political terrain and make it follow his rules.

Von Schleicher sat up in his seat. His pudgy body tensed, and sweat prickled at the neck of his spotless white shirt. “President von Hindenburg would never agree to a government presided over by that ‘Bohemian corporal,’ as he calls him. Germany still has enough strength and class to keep from falling into the hands of opportunists.”

Derek still stood at attention behind his boss. Every day he was less interested in politics. All he wanted was to get back to see Helene. They had been apart for almost a month, and there was so much to prepare. The wedding would be in the summer, despite the fact that most of both families disapproved of the union.

“If you’ll help me,” the chancellor continued, “I can appoint you head of the army.”

Such tactics did not work on von Blomberg, whose Kantian code of honor was unshakable. The general forced a smile, knowing that President von Hindenburg trusted him more than he relied on the current chancellor.

The general stood at attention. “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to do that.”

The insult was not lost on von Schleicher. He contained his fury, knowing that the support he had after only a few hours in office was tenuous. His power extended only as far as a piece of paper. In reality, Franz von Papen conspired behind his back, von Hindenburg saw him as a pawn filling a space until a new government was named, and the Nazis hated him for being too traditional.

Von Blomberg walked decidedly out of the office, his leather boots smacking against the hallway floor. Derek followed a few steps behind until the general stopped short.