Page 32 of Library of Forbidden Books

“Your time is up. Someone denounced you, and we have some proof. You’ll be sent to a camp while awaiting trial. There you’ll be reeducated. I doubt it’ll be successful, but when you feel the fear deep in your body, you’ll stop causing problems. Then leave Germany, if you can, and take your family with you. Jewish rats.”

“Can I go to the bathroom now?” was all that Helene offered by way of response.

Kummer burst out laughing and led her to the lavatory. He waited outside the door and lit a cigarette, laughing at the inferno that was waiting for Helene. Soon she would understand. And she would never be the same.

Chapter 19

Intercession

Berlin

January 10, 1935

As soon as he got the call from Lena and Klaus, Derek went straight to speak with General Werner von Blomberg, who was at his home on the outskirts of Berlin. Since being promoted to the position of minister, a faithful lapdog to the Nazis, von Blomberg had prospered into one of the wealthiest men in the army and one of the most powerful in all Germany. With each further step into the upper echelons of power, his soul slowly corroded until very little of his austere Prussian integrity remained.

A maid opened the door and frowned when she saw Derek’s unkempt hair, half-buttoned jacket, and anxious face. A few minutes later, she led him into the general’s office.

Von Blomberg was seated by the fire with his legs crossed. “My dear Derek, what’s behind this uncustomary visit? Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?”

Derek took a moment to try to calm down. His heart was beating a thousand kilometers an hour, his hands were shaking, and his mouth was pasty dry.

“I’m so sorry, General. My wife . . .”

Von Blomberg leaned forward, dropping both feet to the floor. “What is it, lad? Is she unwell?” For the first time in a long while, something stirred in von Blomberg beyond the pride of his position and the pleasure he felt at his power and prestige.

“The Gestapo has detained her, and I don’t know where they’re holding her. It was Captain Rudolf Kummer of the SS.”

Von Blomberg stood up and combed back his gray hair with his hand. He was wearing a simple robe over gray pants and a white shirt. On the table beside him were a glass of brandy and a book, and one of the cigarettes in the ashtray was still smoking. It was the time of day when he listened to music and tried to calm down, but that was over.

“Good God. What are they accusing her of? She’s just a librarian.”

“Enemy of the state, concealment of banned books, and holding a public position despite being a Jew. They can’t justify detaining her; it’s all false. Well, it’s true that she’s half-Jewish, but no one has told her to leave her post at the library,” Derek said. He had stopped panting and was starting to calm down.

Von Blomberg pursed his lips, thinking. Though he had been in government a long time, few had expected him to become a minister before belonging to the Party. The Nazi Party was a viper’s nest teeming with envy and betrayals. No one was ever really safe.

“Surely there’s been a mistake. Maybe you could speak to someone . . . the Führer . . . ?” Derek’s voice trailed off at how ridiculous his request sounded.

It was true that the Nazi policy toward trials had grown a little lax over the past year, but there was no way von Blomberg could bring up something so trivial to Hitler. Germany’s leader had much more important matters to tend to. Plus, von Blomberg did not want to give his enemies any excuse to ridicule him.

“I can speak to Göring. He’s got a lot of influence in the Gestapo. Don’t worry, my boy, we’ll get this straightened out!” he said, giving Derek’s shoulders a squeeze.

“Thank you, General!” Derek said, standing at attention and saluting.

“Now go home and rest. We’ll see you tomorrow at the office. Try to go on about life. I’ll find out where your wife is being held and how she’s doing, and let’s hope she’ll be out in a few days. Innocent people have nothing to fear from our government.”

Derek followed the maid from the office and through the front door. Outside on the lawn, snowflakes were spilling from the sky. Derek winced—Helene was probably missing the snowfall. She loved the snow and would twirl all around the street as it fell onto her upturned face.

Derek climbed into his car and turned it on. Then the gravity of grief hit him. He collapsed onto the steering wheel and wept uncontrollably.

Helene spent one more night in the office. Kummer brought her food and clean clothes and allowed her to wash up in the bathroom. She was starting to get used to the distant voices of the Gestapo agents, the screams of the prisoners, and the sight of the birds resting on the windowsill in the morning. But the morning of January 12, two agents came to inform her that she would be transferred in preparation for a summary trial.

A few minutes later, a man came to the office. His chin looked like he had not shaved in three days, his shoulders were hunched, and one of the arms of his tortoise-shell glasses was broken.

Unceremoniously, he announced, “I’m your lawyer, Jacob Desoff. You’ll be on trial in an hour, so we don’t have much time. The best course of action is to plead guilty. If you do, you’ll get off with two or three years’ time and, if you’re lucky, maybe less.”

Helene’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Plead guilty? Are you crazy?! I want to call a lawyer!”

Jacob sighed and placed a messy handful of papers on the desk. Not unkindly, he began, “Mrs. von Sholtz, the possibility exists that the judge would be lenient with you, given your husband and his family connections, but you are not allowed to choose your lawyer. Your Jewish blood, like mine, means that your only option is to accept the lawyer assigned to you by the state. If you go against my advice and declare your innocence, you will likely be sentenced to ten years in a concentration camp. I can assure you that if you ever manage to leave, you’ll be devastated.”