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‘Hello, Max.’
Startled, he leapt to his feet. ‘Minki…you’re back. Oh, thank God.’
‘No, I’m not really back…I just wanted to show you something. And I think I’ll need to borrow the car.’
He rushed towards her, his arms outstretched. ‘Of course you can borrow the car. Let me drive you. Where are we going?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘What do you mean, darling? And you’re white as a sheet…sit down. I’ll get us both a drink…’
While he poured two glasses of brandy, Minki sat down on the sofa and opened up her handbag.
‘Oh, Minki, I’m so glad to see you.’ He laid the drink in front of her and sat opposite her, gazing at her lovingly.
‘I know, Max, but I can’t talk about “us” now. All I can think of is finding Clara.’
‘Me too…I think of nothing else. I worry constantly what they’re doing to her, what they might already have done. Oh, Minki, I was so naive, so stupid – can you ever forgive me?’
Minki didn’t respond. She was sorting the sheets of paper she had retrieved from her handbag and laying them out on the table between them. ‘I think I may have found something. Take a look – I don’t know if it will help or not.’
‘What am I looking at, exactly?’ He picked up the piece of coffee-stained paper.
Minki lit a cigarette. ‘Look at the words beneath the stain.’
He peered at it closely, holding it under the light of the table lamp. ‘This is just a list of towns. What’s their significance?’
‘I think they might they be places where they take children – and adults – for sterilisation…or worse.’
‘Where did you get it?’
‘I found it.’
‘Found it?’
‘In a dustbin behind an office in Tiergartenstrasse where, apparently, they organise the murder of German people, including children.’ Her tone was sardonic and cold.
Max’s face went white. ‘Oh God. Do you think that’s what’s happened to Clara?’
‘Obviously, I pray not. But look at this.’ She laid out the last page of the letter from Karl Brandt outlining the methods of killing.
Max gasped as he read it. ‘No. Oh God, no.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘What have I done?’
‘Stop saying that, Max. You mustn’t go to pieces now. It’s not about you. Please try to concentrate…’
She showed him the final sheet – the list of people transferred to Hadamar.
Max read it and then stared at Minki, his eyes spilling over with tears.
‘What is it, Max…do you know something about this?’
‘Maybe…’ He walked over to the drinks tray, refilled his glass, and downed it in one gulp. ‘I recall Goebbels mentioning that town – Hadamar – a while ago. There had been some sort of rumpus – a bishop complained that a mental home in his diocese was incinerating so many dead patients, the stench filled the air, and the people in the town were complaining about it. Children at the local schools used to taunt each other with threats: “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up in the ovens at Hadamar…”’
‘Why would Goebbels tell you about this? I thought it was top secret.’
‘It was in the context of a discussion about how we could minimise such negative information around eugenics. He was angry that the story had got out.’
Minki bristled. ‘So you knew they were killing people, Max, and yet you still let them take our child.’
