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Max came home that evening filled with excitement. ‘The new film is going to be marvellous – Goebbels loves it. Joining forces with him was the best thing I’ve ever done.’
‘How wonderful, darling,’ said Minki, pouring them both a drink. ‘Come and sit down with me. There’s something I need to talk to you about.’
‘Go on,’ said Max, settling down next to her on the sofa in the drawing room.
‘It’s about my friend Leila…the journalist, you know?’
‘Yes, I know…what of her?’
‘Her husband, Viktor, has been arrested by the Munich police and is being held on some trumped-up charge. I need to help her…’
‘Well, I don’t see how. What can you do?’
‘We’re not exactly without friends in high places, are we?’
Max narrowed his eyes, sipped his brandy, but said nothing.
‘Could we…speak to Joseph, do you think?’ she ventured.
‘What’s it got to do with him? It’s obviously a local police matter.’
‘Well, for a start, he knows Viktor personally. They’ve met a couple of times – Viktor was nice enough to read Joe’s novel. And both men were guests at our wedding.’
‘There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then,’ said Max darkly.
‘Oh, Max, for heaven’s sake…The point is, Goebbels has power – he could order Viktor to be released.’
‘He’s a Jew, isn’t he, Viktor?’
‘Yes, what of it?’
‘Well, Goebbels won’t like that. And more importantly, things are at a very delicate stage between him and Hitler. Joseph has been negotiating for months for a senior position in the government. He won’t want to rock the boat – not now. It’s just not a good time.’
‘But Leila is my friend. She and Viktor have been so good to me – so good to us. When the baby was born Leila was a rock for me. We have to help them, Max.’
‘Well, I’m not prepared to speak to Goebbels. If anyone can persuade him, it’s you. Call him, if you like, but don’t push it. We need to keep him onside.’
‘I’ll call him then,’ Minki said uncertainly. She finished her drink, went through to the hall, and spooled through her address book until she found Goebbels’ number. She dialled with trembling fingers.
‘Hello.’ It was Magda, her voice, as always, icy cool.
‘Oh, hello, Magda. How lovely to hear your voice. It’s Minki. Is Joe there?’
‘Joseph…yes he’s here.’
‘Might I speak to him?’
‘I’ll get him.’
Minki felt sick with nerves, her palms sweating.
His voice, when he came on the line, was dark and suspicious. ‘Hello.’
‘Joseph…It’s Minki.’
‘Yes, I know, Magda told me. What is it?’ He sounded impatient and irritable.
‘I just wondered…I have a small favour to ask…oh, it’s rather difficult.’
