Chapter 25 Audrey

BERLIN, GERMANY | APRIL 1939

I guess this is it, then.” Friedrich exhaled a long stream of nerves, his breath visible in the cold air.

The morning of the assassination attempt had dawned with a plunge in temperature and a dusting of snow, and Audrey and Friedrich sat together in the automobile he had hired under a false name, going over their mental checklist. It was early, barely light out, but their journey would take about four hours. They would pick up Claus on their way out of town near an abandoned warehouse that would render no witnesses. Ludwig was driving alone to avoid the others being seen in his car prior to the attack, and would wait in his vehicle near the Opera House to reconvene with them once the mission was complete. Aldous had taken the train to Hanover alone the week before, for reconnaissance and to map out the area, and Audrey was pleased when he confirmed her recollections of the Opera House and its neighbourhood.

Friedrich looked at Audrey from under the rim of his cap. She had never seen him so unsettled, though she could hardly blame him. This was the riskiest, most intense day of any of their lives. But she felt composed. She was ready for this. So much had been building toward it, they’d all put so much on the line. She’d tolerated Weber’s revolting advances and gropes for the scrap of critical information that had led to this day, and a balloon of hope buoyed her. This might be the end of it. They might make it out alive. Germany might wake to a new and brighter future the next day where Ruth, Ephraim, and Ilse were free.

Audrey had said her goodbye to Ilse upstairs before they came down for breakfast. They held each other, and Ilse had cried, but Audrey kept her emotions in check. She’d already said everything she needed to say. Being Ilse’s best and longest friend would be enough, because it had to be. She would love what they were and had been, and let go of what she wanted them to be. And, Audrey thought, an optimistic mindset tilting toward success was essential for what they were about to do. Tears would not help.

As they pulled away from the curb, she looked back at the Kaplans’ house. The past few months, the house had been a small haven, a private island in the middle of the red and black sea. This might be the last time she would see it, the place that had been her home in practice for three years, and in spirit far longer than that.

The first day she crossed the street to meet Ilse flashed before her, Sophie’s admonishments echoing in her mind. With a surge of determination, she pushed it all down and forced herself to look away.

The car was freezing, and she stuck her gloved hands into her coat pockets. “When are they going to put some kind of heating system in these damn things?” she mused.

“I hear they have them in America,” Friedrich said.

Audrey smirked. “If we end up as fugitives, I say we hop a boat to Boston, then.”

Friedrich laughed, and she glanced sideways at him. She’d never seen him really laugh before. She knew he was nervous, but there was a glow about him that warmed her.

They drove to the city’s edge in relative silence, each contemplating the day before them. Claus was waiting with his back against a brown brick warehouse, a briefcase-sized canvas bag beside him. The car jostled as he climbed into the back seat. Audrey and Friedrich turned to him, and all three sets of eyes fell on the bag.

“That’s it?” Friedrich asked.

Claus nodded. “Yeah. Enough TNT to change the world.”

“And blow up our car?”

Claus chuckled. “No, fortunately. It’s far less sensitive than the alternatives. It’s pretty much safe until I connect it to the detonators.”

Friedrich faced the wheel. “If you say so.”

“I do. Relax, Fred.”

The ride to Hanover was uneventful and beautiful. The sun rose and shone as they drove along a quiet motorway, passing few other vehicles. It was the same route they had taken on their way to Enschede. The fields were frosted and shimmering, but Audrey could tell in the summer months they would be green and lush with crops. It still seemed too idyllic for a country that was on its way to becoming the epicentre of a war. She wondered how long it could remain untouched. Perhaps forever, if they succeeded today.

They reached Hanover with an hour to spare before Hitler was due to deliver his speech. As they passed the imposing Staatsoper Opera House with its soaring three storeys of stone arches, they spotted several groups of children already gathering in the courtyard out front, the brown bloomers of the Hitler Youth uniform visible beneath the hems of their wool coats. Audrey would have guessed they ranged from around seven years old to midteens, judging by their height. Friedrich kept his eyes on the road, but she saw Claus scan the assembled crowd.

“So many damn kids,” he muttered.

They turned a corner and Friedrich nodded at his window. “There’s Ludwig’s car. Beside the bank. Remember where it is.” Audrey took note of the green sign above the bank door, committing it to memory.

Friedrich parked several blocks away, near the train station amid a string of other similar-looking vehicles that could serve as a convenient camouflage. Audrey watched the bustle of pedestrians, office girls hurrying past in heels and long coats, families with battered travelling cases, and some military men in crisp uniforms.

“No point sitting here,” Claus said. “Let’s fucking do this. Audrey: wait five minutes and then follow me. Fred, another five after her.”

Audrey and Friedrich nodded, and Claus exited the car, threading his way into the throng. They sat in silence for a moment, and Audrey went through the plan in her mind for the tenth time. She would blend into the crowd of parents and Hitler Youth leaders whilst Claus and Friedrich located Hitler’s motorcar, which she was sure would be parked somewhere behind the Opera House. The armour-plated black Mercedes-Benz was always easily identifiable by its parade flags; the Führer’s sense of grandeur trumped the idea that discretion might be safer.

After Hitler had finished speaking to the children, Audrey would engage some feminine hysterics to draw the SS officers away from the vehicle. Claus would then plant the bomb and set the timer for the agreed-upon twenty minutes. The three of them would make their way to Ludwig’s car, and be on the motorway back to Berlin before the blast. They wouldn’t know whether they had succeeded until that evening’s news hit the wires. Audrey imagined sitting with Friedrich and Ilse, nursing a glass and listening to Hitler’s death announced on the wireless.

She tried to put that wondrous thought out of her mind now as she fussed with the collar of her coat.

“You next, Fräulein,” Friedrich said.

She opened the car door and stepped into the snow-frosted street.

“Audrey,” she heard behind her. She leaned down to the window. “Please be careful.” Fear flickered in Friedrich’s eyes.

She attempted a wry smile. “I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

She set her feet in the direction of the Opera House. When she entered the building five minutes later, sweat trickled down her back from nerves despite the cold weather. She nipped into the ladies’ to mop her forehead, but when she glanced at the ornate, gold-framed mirror above the marble sink, she was startled to see Ada’s severe face staring back at her, eyes somehow even colder than their usual grey. She was glad, really. It was better that she couldn’t see herself underneath Ada’s harsh exterior. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the task at hand, and exited, head held high.

Groups of children swarmed the theatre lobby, a sea of brown caps, buckled boots, and bloomers, pea coats and scarves slung over little arms whose sleeves bore the swastika. Seeing the symbol so proudly showcased on eight-year-old children was unnerving. They chased one another, faces glowing with excitement at being in such an opulent place, ready to hear the Führer himself tell them how the Party was purifying their great country and the lands beyond, how the Third Reich would establish a glorious, virtuous Germany, how they and their brothers and sisters would be the curators of the new world Hitler was creating for them. Audrey picked her way through the crowd and wondered what these children thought of their new activities. She supposed not much, at least not the younger ones. The older ones were being trained in what was essentially military combat. She watched a group of older boys, about Ephraim’s age, and fought a surge of heat, thinking of the thugs who’d attacked him.

She composed herself and slid into a row at the very back of the auditorium, which looked the same as it had years ago when she’d been here under much different and happier circumstances.

Her eyes scanned the crowd for Claus or Friedrich, but she didn’t see either of them. They should have located Hitler’s car by now, she thought, heart fluttering. Was everything going to plan? What if the car wasn’t where they expected it to be? What if they had already been found out? She hated that she couldn’t contact them, confirm whether she should be going ahead with her task. She felt blind. She turned her attention to the three tiers of balcony seats towering above her. The audience was settled now; the chatter of hundreds of children echoed up into the high ceiling.

A minute later, a hush fell. Audrey glanced at her watch: it was already eleven o’clock and Adolf Hitler himself was striding out onto the stage.

This kinglike icon of a man had seduced and captivated the German people. His photograph was in newspapers and on the walls of every office in the Third Reich, but it was entirely different to see him in the flesh, to watch how his small body moved, how he waved to a crowd, how his eyes surveyed the faces before him, calculating. Audrey felt sure, in that moment, that if the Führer’s eyes fell on her, he would see her immediately for the imposter she was. His were eyes that pierced and undressed a person. They were inescapable.

The knowledge that the cell was about to try to assassinate this man, that he might be dead at their hands before the hour was out, triggered an odd combination of thrill, terror, and an overwhelming sense of power that Audrey had never felt before.

He began his speech, its contents predictably propagandistic.

The Jewish people were a dangerous blight on the face of a pure Aryan society. This “alien race” had to be removed. They must all unite to defend the “National Community.” The children were encouraged to spy on their friends and families.

Looking out over the hundreds of children sitting rapt in the auditorium, Audrey weighed the concept of innocence. Hitler had created a veritable network of eyes that could see into each Aryan home, sit at the dinner tables of resisters and Jewish sympathizers, reporting back to their leaders any thought or sentiment their parents or friends might have that wasn’t in keeping with the Reich’s policies and philosophies. It was a masterstroke, this army of little soldier-spies.

She tried her best to tune out his words by ruminating on the timing of her next move. The children couldn’t be expected to pay attention to a speech for longer than twenty minutes or so, she was sure. The plan had been for Audrey to create a diversion with a report of a man with a gun at the front of the Opera House. She was certain the Führer wouldn’t tolerate someone leaving in the middle of his speech, so she bided her time.

When he finished, he saluted the crowd and Audrey felt a chill skip down her spine at the sound of hundreds of children’s voices chanting “Heil Hitler!” She saluted along with them, as she must, then darted back to the lobby, exiting the theatre the way she had come. Blinking against the sudden brightness, she hurried around the side of the building toward the back doors, taking care on the thin layer of snow. Sure enough, she spotted a cluster of guards milling around. Hitler’s car was parked in the centre of a black motorcade, red flags fluttering on the bonnets in the cold breeze.

She took a moment to gather herself, then set her features into an expression of panicked anguish and raced over to the guards. They all looked up at her approach, shading their eyes with their hands. She waved her arm, hailing them.

“Excuse me!” she shouted in a high voice. “Sir! Anyone! Help! Please!”

Two of the four guards stepped toward her. They all looked eerily alike, aside from their difference in height. Light brown hair and clean-shaven faces over the collars of their identical uniforms.

“Fräulein?” one of them asked.

“Oh, thank God,” Audrey said. “I didn’t know what to do. There was a man out front, on the lawn, with a gun, I saw him enter the theatre just now. He—”

“Out front?” another guard snapped at her, alert.

“Yes! In the building now, I should think. Oh God!” she wailed in false hysterics, flapping her gloved hands, forcing tears to her eyes. “Please hurry! You must get the Führer out! The Führer!”

All four guards sprinted toward the front of the large building, drawing their weapons, but one shouted to his comrade to remain with the car. The man seemed young, hardly older than the teenagers inside. He fell back in obedience. Audrey swore, wondering what else she could possibly do. But her card was played now. There was no way she could lure this guard away without raising suspicion, especially once the others discovered there was no assassin.

There was nothing for it. Audrey turned from the scene, hoping Claus and Friedrich could figure out the next step, that she hadn’t ruined everything by failing to draw all the guards. Ducking behind a barren hedge a few yards away, she peered back at the car. Several agonizing minutes passed where nothing happened. And then, with a leap in her stomach, she spotted Friedrich, Claus just behind him. Friedrich strode up to the remaining guard with an air of confident authority and said something to him, indicating Claus, who nodded. The large duffel bag was slung over his shoulder.

Audrey watched the exchange, breathless. The young guard shook his head, but when Friedrich responded, the guard reluctantly stepped away from the vehicle. At that moment, Claus dropped to the ground with the bag and disappeared underneath the car whilst Friedrich made conversation with the guard, his eyes flitting to the back doors of the Opera House every few seconds.

The bomb was being set.

Audrey tore her gaze away. It was time to get to the getaway car. She walked as fast as she could without running. The whole mission suddenly seemed far more real, more dangerous. This is mad, she thought, dodging the other pedestrians. Finally, she turned a corner and the bright green sign above the bank came into view; Ludwig’s car was still parked beneath it. Her heels clicked on the pavement in time with the bomb that was now ticking underneath the Führer’s seat. She slid into the back and shut the door.

Ludwig twisted to see her. “Well?”

“I don’t know,” Audrey answered, panting. “They started to set the device, but they’re still there. They need to get out before the other guards come back, or someone raises an alarm.”

He faced the front. “We’ll know soon enough.”

They waited another torturous few minutes before Audrey spotted Friedrich walking toward them.

“There’s Friedrich!”

He wasn’t running, which she took as a good sign. He met her eyes as he approached, and she saw her own relief reflected in them. She slid across the seat to make room.

“It’s done,” he said, chest heaving. “Claus is right behind me.”

“Yes!” Ludwig hammered his hands on the steering wheel. “Yes!”

Friedrich covered Audrey’s hand on top of her knee. “Your diversion was brilliant. Well done.”

“I couldn’t get them all away though,” she said.

“It’s all right. The guard who stayed behind was still wet behind the ears. I told him Claus was there to fix the vehicle. He didn’t put up much of a fight. We were in uniform. There’s Claus now.”

Their comrade threw himself into the front seat beside Ludwig. “Fucking hell,” he swore. “We did it, gents. And lady,” he added. “Let’s get out of here. I need a goddamn drink.”

“How much time do we have before it goes off?” Ludwig asked.

“About five minutes, I’d say. I didn’t get a chance to note the time before we hightailed it out of there. Good job, Audrey,” he said, turning in his seat. “Whatever you did, it worked.”

“Thank you. Told you I’d be useful.”

He grinned. “Let’s go,” he said to Ludwig, who hesitated.

“Should we wait and see whether it’s worked?” he asked.

Claus looked incredulous. “We don’t want to be anywhere near that thing, Ludwig.”

“But we’re blocks away,” he argued. “We’d see the smoke, hear it from here, surely? But not—”

“We’re not risking that!” Friedrich snapped. “You don’t think after that thing goes off, they won’t be cordoning off the whole damn city? Blocking the motorways? Drive, man! We need to be back in our homes before this even hits the wires! Go!”

Ludwig’s jaw twitched, but he put the car into gear. They had to pass the Opera House on their way to the motorway. As they approached, all four sets of eyes snapped to the laneway behind the theatre. Several uniformed men were there now, along with a photographer, whose tall tripod was set up a few feet away from the car. They drove a little farther along the road—Ludwig slowed down as much as he could—until the other side of Hitler’s car came into view.

Audrey gasped in horror.

“No! No no no no no!” Claus shouted.

The subject of the photographer’s attention was a lineup of children positioned along one side of the vehicle, one row standing, another kneeling, the smallest of them seated on the pavement in front. Hitler Youth leaders bracketed them on either side, chivvying them into place. There were over a dozen of them, smiles gleaming as they laughed for the camera, thrilled at the honour of being chosen for a photo opportunity with the Führer’s car.

“Is he there too?” Ludwig demanded. “Do you see him? Does anyone see him?!” He jerked the car over to the side of the street.

“No,” Claus said. “He’s not there. He’s not there.”

“What do we do?” Audrey breathed.

“Claus!” Friedrich shouted.

But it was too late. Claus had already opened the car door and was sprinting across the snow-covered lawn.