Silesian Station (2008) Read Online Free Page B
between them, hustling him out of the cell. 'Try not to worry,' Russell shouted over his shoulder, conscious of how fatuous it sounded.
Back upstairs, Hauptsturmfuhrer Ritschel looked, if possible, even more pleased with himself. Russell took the proffered seat and implored himself to remain calm.
'Your passport,' Ritschel demanded, holding out a peremptory hand.
Russell passed it across. 'Has Fraulein Koenen been formally charged?' he asked.
'Not yet. Soon, perhaps. We are still taking witness statements. Any trial will not be for several weeks.'
'And until that time?'
'She will remain here. Space permitting, of course. It may be necessary to move her to Columbiahaus.'
Russell's heart sank, as it was supposed to.
'After sentencing it will be Ravensbruck, of course,' Ritschel added, as if determined to give a thorough account of Effi's future. 'And the sentence - unfairly perhaps - is bound to reflect Fraulein Koenen's celebrity status. A National Socialist court cannot be seen to favour the rich and famous. On the contrary...'
'Effi is hardly rich.'
'No? I understand that her father gave her an apartment on her twenty-fifth birthday. Do many Germans receive that sort of financial help? I did not. And neither, as far as I know, did anyone in this building.'
It was a hard point to argue without free access to all Gestapo bank accounts, which Russell was unlikely to be granted. 'The court may not share your presumption of guilt,' he said mildly.
'You know what she said?'
Russell took a deep breath. 'Yes, I do. But people have always made jokes about their political leaders. A pretty harmless way of expressing disagreement in my opinion.'
'Perhaps. But against the law, nevertheless.' He picked up the passport. 'Let's talk about you for a moment. Why have you become an American citizen, Herr Russell?'
'Because I'm afraid that England and Germany will soon be at war, and I do not wish to be separated from my son. Or from Fraulein Koenen.'
'Do you feel emotionally attached to America?'
'Not in the slightest,' Russell said firmly. 'It's a wholly vulgar country run by Jewish financiers,' he added, hoping he was not overdoing it.
Ritschel looked pleasantly surprised. 'Then why not become a German citizen?'
'My newspaper employs me as a foreign correspondent - if I ceased to be foreign I would no longer be seen as a neutral observer. And my mother would see it as a betrayal,' he added, egging the pudding somewhat. It seemed unwise to mention the real reason, that being a foreigner gave him a degree of immunity, and some hope of getting Paul and Effi out of the country should one or both of them ever decide they wanted to leave.
'I understand that you wish to keep your job, Herr Russell. But just between ourselves, let's recognize this "neutral observer" nonsense for what it is. The Reich has friends and enemies, and you would be wise - both for your own sake and that of your lady friend - to make it clear which side of that fence you are on.' His hand shot out with the passport. 'Hauptsturmfuhrer Hirth of the Sicherheitsdienst wishes to see you at 11am on Wednesday. Room 47, 102 Wilhelmstrasse.'
Russell took the passport and stood up. 'When can I see Fraulein Koenen again?'
'That will depend on the outcome of your meeting with Hauptsturmfuhrer Hirth.'
Standing on the pavement outside, Russell could still feel the movement of the Europa inside him. A black-uniformed sentry was eyeing him coldly, but he felt an enormous reluctance to leave, as if his being only a hundred metres away might somehow help to protect her.
He dragged himself away, and started up the wide Wilhelmstrasse. The government buildings on the eastern side - the Finance, Propaganda and Justice ministries - were all bathed in sunlight, the Fuhrer's digs on the western side cloaked, rather more suitably, in shadow. At the corner of Unter den Linden he almost sleep-walked into the Adlon Hotel, but decided at the last moment that an encounter with
Back upstairs, Hauptsturmfuhrer Ritschel looked, if possible, even more pleased with himself. Russell took the proffered seat and implored himself to remain calm.
'Your passport,' Ritschel demanded, holding out a peremptory hand.
Russell passed it across. 'Has Fraulein Koenen been formally charged?' he asked.
'Not yet. Soon, perhaps. We are still taking witness statements. Any trial will not be for several weeks.'
'And until that time?'
'She will remain here. Space permitting, of course. It may be necessary to move her to Columbiahaus.'
Russell's heart sank, as it was supposed to.
'After sentencing it will be Ravensbruck, of course,' Ritschel added, as if determined to give a thorough account of Effi's future. 'And the sentence - unfairly perhaps - is bound to reflect Fraulein Koenen's celebrity status. A National Socialist court cannot be seen to favour the rich and famous. On the contrary...'
'Effi is hardly rich.'
'No? I understand that her father gave her an apartment on her twenty-fifth birthday. Do many Germans receive that sort of financial help? I did not. And neither, as far as I know, did anyone in this building.'
It was a hard point to argue without free access to all Gestapo bank accounts, which Russell was unlikely to be granted. 'The court may not share your presumption of guilt,' he said mildly.
'You know what she said?'
Russell took a deep breath. 'Yes, I do. But people have always made jokes about their political leaders. A pretty harmless way of expressing disagreement in my opinion.'
'Perhaps. But against the law, nevertheless.' He picked up the passport. 'Let's talk about you for a moment. Why have you become an American citizen, Herr Russell?'
'Because I'm afraid that England and Germany will soon be at war, and I do not wish to be separated from my son. Or from Fraulein Koenen.'
'Do you feel emotionally attached to America?'
'Not in the slightest,' Russell said firmly. 'It's a wholly vulgar country run by Jewish financiers,' he added, hoping he was not overdoing it.
Ritschel looked pleasantly surprised. 'Then why not become a German citizen?'
'My newspaper employs me as a foreign correspondent - if I ceased to be foreign I would no longer be seen as a neutral observer. And my mother would see it as a betrayal,' he added, egging the pudding somewhat. It seemed unwise to mention the real reason, that being a foreigner gave him a degree of immunity, and some hope of getting Paul and Effi out of the country should one or both of them ever decide they wanted to leave.
'I understand that you wish to keep your job, Herr Russell. But just between ourselves, let's recognize this "neutral observer" nonsense for what it is. The Reich has friends and enemies, and you would be wise - both for your own sake and that of your lady friend - to make it clear which side of that fence you are on.' His hand shot out with the passport. 'Hauptsturmfuhrer Hirth of the Sicherheitsdienst wishes to see you at 11am on Wednesday. Room 47, 102 Wilhelmstrasse.'
Russell took the passport and stood up. 'When can I see Fraulein Koenen again?'
'That will depend on the outcome of your meeting with Hauptsturmfuhrer Hirth.'
Standing on the pavement outside, Russell could still feel the movement of the Europa inside him. A black-uniformed sentry was eyeing him coldly, but he felt an enormous reluctance to leave, as if his being only a hundred metres away might somehow help to protect her.
He dragged himself away, and started up the wide Wilhelmstrasse. The government buildings on the eastern side - the Finance, Propaganda and Justice ministries - were all bathed in sunlight, the Fuhrer's digs on the western side cloaked, rather more suitably, in shadow. At the corner of Unter den Linden he almost sleep-walked into the Adlon Hotel, but decided at the last moment that an encounter with
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