Night Angels(49)

“Why would the police forces in Greater Germany be on standby? It was a reckless act by a lone young man, as you said.”

There was a long pause, and when the captain’s voice came through, it had lost the flirtatious tone he often had. “I have the order to take action, should it turn out that the wound the third secretary suffered is fatal.”

Action? “I assume there will be a trial.”

There was another pause. “It’s not within my authority to make any prediction, but, Herr Consul General, for safety, I advise you and your family to cancel all activities and stay in the consulate for the next few days.”

Fengshan hung up the phone, went out to the lobby, and watched the men in black overcoats and homburgs waiting for their visas. None of them had heard the news of the attempted assassination yet.





CHAPTER 30


GRACE


On the day I’d see Lola off, I put on a mauve velvet dress, stockings, and a black wool coat. While I was getting dressed, Fengshan came up a few times. He was keeping a close eye on the news of the wounded diplomat and feared an impending catastrophe in the city. I thought he was overly anxious, and I couldn’t decide what to wear. The black wool outfit looked grave for the occasion. So I took it off and put on an astrakhan coat Fengshan had bought for me last year—but it was too big. I removed the astrakhan coat and put the wool outfit back on. In the mirror, I practiced how to smile—today was a happy day for Lola; she had waited for so long.

At six o’clock, two hours before Lola’s scheduled departure at the train station, I stepped out of the elevator. The visa applicants in the lobby were trickling out, and Frau Maxa, staying late for work, told me Fengshan had asked to see me in his office.

“Grace, I’m sorry, but you might consider staying in the consulate tonight,” Fengshan said the moment I walked in.

“Why?”

Third Secretary vom Rath had unfortunately died, Fengshan said. And Hitler, furious, had ordered the Gestapo to conduct door-to-door searches for any suspects or conspirators. Jews were ordered to remain at home or risk being shot if they stepped outside.

“Lola’s train leaves at eight, honey. Will she be able to go to the train station?”

“Not if the home-arrest order is in effect.” Fengshan was pacing, frowning.

“But I promised I’d see them off.”

“Mr. Rosenburg and his family were scheduled to leave later this evening as well. I was going to visit him too. But I have been warned by Captain Heine.”

“We’re foreign nationals. Are we restricted from traveling as well?”

“It’s only for the Jews.”

“Then I want to go to Lola’s home.”

“Grace.”

“I’ll be fine. Tonight will be the last time I see her.”

Fengshan sighed. “I suppose I’ll go with you, if you’ve made up your mind.”

Outside the consulate, the Ringstrasse, lit up by the gaslights, appeared normal, with a thin layer of snow, cars, and the uniformed police. But as we drove toward the area where Lola lived, the streets seemed eerily quiet. All the flower shops and news kiosks and retail shops were closed; no one was milling about.

When we turned onto the street to her neighborhood, a cacophony thundered in the distance, growing louder and louder. It made me uneasy.

I pressed my face to the window, but it was too dark to see anything outside, and then a fleet of motorcycles roared past. I jumped; my husband gripped my hand. Finally, when we were a few blocks away from Lola’s house, I saw some wooden blockades and the Gestapo officers, pistols pinned on their belts, holding cudgels and flashlights, searching house by house. A few police cars shrieked past, their back seats filled with men with their coats unbuttoned and their hands behind their heads.

One more block to Lola’s apartment. Finally. The car slowed and stopped at a blockade near a pile of snow. I could see Lola’s apartment building in bright headlights, the staircase leading to her apartment—and then the doors, which I had knocked on many times, were flung open. From inside came two Gestapo officers, heading toward a car, between them a woman with an apron.

“That’s Sara! They arrested Sara!” I shouted. Why had they arrested Sara? She had a visa! She couldn’t be a conspirator of the assassin! “We have to stop them. My dear, stop them!”

“Mr. Rudolf,” Fengshan said. “Could we go around the blockade?”

“Yes, Herr Consul General.” The car reversed, and at that precise moment, I cried out—Lola and Mrs. Schnitzler were stumbling from their apartment to the staircase that led to the street.

“Sara! Sara!” Mrs. Schnitzler shouted.

“Stay inside! That’s an order! Stay inside!” Through the window, I could see the detestable Gestapo whip out his revolver and point it at Lola and Mrs. Schnitzler.

Oh, Lola, my dear friend, so far from me, appearing motionless, her face blurred in the darkness; then, just as I hoped, she held her mother’s arms and pulled her back toward the apartment as the car that had taken Sara rumbled, sped, wove past the blockade, and exploded past us.

Rudolf swerved our car, narrowly missing the police vehicle, but then he was having trouble turning around again, and I lost sight of Lola and Mrs. Schnitzler. I could only hear her heartbreaking wail. “Sara! My Sara!”