I could board early and risk the officers deeply analyzing my pass and papers. Or I could wait until the boat was already full and board with the last rush of passengers. If I boarded early, I could find a place to conceal myself for the voyage. I would get extra sleep. But I would probably need the toady sailor to help me. Was it worth the risk?
I looked at the paper. My pass was an excellent forgery. A wave of adrenaline hit me. I wanted to try it. Would it work or would they apprehend me on the gangway?
Hitler might lose the war, but he wouldn’t be willing to surrender all the art he had stolen. Especially not the Amber Room.
“The Führer is a talented watercolorist. He applied to art school”—Dr. Lange had lowered his voice—“but the school did not accept him. Oh, how they will regret it.”
So instead of creating art or collecting it, Hitler stole it. Large albums with photos and lists of the items he targeted for his museum were assembled. Two such albums had been delivered to Dr. Lange. Some of the art listed was in private homes, owned by Jewish families. Other pieces, like the Julian Falat painting, were in museums. The Czartoryski Museum in Kraków had been pillaged. Masterpieces by da Vinci, Rembrandt, and Raphael now hung in the private apartments of Nazi officials.
Other stolen pieces were hidden in salt mines, abandoned factories, castle ruins, and the basements of museums. Dr. Lange estimated that over fifty thousand pieces of art would be “reassigned” from Poland to Germany alone. He found this completely acceptable.
But the Amber Room was the greatest treasure of all. Six tons of pure glistening amber, a jeweled chamber that glowed like golden fire. The panels were backed with gold leaf, the fronts inlaid with shimmering diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and jade. And in the center of the room, in a small oval alcove, sat the prized piece—the amber swan.
I looked down at the small box in my pack. Hitler would look for the swan first. I thought of the twenty-seven crates hidden far below the castle in the secret cellar. The labyrinth of tunnels would make it impossible to find the secret chamber.
Lange knew where it was.
Koch thought he knew where it was.
I not only knew where it was, I had a map to the location and a key.
They were sealed in the hollow heel of my boot.
joana
Dr. Richter evaluated Emilia’s condition. “She seems a bit traumatized,” he commented.
I tried to agree with him without raising suspicion. “Yes,” I whispered. “I thought so too. She speaks constantly of her husband, August, a German who’s fighting at the front. She’s desperate to get to him since being separated from her parents. She fears he is dead.”
He nodded. “You mentioned you have maternity experience?”
“I assisted at the hospital in Insterburg. I delivered several on my own without complication.”
“I don’t know how many expectant mothers we’ll have. I have a couple of nurses and one medical orderly. I’ll need you to help the wounded soldiers in the other ward as well,” he said.
“Yes, of course. I was shocked when I saw the men this morning,” I told him. “We didn’t see injuries of that severity in Insterburg.”
The doctor lowered his voice to a whisper. “I fear the condition of the men speaks loudly of Germany’s fate. It’s a short voyage. Let’s do what we can to make them as comfortable as possible. Have you lost many?”
I’ve lost my family, my language, and my country. I’ve lost it all, I wanted to say. But I knew what he meant. “I lost a friend crossing the ice just yesterday. And you?”
“Too many to count,” he replied. “Tomorrow more wounded will be the first to board. I’m told we’ll also have a group from a sanatorium—German girls who fell into the hands of the Russians. I suggest you get some sleep tonight. The coming days will be long.”
I dragged my cot over to Emilia’s and settled in next to her. We were finally surrounded by protection and comfort. Sheltered from the snow, the cold, and Russian soldiers, I finally felt safe. The ship had anti-aircraft guns affixed to the deck. Tonight I would sleep on a cot in a warm room, out of harm’s way.
I lay face-to-face with Emilia, who was still wearing her pink hat. She smiled at me. I thought of the summers in Nida with my cousin. At night we’d lie close, noses nearly touching, whispering and giggling. Emilia reminded me so much of Lina. She had the same blond hair and sea-blue eyes, deep with strength and secrets.
alfred