Alice did not wait to hear the reply. She was already out of the stage box, running along the corridors that would bring her to the ground floor and the main part of the theatre, cursing the ridiculous shoes that had been so elegantly flattering but that now felt like stilts. She reached the head of the stairs and paused, impatiently tearing the shoes off, and then running on in her stockinged feet, heedless of the uncarpeted floors, because even if she tore her feet to shreds she must get to Conrad.
She had just started down the last curve of the stair, and she could see the deserted foyer below. But as she hesitated, the auditorium doors were pushed open and the SS soldiers appeared with Conrad, forcing him towards the street. The auditorium doors closed again, and Alice understood that the other officers were still guarding the audience and the orchestra. Until Conrad was out of the way?
The soldiers were holding Conrad firmly, but he was fighting them every inch of the way. His eyes were blazing and his black hair had become dishevelled in the struggle so that it fell over his forehead in the way it did when he was working. He automatically tried to put up a hand to brush it back in the familiar impatient gesture, but the soldiers snatched his arms and pinioned them to his sides. The pettiness of this sent rage slicing through Alice’s entire body and her hands clenched involuntarily into fists. She would have liked to tear out the men’s throats with her enamelled nails, but she stayed where she was, listening intently, but pressing back against the wall so as not to be seen.
Conrad said angrily, ‘Where are you taking me? What is this about?’
‘You are listed as an enemy of Germany, Herr Kline.’ This time Alice caught a faint note of contempt under the steely voice.
‘That is ridiculous! I have no interest in your politics!’
The man who Alice had thought was the leader regarded Conrad for a moment. ‘You are half Russian,’ he said, at last. ‘You do not deny that?’
‘Certainly I do not deny it. My father was Russian,’ said Conrad haughtily, and even at such a confused and desperate moment he managed to conjure up old imperialism. ‘And my mother was from Salzburg.’
‘Your father was a Russian Jew,’ said the man coldly. ‘Therefore you are half a Jew. And you write and perform the music of the Jewish people.’
A cold fear began to close around Alice. The music of the Jewish people. Deborah’s Song! That’s what he means. But surely music isn’t something that the Nazi Party would care about? Surely they would not arrest a man for writing music? Yes, but they burn books believed to spread anti-German sentiments, said her mind. They confiscate property and listen in to telephone calls.
‘We are pledged to the Führer’s vow that the security of Germany will be guaranteed,’ the man was saying. ‘And we are pledged, as well, to ensure that never again will the Jewish-Bolshevistic revolution of subhumans be kindled from the interior or through emissaries from outside.’
‘You’re mad,’ said Conrad angrily. ‘I’m not a revolutionary. This is the most fantastical nonsense I have ever heard.’
‘We are not mad. We obey orders, and we are sworn to be a merciless sword of justice to all those forces who threaten the heart of Europe and who threaten Germany,’ said the man, and Alice had the impression that he was repeating something learned by rote. ‘Jew,’ he said, and this time he made the word an insult. Alice saw him lean forward and spit in Conrad’s face.
Conrad flinched, but he glared at the man in fury. ‘You are all madmen,’ he said. ‘And your Führer is a postulating, prancing lunatic!’
The man’s lips thinned and his eyes resembled chippings of flint. He said in a cold rasping tone, ‘Herr Kline, you will regret ever having said that.’
‘I will not. And I will not go with you tonight.’
‘You will. We are taking you to one of Herr G?ering’s camps,’ said the SS man.
‘On whose orders? I demand you tell me that!’
‘You are not in a position to demand anything. But since you are insistent, I can tell you that it is the Kreisleiter for this area who has sent the order.’
Conrad said, coldly, ‘And who is he, this Kreisleiter?’