She was intelligent, he was to discover. He had married her, thinking that she was flighty, emotional, and fanciful, and she would know very little about the world, because of the topics she raised in the early days, the desire to spend idle time at play. But he had discovered that she understood many issues about war. She was curious, too, about people in the party, the measures they were taking in securing all the territories, and the future of Germany. Erich was careful not to provide too much detail, but she would ask intelligent questions, and he told her some things to humor her. Not about his work but about the processes, the German military, the power of the tank that his father had helped design, which he was pleased to speak of because so few people asked. He had misjudged that about her, but it was still not enough to build a relationship, and when conversations ran dry, it might be days before they would find common ground again.
They slept in separate rooms, and most nights he would choose to work late. In the morning when he left for work, his breakfast would be ready, and she would have left for the markets. She was no longer required to work. His position, power, and finances were enough to keep both of them in better circumstances than many.
He rarely took Monique to his mother’s. His father was the only parent who liked her, and since he was home very little these days and Erich’s mother showed her disapproval of his wife, without even knowing the truth, he was reluctant to bring her. Claudine had grown into an independent, pretty girl, and spent most days away from home with her university friends. They were self-indulgent, his mother had said, and added nothing to this country. Erich agreed. His mother asked if he could find out what she was up to, use his hunting skills. She had asked the same of Horst, who had been quite angry at the suggestion, who had said Claudine was old enough to choose her friends.
Somehow the pair had coexisted, though Erich’s job was getting more intense, and his particular work was something he did not discuss with Monique, knowing her previous disposition on those expelled on race, the same type of people that Erich helped remove from Germany. At first, she believed he was simply policing the streets, and part of the security team for rallies and speeches in Berlin, until later learning the truth.
As a member of the Gestapo, Erich was tasked with tracking and interrogating Jews, and hunting down political anti-Nazi activists hiding in the bowels of Berlin. It had taken him all over Berlin, sometimes to the outskirts. His first assignment was to inspect an apartment where Jews were known to live, to take names and verify records. Here he would interrogate them in a style that was neither warm nor cruel. In the early days, before superiority became embedded, it was difficult for those under questioning to dislike him, yet they knew he was there to glean information, to take a mental inventory of their precious items. He would then have to record these people who would, in most cases, be evicted shortly after.
The fate of the Jews was yet to be fully revealed even to him at the time of these inquisitions and removals. He had known that many were transported to camps, but the propaganda within his office did not show the real conditions. It was not until he visited a camp in Austria that he learned the full extent. In those first few months of his employment, he had been unaware of the hard labor ahead for those he had helped remove from Berlin, of the families torn apart, and of the mass executions. In time he found out, but even with full knowledge, he grew to accept these conditions quickly, to become desensitized, even repulsed, by the people he sent away.
Though respectful of orders, some of the SS he was assigned in these early days were crude and untrained in the ways of restraint when it came to controlling a situation. At first he quietly resented them almost as much as the people he interviewed. They didn’t like Erich, but they kept a safe distance because he was one they couldn’t put into any box. He was too tidy, too careful, too methodical. They used too much brashness and, unlike Erich, were unable to hide the revulsion, which made it difficult to extract information during interviews.
During one of his early interrogations, he was accompanied by an SS officer that Erich considered to have few social capabilities. Erich was able to talk a Jewish man into cooperating, convincing him in a nonthreatening way to assist Erich and advising him that he would have to vacate the apartment for new accommodations on the outskirts of the city. The Jew, the father of the family, with his wife, his mother, and several children sitting nearby, threatened to find a lawyer. Erich patiently told him that there would be no legal representation, that Nazi laws did now allow them such, and that by refusing to talk, they were breaking a law, which meant he would be put in prison and separated from his family for an indefinite period. Perhaps it was the nonhostile tone that Erich used, and the clarity with which he spoke, but the Jewish man calmed down eventually, accepting his fate and agreeing for the sake of his family. But just to prove superiority, the Gestapo member who accompanied him hit the man across the face at the end of the questioning. The Jew then became difficult, and Erich asked that the children be removed from the room. They had begun to whimper, the one thing most likely to distract him.
Erich continued to question the man who held a hand to his bruised face, pretending coldly that there had been no harm done, and the interview concluded quickly. Once outside Erich turned to his associate and said that if he ever did that again, Erich would make sure that he lost his employment.
The Jew, later that night, was taken prisoner and was never to see the rest of his family again. At the time Erich thought he had failed to keep control of his staff and the situation, but sometime later he would come to the conclusion that he was only delaying the inevitable. The man and his family were always going to be separated. And as time went on, and the job became monotonous, the sound of crying offensive, the evasive answers annoying, Erich would find that such brute force would be a necessary part of the job, and that people like his associate served a purpose.
Since the commencement of his commission, Erich had helped remove thousands of Jews and nonconformists from the city, several hundred of whom had been in hiding. He was able to question those who lied about their origins. He was able to spot a fake identity card. He was able to root out hiding spots within walls and glean information from others as to the whereabouts of missing family members.
When it came time to leave Berlin for Vienna in Austria, he had some reservations. He had grown to like the tasks, to like the power and control, and he had earned the respect of fellow officers, above and below his station. His name was known. He was relieved at least that he would not have to attend Georg and Rosalind’s wedding to celebrate a marriage that was undoubtedly of little substance, like his own. Monique, on the other hand, was excited about leaving for Vienna. She was “going home,” as she called it. But of course, there was no reason for any excitement, as she would soon discover. There were worse things ahead in Vienna.
Present-day 1945
Erich can’t help but notice that Rosalind looks different. She has put on a dress that Monique bought in Vienna, and high-heeled black shoes. The dress is too large for her but suits her nonetheless. Her hair is brushed back from her face and held with a pearl pin that he recognizes also. She doesn’t wear any face paint, but she doesn’t need to. Her complexion is fair, lightly tanned, with freckles across her nose that might appeal to some. She is not stunning, but her eyes are large and luminous, and her mannerisms feminine and delicate. But she is not delicate. She saw much in the hospitals and has experienced much since. He has also seen that she can take care of herself.
She smiles at Stefano. And that is the reason she looks so good, he thinks. It is the smile. Her face is usually stern.
Stefano has noticed the smile, too, as well as the dress and the shoes. He does not hide the admiration with his staring eyes. He has washed out his shirt and damply combed back his hair, so it is no longer loose and curling around his face.
There is no sign of Georg, and neither man raises the question.
The smell of roasting meat entices them to the table where they take their places. Rosalind tells them about the goose she has prepared, the goose with the broken leg, and tells Erich the story of the other goose that was stolen.
“A little charity and they always come back for more,” says Erich, and Stefano looks at Rosalind, who glances away, who does not want to be reminded of her generosity.