“You were quite the catch in your teenage years.” He sat back in his wooden chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Oh, yes, I remember well. All the other boys were jealous of me. I had the most beautiful girl in all of Freiburg. I felt like the luckiest boy alive. What happened to us? You never explained. You just dropped me.”
I saw who you really were. I realized whom they’d turned you into. She wondered whether he was being deliberately ignorant, if this was some ploy to test her loyalties, or if he truly didn’t know. Had he not figured it out by now? They had broken up in 1936, when she was nineteen. He had tried to get back with her after that, and while she was adamant about not being his girlfriend, she was careful not to push him too far away. She was fearful of his growing power and influence as a member of the local Gestapo.
On Kristallnacht in 1938, he had joined with the mobs, when the streets of Freiburg and every other town and city in Germany glistened with broken glass from the windows and storefronts of Jewish-owned businesses, when the night sky burned red from the flames of burning synagogues. Thousands died in a state-sponsored, nationwide riot against Jewish Germans, and Daniel Berkel was one of the leaders of the marauding pack of dogs dragging Jewish business owners onto the streets to be kicked and beaten. That night opened her eyes to what the Nazis were really trying to achieve in Germany. She felt changed. Much of the reason she left Freiburg was to get away from him. She abandoned Fredi to get away from him.
“That’s ancient history now. Why mire ourselves in the past when the German people have such a sparkling future to look forward to?”
He smiled, but his eyes darkened. He took another drag on the cigarette before speaking again. “You’ve something to hide? Why not tell, so we can put the past behind us and go on as friends from here? If you’re going to be living in Freiburg—”
“I’m not going to be in Freiburg. I’m moving back to Munich in the next few days, as soon as the roads clear.”
Berkel took another drag from the cigarette just as the waitress came over. He ordered a beer, and Franka felt her insides tighten.
“So you found someone else?”
“It wasn’t that. We grew apart. We were just children then.”
“Many of the men I work with—good, loyal men, dedicated to the betterment of this country and the protection of the Reich—were married by that age. Some had children earlier than that.”
“That wasn’t to be for us.”
The waitress came back with his beer and told him it was on the house, as it always was for the Gestapo. He didn’t thank her, just leaned forward to stare at Franka again.
“So I read that you were involved with the head of those traitors in Munich. Was he to be the father of your children?”
Hans’s name felt sullied by Berkel mentioning it. She brought her hands under the table, balling them into fists so tight she almost drew blood.
“That part of my life is over now.” She fought back the tears. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him. She’d rather die than cry in front of him.
“You were lucky. You should thank the Gestapo agents that caught him and the others. You should thank the executioner too. They did you the greatest favor the government could ever do for a person. They set you free. They set you free from the madness of the ideas those criminals were preaching, and they even had the mercy and the magnanimity to spare your life.”
Each word hurt. Was she meant to be grateful to that judge for sparing her life? She’d wished so many times since for the opposite.
“It sickens me to think that such people exist.” He said the word “people” as if it were a curse word. “But it’s heartening to know that they received the swift justice they deserved, and that further innocents were protected from their vile influence.”
“They did what they thought was best for the German people,” she said. Her voice was so low that she barely heard herself.
He shook his head and took a generous mouthful of beer. “Na?ve fools. Were they trying to take us back to the days of mass unemployment and social disorder in the streets? Democracy was the biggest calamity ever casted upon this country. The führer rescued us from the curse of Versailles, delivered us from the November criminals, and has cemented our place among the greatest nations in the world again.”
Franka wanted to ask why he wasn’t fighting on the front if he was so committed to the cause. The Gestapo didn’t operate under any rule of law. He could bring her downtown to Gestapo headquarters right now, and she might never be seen again. No one would ask questions. She’d be one more disappeared enemy of the state. Her life depended entirely on the whim of this man whose heart she’d once broken.
“You’re right—I was misled. I’m grateful I was spared. The leaders pressured me into attending meetings. They made it seem like it was the patriotic thing to do.”
“When it was the opposite. I’m glad to see that you never fell completely under their spell. It’s heartening to know that you have a second chance to make up for your mistakes.”
“It was a pleasure catching up with you, Daniel, but I really should be going. I have to get back to the cabin before nightfall.”
He stared across the table at her for a few seconds before he answered. “Of course. It would be a most hazardous journey in the dark of night. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for holding you up.”
“Quite, Daniel. If you’ll excuse me,” she said as she stood up.
He didn’t move, just glared at her from his seat. “But wait, the roads up there are snowbound, are they not? That’s why you have your skis with you.”
“Yes, so I really should get going . . .”
“How did you intend to get back? You can hardly ski ten miles back up there.”
“I have that all taken care of.”
“How? You can’t have a car with you. It must be stuck up in the snow, at the cabin.”
“It is, but—”
“So how were you planning to get back?”
“I have someone waiting to give me a ride.”
“Who? You don’t know anyone here anymore, and after your time in jail, you can’t have the best reputation.”
“Well, I was going to—”
“Hitch a ride? Nonsense, I will take you.”
Franka felt her heart jump. “No, I couldn’t possibly inconvenience you. That would take more than an hour away from your busy schedule.”
“I’m on my lunch. I can make up the time later.” His eyes were boring a hole through her. She went to answer, but it was no good. He stood up. “All right, then; it’s settled. I have a car outside. Are you ready to go now?”
“I just need to pay the bill.”
“Leave the money on the table.”
Franka threw down a few crumpled notes. Berkel didn’t say another word as he led her out of the café. A black Mercedes sat outside, and he opened the back door for her to squeeze her skis and poles in. She kept the backpack with her, putting it at her feet as she sat in the passenger seat.
Just keep your mouth shut. Agree with whatever he says.
They spoke about people they’d known and old times as they drove through the city. Franka wondered whether he was investigating her, or genuinely under some illusion that they were old friends. Perhaps it was neither. Perhaps it was both, or perhaps it was something else. Franka still had to present her papers to the guard at the checkpoint. Berkel greeted him with a lazy salute, underscoring the fact that he was a superior officer. She waited until they were out of the city, and on the highway, to ask her question.
“What are your boys like?”
“Wonderful, just wonderful. They’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. They’re strong young Aryans too. We’re proud of them. Jürgen is just three, and he can already sing ‘Deutschland über Alles.’”
Franka went silent as Berkel told her about his sons. It gave her pause, but soon he was back preaching about the greatness of the Reich and the genius of Hitler. The minutes dragged out agonizingly. The place where he needed to drop her off came and looked like an oasis.