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A film in 2017
Chapter 10
As instructed, my attire was more formal than usual. I chose to wear a navy blue suit and a white blouse. I wore the necklace which Willy gave to me on the night we were engaged to be married. I had no idea why he had asked me to dress with greater attention. Perhaps I would be meeting officials, thankful about my efforts on their behalf, or perhaps they might find me out.
Outside the Gestapo headquarters in Hamburg two armed guards stood at ease. Their outsized riding trousers were immaculately creased at the front and their stare was straight. Their helmets almost covered their eyes. Being on guard duty in a nation not at war seemed to be a menial position but they performed their duties with exemplary efficiency as they came to attention simultaneously as I approached.
I was about ten steps away from them when they withdrew their ceremonial swords from their sheaths and presented arms as I turned to walk between them. I did not look back but by the boot stamping which followed, I knew they were once again at ease.
I reported to the reception desk where a young woman greeted me.
‘I have an appointment with Herr Eicke this morning at 10am. I appreciate I am a few minutes early.’
‘Your name please.’
‘Frau Hilda Richter,’ I said with a firm voice.
Without saying a word, the receptionist lifted her telephone and held it to her ear. I could see no one else around but heard the sound of boots and stiletto heels as their studs and solid leather heels drummed out their importance on the marbled floor. I had known this building to have been the main bank in the city; one I had visited in the past. It had been commandeered by the state police but the marble floor and most of the banks’ many paintings remained. On each floor level however space had been made for a portrait of Adolf Hitler as I could see on the floors above me.
‘Frau Richer, SS-Gruppenfuhrer Eicke is ready for you now. Proceed to the third floor and you will be met by someone to take you to him,’
‘Thank you,’ I said realising either he had promoted himself or he had been seen to be a valued cog in the frenzied wheel. Major Eicke gave him authority but would it be beyond his capabilities? I had my secret doubts. I made my way up the carpeted steps counting the floors. Not everyone was in uniform. Men dressed in double breasted suits and often brown leather shoes walked purposefully with files under their arms. Everyone seemed to have files. Was I the subject of one?
As I cleared the last step, a man in military uniform met me, his heels clicking as if to draw my attention to him.
‘Frau Richter?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Follow me, please.’
He took me to the end of the floor then we turned left. The third door on the right caught my eye. I studied it carefully. SS-Gruppenfuhrer Gerhardt Eicke, District Commander.
My escort knocked on the door and entered still holding the door knob in his left hand. I was not yet invited in.
‘Frau Richter, mein Gruppenfuhrer.’
‘Bring her in please,’ said Eicke rising from his chair. We greeted each other with formal handshakes in the middle of his office.
‘I am very pleased to see you again, Frau Richter, especially this morning. But first tell me are you well?’
‘I had a tiring voyage but I have recovered now. Good German air to breath and fresh vegetables and meats, how could I not be healthy?’
Eicke laughed at my response. He seemed a much friendlier, a less inhibiting man from when I first met him, after Willy’s funeral.
‘Can you tell me more about how things are in England?’
‘Certainly, I can, but today I am glad to be back home in Germany.’
‘I’m pleased to hear that. There was not even the slightest doubt in my mind that you wouldn't return.’
‘Of course,’ I said to placate him. ‘I have met the Browns a few times now. They are very well suited to be in Britain. Their accents are more than passable, they are really very good. Some even think they are South African and I can see how they think that.’
‘Excellent. The Browns are coming up to their fifth year in Britain.’
Eicke opened his silver cigarette case.
‘You don’t smoke do you?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘That’s right, I had forgotten.’
He lit his cigarette from his lighter which he then pocketed. He drew in the smoke and exhaled as he turned towards me. It gave me time to question his new status.
‘I could not help notice, your name on your door. Promotion I see.’
He smiled. ‘I began in the police and then was moved to the state police, the Gestapo. Now I am in charge of the Hamburg question. The SS are driving it and I’m at the helm in this city.’
‘The Hamburg question, you mean the Jews?’
‘It’s no secret Hamburg homes the largest Jewish population in the land. That will be addressed. It’s going to take its time, as you can imagine.’ He took another draw of his cigarette.
‘Does this mean I won’t be communicating with you again? Will I report to someone new?’ I asked to clarify his information. I wondered if I should bring out my notebook and pencil to record this informative encounter.
‘No, I need to know what information you will provide in the future. It will come in useful, I assure you. I have superiors too, you appreciate.’
‘Then you have plans for me to return soon?’
‘Plans for you to return, yes. But not yet.’
‘What am I to do in the meantime?’
‘You have done well when you were in Britain. I and my seniors are pleased with your work. Now we have a greater need for you. We’d like to improve your communication skills. We will give you a special state pass while you are in Germany and a cover British Identity card for when you return. You will need photographs taken and that is one reason why I asked you to dress smartly.’
‘I see, but why did you seem so covert to me? You did not tell me that I was simply being asked to have photographs taken.’
‘Yes, I know. I am meeting a senior officer at noon, here in my office. I could not tell you before. It was secret. I hope you can attend. He wishes to meet you.’
‘And who is he?’
‘That remains, as I said, secret for the time being.’
I was taken to a photographers’ room in a back room of the building. A light shone on a plain white wall with an umbrella directing the beam. There were two assistants; a man and a woman. The woman attended to my hair for the first picture. Then she placed a broach to hide the top button of my dress. I looked in the mirror to see it was a gem stone swastika. Flash. The first picture had been taken. Another flash before I got out of the seat. Then I was given a slightly different hairstyle, my hair almost falling over my left eye and the broach was removed. Two photos were taken. The photographer retired to the dark room. The lady then brought me to a desk where my signature was recorded.
I was brought a coffee and asked to wait. Twenty minutes later the photographer returned with his pictures. He let me see them.
‘Two different people,’ I said looking at my two images.
‘Two different lives perhaps,’ he said. I looked at him. He was probably in his early twenties, young and impressionable. Was he that perceptive as well?
‘I will post both completed passes to you tomorrow.’ The telephone rang. The photographer took the call and as he held the receiver to his ear, he turned to look at me.
‘You have to report to Gruppenfuhrer Eicke’s room, now. Please knock first.’
I walked back along the corridor wondering who might want to meet me. It could be Karl as a good gesture by Eicke perhaps, even Otto on leave from his training. I was excited to find out and hurried my pace. I stood in front of the door and knocked twice.
Eicke came to the door and smiled as he met my eyes. Beyond him I could see a tall, elegant, blond man. As I entered he turned towards me with piercing blue eyes. I had seen this man in the papers, a cultured man from a family of distinguished musicians, I was about to meet one at the very heart of the police State. “The man with an iron heart” as Hitler called him.
‘Hilda, meet SS-Obergruppenführer Reinhart Heydrich.’
I held out my hand to shake his but he took hold of it and turned it over, then kissed the back of my hand.
‘It is a pleasure to meet you,’ he said in a remarkably high voice which had been commented on in the papers during the very early 1930s but never since. He must surely carry a burden of embarrassment with his speech defect but his actions were more profound. This man was a killing machine and proud to serve in that role. My knees were trembling. I was in a lion’s den.
‘Your late husband, Willy Richter, not so?’ he said opening his hand to show me to a chair.
‘Dr Willy Richter, yes, my deceased husband,’ I confirmed wondering how he knew.
‘He began his medical career in Halle an der Saale, not so?’
‘Yes, I believe so, but that was before I met him, here in Hamburg.’
‘Of course. My parents were very fond of him.’
‘Really?’ I thought he must have noticed my incredulity in questioning any connection with this beast of a man whose flick of a hand sentenced a man, or woman, to death without a hint of a hesitation.
‘Halle an der Saale is my home town, where I was born. My mother had been very ill, devastating for a music teacher. Dr Richter was called to our house where he administered his medicine. Over the weeks mother’s strength returned. They used to discuss their love of music too. But it was in an act of kindness, our family will never forget. The doctor asked for no payment for his services for my mother’s condition and eventually her full recovery was underway. We were very sad to hear he was leaving to go to Hamburg. That was of course your good fortune.’
My smile recollected Willy’s warm nature. It did not surprise me he had not requested payment. His patient was always his priority.
‘I feel a debt is owed by my family to you, Dr Richter’s widow.’
‘That is very thoughtful but I think not necessary.’
‘Let me be the judge of that. I hear you have been sending reports from England, meeting our agents there and returning for more instructions. Espionage is a very courageous life, a lonely life too. I am not cut out for it myself. Spies do not always have the longest of lives and so we must be grateful for their information when it comes and I wish to show you how grateful I am.’
He lifted up his brown leather case and opened it. He brought out a black box. Once more I was staring at a swastika.
‘Frau Richter, please stand.’
Eicke stood too. I was one of his own prodigies and his smile reflected that fact. I stood tall feeling he had a broach to give me in respect of Willy’s appreciated healing powers. But I was wrong.
‘Frau Richter, I hereby award you the Iron Cross second class in honour of your service to the Reich.’
He placed the ribbon around my neck and stood behind me to secure the eyes of the hooks. He then stood in front of me at attention and raised his arm in salute. ‘Heil Hitler.’
I raised my arm even higher. ‘Heil Hitler,’ I said with gusto and pride.
‘We need detain you no longer, Frau Richter. Germany expects great results from you. You are a real credit to the Reich.’ I had made Eicke’s day. He walked with me to the door with the self satisfied smug grin of a proud father.
My smile was neither strong nor weak. It was one designed to give him confidence in me and no more. I left their company and closed the wooden varnished door behind me.
I felt my shoelace had come undone. Indeed it had. I knelled down to tie my wayward lace taking only one step forward. As I stooped, I heard faintly but clearly that Eicke had queried my award. I stayed frozen to the spot, slowly securing my lace. Heydreich’s high pitched voice replied that I needed an incentive to stay German. ‘Once back in Britain, she must not lapse,’ the Blond Beast said. They certainly valued my position. I could play that to my advantage if necessary. I moved away smartly and quietly.
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Web Site:
The Reluctant Spy
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John
Ron