“Describe for us, then, what you saw that day at the-” He broke off to check his notes. “Cafe Heil, Olivaerplatz.” Down the street from Lena’s flat, where the world had gone on around them. “The cafe was familiar to you?”
“No. That’s why I paid particular attention. To see if it was safe.”
“For your wife, you mean.”
“Yes, forMarthe.”
“She was in hiding.”
“At that time she had to walk during the day, so the landlady would think she was at work. Public places, where people wouldn’t take notice. Zoo Station, for instance. Tiergarten.”
“And you met her during these walks?”
“Twice a week. Tuesdays and Fridays,” Gunther said, precise. “To make sure she was all right, give her a meal. I had coupons.” Every week, for years, waiting for a tap on the shoulder.
“And this was where?”
“Usually Aschinger’s. By Friedrichstrasse Station. It was always crowded there.” The big cafeteria where Jake had often gone himself, grabbing a bite on his way to the broadcast. Jake saw them pretending to meet, jostled by the lunch crowd at the stand-up tables, eating blue-plate specials. “But it was important to change places. Her face would become familiar. So, that day, Olivaerplatz.”
“This was in 1944?”
“March seventh, 1944. One-thirty.”
“What is the importance of this?” the defense attorney said, standing.
“Sit down,” the judge said, waving his hand.
The big roundups had started in ‘42. Two years of fading into crowds.
“Your memory is excellent, Herr Behn,” the prosecutor said. “Please tell us the rest.”
Gunther glanced toward Bernie, who nodded.
“I arrived first, as always, to make sure.”
“The prisoner was there?”
“In the back. With coffee, a newspaper-ordinary. Then Marthe came. She asked me if the chair was free. A pretense, you see, so we would not seem to be together. I noticed the prisoner looking at us, and I thought perhaps we should go, but she went back to her paper, nothing wrong, so we ordered the coffee. Another look. I thought, you know, she was looking at me, perhaps she was someone I had arrested-this happened sometimes-but no, just a busybody. Then she went to the toilet. There is a phone there-I checked later-so that was when she called her friends.“
“And did she come back?”
“Yes, she finished her coffee. Then she paid the bill and walked right past us to the door. That’s when they came for Marthe. Two of them, in those leather coats. Who else had leather coats in ‘forty-four? So I knew.”
“Excuse me, Herr Behn. You know for a fact the prisoner called them? How is that?”
Gunther looked down. “Because Marthe talked to her. A foolish slip, after being so careful. But what difference did it make in the end?”
“She talked to her?”
“She knew her. From school. Schoolgirls. ‘Renate, is it really you?’ she said. Just like that, so surprised to see her. Marthe must have thought she was in hiding too. Another U-boat. ‘So many years,’ Marthe said, ‘and just the same.’ Foolish.”
“And did Fraulein Naumann recognize her?”
“Oh yes, she knew. ‘You’re mistaken,’ she said, and of course that was right. Marthe shouldn’t have said anything. It was dangerous to be recognized. They tortured the U-boats sometimes, to find the others, to get names. But she knew.” He stopped, his eyes moving away, then began to talk more quickly, wanting it over. “She tried to leave then, of course, but they came, the coats, so she couldn’t get out. And that’s when I saw. They looked at her, one of them. First around the room, searching, then at her. To tell them. She could have said, she’s gone, she just left. She could have saved her. Her old school friend. But no. ‘That’s the one,’ she says. ‘She’s a Jew.’ So they grabbed Marthe. ‘Renate,’ she said, that’s all, the name, but the greifer wouldn’t look at her.”
“And you?” the lawyer said in the quiet room. “What did you do?”
“Of course people were looking then. ‘What is this?’ I said. ‘There’s some mistake.’ And they said to her, the greifer, ‘Him too?’ And she had no idea who I was, you see. So they were ready to take me too, but then Marthe saved me. ‘He’s nobody,’ she said. ‘We were just sharing the table.’ Nobody. And she moved away with them so they wouldn’t even think about it. Quietly, you know. No commotion. Not even another look to give me away.”
Jake sat up, his mind darting. Of course. If you didn’t know your victim, someone had to point him out. Mistakes could be made. A crowded cafe. A crowded market square. But nobody had been there to save Liz.
“Herr Behn, I’m sorry to ask again. So there’s no confusion-you state positively that you saw and heard the accused identify your wife for deportation. A woman known to her. There is no doubt?”
“No doubt. I saw it.” He looked at Renate. “She sent her to her death.”
“No,” Renate said quietly. “They said a labor camp.”
“To her death,” Gunther said, then looked back to the prosecutor. “And she went with them in the car, the same car. All the greifers together.”
“I didn’t want to,” Renate said, a stray detail.
“Thank you, Herr Behn,” the lawyer said, dismissing him.
