Barbara Taylor Bradford - The Women in His Life

Sigmund had asked Princess Irina Troubetzkoy for help the evening he and Ursula had attended the reception and dinner at the British Embassy, which had been the ill-fated night of the Nazi riots – Kristallnacht – as it turned out.

Without ever having been told, he knew intuitively that Irina was closely tied to one of the secret movements which aided Jews, Catholics, Protestants, dissidents, and so-called ‘political offenders’ of all kinds, who sought to flee Germany and the persecution of the Third Reich. From a few things he had picked up, here and there and at different times, he was aware that there were several such movements operating in Berlin; all were run by German aristocrats, for the most part, although some of the young international émigrés were also apparently involved. All were opposed to Hitler and his regime, and violently anti-Nazi.

When he had approached Irina four weeks ago he had not made any reference to the various resistance movements, deeming it wiser not to do so, and had merely asked her if she could put him in touch with someone who might help him get exit visas. She had replied that she would see what she could do, and a week later she had invited them to dinner with her mother Natalie and the baron, at the baron’s house on the Lützowufer. She had found an opportunity to get him alone for a moment, had murmured that the matter was in hand, and that there was no need for him to approach anyone else. ‘Patience, Sigi. Trust me,’ she had said softly, before gliding away to speak to another guest. Three more weeks had gone by until she had finally passed the note to him on Thursday. He had been vastly relieved, and had hardly been able to contain himself until today.

As he continued along the same path that ran parallel with the Hofjägeralle, walking in the direction of the Siegessäule, Sigmund saw a man coming towards him. He was tall and thin, dressed in a dark-green loden coat and a Tyrolean hat, and he was striding out purposefully, swinging a walking stick. He seemed oddly familiar to Sigi, who within seconds was filled with dismay. He had recognised the man; it was Kurt von Wittingen. The last person he wanted to run into when he was on this kind of delicate mission was a friend who would engage him in conversation, and in the process most probably scare off his contact. But Sigmund knew there was nothing he could do. He was trapped. He could not turn around and walk in another direction because Kurt had already seen him, was raising his stick, waving it in greeting. There was nothing for it but to act in the most normal way, chat for a few minutes and then walk on. Fortunately the weather played in his favour. It was so icy he was sure Kurt would not wish to linger.

A moment later the two men were drawing to a standstill, greeting each other warmly, and shaking hands.

After the initial greetings were over, Kurt said, ‘It’s far too bitter to stand here chatting like this.’

Relieved to hear him make this comment, Sigmund instantly agreed. ‘Yes, it is. Very nice running into you, Kurt, give my love to Arabella, and we’ll see you next week. I must be on my way.’

Kurt said, ‘I’ll walk with you.’

Sigmund’s dismay spiralled into alarm. When his contact saw him with a companion, he or she would not dare to approach him, but would simply disappear, he was quite convinced of that. For a split second panic rendered him speechless. He stood staring at Kurt, desperately wondering how to get rid of him courteously, and without giving offence.

‘It’s all right, Sigi,’ Kurt said. ‘Relax. The blue gentians are not in bloom in the Tiergarten today.’

Sigmund was not sure that he had heard correctly, and he continued to stare at Kurt, looking slightly dumbfounded.

‘Let’s start walking,’ Kurt said swiftly, and set off at a brisk pace.

Recovering himself immediately, Sigi fell into step. ‘Why didn’t Irina tell me you were my contact?’

‘She wasn’t sure it would be me. So why risk exposing me unnecessarily, albeit to a very old and reliable friend?’

‘I understand.’

‘The eight exit visas you require are for Ursula, Maxim and yourself, and your immediate family. And Theodora. I am correct am I not?’

‘Yes. I would like to get new passports for all of us. Passports not stamped with a J.’

Kurt threw him a quick glance and frowned. ‘I am positive I cannot get new passports, Sigi. Does it really matter that they’re stamped with a J?’

‘No, I don’t suppose so.’ Sigmund cleared his throat. ‘But I was hoping that if you could get them, they could be issued under a different name. At least, for the Westheims.’

‘Why a false name, Sigi?’

‘Look, I’ve not been touched so far, nor has the bank been taken over by them, because I’ve been extremely useful to the Government in various financial transactions, notably those to do with foreign currencies and such. And I’m still very useful to them. Frankly, I just don’t think they’d like it if I tried to leave Germany at this time. They might even try to prevent me from going, if they got wind of it. And so obviously if I were travelling out under a different name I would not be so easily spotted.’

‘Yes, of course, I see what you mean. But I know I cannot get you the new passports. I’m so sorry, but that’s not something my contact could pull off.’

‘All right, never mind.’

‘Arabella tells me that you and Ursula are coming to supper on Monday night. You must bring the eight passports with you then. I will need them for the exit visas. Put them in the inside breast pocket of your overcoat. I will take them out of your coat at some point during the evening.’

‘No problem. I’ll collect the passports from my family tomorrow.’

The two men walked on in silence for several seconds and then Sigmund said worriedly, ‘Are you sure you can procure the exit visas?’

‘I won’t lie to you, Sigi, I don’t know that I can,’ Kurt said. ‘It won’t be easy. But I have a good source and I am extremely hopeful. Let’s just say that I’m ninety per cent certain.’

‘I have money on me, in my overcoat pocket. A great deal of cash. Do you want it now?’

‘No, I don’t, but thank you for offering.’

‘What about entry visas to another country?’

‘They’re not going to be easy to get either.’

‘Have you any idea which country we might be able to go to?’

Kurt shook his head. ‘Not at this moment. I doubt that it will be America, though. The US Congress doesn’t seem willing to modify the immigration laws, to allow any more Jewish refugees from Germany to enter the country. Nor does Roosevelt seem prepared to act.’

‘What about England?’

‘I believe that’s your best chance, since the British have been very generous about taking in Jewish refugees from Europe for some time. And anyway, my influence and contacts are much stronger with the British diplomatic service. Never fear, I will pull every string available to me.’

‘I know you’ll do your damnedest. Where will we actually go when we leave Berlin?’

‘To one of two cities, Lisbon or Paris. But more than likely it will be Paris, where you could pick up your entry visas from the British Embassy, if you didn’t have them in your hands when you left Germany.’

‘Have you any idea when that will be?’ Sigi asked.

‘I daren’t promise anything, or give you a specific date. But I don’t think it will take much longer than a month to get the documents. Let’s say early January.’

Sigmund nodded. ‘I can tell Ursula, can’t I? Just to alleviate her awful worry about Maxim’s safety.’

‘Yes, but do warn her not to discuss your plans with anyone outside the family. And don’t tell her who is helping you. The less you say, and actually the less you know, the safer it is for me, Irina and our friends. And for you too, in the long run,’ Kurt said.