The Prince of the Soviets

38. THE REICHSBANK

The plane circled the new airport of Tempelhof. Gazing out of the window, Klim saw a building stretching the length of the airfield and dozens of planes—some modern and some veteran fighter planes from the last war.

As it landed, the plane sped past aircraft hangars and towers with flags. When the plane’s engine had stopped, two servicemen in dark blue boiler suits wheeled up a sloping gangway.

Klim jumped down to the ground and took a deep breath of the cold air. Thank heaven they had arrived!

The freight handlers began to take the baggage out of the hold and load it onto trolleys.

“Goodbye!” Oscar waved to Klim and hurried toward the large glass doors of the airport building.

Yefim set off at a run, following him.

Klim took both girls by the hand. “How are you feeling?”

The girls were exhausted from the journey, but nonetheless, curiosity got the better of them. Tata stared wide-eyed at the technicians driving about the landing strip on motorized carts.

Klim went through passport control, and a customs officer checked his baggage.

“All in order, sir. Welcome to Berlin!”

Klim found a stand with a plan of the airport and located the taxi rank on the map.

“Here are some of my fellow Russians!” the exclamation came from a tall, fair-haired young man in a thick sweater and quilted pants who was bearing down on them. “Delighted to meet you. I’m Sergei. Can I take you anywhere? I have a taxi waiting just outside.” Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed Klim’s suitcases. “Come on. It’s just a step away. Are you from Moscow? I’m from Suzdal myself. My parents brought me to Berlin when I was just a little boy.”

Chatting and laughing, Sergei led them through to an empty passage between two hangars where a small yellow van stood waiting. It was emblazoned with a picture of a pike with staring eyes and the inscription “Fresh Fish” in Russian and German. Beside it stood a burly man with gold teeth, holding a tyre lever.

Klim looked around in alarm. This van was clearly not a taxi. Where had they been taken? Who were these people? Thieves?

Sergei, quite unperturbed, was securing Klim’s cases to the baggage rack.

“Take a seat, Mr. Rogov, please. Let’s go!”

And how on earth did this man know his name?

Klim picked up Kitty. “Tata, we’re going!”

But they had barely taken a step when Yefim came around the corner of one of the hangars, holding a revolver.

“Get into the car this minute!” he ordered quietly.

The two girls set up a terrified wail.

Sergei and Yefim sat Klim between them on the back seat. Tata was ordered to take Kitty and sit in the front next to the driver with the gold teeth.

“Where does Kupina live?” Sergei asked Klim.

Klim kept his head down and said nothing.

“Do you think we’re here to play games with you?” Sergei grabbed Klim by the shirtfront.

Klim pulled away, and a scuffle broke out. The children began to wail even louder. Then Yefim took a brass knuckleduster from his pocket and dealt Klim a blow to the back of the head, knocking him out.

Tata huddled in close to Kitty’s shoulder, which was shaking with sobs.

Who were their abductors? Tata thought. White Russian émigrés? Surely it had to be! Nobody else would be capable of such a vile act!

The van kept circling the streets aimlessly while the gangsters argued about whether they should head to some “envoy’s office” or drive to Hamburg.

Once, Tata plucked up the courage to look around. Uncle Klim was lying unconscious at the feet of their abductors. Good grief! Maybe he was dead already?

“How on earth will we find out Kupina’s address now?” Sergei asked Yefim angrily. “Who told you to knock him on the head?”

“You started it with your questions!”

“Quiet!” snapped the driver. “Make up your minds where we’re going.”

The abductors were silent for a minute.

“Let’s make for Hamburg,” said Yefim. “We’ll hand Rogov in there and work out what to do after that. In any case, we can’t take these kids into the envoy’s office. There’ll be no end of fuss.”

Trying to appear casual, Tata put out a hand to touch the lock on the door.

The car was traveling down an elegant street lined with tall buildings adorned with balconies and sculptures. All around, car horns sounded, and bicycle bells rang. Street merchants were selling newspapers, balloons and—oranges!

Suddenly, their road was blocked by a column of demonstrators. They were dressed in what looked like army uniforms: battered peaked caps and military trousers and belted tunics. The demonstrators kept clenching their fists and raising their right arms to the regular beat of a drum.

“Rot Front!” their cries echoed over the street.

“Oh my god! That’s the Union of Red Combatants!” Tata whispered. “The military division of the German Communist Party!”

The demonstrators had come to a stop, and it was impossible for cars to pass. The driver with the gold teeth stuck his head out of the window to see how long they would have to wait.

“Damn it all!” he cursed. “It looks like we’re stuck.”

At that moment, Tata tugged at the chrome door handle, and she and Kitty tumbled out onto the pavement.

“Run!” shouted Tata.

“Hey, stop!” yelled the driver. “Get back here this minute!”

He set off after them at a run, but the girls had already dashed ahead through the lines of demonstrators and soon outstripped him.

“We left Daddy behind!” Kitty kept sobbing, but Tata pulled her relentlessly through the crowds.

Breathless and tear-stained, they stopped before a strange building that looked like some ancient temple.

All around, Tata saw men and women dressed up to the nines looking like profiteers. All the signs were in German, and Tata couldn’t understand a word, even though she had learned German at school for several years.

Everything here was foreign and unfamiliar. A barrel organ grinder stood on the pavement, singing something in a nasal voice. Two soldiers in silly looking helmets were buying sausages from a street vendor. The only thing that reminded Tata of home was the pigeons fussing about in the gutter. But they were pecking at white bread! Who would toss away anything so delicious?

Kitty had not stopped wailing.

“Please try not to make so much noise!” Tata implored her.

She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the note that Uncle Klim had given her. He had told her that this address was a safe place for them. But where was it? And how would they get there? They were surrounded by Germans and could not even ask anyone the way.

An old man with whiskers carrying a bucket and a roll of paper under his arm went up to one of the advertising columns and began to paste up a poster decorated with a red star and the inscription “Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands.” Tata knew what those words meant: “The Communist Party of Germany.”

At last, there was somebody they could trust—a member of the working classes! She ran up to him.

“Kamerade… I… Ich habe, haus… Oh, I don’t know how to say it in German!”

“Please, speak Russian,” said the old man with a smile.

Tata was alarmed. What if the old man was a traitor, like Sergei? But he seemed to have a kind face.

“Dear Mister, are you a Communist?”

The man squinted up at the poster with the star. “Good heavens, no! But I’ll put anything up if they pay me for it. I have a family to feed.”

Another White Russian émigré, thought Tata desperately. An unprincipled degenerate from a previous era.

She dithered for a moment, unsure what to do, but then decided to show him the piece of paper with the address. “How do we get to this house?” she asked.

The old man took a pair of spectacles from his pocket, perched them on his nose, and read the address.

“You need to take the metro,” he said.

“What metro? Where is it?” Tata said in alarm. “We’re lost. We’ve only just arrived in the city, and we don’t know anything.”

The old man grabbed his bucket and motioned them to follow him through the doors of the temple-like building.

“Here—this is the metro,” he said. “Come on. I’ll show you the way.”

They went inside, and Tata stopped, struck dumb by amazement. Sunlight poured through the glass roof of the metro station. The tiled walls were hung with panels bearing advertisements for cabarets and sports equipment. And there were kiosks along the walls, selling all manner of goods.

The old man helped Tata to buy a ticket and explained to her where to go and how to know when to get off.

“Thank you!” said Tata and led Kitty down the stairs.

It was hard to believe this was all really happening to her. Only yesterday, she had been sitting in a cupboard bemoaning her unhappy fate, and today, here she was with Kitty, roaming about the metro beneath the city of Berlin. And all alone without any adults!

The girls emerged onto the dimly lit platform and sat down on a bench.

The old man must have been a Communist after all, thought Tata. A White Russian sympathizer would never have helped out strangers as he had. It was just that Tata was a stranger, so he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her. After all, in Berlin, there were any number of children of aristocratic émigrés, not to mention young fascists.

A train came roaring by, and Tata and Kitty clapped their hands over their ears. A group of schoolgirls standing nearby burst out laughing and began whispering and looking in their direction.

“I want my daddy!” sobbed Kitty.

Tata squeezed her hand. “Don’t be a scaredy-cat! You and I are brave Pioneers.”

They got onto the train and traveled for a long time, counting off the stops as the old man had told them.

Suddenly, the train came out over the ground, and the whole car was flooded with sunlight. On they went, between unfamiliar German buildings, parks, and stores until at last, they stopped at the station at the end of the line—Tilplatz.

Tata and Kitty stepped out onto the open platform and looked around them.

“This way!” declared Tata, pointing to a group of apartment blocks painted in different colors. “We’ll ask someone. Even if we can’t understand what they say, they can point us in the right direction.”

Seibert received two telegrams from Mr. Reich, one after the other. In one, Oscar promised Seibert that he would bring the money on Tuesday. In the other, he apologized and asked if he could postpone their meeting to the following day at five o’clock.

On Wednesday morning, Seibert sat down at his typewriter and began to write a lengthy article on labor camps in the USSR. He had decided that if he did not get the money from Oscar today, tomorrow he would send his piece to the press.

The article turned out well. Seibert wished he could show it off to Nina, but unfortunately, she could not appreciate the elegance of his German prose.

Several days earlier, she had received a telegram from Magda that had hinted at Klim’s arrest. Ever since, Nina had been going out to Charlottenberg every morning. She had told Seibert she was looking for work, but he had his doubts. In his opinion, this young lady was capable of just about anything. Perhaps she was trying to find desperate White Russians to help her in some plan to cross the Soviet border and put a bomb under the Lubyanka?

It was eleven o’clock, and Seibert was feeling in need of a little sustenance. As it happened, there was an excellent restaurant just around the corner that sold fried sausage and cabbage cooked with apple.

Seibert put on his coat and hat and wound a scarf around his neck, but no sooner had he opened the door of his apartment than Nina came rushing in, accompanied by Kitty and another girl wearing a coat decorated with squirrels.

“Henrich, we’re going to rescue Klim!” declared Nina, grabbing the keys to his Mercedes from the shelf.

“You leave those keys alone!” shouted Seibert, but Nina took no notice.

“Tata, you girls sit here. Henrich and I are going to find Uncle Klim. Don’t open the door to anyone!”

The unknown girl nodded. Nina pushed Seibert out of the apartment.

“Klim’s here in Germany!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “He’s been kidnapped by a bunch of thugs, and they took him to Hamburg.”

“What thugs? What are you talking about?”

Nina took Seibert by the hand and pulled him down the stairs with surprising strength.

“I met the girls at the station,” she said. “They told me everything. There’s huge traffic in the city because of the political demonstration, and we might be able to catch the kidnappers on their way to Hamburg. They’re traveling in a van that’s easy to spot: it’s yellow with a picture of a pike fish on it.”

“Give me back the car keys!” yelled Seibert.

Nina wheeled around and eyed him furiously. “I’m going no matter what—with you or without you. If I smash up your car, I don’t care. You won’t stop me!”

She ran downstairs, and Seibert ran after her, quite beside himself. This crazy woman would be the end of his glorious Mercedes!

The little white Mercedes sped along the highway, past trucks, cumbersome family cars, and farmers’ traps.

Seibert sat at the wheel, alternately lamenting and shouting at Nina in German. She paid no attention to him but kept a sharp lookout at every car they passed.

Nina had no plan in her head and no idea how to rescue Klim. Tata had told her that they had been abducted at the airport and that a man called Yefim had hit Klim over the head and knocked him out.

The abduction must have been arranged by Oscar Reich—Nina was sure of it. He had an office and some warehouses in Hamburg, and he was probably planning to hide Klim there. How on earth could she find him? Could she appeal to the police to help? But while the officials spent their time gathering statements and writing out arrest warrants, Klim would either be killed or taken to the harbor and put on a Soviet ship—beyond the reach of any police.

“Faster! Faster!” Nina pleaded, grabbing Seibert by the elbow.

He gave her a dirty look. “What’s your problem? Do you want to end up in a ditch? Like that lot?” He pointed to a yellow van which had come off the road into a field. It had a picture of a pike on the side.

“Stop!” cried Nina.

The brakes squealed, and the Mercedes came to a halt at the side of the road.

“It’s them!” said Nina, trembling all over. “Please, Henrich, go up to them and ask what happened.”

“Go yourself!” snapped Seibert. “I don’t want to get mixed up with a bunch of gangsters.”

“I can’t! Yefim will recognize me. He knows me!”

“For God’s sake! This is the last thing I need!” Seibert groaned, but still, he got out of the Mercedes and set off toward the yellow van.

Nina covered her face with her hands. Please let Klim still be alive, she prayed. Only let him be alive!

The next few minutes seemed to go on for hours. At last, Seibert returned.

“A fine bunch of gangsters!” he snapped. “They barely speak German, and they can’t drive either.”

“What about Klim?” Nina interrupted him. “Is he with them?”

“I don’t know. I expect he’s with them, but I didn’t see what was going on in the back of the van.”

Seibert put his hands on his hips and looked sternly at Nina. “These Russians are asking me to tow them to Oscar Reich’s office. They don’t know where it is as they’ve never been there before. So, I think I’ll take you all to the nearest police station. After that, I want you to get out of my car, and I never want to see you again.”

“But if Yefim realizes you’ve tricked him, he might kill Klim!”

“What do you suggest? That I start a fight with them? You should be grateful I’m helping you at all.”

“Sorry, I am grateful. Thank you,” said Nina in a shaky voice.

Seibert tied the two cars together with a tow rope and got in behind the wheel.

“Henrich, do you know Hamburg well?” asked Nina.

“I suppose so,” muttered Seibert. “What’s it to you?”

“I think it might be a better idea not to go to the police.”

“Aha, he’s waking up,” Sergei nudged Klim with his boot.

Klim raised his head, which was splitting with pain. “Where are the girls?”

Sergei and Yefim glanced at one another. “They’re in a safe place.”

They lifted Klim back onto the seat. He felt the wound at the back of his head. His hair was matted with congealed blood, and a large lump had swelled beneath the skin.

Everything was swimming before his eyes, and his thoughts were in disarray. He did not register at first that the engine was no longer running and that they were swinging too far from side to side. Up ahead, he could see an elegant white convertible with a raised leather top. Apparently, they were being towed by this car.

Klim was entirely at sea. Where were they? Where were they going?

A dreary succession of concrete walls and industrial buildings was passing by the window.

Oh, God, he thought. Now they were going to take him to some deserted factory and torture him until he gave them Nina’s address.

Presently, the industrial landscape gave way to ancient buildings with turrets, weather-vanes, and red roof tiles.

The car up ahead crossed a bridge and stopped before an elegant light gray building ornamented with bas-reliefs and sculptures.

Sergei stuck his head out of the window. “What is this? Is this Oscar’s office?”

“Look up there. It’s on the sign: ‘Reichs,’” said the driver, pointing to the huge sign under the roof.

Yefim wrapped the hand holding the gun inside his coat and put a hat on Klim’s head to conceal the wound.

“Out you get,” he ordered. “Take one step to the side, and you’ll get a bullet in your back. Understand?”

Klim clambered painfully out of the car and looked around him. The doors of the building were wide open, and richly dressed visitors in coats with fur collars were walking in and out. A black, red, and yellow flag fluttered against the blue sky, and beneath, in a semicircular panel, was a coat of arms with the word “Reichs” on one side and “Bank” on another.

This building has nothing to do with Oscar Reich, thought Klim. It was a branch of the state bank of Germany!

“Keep moving,” said Sergei.

They walked past the white car. Inside sat a woman with a hat pulled low over her eyes and—good god—Seibert!

“Danke!” said Serge and Yefim, waving to them.

In answer, Seibert gave a tortured smile.

They entered the ornate lobby, furnished with mosaic-covered columns and octagonal light-fittings with elaborately ornamented frames. Bank clerks hurried to and fro, carrying files.

“I think we’ve come to the wrong place,” muttered Yefim, bewildered.

Just then, there was the sound of footsteps behind them. Klim looked around and saw Nina and Seibert.

“Hands up! This is a robbery!” Seibert cried in a shrill voice.

Klim shoved Yefim and dived to the floor. A shot rang out, and the next minute, sirens wailed, women screamed, and all the exits were swiftly closed off with steel shutters.

The armed robbers—five men and a woman—were apprehended by the security guards. Ten minutes later, the police arrived to take away the detainees to the cheers of onlookers.

Klim smiled over at Nina. The handcuffs looked rather incongruous on her.

“I have to thank you and Seibert for rescuing me,” he said, “but now, we’re all going to go to prison for ten years.”

“I hope they put us in the same cell—without Seibert,” said Nina, trying her utmost to put on a brave face.