Chapter 8

What Happened To Algy

When Algy left Elisabethstrasse on his way to Krankenhausstrasse, he was humming a merry tune, congratulating himself on having tracked the professor down so easily and anticipating that their mission would soon be over. The melody died on his lips, however, as he turned the corner of the street with his destination in sight. He had expected that contacting the professor would be a simple matter of knocking on the door even if making arrangements to smuggle the family out of the country would be more problematical. The moment he rounded the corner, it was clear at a glance that he had to revise his plans.

A small crowd had gathered outside one of the houses. For a moment, Algy thought it was the address he had been given for the professor, but as he neared the throng he realised it was a few doors away. As he watched, the crowd grew, augmented by passers-by attracted by the noise. It was immediately apparent that the mood of the people milling around and surging up to the building was ugly. As Algy watched, a stone was thrown and he heard glass shatter as the missile stuck a window. "Jude, Jude," came the chant, at first quietly, spoken by just a few, then growing louder as more and more took up the refrain, until soon the noise seemed to fill the narrow street. Algy felt his blood run cold; there was something primitive and brutal about the monotonous sound.

He slowed his step, not wanting to get involved. He intended to watch events unfold and let the crowd disperse before he tried to contact the professor, but events overtook him. Before he could turn round and seek a more peaceful spot where he could await his opportunity, he found himself being pushed forward by a group of youths in the uniform of the Hitler Jugend who had entered the street behind him, They spread across the thoroughfare, shoulder to shoulder, blocking any chance of retreat. Rather than call attention to himself by trying to battle against the surge, Algy allowed himself to be driven forward.

He felt a frisson of fear as he was surrounded by baying humanity, unable to extricate himself. The chanting grew louder and more insistent, the mob taking on a life of its own and feeding on its own frenzy. Again came the tinkle of broken glass as another window was shattered by a stone. The mob surged up the steps and pounded on the door. The flimsy wood splintered and gave way as the front ranks surged against it. With a howl of triumph, the leaders of the rabble disappeared into the hallway. Those who could not fit into the small space, packed the area outside and kept up the repetitive chant. Algy took advantage of the brief lull to edge his way towards the outside of the crowd.

He had almost reached a free space when the leaders emerged on the top of the steps and announced that the house was empty. A bellow of rage broke from the serried lips of the mob, thwarted of their victims.

"Brennt, brennt!" called out a voice from the middle of the crowd and others swiftly took up the refrain. Suddenly a bottle with a flaming wick arced through the air to smash against the wall, scattering its liquid fire along the pavement. One of the mob who was standing too close was spattered with petrol and his clothes set alight. Screaming he tried to run away, spreading flame as he pushed against his neighbours. At once, the mob began to panic. Algy realised immediately that he had to get clear before he was trampled under foot as those in front tried to fall back while those behind continued to move forward. Frantically, he elbowed his way through the outer edges of the throng until he was able to get clear and leap over the railings of an apartment block on the opposite side of the street. The drop was farther than he had expected and the jolt as he landed in the well of the basement knocked some of the breath out of him. He staggered and almost fell, lurching against a wooden door that was tucked beneath the steps. It swung open beneath his weight and deposited him in a narrow corridor. Algy regained his balance and rested his back against the wall, breathing deeply at the narrowness of his escape, relieved that he had not sprained an ankle when he jumped. Above the pounding of his heart he could hear screams and yells overhead as the crowd was jostled and squeezed in the narrow space. He felt no pity for them, he reflected. They had brought any suffering on themselves and fully deserved their fate.

A small cry attracted his attention to the dark region at the end of the corridor. Peering into the gloom, Algy could just make out a little figure, huddled in a black shawl. "Wer ist da?" he asked curiously and heard the person gasp. He moved closer and realised it was a young woman. She looked terrified and Algy hastened to allay her fears. As his eyes became accustomed to the lack of light, he perceived that she was in her early twenties. A pale, oval face with dark eyes like pools of ink stared back at him as he tried to reassure her.

"You are not with them?" she asked querulously, indicating the open door, through which the sounds of the street could still be heard, with a jerky movement of her head. She spoke in German, but with an accent.

Algy explained what had happened. "I was coming to visit someone," he added. "Someone who lives farther along the street."

"It is dangerous to come here," she told him, shivering, "unless you belong to the Party."

"The Party?" queried Algy. "Which Party?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The National Socialist Party," she breathed.

"No," Algy assured her vehemently. "I am not with them."

"I was on my way home and I saw them outside the house," she admitted. "I knew they would make trouble, so I hid in here. It is not safe to be on the streets when the Party members are looking for someone to vent their rage on."

"So I've noticed," murmured Algy dryly. "Was that your house they were trying to set on fire?"

She shook her head. "I live a few doors down, but it would not make any difference. Jacob's house or ours, it is all the same." She sighed, resigned to the situation. "My father would like to get us out, but I do not see how we can."

"What does your father do?" asked Algy idly, pondering his next move. The noises from the street had lessened and he was beginning to wonder if it was safe to emerge.

"He is an engineer," the girl answered. "He is being forced to work for them, to design aero engines."

Algy was staggered. "Is your father Professor Meier?" he asked incredulously, scarcely able to believe his luck.

If Algy was surprised, the girl was astounded. "You know him?" she exclaimed, her voice cracking with disbelief.

Algy shook his head. "I only know of him," he clarified, "but I've been sent from London to get him and his family out."

For a moment the girl said nothing, then her shoulders shook and Algy realised she was sobbing. "Cheer up," he encouraged her, patting her gently on the shoulder and offering his handkerchief. "I know it's a bit of a shock, but we've got an aeroplane waiting at the airfield. Now we've met up, all we have to do is get you all together and take you there. Then we can fly you to England."

"You don't understand," she managed to get out through her tears as she dabbed her eyes. "You have arrived too late. They took my father away this morning."