Chapter 12

Out Of The Frying Pan

Algy felt his blood run cold as the hammering was renewed with increased violence. The prospect of arrest at the hands of the Security Service seemed to be staring him in the face. Mrs Meier had gone to pieces. Her face was chalk white and she was cowering against the wall. Algy grabbed her elbow.

"Quick!" he hissed. "Where is the back way out of there?"

She stared at him like a startled rabbit caught in the glare of headlights. For a moment he thought she would not respond, but as he shook her arm urgently, she gasped, "through the kitchen. This way!"

Turning on her heel she led him to the end of the hallway and a door off to the left. The kitchen was dark and cool. Algy closed the door behind them and pushed the table against it.

"Wait here," he ordered as he cautiously opened the back door. The yard was deserted. He waited a moment, listening intently for the sounds of a detachment securing the rear of the building, but it seemed that the patrol was complacent and nobody had been posted to block their retreat.

Algy raced back and took hold of his companion's wrist. "Come on!" he urged. "We're lucky their planning isn't very thorough. They haven't got anybody round the back. We don't have a moment to spare if we're going to get away!"

With that he pulled her through the door and shut it behind him. They hurried across the yard to the back gate where he made her stop again. With every nerve alert for the sound of pursuit, he eased the wooden door open and risked a glance up and down the alley. There were a few spectators gathered at the junction with the main street, attracted by the spectacle of an arrest, but the other end was empty.

"Act naturally," said Algy as he linked arms with her. "We're just two people out for an evening stroll. This raid has nothing to do with us."

He could feel the professor's wife trembling beside him as he did his best to instil some confidence in her and calm her fears. Their best hope of escaping detection lay in acting like innocent passers by. Behind them he could hear the sounds of a mob rampaging through the house they had just left. Fighting his instinct to run, he strolled down the alley until they reached a small side street and could mingle with other pedestrians. Feeling less conspicuous, Algy began to relax a little but Mrs Meier was still shaking.

"Be brave," he encouraged her. "The worst is over now. If you show you are scared, people will start to wonder what you have to be scared about."

She drew a deep breath and tried to compose herself. "If you risk being beaten up every time you go out on the street, you soon begin to feel scared," she told him anxiously.

Algy was appalled. "Does that happen often?" he asked aghast.

"Every day. The brown shirts go round in gangs. It amuses them."

"Then the sooner we get you all out of here the better," replied Algy earnestly. "We have to meet up with my comrade at the Wolfinger," he told her. "Do you know the quickest way to get there from here?"

"It is no use," she told him, despair in her voice. "They will not let me in. They will demand my papers. You have no idea what it is like being a Jew here now that the NDSP has taken over."

"I'm beginning to get some idea," answered Algy grimly.

During this exchange Algy had kept walking so as to avoid drawing attention to themselves. He had been taking turnings at random, intent only on putting as much distance between Krankenhausstrasse and themselves as he could. Now he realised that he knew where he was. He recognised the street where he had encountered the brown shirt in the bric-a-brac shop and remembered what the old man had said to him.

"Don't worry, Mrs Meier," he reassured her. "If you can't go to the hotel, I think we can arrange something else while we arrange to get your husband away from Mauthausen."

When he reached the shop, it was closed and the window boarded up. Algy realised the glass had been shattered since his last visit. With some misgivings, he banged on the door. There was no response. He looked up and down the street. It was deserted, so he persisted in his knocking until eventually a light showed in the window on the first floor. The casement opened and a quavering voice asked who it was.

"I want to speak to Joseph," Algy announced to the invisible occupant. "I need his help."

The window banged shut and the light went out. Algy's heart sank. It seemed that the old man was as frightened as the Meiers, he thought, and the offer of assistance had been an empty one. He was about to turn away when the bolts on the front door were drawn back and the old shopkeeper peered out.

"Come in," he invited them hoarsely. "I did not expect you so soon."

When they were ensconced in the parlour at the back of the shop, Algy introduced his companion and explained the position.

"I was hoping you would be able to help us," he concluded. "I need to find somewhere for Mrs Meier to hide while I meet up with my colleague to arrange to get the family to safety."

"I have seen the Herr Professor at synagogue," acknowledged Joseph. "It will be an honour to give shelter to his wife." He took them up to the attic on the top floor and removed a partition, exposing a small room behind it.

"Frau Meier will be safe here," he assured them. "We have hidden people before. The house has been searched many times, but no one has suspected."

Algy looked at the frail old man with new respect. "I couldn't have hoped to find anything like this," he breathed. "It's just what we need."

"These are evil times," commented Joseph sadly. "There is almost no resistance to the new laws among the general population. We must do what we can to survive."

Algy thought of the scenes he had witnessed in the streets of the regional capital and knew that the old man was right. The canker of Nazism was taking hold. It redoubled his conviction that their only hope was in combating it. He became more convinced than ever that his Government's policy of appeasing Hitler was wrong and doomed to failure.

When he left the attic after taking his leave of the Professor's wife, he clattered down the stairs with renewed purpose. Joseph let him out the back entrance, observing that it was not wise for him to be seen leaving a Jewish establishment out of shop hours.

As Algy followed the man's directions to reach the hotel, he reflected on the base nature of human beings who could use their fellow men as scapegoats. In this sombre, pensive mood he reached his hotel to find that Biggles had gone to the Theatre.

Wearily Algy sank down in an armchair by the window and ordered a cup of coffee and a pastry, realising he was starving. He sat and waited for his order, wondering what on earth had possessed Biggles to go to an opera, when he did not like it. The posters had advertised the Ring of the Nibelungen, which made it all the more extraordinary. It was hard to imagine any reason his cousin would want to sit through Wagner's Ring cycle, he mused. After all, the complete performance lasted fifteen hours, and that was assuming the conductor didn't hang around. That was not Biggles' cup of tea at all.

'I don't know about the Opera,' he thought grimly as he sipped the welcome drink and devoured the sticky confectionery hungrily. 'It's more like a French farce without the humour; first we lost Ginger, then we dropped Smyth. Then I lost Biggles and the professor, but gained Becca. Now I've lost Becca, but gained her mother. All it needs now is for von Stalhein to turn up," he mused gloomily," and that would be the final straw."

As if the dismal thought had somehow conjured up the appearance of his arch enemy, Algy saw the black limousine draw up in front of the hotel. Scarcely able to believe the coincidence and half expecting to see the portly little man who had arrived before, Algy continued to peer out of the window.

His hopes were soon to be dashed. In dismay, he leapt to his feet as the familiar aristocratic figure descended and spoke to his driver before heading for the entrance to the hotel.

When Algy saw von Stalhein in front of the hotel, his immediate thought was that he was about to be arrested. Then he realised that the German was alone, so it must be an administrative visit or there would have been guards with him. In any case, Algy reflected, the moment von Stalhein saw their names in the register, the game would be up so he needed to think fast to preserve his freedom.

Turning on his heel, he made for the staircase, which like most Baroque architecture, was heavily ornamented. The receptionist glanced his way.

"Just going up to my room," Algy announced cheerfully, brandishing his key. "Seeing all the sights certainly takes it out of you! I can't wait to get to bed," he added, yawning loudly for effect.

The man nodded then looked out of the entrance. Algy guessed that he must have spotted von Stalhein because he became at once deferential and hurried out from behind the counter. Realising that the man's back was to him, Algy ducked behind a substantial piece of stone carving to watch events.

The receptionist accompanied von Stalhein to the desk, where the German looked through the register. Algy saw his face go white and knew he had spotted their names. The receptionist cringed under von Stalhein's withering tirade. In vain did he protest that he had sent the names with the Herr Hauptman's subordinate and Algy almost felt sorry for him. He did not feel so sympathetic when the receptionist informed von Stalhein that although Herr Bigglesworth was out at the Opera, Herr Lacey was in his room.

Knowing that von Stalhein would waste no time, Algy ducked down under a piece of marble topped furniture just as von Stalhein and the abject receptionist swept past him up the stairs.

Algy considered his options as the two men ascended the staircase. Mentally reviewing the layout of the hotel, he wondered if he could make his way through the kitchens unopposed and get out the service entrance. He thought the answer was probably no as there would still be staff about.

He could hear von Stalhein berating the wretched receptionist as they climbed the stairs. The lobby was empty. Algy eyed the door contemplatively, wondering if he would have time to escape by the front entrance.

He waited until von Stalhein had disappeared before deciding that boldness was the best policy. He stood up and walked swiftly across the entrance lobby, expecting at any minute to be called back. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as he covered the distance to the door. He was sure it had become farther since he had come back from leaving Mrs Meier in the bric-a-brac shop.

At last he was at the door and still no hue and cry. Algy emerged into the Square and heaved a sigh of relief. He glanced right and left. There were a few passers by, but no one was taking any notice of him. He set off across the square intending to go back to the shop in Elisabethstrasse, but he had hardly gone two yards when he heard a whistle. His heart sank. He pretended he had not heard and carried on walking. When the whistle was followed by someone shouting his name he got ready to run.