When Wolfe left Berlin at the end of June, he seemed to take all the color and light and breath of their literary society with him. In his absence, Mildred transformed his abundant revelations into a two-part interview for theContinental Postand an essay for theBerliner Tageblatt, which received considerable acclaim and provoked both admiration and jealousy from the American press corps. As Greta had predicted, the interviews turned out to be a wonderful literary scoop.
But as the heady warmth of her journalistic triumph faded, Mildred felt restless and discouraged. New regulations out of Goebbels’s Reichskulturkammer held editors responsible for anything disparaging to the Reich that passed through their offices, so they had become increasingly anxious, excessively wary of putting into print anything that might offend. “The only safe topics anymore are the weather, gardens, and butterflies,” Mildred complained to Martha, knowing a fellow writer would commiserate.
Martha sympathized, but she was not constrained in the same suffocating way. Lately other pleasures had distracted her from writing, but she hinted that she was working on a memoir. “It’s inspired by my experiences in Berlin, but it’s no mere travelogue,” she once said, smiling coyly. When Mildred nervously asked how much she might divulge about her friends’ secrets, Martha quickly assured her that although Mildred would definitely recognize herself in it, she could alter certain details so that no one else would. She did not intend to publish her book until after her family returned to the United States, when she would be free from the restrictions of both her father’s position and the Nazi censors.
Reluctant to squander precious time writing articles and literary criticism that were unlikely to see print, Mildred focused her attention on her translation ofLust for Life, which was nearly complete and scheduled for publication in less than a year. One afternoon in mid-July, she had just finished a particularly challenging chapter when Arvid returned home from the Economics Ministry, his expression pensive.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, quickly shutting the door and locking it behind him.
“Perhaps nothing. Perhaps this will turn out to be a momentous day.” He hung up his hat and took her in his arms for a lingering kiss. “An old friend met me as I was on my way home from work, and not by chance.”
“Who?”
“Alexander Hirschfeld.”
Mildred searched her memory. “The Soviet official who advised ARPLAN years ago?”
“He’s first secretary of the Soviet embassy now.” Slipping an arm around her shoulders, Arvid led her into the front room and to a seat beside him on the sofa. “He wants to meet with me to discuss the possibility of helping the Soviet Union bring down the Reich.”
“Help them how?”
“I assume by providing them with intelligence, the same economic information you’ve been passing on to Ambassador Dodd ever since I started working at the ministry.”
“But that’s different,” said Mildred. “I’m giving information to the Americans, to my own country.”
“I understand, but the Americans don’t seem to be doing anything with it. Ambassador Dodd tells you he passes my reports on to the State Department—”
“And I believe him.”
“I do too, but apparently once the information arrives in Washington, it’s promptly shelved and forgotten.” Arvid took her hand. “I know you suspect Stalin is no better than Hitler, but I have no reason to distrust Alexander Hirschfeld. If providing him with economic intelligence will help bring down the Reich, I must do it.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to meet with him, if only to find out what he has in mind.”
Arvid raised her hand to his lips, then pulled her close into an embrace. “I’m glad you agree,” he murmured, kissing her cheek and the hollow behind her earlobe.
The two men met the following evening in the Tiergarten. At the Abendgymnasium, Mildred could hardly keep her mind on her lectures as she imagined Arvid and Hirschfeld strolling the forested paths, conferring quietly, avoiding strangers. There was no question why the Soviets would be eager for the proprietary financial information only Arvid could give them, but how would they use that intelligence to bring down the Third Reich? Would they expect to seize control of Germany afterward? And if Arvid became their informant, what could they do to ensure his safety? It had never occurred to Mildred to ask the same questions of the American embassy. She knew Ambassador Dodd was a man of indisputable honor and integrity, and she had great faith in the progressive, democratic administration he represented. She could not say the same for Alexander Hirschfeld, whom she barely knew and whose government lied to foreign observers and its own citizens with impunity.
After her last class, Mildred hurried home only to find their flat empty. She made tea and tried to settle down to grading student essays, but she often caught herself staring into space wondering where Arvid was, or pacing out to the balcony to search the sidewalks below for him.
When he finally came home, there was an eager light in his eyes, and he seemed both invigorated and wary. He had agreed to provide the Soviets with intelligence from the Ministry of Economics, details about the German economy and currency, Germany’s foreign investments, the national debt, and trade agreements with foreign nations. What he refused to do, despite Hirschfeld’s emphatic requests, was abandon his resistance activities.
“Hirschfeld urged me to break off all contact with German Communists and stop working with the resistance,” he said. “That includes no longer helping Jews. The Soviets insist I’ll be more useful to them if I don’t expose myself to unnecessary dangers.”
“Useful tothem?” echoed Mildred. “The point of the resistance is to oust Hitler and save Germany, not to promote the Soviet Union.”
“Exactly. I told Hirschfeld I had no interest in becoming a Soviet spy. My goal is to bring down the Nazis and to help the people they persecute. If giving economic intelligence to the Soviets will help me accomplish that, then I’ll work with them.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to stop helping Jews, or my Communist friends, or anyone else who desperately needs me.”
In the end, Hirschfeld accepted Arvid’s terms. Arvid would be a source, not an agent, but only as long as helping the Soviets also helped the resistance restore democracy to Germany.
Chapter Thirty-two
August 1935
Greta
Steadily and surely, Greta and Adam added threads to the fine web of their resistance network. Soon after the tea for Thomas Wolfe at Tiergartenstrasse 27a, John Sieg agreed to collaborate with them, but he introduced Adam to barely a handful of his comrades in the Communist underground, the better to preserve both circles’ security.
Adam had many contacts of his own among Communist workers, and after appraising their suitability, he approached the most intelligent, reliable, and discreet about joining the resistance. Of the few he invited, only three agreed to join. The others he swore to silence.
