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“It’s all right, Ludwig. We already heard. They ransacked it, too. And confiscated our sailboat.” The professor let out a dismayed chuckle.
“I can’t imagine how they could claim a right to do any of that,” said the young man.
“Then welcome to Nazi Germany,” said the professor. “Whatever Hitler says is the truth, no matter how obviously false. Whatever Hitler does is legal, no matter how blatantly immoral. And anyone who dares challenge either of those principles is an enemy of the state.” He shuddered at the gravity of those words.
They reached the car. The professor and his wife sat in the rear. Ludwig started up the vehicle and turned back to them.
“Professor, I also bring a message from your friend Georg at the consulate in Berlin.”
“Oh?”
“He said that if you return to Germany, and this is a quote: ‘They’ll drag you through the streets by the hair.’”
“He’s probably right.” The professor rubbed his face. “I’ve publicly denounced Hitler for years, but even I confess that the degree of his brutality and cowardice has been a surprise.”
“Agreed,” said Ludwig. “So where shall I take you?”
“The German consulate, if you would.”
It was a mere fifteen-minute drive. The professor clutched Elsa’s hand all the while. He glanced over at her. He knew this would be hardest on his wife; she had called Germany her home her entire life.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.
“Don’t you dare apologize.” Elsa squeezed his arm and nuzzled her nose to his. “I only thank God that we were in California when this happened. Or I would be visiting you in Dachau.” She shook her head. “The only apology I will accept is one from a petty little tyrant with a funny mustache. And I don’t expect that anytime soon.”
“I committed the most unforgivable of sins, my dear. I publicly criticized him.”
“But drag you through the streets by the hair?” She chuckled.
“Well, I have plenty of it.” The professor removed his hat, ran his hand through his unkempt white hair.
The town car rolled up onto a cobblestone street, before the Consulate of Germany, a large gray-stone structure. The professor and his wife strode in and filled out some paperwork at the desk.
They approached the counter marked CUSTOMS. The professor handed over his and Elsa’s passports along with the papers.
The clerk, a young woman, looked everything over. “You are both renouncing your German citizenship?”
“We are.”
“I see.” She held up the passport and looked at the professor. “Well, let’s get started, Professor Einstein.”
76
Maximilian Haus
Georgenstraße
Munich
THOMAS BAUER WAS LATE for the meeting with the Ten Patriots, now down to nine, after Fritz Gerlich was whisked away by the SA. They were going to discuss options and ideas to think of any way imaginable to bring Fritz home. They had a working sketch of the Dachau camp’s layout, the names of the guards who manned the gate, the timing of the delivery trucks’ arrivals and departures.
Bauer checked his pocket watch. It was half past eight in the evening, brisk and windy. He would hear it from the other members, who had come to expect Bauer’s tardiness. They would give him an earful, all right.
As he approached, a large truck, painted brown with a bright red swastika across the side, skidded to a halt in front of the Maximilian Haus, where they always met.
Oh, no.
A dozen armed SA troopers spilled out of the rear of the truck and entered the beer hall. Bauer was unarmed, no match for the four SA troopers who stayed outside, rifles in hand.
