“He took it upon himself to talk back to the SS,” Vogt said with a harsh bite.
Grief and anxiety coursed through Audrey’s body, but she needed answers that these men might be able to provide. “And what of his family? Have they been taken to Buchenwald with the others?”
Vogt once again withdrew the paper from inside his jacket and consulted it. “Kaplan wife and son detained. Not sure where.”
“You are well-informed for a secretary, Fräulein,” Müller said.
“I have seen the city, Herr Müller,” Audrey said. “And the papers. I take it yesterday’s events are part of a strategy to eradicate the Jews from Berlin? Is that not the Party’s intent?”
Müller’s dark eyes sharpened on her. “From Germany, at the very least.”
“One daughter unaccounted for,” Vogt continued. “Per the register. Ilse Kaplan. Do you know of her whereabouts?”
Audrey seized the opportunity. “No, she is dead,” she said dispassionately. “Of a fever, I believe. Last winter.”
Vogt checked his papers again. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Quite.”
“Well, less work for us then,” Vogt said. “If only more of them died of fevers.”
“May I see your papers, please, Fräulein James?” Müller asked.
Audrey had to unstick her throat after Vogt’s comment. “Of course.”
She fished them out of her pocketbook. Müller examined them, then passed them back.
“English father and German mother,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And how did you come to be employed in the office of a Jewish textile maker?”
“My parents are both dead,” she lied. “I needed a job. I’m good with figures, and it was available.”
They waited.
“I’m no friend of Jews,” she said, feeling her tongue twist around the words. “I’m not proud of it. I had few options for income.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vogt’s gaze linger on her again. “Indeed,” he muttered.
“May I ask why exactly you are here today?” Audrey said, desperate to move these strange proceedings along and get the officers out of the house.
“We are here to inspect the home,” Müller said as Vogt wandered over to the sideboard and helped himself to a drink. “The place has been looted,” Müller continued, scanning the walls. “No silverware, jewellery. Many items are missing from the property register the previous inhabitants submitted in May. And odd things too. Bedclothes,” he added, brow pinched in confusion. “I have recently moved to Berlin from the south. Vogt from Hamburg. We require new accommodations, and I believe this will serve nicely.”
Audrey’s mind was fixed on his comment about the missing bedclothes. It took her a moment to catch up. “I’m sorry?” she asked. “You are… you’re moving into this house?”
He glanced over at Vogt, who nodded his assent.
“Yes,” Müller said. “As some of the finer houses have been vacated by migrating or deported Jews, the Party has reclaimed them as housing for senior officers. It is part of the Führer’s broader plan for the Aryanization of Jewish property and industry.”
Audrey clenched her jaw. Ruth had feared Ira’s business would be taken over, but their home?
“We have inspected a few vacant properties, and this is the grandest thus far. Plenty of space. It will do. We will require your key, Fräulein, and that will be all.”
If these officers were confiscating the Kaplans’ home, she and Ilse would be forced to leave—God only knew how soon, perhaps that very night—and go… where?
“What about my job?” she asked, buying time as her mind flailed, trying to avert this new catastrophe.
“What of it?” Müller said.
“If my employer is dead, what am I to do?”
He shrugged. “I cannot see how that is of any concern to us.”
Vogt finished his drink and set the dirty glass down on the table. Audrey’s mind flashed with an idea.
“Surely you will need a housekeeper,” she said with a demure smile. “And I need a job. With my parents dead, I must work. A pair of busy officers like yourselves certainly don’t have time to manage your own meals and laundry. Do the washing up,” she added, gesturing to Vogt’s glass. “I assume you must have planned on hiring help.”
Müller frowned. “I don’t think—”
“Hold on a moment, Müller,” Vogt said. “Do you know the house well enough, Fräulein?”
Audrey steadied her balance on the fine line she must tread. “I have been here a few times. To collect papers from Herr Kaplan, if he was working from his home. But I’m a fast learner.”
“We will need a housekeeper, Müller,” Vogt said. “She is unemployed and already has some familiarity with the place. A good fit, I think.”
She forced herself not to flinch under his unsettling gaze. It was like staring into a tiger’s maw.
