Meanwhile Mauer pressed his guest.
"But what about these National Socialists? You've been in the Reich for a year now.
Surely you must have an opinion."
"Hitler has restored respect to the German people," Cochrane said. "Where they laughed at Germany in the 1920s, they now fear the might of the new Germany."
There was a silence as Otto Mauer gravely studied his cognac. Natalie Mauer looked Cochrane firmly in the eye from across the room.
"Hitler is a swine," she said. "And so are the murderers who surround him. Educated people realize this."
With those words she returned her glass to the table and left the room. Cochrane, rebuked by the outburst, felt the gaze of Otto Mauer upon him. He turned to his host.
"I'm sorry if my opinion is not welcome," he said.
A smile crossed Mauer's face. He agitated his cognac slightly in the glass, warming it with his palm.
"We take you to be a man of breeding," Mauer began coyly. "My wife spent time in England and the United States in the 1920s. I studied at an American university. We recognize Americans a bit better than most Germans do. One pays lip service in public these days to the Nazis. One must. But a man of your station, Mr. Cochrane, does not sympathize with political liars and criminals. Far from it, I suspect."
And now Cochrane knew. This whole weekend was a test.
"You are an observant man," Mauer continued. "You have noticed that many Germans recognize Hitler's madness. There are influential people in the Reich who would curb his influence. Perhaps through the Abwehr, where there are many who oppose him. But we lack the power now."
Cochrane opened his mouth to interject. But Mauer silenced him with an upraised hand.
"The youth has been raised to worship Hitler," Mauer grumbled. "And the army is partially controlled by the same monsters who control the party. To stage a successful coup d’etat, one must have the people on one's side in addition to the army. The opposition to Hitler has neither."
Cochrane was quiet.
Mauer relit his cigar, and for the first time since speaking of the Chambolle Musigny, a legitimately mournful expression crossed his face. He blew out a long cloud of cottony white smoke. "No one in America understands. Hitler did not rise by acclamation in Germany. And all the people did not blindly accept Nazi doctrine. If they had there would have been no need for a Gestapo or an SS. But now all opposition lives in danger of persecution-loss of jobs, labor camps, or worse. As an opposition, we complain a lot in private. But we are passive. Eunuchs. Heaven help us all!" Mauer concluded. "We are all cowards."
Cochrane was both chagrined and confused. Exactly what sort of test was Mauer giving him? he wondered. Cochrane felt the German's eyes boring in on him during the pauses as Mauer spoke. Yet Cochrane's only fidget was to remove an invisible smudge from the side of the brandy snifter.
"Really, Otto," Cochrane finally said. "I don't know why you talk in such a seditious way. At the very least, Hitler has brought Germany back from economic ruin."
"And at what cost? A nation's destruction? A nation's soul?"
"I can't answer that," Cochrane countered. "I am not German."
"Then I will ask you a question you can answer," Mauer said, setting down his brandy with a click on the table. "Come. Follow."
Mauer led Cochrane up a flight of back stairs to the second floor. They followed a hallway and entered a darkened room. Mauer's voice grew soft as he closed the door to maintain the darkness.
"Don't even touch the curtain," Mauer said as he quietly led Cochrane to a window. "Just look between the curtain and the window frame. Your eyes are good? Look down the road fifty meters to the bus stop."
Cochrane looked and saw two men waiting. They wore dark raincoats and sat on the concrete slab that served as a bench.
"Who are those men? What are they doing?" Mauer asked rhetorically. "One carries a walking stick, but he has been there for three hours. Another merely sits and waits. For a bus you think? The buses have passed each fifteen minutes for the past five hours. But still they wait."
Mauer stepped away from the window.
"Well?"
"I don't know them," said Cochrane.
"Shame on you," Mauer chided sullenly. "You recognize Gestapo as well as I do. Now drop your pretensions and listen to me. There are only three reasons why the Gestapo would be watching this house. You. Me. Or both of us."
Cochrane stifled a surge of fear and searched the eyes of Mauer. For a split second he thought he saw something.
"It is essential that you and I trust each other," Mauer said.
"Why is that?"
"Because, my friend," Mauer said, leading his guest back out toward the hallway," my hunch-and the hunch of those Gestapo out there-is that you are nothing as simple as a securities broker. You are most likely a spy. And I do not work for the Labor Ministry. I work for the Abwehr Section Z and could have you arrested in two minutes. Should I do that?”
Cochrane felt a cold tingling running through him. Suddenly Frank Lerrick's words flashed back to him: "Don't get caught. We won't be able to get you out."
"You are absolutely mistaken," Cochrane replied indignantly. "I can't even imagine where you would manufacture such an idea."
"Your contact in Berlin was probably a man named Kurkevics. He was tortured to death a week before your arrival. But he did reveal that he expected an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation to arrive in Berlin. I began thinking the other day in my office. You arrived in Berlin at exactly that time."
Mauer smiled gamely. "Do you deny that, too?"
"I deny all of this categorically," Cochrane answered sharply. But there had been an uncertainty in his voice, a slight hesitation, a slight shakiness. And they both knew it.
Mauer wrapped his arm around his guest's shoulders and led him down the stairs. Cochrane wondered if he should whirl, blast Mauer in the face, and flee. But Mauer continued to speak in a calm, conciliatory tone. So Cochrane tried a slight change of tactic.
"I don't understand any of this," Cochrane said. "Explain all this to me! Tell me what you want!"
Then they were in the drawing room again and Strauss was still on the radio. Natalie Mauer was refreshing the brandy snifters. She was as beautiful as before, tall and handsome in her kimono. She had placed dark Swiss chocolates in an orderly pile on a silver tray.
"I'm telling you all this because I believe I am right," Mauer said. "And I also believe you are a man of principles, even if you are engaged in espionage."
Cochrane took a strategic seat, not far from the door.
"If I am wrong," Mauer continued, "you cannot hurt me because of my family and my position. If you reveal what I have said to you, no one will believe you. But if I am right, you can help me."
"Help you how?" Cochrane asked.
Natalie Mauer was now witness to their conversation.
"We wish to leave Germany, Mr. Cochrane," Natalie said in perfect English. "With our son. Before it is too late."
"We will help you considerably in your task," Otto Mauer promised. "But you must also promise to help us."
"Help you how?" Cochrane almost exploded.
"We have been denied permission to obtain passports," Otto Mauer said. "If you are a spy, you can get us American passports."
“I’m sorry! But this is absurd!"
"My grandmother was half Jewish," said Mauer softly. "Therefore I am one-eighth Jewish. My son is one-sixteenth. There are people who will eventually find this out. My world will change then. I don't consider myself Jewish and I don't care much for some of the Jews either. But I also have nothing against them. They are a brilliant people and work hard. They value education and culture, which is more than can be said for these Nazi hoodlums. And yet I know someday, for me, there will be trouble," Mauer's eyes were intense. "There! You know my secret and I know yours. Now perhaps we can talk. Tomorrow. In the morning. I will tell you everything about the Abwehr. But you must promise to get us out of this country."