She tells her German friends she doesn’t much like going, but that she has to because of her exit-visa from the USA, as a matter of fact the Ambassador is a friend of her father and President Wilson, all three graduates of Princeton, the Ambassador finds his chats with Lena very enlightening, he sends regular cables to the White House, in time Lena found out a great many things, about the politics of the Reich, about the blockade, about forthcoming changes in the Imperial General Staff, they say Americans are slow on the uptake, maybe Lena does not fully understand everything she repeats to the Ambassador but it’s pure gold, she sings in German drawing rooms for their pleasure, and one day for her pleasure, they tip her off.
She must go, without delay, leave the Reich, things are going to get worse and worse, she goes back to Switzerland in 1917 on the eve of America’s entry into the war, she stays in Switzerland, she is unhappy, she continues to move in diplomatic circles, complains about the stupid war, she maintains a level of nostalgia for the Belle Époque, she rarely sees Germans these days, but lots of Swedes and a few Brazilians who do see Germans, and she also sees the United States Ambassador at Berne, she stays in Switzerland until the end of the war.
At the time of the Armistice she goes back to America, once more calls herself Hellström, she has agreeable discussions with presidential advisers, begins to appreciate exactly what she’s doing, and she does it better and better, she also sings better and better, throaty voice, strange, her drawing-room conversation is more or less unremarkable, large mouth, large eyes, but when she sings it is as though that voice has been touched by the sorrows of the whole wide world, in Washington another of her father’s friends asks her if she wouldn’t like to return to Europe, go back to France, Paris, Versailles.
She sets sail, she is invited into the salons of French ladies, the ladies who love to play ducks and drakes with politics through their ministerial lovers, she also runs across German friends who tell her things in confidence, a group of young Englishmen around an economist, an eccentric, name of Maynes, he disapproves of the fact that the French and the English insist on making Germany pay exorbitant war reparations, he’s brilliant, it’s so pleasant to go out with you, dear Lena, you attract them, he’s homosexual, she’s very fond of him.
In the end she gets to know all about the in-fighting within each delegation, French, English, German, she passes it all on to Wilson, when he comes to France they think he’s very naive but he knows everything, you’re doing a terrific job, dear Lena, I’d like you to do me a favour, it’s not Lena who is asking for something in return for all she does for the United States, but her President who is asking her for a favour, let me come to one or two of your rehearsals, that’s Lena’s reward, in Paris: a President who sits in a corner and makes himself very small while she works on her singing, that’s all.
Max doling out a part of all this to de Vèze, voice low, lingering occasionally upon a desire, he would like to write a piece on that celebrated Congress of Versailles, Lena in implausible hats, her expertise in any discussion about frontiers, the rights of people and the payment of war debts.
In the twenties it seems she put a temporary stop to these little parallel activities, she doesn’t like the Republicans, Coolidge, Harding, Hoover, she comes from a Democrat background, the new Europe scares her a little, she re-immerses herself in things American, concentrates on her singing, she was present at the great Waltenberg Seminar of 1929, but only in her capacity as a singer.
Max says to de Vèze:
‘One of these days you must ask our good friend Lilstein to tell you about Lena, Hans was her lover for a year, Lilstein never was, neither of them ever got over it.’
‘What about you, Max?’
De Vèze could not contain himself, he has made the mistake of interrupting Max, he regrets it immediately.
‘If you had a half-decent intelligence service, Ambassador, you’d know, it’s as if I were to ask you whether Madame Morel said yes in the end, what would you reply?’
De Vèze got off lightly, a crude mention of Muriel, he does not take offence, the main thing is that Max should go on with his tale, de Vèze takes particular care not to make Max take up where he left off, he concentrates on flying the plane, then hands the controls back to the pilot but doesn’t dare turn round to look at Max, who gazes down at the landscape lost in his thoughts and slowly resumes because he’d feel bad now if he failed to make the most of the opportunity to relive those years, no doubt it was Roosevelt who asked Lena to go back to Europe, in 1933, to Germany primarily, the moment Hitler took over, she is very much in favour at court, as they say, not the innermost circle maybe, not always, but she works prodigiously hard.
In Berlin a radio operator has been placed at her disposal, an Australian, that’s right, an Aussie who works for the Intelligence Service, it was the English who supplied the radio operator, because Roosevelt did not trust his own services, people reluctant to intercept German or Japanese communications, a gentleman simply doesn’t do that, it was the English who taught them to be gentlemen but they at least have no qualms about spying, Lena regularly contacts her radio man, nothing ever written down, she gives him a few sentences, off he goes, encodes, transmits.
It is thought she even ran across Lilstein in about 1937, nothing definite, spring of ’37, could be coincidence, Berlin, music shop, a man she can’t quite place at first, except the voice, and also his large build, the light-coloured eyes, close-cropped hair, small moustache, a good-looking young man of about twenty-five, a splendid advert for Aryan propaganda, instinctively both behaved as if they did not know each other, the man came up to her talking about the recital she’d given the previous evening, Beethoven, arias from Fidelio, she autographed a score for him, a fan encountered by chance.
Obviously an army officer in civvies, the mark left on the back of his neck by an officer’s cap, tall, hair short, arrogant manner, pure chance, although meeting a fan in a shop which sold romantic sheet music wasn’t really that much of a coincidence, he told her he played the piano, she answered I hope you always keep a fire burning at home because it’s going to get very cold soon, and that’s not very good for pianos.
She held out her hand to him, great lady, aloof, I was happy to sign a score for you, exchange a few words, now that’s an end to it, a smile like a Greek statue, the smile of the omniscient blind seer, she knew many things, maybe a dignitary in the Gestapo had just asked her to postpone a private recital, maybe on the same day another dignitary had just had her informed that he couldn’t make it this week, perhaps a sign, or even other indications no one will ever know about, something big was brewing, the tall man left.
Two cops had walked into the shop behind Lena, with faces blank and big feet, one of them was about to follow the tall man, she thrust her parcels into his hands, since you’ve now taken to following me into shops, you can take these and put them in my car, the men probably hadn’t dared report the incident, though it was interesting, the lady had spoken to a man she didn’t seem to know, in a specialist music shop, they exchanged a few words about falling temperatures and then she’d said goodbye, the men with blank faces and big feet couldn’t have filed a report, didn’t want to explain why they hadn’t followed the man with the slow movements, arrogant manner and light-coloured eyes.