“My dad has a friend of a friend who works at Ravensbrück. It’s not that long a drive from Berlin. I bet he can get me in.” Alice squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and tried to imagine this mousy girl going into the women’s concentration camp, measuring the prisoners’ earlobes. “But if that doesn’t work, I can always use photographs and measure.”
“But Margret.” Alice sighed, trying to conjure up a sympathetic tone. “How are you going to use photographs of the other races?”
“Oh, Frau Mueller has lots of those. You only saw a fraction in her class today.”
“Okay, but still,” Alice persisted. She noticed a little frown creasing Margret’s brow. “How can you compare the measurements of a photo to the measurements you take of our actual ears? I mean, the scale will be different.”
The three girls looked at Alice in wonder, as if she was a veritable genius.
“Oh!” Margret inhaled sharply. “Scale. You do have a point. I guess I’ll have to think about it.”
Yes, thought Alice, you take that wee brain of yours and have a good think. Idiot.
But they really aren’t idiots, are they?
The question danced through her mind. They were products of this insane culture. They had been brainwashed. How did a person wake herself up from such a brainwashing? How could one hang one’s brains out to dry in fresh air? Watch it, Alice, she counseled herself. The last thing a spy needed to do was empathize. If she did, it would be her undoing, and in a very short time she would be dead.
“I just want to get high marks,” Margret was saying. “If I do well in the Jungmädel games I might have a chance at an RP.”
RP? Alice spun through her memories of all the pages of soft materials she had read. It eluded her. Reich. Reich, that’s what the R was for. But Reich what?
“Honestly, Margret, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think Jutta Engels has a better chance,” Birgit said.
“Not necessarily,” Margret snapped.
“I don’t think we had the RP in Swabia.”
“Oh no! It’s only in Berlin. It’s the Reich Praktikum. Whoever has the highest grades in both the Jungmädel athletic contests and academics gets a chance to work right in the New Reich Chancellery. You’d have a chance to work in the offices of someone very important—like say Herr Goebbels, the minister of propaganda and enlightenment. Inge Hausmann got to work in the architectural office of Albert Speer.”
Alice’s eyes opened wide in amazement. She now remembered the mention of this in her soft materials. The words came back to her. If you perform with consistent excellence, you will become eligible for a part-time position after school in the New Reich Chancellery, the headquarters of the Greater German Reich.
“Yes, isn’t it thrilling?” Margret said. “Just imagine if one of us got such an opportunity.”
Alice suddenly knew what her mission was. She was to win the RP, and then be inserted right into the heart of the Reich, under the guise of being a model student. She had no doubt she would win it. Between the Rasas, or the Company, and MI6, the official British secret intelligence service, it would be achieved, even if she didn’t qualify.
But she would. After all, she was a Rasa, and endowed with extreme academic talents and athletic ones. Perhaps if the competitions had been in the Beauty and Faith division of the older girls’ league, she might have been more challenged. She was no beauty. Besides that, no one could remember her face.
And as for faith? She was just good old Church of England, and that had nothing to do with faith in the god Hitler—she imagined that was what the faith part of that older division was about. Nazis were not particularly concerned with the kinds of faith one practiced at church, except if one went to a synagogue. At the opening assembly of the day, all the students gathered in the auditorium and were required to recite the morning prayer.
Führer, my Führer, given me by God,
Protect and preserve my life for long.
You rescued Germany from its deepest need.
I thank you for my daily bread.
Stay for a long time with me, leave me not.
Führer, my Führer, my faith, my light,
Hail my Führer.
That was the Church of Adolf Hitler. And it frightened Alice to her core.
Eight
The Prince of Darkness and Weasel Head
“So, meine kleine Maus, how did your first day go today with the Higher Daughters of the best school in Berlin?”
“Mum, don’t call me your little mouse. One of my classmates is very rodenty looking, though. More rat than mouse, but she’s tiny. And mean.”
“No, Ute, here’s your first lesson for A level. You really never know. Sometimes the meanest in behavior are total cowards. Not to say that they are less dangerous, but they are often less able to act. And the sweetest can be the most deadly and clever. But how did your classes go? And the teachers?”
“Somewhat weird. How about your first day over there?” Alice tipped her head toward the brand-new office buildings where the high command of the German army offices was located. Alice and her mother had met up there after school and were walking back to the Bendlerstrasse garage together. It was actually safer to discuss certain things in a public space. Though the apartment was theoretically clean, there was always the chance that someone could sneak in and plant bugs. Her father checked at least once a day, but one could never be too cautious.
“My day? Well, let’s just say working with a bunch of Nazis is not exactly a walk in the park,” Posie replied.
“This girl Birgit that I met, she’s my sister guide, and her mum works in the same building as you. She’s in the race and settlement office.”
“What a euphemism for the concentration camps!”
“Mum . . .” Alice slowed her pace and turned toward her mother. “I think I know what my mission is.”
Posie’s eyebrows seemed to leap like minnows. “I told your father you would catch on immediately.”
“I’m to do well in the Jungmädel games on the Führer’s birthday and make the highest marks in school. Then I can earn a Reich Praktikum.”
“Indeed. It’s always better if one uncovers their mission themselves. It means you bring a freshness to it. Unprejudiced.”
“Did Louise discover her missions as quickly?”
“Oh, goodness, child, I can’t remember. It’s not a contest.”
Not anymore, thought Alice. Just as she was finally catching up with her sister, Louise had quit the game. Neither Alice nor Posie ever referred to her as Louisa anymore. She was just plain Louise. And although Alice tried to forget her sister’s new face, she wasn’t very successful. Most times it would simply blend in with her old face in her memories.
“It’s always better to let one discover their mission,” she said as they walked on. “If we turn here, there’s a shortcut to a very good bakery, I’m told. Almost in the Tiergarten, the beautiful park. No flour shortage here yet.”
Five minutes later they turned into a narrow street and immediately saw the bakery, Zeiberg Bäckerei.
As soon as they walked through the door, Alice felt as though she was dissolving into a sweet dream of cakes and pastries. There was the scent of anise swirling through the air. “How does one decide?” she gasped.