impervious. Jewish passersby were often conscripted to haul away debris, along with forced laborers from Poland brought to Germany to work on Albert Speer’s grandiose Germania architecture projects. They were not prisoners of war, not enemy soldiers, but ordinary citizens enslaved by the Reich. Although most Berliners averted their gaze, it was impossible to miss their squalid camps poorly concealed behind high walls and barbed wire. Whenever Greta encountered the prisoners as they were marched to and from their work sites, she was horrified anew by their tattered clothing, their bleak expressions, their emaciated frames.
The loss of apartment buildings to British bombs and Hitler’s dream of a glorious new Reich capital created a housing crisis in Berlin. As always, the Jews were forced to give way. After a flurry of new laws were passed, they lost their few remaining rights as tenants and were forced into Judenhäuser, “Jew houses,” run-down buildings in the least desirable areas of the city. Two Jews per room was the standard rule, regularly exceeded, as Jewish households already within the ghetto were required to take in the homeless. In late winter, Sara and Natan were ordered to accept a couple with a three-year-old daughter. The siblings took the bedroom, the young family made their beds in the living room, and they all shared the kitchen and bath, trying as best they could to stay out of one another’s way. The constant presence of strangers in their home obliged Sara and Natan to be more discreet about their resistance activities, but they did not abandon their work. The need was too great, Sara told Greta wearily, and the alternative—surrender, acceptance of oppression—was too unbearable to contemplate.
As spring arrived, Arvid, Harro, and their contacts within other ministries continued to gather evidence that the German invasion of the Soviet Union was imminent. In mid-April, Erdberg told Adam and Arvid that his superiors wanted him to establish radio contact between their resistance group and Moscow in the event that war cut off other channels of communication.
At first, Arvid refused. They had not a single trained radio operator in their group. Radio signals could be traced to their source, compromising their entire network. If through accident or betrayal they were found in possession of the equipment, the punishment was summary execution. Greta agreed with Arvid, deeply skeptical that radio communications could be established securely or that it would be worth the risk. But Harro strongly supported the idea, and eventually he and Erdberg wore Arvid down, although Arvid flatly rejected Erdberg’s request that he become the radio operator. “I’ll encode the messages,” he said, “but you’ll have to find someone else to transmit them.”
Greta saw him glance at Mildred as he spoke, and she knew he was concerned for her safety, not his own. Eventually the role went to sculptor Kurt Schumacher, a longtime member of Harro’s resistance circle and former student of Libertas’s artist father. Erdberg promised to supply the equipment as soon as it could be smuggled from Moscow.
One evening in early May, Adam returned home from a clandestine meeting with Arvid and Erdberg, his expression tense and troubled. “Moscow has sent two transmitters by diplomatic pouch,” he said. “Erdberg would like you to receive one of them the day after tomorrow at the Thielplatz Untergrundbahn station.”
Greta’s heart thudded. “He asked for me by name?”
Adam nodded.
“Why me?”
“Because he trusts you, because he believes a woman would be less suspicious. The radio is built into a suitcase, so he’ll simply hand it off to you, and you’ll deliver it to Schumacher’s apartment.”
Very simple indeed, Greta thought angrily. Adam regularly excluded her from meetings in their own home for her dubious protection, and now he wanted her to do this? “Let’s be honest here,” she said, her voice tight. “When I fetch this suitcase, I’m sticking my head into the noose.”
“Greta—”
“It’s not safe. You know that as well as I do. Did Erdberg pick me because I’m less suspicious or because I’m more expendable?”
“My God, what a question.” Adam took her by the shoulders. “Do you think you’re expendable to me or to Ule?”
Maybe not to them, but she could not say the same for Erdberg. “I’m not convinced that this scheme makes any sense. Do we have enough sources to warrant direct radio contact? Can these transmissions be made safely? Those are two simple questions, and I deserve honest answers.”
“Of course we have enough sources, and every detail of the intelligence they provide is essential to bringing down the