coyly. When Mildred nervously asked how much she might divulge about her friends’ secrets, Martha quickly assured her that although Mildred would definitely recognize herself in it, she could alter certain details so that no one else would. She did not intend to publish her book until after her family returned to the United States, when she would be free from the restrictions of both her father’s position and the Nazi censors.
Reluctant to squander precious time writing articles and literary criticism that were unlikely to see print, Mildred focused her attention on her translation of Lust for Life, which was nearly complete and scheduled for publication in less than a year. One afternoon in mid-July, she had just finished a particularly challenging chapter when Arvid returned home from the Economics Ministry, his expression pensive.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, quickly shutting the door and locking it behind him.
“Perhaps nothing. Perhaps this will turn out to be a momentous day.” He hung up his hat and took her in his arms for a lingering kiss. “An old friend met me as I was on my way home from work, and not by chance.”
“Who?”
“Alexander Hirschfeld.”
Mildred searched her memory. “The Soviet official who advised ARPLAN years ago?”
“He’s first secretary of the Soviet embassy now.” Slipping an arm around her shoulders, Arvid led her into the front room and to a seat beside him on the sofa. “He wants to meet with me to discuss the possibility of helping the Soviet Union bring down the Reich.”
“Help them how?”
“I assume by providing them with intelligence, the same economic information you’ve been passing on to Ambassador Dodd ever since I started working at the ministry.”
“But that’s different,” said Mildred. “I’m giving information to the Americans, to my own country.”
“I understand, but the Americans don’t seem to be doing anything with it. Ambassador Dodd tells you he passes my reports on to the State Department—”
“And I believe him.”
“I do too, but apparently once the information arrives in Washington, it’s promptly shelved and forgotten.” Arvid took her hand. “I know you suspect Stalin is no better than Hitler, but I have no reason to distrust Alexander Hirschfeld. If providing him with economic intelligence will help bring down the Reich, I must do it.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to meet with him, if only to find out what he has in mind.”
Arvid raised her hand to his lips, then pulled her close into an embrace. “I’m glad you agree,” he murmured, kissing her cheek and the hollow behind her earlobe.
The two men met the following evening in the Tiergarten. At the Abendgymnasium, Mildred could hardly keep her mind on her lectures as she imagined Arvid and Hirschfeld strolling the forested paths, conferring quietly, avoiding strangers. There was no question why the Soviets would be eager for the proprietary financial information only Arvid could give them, but how would they use that intelligence to bring down the Third Reich? Would they expect to seize control of Germany afterward? And if Arvid became their informant, what could they do to ensure his safety? It had never occurred to Mildred to ask the same questions of the American embassy. She knew Ambassador Dodd was a man of indisputable honor and integrity, and she had great faith in the progressive, democratic administration he represented. She could not say the same for Alexander Hirschfeld, whom she barely knew and whose government lied to foreign observers and its own citizens with impunity.
After her last class, Mildred hurried home only to find their flat empty. She made tea and tried to settle down to grading student essays, but she often caught herself staring into space wondering where Arvid was, or pacing out to the balcony to search the sidewalks below for him.
When he finally came home, there was an eager light in his eyes, and he seemed both invigorated and wary. He had agreed to provide the Soviets with intelligence from the Ministry of Economics, details about the German economy and currency, Germany’s foreign investments, the national debt, and trade agreements with foreign nations. What he refused to do, despite Hirschfeld’s emphatic requests, was abandon his resistance activities.
“Hirschfeld urged me to break off all contact with German Communists and stop working with the resistance,” he said. “That includes no longer helping Jews. The Soviets insist I’ll be more useful to them if I don’t expose myself to unnecessary dangers.”
“Useful to them?” echoed Mildred. “The point of the resistance is to oust Hitler and save Germany, not to promote