Free The Serpent's Egg by JJ Toner

that wonderful?”
    Max looked to Greta for an explanation.
    Greta waved her free hand. “Madam Krauss should never have demanded a fee for what we did. I know that you will need the money for the wedding.”
    What ‘we’ did. She must be referring to the actress.
    “Thank you, Frau Greta. What a pleasant surprise.”
    “I’m delighted that we could help you.”
    “When you say ‘we’ who do you mean? If there are others that helped us I would like to meet them so that I can thank them in person.”
    Greta laughed. “It was a team effort. I believe one or two of the others would like to meet you, too. Give me your telephone number. I’ll see what I can arrange.”
     
     

 
    Chapter 22
     
    October 1938
     
     
    A week later Max took the S-Bahn north to the exclusive Pankow quarter of Berlin. Soft October showers had given way to weak sunshine, and the Mitte was alive with smiling pedestrians. He had to change trains once to reach his destination, a magnificent mansion surrounded by mature trees and protected by 3-meter high walls and massive iron gates. He pushed the gates. They swung open. Walking slowly around a gleaming Daimler-Benz saloon car, he knocked on the front door. It was opened by a plump maid who took him to a study.
    Max had never seen so many books in one place. That and the elaborate, expensive furniture, the pictures on the walls, all told him that whoever lived in this household was wealthy and cultured.
    A woman approached and introduced herself as Libertas Schulze-Boysen.
    This must surely be the woman – the actress – that Kurt Framzl had named.
    Max shook her hand warmly. “I wanted to thank you for your help with our Marriage Application.”
    “That was nothing. I played a minor role in the matter.” The contrast between her deep voice and short stature was striking. The immediate impression was of a pocket dynamo, someone in control of her surroundings. She invited Max to sit and took a seat facing him.
    Without realizing it, Max’s hand slipped into his pants pocket and emerged with his father’s cigarette lighter.
    “I’m pleased to meet you, Max-Christian. I’ve heard so many good things about you.”
    Max raised an eyebrow. “What have you heard?”
    “Greta tells me you are a man of principle. And I’ve heard that you are not one to follow the crowd, that you have a mind of your own.” She crossed her legs. Max noted her sheer stockings, her trim figure. “Greta was particularly impressed by your concern for the unfortunate souls that you are required to transport from place to place. You are a Humanist, I think. No?”
    Max wasn’t sure what that meant, but he wasn’t going to argue with the woman in her own home. “Yes, I suppose so.” The lighter turned in his hand.
    “You will be familiar with the egalitarian ideas developed in the East?”
    What did she mean by that? “I have heard of Confucius.”
    Libertas laughed. The transformation of her countenance was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, sending ripples of pleasure through his body. “Not that far east, Max-Christian. I was thinking of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels. You’ve heard of them?”
    Communism. He’d hit ‘pay dirt’! The lighter spun in his fingers.
    “I am aware of their work. I have long admired Communism as a system, but I must confess I have never read any of their writings.”
    She nodded toward the lighter in his hands. “I hope you’re not planning to smoke.”
    “Oh no, I don’t. This was my father’s. Forgive me.” He slipped it back into his pocket.
    She got to her feet, took a book from one of the shelves and handed it to him. Max read the title, written in gold on the spine, ‘Das Kapital.’
    “And how do you feel about Fascism?”
    “Really, Frau Schulze-Boysen, I have no time for the Nazis.”
    “Call me Libertas. Everyone does.” She pulled a bell rope. The maid appeared. Libertas took the book back and asked the maid to wrap it in brown paper. The