Improbable Nazi (Parallel Nazi Book 2)

by Ward Wagher

  “And the times that I have had the opportunity to experience your cooking shows that you acquit yourself well in the kitchen.”

  “That is very sweet of you, Darling, but I know my limitations.”

  “I like your limitations.”

  She glared at him. “I will take that in the spirit it was offered, Sir.”

  He laughed. “Gisela, I have yet to find anything you do poorly.”

  She blushed, and subsided.

  “And, have you managed to wrap up the wedding plans?” he asked.

  “We are very close to having things ready,” she said. “I met with Pastor Dohering this morning. He seems very enthusiastic about the wedding.”

  “Has he changed his attitude about the Nazis then?” Schloss asked.

  “No,” she laughed. “He is as outspoken as ever. However, he thinks highly of you.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “He makes me a bit uncomfortable at times,” she said. “His references to the Bible seem to set God’s expectations very high. I mean, we are doing the best we can, aren’t we Hennie?”

  “Of course, Beloved. I think the preachers use that as a tactic to get the people into the church services and generate offerings. Dohering is not a trouble-maker. He has not associated himself with the Confessing Church.”

  “Are they still causing problems, then?” she asked.

  “No. They have been very quiet since the change in government. And I am glad, too. I do not need more problems.”

  § § §

  March 10, 1942; 2PM

  Sara Street

  Haifa, Palestine

  David Ben Gurion was a small man. Even by other standards, though, the man at his doorstep was a giant. He was well over six-feet tall.

  “Dr. Ben Gurion?” The man’s speech was guttural and carried an eastern-European accent.

  “Yes, and who are you?”

  “I am Otto Skorzeny. The Reichsprotektor sent me.”

  The little man put his hand to his chest. “I am sorry. You frightened me. Please come in.”

  Ben Gurion closed the door and turned to face the giant standing in the front room of his small flat.

  “Be seated, please. Would you have some tea?”

  “That would be very nice, Sir.”

  “Paula!” he called out. “Some tea for our guest.”

  “You are here to deliver a message from Herr Rainer? Or, perhaps from Herr Schloss?”

  “Yes, to both.” For a large man, Skorzeny was soft spoken. “I am here on a mission assigned me by the Reichsprotektor. And I bear an invitation from the Reichschancellor.”

  Ben Gurion placed his hands on his lap. “This sounds mysterious. Yet, a word from our benefactors must be something important to consider. How may I serve you, Herr Skorzeny?”

  The Nazi cracked a smile. “Actually, I am here to serve you. Herr Rainer asked me to provide whatever services you need. I can provide personal security, intelligence gathering. I can also train your security services. I am very good at what I do.”

  “I am not worried about my personal security. The other things would be very useful. I would introduce you to our militia. I can assume they always need additional training. And intelligence gathering? I need someone to keep an eye on the Irgun. My friend Menachem is getting unpredictable. I need to know what he is about.”

  Skorzeny nodded. The little Jew was too trusting, he thought. He had been immediately invited into his home without checking any bona fides. Rainer was right, these people needed his help. It was sure to be a challenge, but he liked challenges. And this would be more satisfying than murdering innocent Jews in Poland.

  He looked up as the man’s wife walked into the room carrying a teapot and cups on a tray. After setting the tray down, she poured two cups of the brew, and then withdrew. Skorzeny picked up a cup and sipped the tea. It was brewed strong, in the Russian manner, and warmed him going down.

  He nodded to Ben Gurion. “That is very good. Thank you.”

  “You can train our people?”

  “Yes,” Skorzeny said. “I am actually very good at training.”

  “And you can follow Menachem and tell me what he is up to.”

  Skorzeny cocked his head. “That may be more difficult. But he will not see me.”

  “Good. Good,” Ben Gurion said. “Then there was the matter of the invitation.”

  “Yes. The Reichschancellor is shortly getting married. He desires to extend his wedding trip into Italy to greet Il Duce. And he invites you to fly to Italy to confer with him.”

  “Oy vey!” he exclaimed. “Who am I to meet with the leader of the Deutch? Surely, you wait to spring some sort of a trap.”

  Skorzeny laughed at the little man. He couldn’t help it. “No, Dr. Ben Gurion, I am serious. The Reichschancellor is concerned about Begin and the Irgun. He wished to confer with you about it.”

  “But I do not have the funds to travel to Italy. The organization does not.”

  “We will take care of the transport,” he said. “And the travel expenses, of course. Herr Rainer suggested that we invite your lovely wife to travel with you. You will have a chance for a few days to spend in Italy.”

  “But this is more than we deserve.”

  “No,” Skorzeny said, “it is no more than you deserve. As you know, we deserve little enough. Take the opportunity. And the Reichschancellor will be honored by your presence.”

  “And he wishes to talk about Begin?”

  “Yes. He is concerned.” Skorzeny paused for a moment. “While he is very much dedicated to helping the Jews establish an independent state in Palestine, he wishes to avoid war with the Moslems.”

  “As do I,” Ben Gurion said. “I do not know how we can avoid it, but certainly not by the path Menachem is taking. Things are very strained right now. The Moslems have been friendly with me, but they are losing patience with the influx of my people.”

  “And we have not begun to see the flow of peoples into this land,” Skorzeny said. “And you know why.”

  “Ach, so,” Ben Gurion said. “It is hard for me to believe the plans evil men set into place to destroy us.”

  Skorzeny’s eyes hardened. “Believe it. But for a few events, I would have been taking part.”

  “Surely not.”

  “I am not a good man, Dr. Ben Gurion. I changed sides because I believed Herr Schloss would eventually win. And I wanted to be on the winning side. And I want you to be on the winning side.”

  “I believe you are an honest man.”

  Skorzeny shook his head. “I believe it was somebody in this land who said, ‘What is truth?’ I am not your friend, Dr. Ben Gurion. Nor, do I want to be. But, I will serve you to the best of my ability.”

  The little Jew smiled at him. “I think that is all I can ask.

  Skorzeny stood up. “I must go. I will contact you soon with the details of the trip. And thank you for the tea.”

  Ben Gurion also stood up. He stepped over and shook Skorzeny’s hand. He looked up into the scarred face of the Nazi. “I think you are a better man than you say. May the Creator of the Universe bless you.”

  Skorzeny stared back at the little Jew. Then, without another word, he turned and left the tiny apartment.

  “Paula,” he called out, “we have a journey to plan.”

  Paula Ben Gurion stepped into the room. “I heard. That is a very tortured man, but I think he is fundamentally good.”

  “That was my thought as well, My Dear.”

  “He will bring hope to our people,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  March 10, 1942; 3:30PM

  Carinhall, Schorfheide Forest

  Germany

  The small convoy of vehicles turned into the gate at Carinhall and proceeded to the main house. Schloss motioned for the others in the entourage to wait while he and Schlempke walked to the house. Emmy opened the door, looking frightened.

  “I need to speak to the Reichsmarshall,” Schloss s
aid. “He has missed several important meetings and we need to talk.”

  “He is ill, Herr Reichschancellor. He should not see anyone.”

  “I need to see him, Emmy,” Schloss said quietly. “He is wrestling with his morphine addiction, isn’t he?”

  “Please, Herr Reichschancellor, he should not be seen in this state.”

  “Emmy. Hermann needs help. If we cannot get this under control I will not be able to allow him to stay in the government. Do you understand?”

  Schloss did his best to put on a kind gentle voice. He was beginning to wish he had brought Gisela with him on this afternoon’s journey. Emmy would listen to Gisela.

  “Ask the Reichschancellor to come in,” he heard Goering say.

  Emmy stepped back and pulled the door open. Schloss took off his hat and stepped into the room. At the far end of the room Goering stood, wearing a light-blue paisley dressing coat, or house coat. He looked pale, haggard and ill.

  “Are you having a bad day, Herr Reichsmarshall?” Schloss asked.

  “I am not well,” he replied. “What is it that brought you clear out to Carinhall?”

  Schloss walked across the room to where he stood in front of Goering. He reached out both hands and grasped the other man’s arms. He could feel the fever through the housecoat, as well as the tremors.

  “We need to get you to the hospital, Hermann,” Schloss said. “We cannot afford to lose you.”

  “It is just a bad cold. I will be healthy again in a few days. As you know, these things blow over eventually.”

  “Can you honestly tell me you have not been sticking a needle into your arm, lately?”

  “Of course,” Goering said, stoutly. However, he did not look at Schloss when he responded.

  “I brought a Luftwaffe flight surgeon with me this afternoon, Hermann. I thought maybe he would take a look at you and we can get a professional opinion on what we need to do.”

  “I am really not that ill, Herr Reichschancellor.”

  Schloss smiled. “Since we made the flight surgeon come all this way out here, let’s accommodate him, shall we?”

  “Oh, very well,” Goering said. He walked over to one of the chairs arranged in the room, and sat down with a sigh.

  Emmy stood over by the door wringing her hands. A four-year-old girl trotted into the room.

  “Uncle Hennie,” she shouted.

  Schloss bent down with a genuine smile. “And how is my little Edda doing, today?”

  “Poppa is ill. Are you going to take Poppa to the doctor?”

  He grinned at her and glanced up at Emmy, who now looked even more nervous.

  “I brought a doctor with me, Precious. I was just getting ready to ask him to come in to see your poppa.”

  “Oh, good,” the little girl said. “I am so glad you brought a doctor. I want my Poppa to be well.”

  Schloss stood up and turned to where Goering sat. “Edda would like you to see the doctor, Hermann.” Why do I feel like a complete barbarian manipulating him this way? It’s for his own good.

  Goering nodded jerkily. Schloss turned to Schlempke and raised an eyebrow. Schlempke turned and walked towards the door. He opened it and motioned to the people waiting outside. A minute later a doctor from the Luftwaffe Medical Air Readiness group walked in followed by a nurse. He immediately walked over to where Goering was sitting in the chair. He squatted down so he could look the man in the eye.

  “I understand we are a little under the weather today, Herr Reichsmarshall.”

  Goering chuckled softly and that turned into a cough. “I don’t know about you, Herr Major, but I have had better days.”

  “I am Rolf Kleindermann with the MAR, and this is Nurse Diesel. I thought we might check your vitals before we do anything else.”

  “Certainly,” Goering said. He smiled at Edda. “Would you like to watch?”

  “Yes Poppa.”

  The nurse slid a thermometer into Goering’s mouth as Kleindermann pulled a blood pressure cuff out of his bag. He slid up the sleeve on Goering’s left arm, without seeming to look at the needle marks.

  He looked at Goering’s daughter. “We will take the Reichsmarshall’s blood pressure and temperature first.”

  He pumped up the cuff and watched the gauge. He murmured the results to the nurse who wrote them down on a clipboard. He then pulled out his stethoscope and placed it on Goering’s chest.

  “Take a deep breath, Herr Reichsmarshall.”

  Goering’s deep breath turned into a coughing spasm. The doctor waited for it to subside.

  “Lean forward, if you would, please.” He then placed the stethoscope on Goering’s back. “Take another deep breath.”

  This time Goering was able to complete the exercise. The nurse snatched the thermometer out of his mouth and studied the result. She made another notation on the clipboard and showed it to the doctor. He looked at Goering carefully for a moment before speaking.

  “Herr Reichsmarshall, it is a good thing we came out this afternoon. I think you may have pneumonia. If you had waited much longer you might have become gravely ill. We should take you to the hospital where you can get proper treatment.”

  Edda looked up with her eyes big and face full of concern. “Is Poppa going to die?”

  Kleindermann squatted down to face the little girl. “No. We simply need to help your Poppa get well.”

  She nodded politely. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  The doctor stood up. “Perhaps your wife would help you get dressed, Herr Reichsmarshall. Casual clothes should be fine.”

  Emmy immediately walked over to where Goering struggled to stand up. The Major helped him to his feet.

  “Come Edda,” Emmy said. And she led Goering out of the room.

  Schloss stepped over to the doctor. “Thank you for finessing that, Major. I wasn’t sure he was going to cooperate.”

  “He really does have pneumonia, Herr Reichschancellor. He is a very sick man. I am sure the drug abuse has not helped, but, we have several problems to deal with. We need to get him to treatment.”

  “I believe you can understand why it is important that we do this quietly,” Schloss said.

  “I had heard rumors, of course,” the MAR surgeon said. “I am saddened to discover they were true. We will, of course, keep this confidential. We will also do our best to return him to health. The pneumonia will provide a convenient reason to announce his hospital stay, if you have an announcement in mind.”

  “I do, and I appreciate it, Major,” Schloss said. And there are a lot of reasons why we do not need any more deaths in the government just now. Our legitimacy is thread-bare as it is.

  § § §

  March 10, 1942; 5:30PM

  Chancellor’s Apartments

  Reichschancellery

  Berlin, Germany

  “Is Herr Goering settled in the hospital?” Frau Marsden asked.

  “Yes,” Schloss said. “Things actually went much better than I feared they would. He was very cooperative.”

  They stood in the small lobby of the apartment in the Reichschancellery after Schloss's return from the hospital.

  “It is very sad to be enslaved by something like morphine.”

  “Yes, it is. He had also developed a case of pneumonia. He was really too sick to offer much of an argument about going to the hospital. The Luftwaffe doctor handled it very well.”

  “The Reichsmarshall is a weak man,” she said. “However, you do not need any more deaths in the government right now.”

  “Funny. I was thinking that myself. I believe I am going to have to affect a general reorganization of the High Command, and I am going to need Goering to help with that.”

  “Is the High Command incompetent, Herr Schloss?” she asked.

  “No. Not really. They do suffer from a lack of imagination as well as a general inability to take orders. Whatever else you could say about Hitler, he was rightly frustrated by their intransigence. They have been interfering with the African war, a
nd not in a good way.”

  “You will, of course, do whatever is necessary.”

  Schloss smiled at the old woman. “The trick is in deciding what is truly necessary.”

  “You have done very well so far.”

  Schloss shook his head. “And we both know why that is so. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, this world, or reality, or whatever you call it has changed far enough from mine that I now have to rely on my wits to muddle through.”

  She gazed at him for a long moment. “I do not remember a time when you did not use your wits, Herr Schloss. This world is nothing more than a canvas which you will use to paint a vastly better outcome for all the peoples.”

  “I feel like the canvas is increasingly frayed. I am struggling to hold it together and my fingers grow weary.”

  “I know you will do whatever is necessary, Herr Schloss,” she said. “You are one of the strongest men this nation has seen. And the fabric of this world is much stronger than you fear.”

  Schloss sighed. “I just get so tired at times, Frau Marsden.”

  “Then you should depend more on your allies in the government. Peter and Karl are capable of more.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. “I will be having a long conversation with Karl tomorrow.”

  “And so, you are flying to Munich, then?”

  He looked sharply at her. Although she maintained an awareness of his schedule, she seldom commented much about it. Rainer was actually flying to Munich with Schloss and they planned to have a long meeting on the plane.

  “Is there something I should beware of, Frau Marsden?”

  “Munich is the center of the Old Nazis, Herr Schloss. Reinhard Heydrich is there. He may look at this as an opportunity.”

  “How can you know that?” Schloss asked. “There are rumors he is in Munich, but it has not been substantiated.”

  “He is there,” she said. “You must be very careful.”

  “Rainer did not want me to make the trip, for that reason,” he said. “But, I cannot afford to hide out in the Reichschancellery. The people need to see me.”

  “If something happens to you, the nation will quickly return to the old Nazi ways.”