by Ward Wagher
“If they tried it, it would be the last thing they did.”
“As the individual tasked with your security, you can understand my concerns, Herr Partieleiter.”
“I understand your concerns, Herr Rainer, but I will not be fussed over by an old woman.”
“Very well, Herr Partieleiter.”
Schloss worried about pushing Rainer so hard, but on the other hand he felt like he needed to reinforce his reputation for ruthlessness. From what he could tell, this was common behavior for the Alter-Schloss. And then he wondered briefly what the Alter-Schloss was doing. There was no way to know, of course.
The trip to Brown House was short, and Rainer was not inclined to speak further. The party headquarters in Munich was so named because of the color of the Nazi party uniforms. When they arrived and got out of the cars, Schloss pointed to his assistant.
“Lead the way, Karl. I will explain the situation to the criminals.”
Schloss, Rainer and their four guards marched into the building and up the stairs to the second level. The four Gestapo men followed silently. Schloss was just as happy they had said nothing further. He found that he would have been happy just to shoot them himself, and wondered if his movement in time had changed his personality as well.
Rainer opened the door to the Gauleiter's outer office and they walked in. The people working in the office stood, but said nothing. It was clear Schloss was on a mission, and nobody wanted to get in the way. Rainer marched across the room and opened the door to the personal office.
The bald, middle-aged man jumped to his feet. What is the meaning of this, Herr Partieleiter?”
“Herr Daumer, you are under arrest for defrauding the Fuhrer and the party.”
“I do not think so,” the man replied. He quickly pulled open a desk drawer and drew out a revolver. There was a flash, and he felt a tug at his sleeve. Then was a loud bang, and the man stared stupidly at the hole in his chest and the spreading blood. He then collapsed to the floor.
“That was close, Herr Partieleiter,” Rainer said as he holstered his pistol.
Schloss fingered the slice in the sleeve of his coat. “Just so.”
“Are you all right?” he continued.
“Fine,” Schloss said. “The bullet caught just the sleeve of my coat. We should get to the assistant's office before he tries to bolt.”
Rainer quickly turned and left the room. Schloss picked up the Gauleiter's gun. The entourage then moved to the next office suite, which belonged to Daumer's assistant. The second arrest went better. The Gestapo agents dragged the Gauleiter's body of the first office, and led the assistant out of the building. Schloss walked back into the main office.
“Listen to me, everyone,” Schloss said. “These men were guilty of crimes against the state. They thought they were loyal Nazis and above the law. We discovered they had falsified enrollment records. They were also pocketing the stipends for these fictitious people. We do not tolerate this behavior. I do not tolerate this behavior. We will remain here for the moment while we sort things out. You will answer to Herr Rainer. And have someone clean up the Gauleiter's office. I need to use it.”
After a muttered chorus of jawohls, two men walked into the Gauleiter's office. Schloss turned to Rainer. “We will need to conduct a complete audit here.”
The door opened and a fussy-looking little man walked in. He was balding and carried a paunch. He looked as though he was in his sixties. “Herr Partieleiter, what has happened to the Gauleiter. I saw the Gestapo carrying him out.”
Schloss wondered who this was, particularly since he clearly knew the party leader.
“We are very busy, Herr Zindanfel,” Rainer said.
Schloss nodded. Rainer had just done him a huge favor. Georg Zindanfel was the building manager for the party headquarters in Munich. Schloss had seen him mentioned favorably several times as he went through the files. Zindenfel had a two-digit party number, which means he was with Hitler from the earliest days. And he had amply proven his loyalty. Maybe.
“Just a minute, Karl,” Schloss said. “I need to talk to Georg.”
“Of course,” the older man said. “Anything I can do for the Partieleiter.”
Schloss took him by the arm. “Let's go into the assistant's office.”
Zindenfel followed him into the office next door. Schloss wordlessly pointed to the side chair next to the desk. He then sat in the chair behind the desk.
“I am here today, Herr Zindenfel, because we discovered the Gauleiter and the assistant were falsifying party enrollment records. It seems they were pocketing the stipends themselves.”
Zindenfel turned pale. “I did not know this. I cannot believe those two men would be such scoff-laws. This is terrible.”
“Unfortunately they have to answer for their crimes.”
“Just so,” Zindenfel said. “This is shameful.”
According to the files Zindenfel had worked for several years as the Gauleiter. He had been pensioned off the previous year, but instead took over the building management. It was slightly more than a sinecure. By all accounts, the old man did a good job of managing the building. Schloss thought his reaction was interesting. Many of the original Nazis were like Hitler – puritanical ascetics. They abhorred the corruption that manifested itself across the land.
“I must ask you something, Herr Zindenfel?”
“Yes, Herr Partieleiter?”
“Would you consent to stepping back into the Gauleiter's job termporarily. It would just be until we can find a replacement. You have amply proven your loyalty and trustworthiness.”
“I would be honored to do so, Herr Partieleiter. I must warn you, however, Magda will be less happy.”
Schloss chuckled. Apparently he knew Zindenfel well enough to know his wife. “You tell Magda I will not work you into the ground this time. But I need men who have faithfully served the Reich.”
“I am your man, Herr Partieleiter.”
Schloss stood up. “Thank you for your time, Herr Zindenfel. Let us return to the other office to announce your temporary appointment. I believe Karl will need your help in locating all the files.”
“Karl will have no trouble,” he said. “After all, I trained him.”
Fifteen minutes later Schloss suddenly felt drained. He motioned to Rainer, as though he wanted to talk to him and retreated to the assistant Gauleiter's office. He got behind the desk and collapsed into the chair.
“Are you all right, Herr Partielieter?” Rainer asked. “You suddenly turned pale.”
Schloss fingered the hole in his sleeve and smiled at Rainer. “It just caught up with me, Karl. I thought for a moment it was all over with, there.”
“I thought for a moment he had hit you. It scared the hell out of me. Herr Partieleiter, if you were killed, Himmler would take over. I would be dead, and it would be the end of Germany.”
“Well, I was not killed, Karl.”
“You do not look well. Should I get a doctor?”
“No,” Schloss said. “See if someone can bring me some coffee and pastry. I will be fine in a little bit.”
“At once,” Rainer said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
July 1, 1941 8PM
Gasthaus Bavaria, Munich, Germany
When Rainer asked Schloss if he wanted to visit his favorite gasthaus in Munich, he shrugged and said, “Why not?”
The proprietor, whom Schloss eventually figured out was named Alois Mitner, seemed almost pathetically glad to see him. Schloss was immediately ushered into a private dining room at the rear of the establishment.
As they walked through the lower floor, which was a restaurant, they passed a radio sitting on a shelf. It was quietly playing popular music and the tune sounded familiar to Schloss. He was trying to place the title of the sound as he sat down.
Mitner handed him a piece of cardboard on which was glued a typewritten menu.
“Just a simple meal tonight, Mein Herr. Sausage and potatoes, and your lager o
f course.”
Mitner knuckled his forehead. “Jawohl, Herr Partieleiter.” And he scurried out of the room.
The strains of the music floated back to the room where Schloss sat, and he finally recalled the title – Danke Schoen. The song was popular in Berlin where he grew up as a teenager. Then he struggled to remember when the song originally was written. It came from an American singer but the Germans liked it. It had to have been written in the early nineteen-sixties. Yet here it was on the radio in 1941. Schloss shivered. Once again he was reminded that this place was not an exact duplicate of the world he knew.
Rainer stepped into the room. “The car is parked, Herr Partieleiter, and your things are in your usual room. Will there be anything else?”
Schloss shook himself free from the mood that had enveloped him when he heard the song. “Karl, why don't you join me?”
“Of course, Herr Partieleiter.” He pulled out a chair and sat across the table from Schloss.
“Quite the day, Karl.”
Rainer nodded. “I was surprised no one really questioned what happened.”
“Having a couple of Gestapo swine in the office would likely make anyone clam up.”
Rainer raised an eyebrow. “You remember, of course, that Herr Mitner's son is in the Gestapo.”
“That had slipped my mind.” Schloss thought for a moment, then snorted. “Perhaps I should be careful what I say.”
“Pardon me for saying so, Herr Partieleiter, but you are more careful of what you say than anyone else I know.”
“We try, Karl, we try. Now tell me, what kind of problems should we expect with Zindenfel?”
Rainer again looked surprised, and Schloss worried he was acting out of character, whatever his character was. Rainer appeared to consider the question before answering.
“I am surprised, Herr Partieleiter, that he was civil towards you, since you forced him to retire last year. He was unhappy about that.”
“I suspect once he eased off a bit, he enjoyed things more,” Schloss said. “Although he accepted quick enough when I appointed him.”
“There are a couple of people I trust who we can use to backstop him,” Rainer said. “His memory has not gotten any better.”
Schloss nodded. “Make it so, Karl. It's pretty clear he likes you better than me, anyway.”
Rainer smiled slightly. “But he respects you more.”
“That's as it should be. Now that we have cleaned out this rats’ nest, do you anticipate any further problems in Munich?”
Rainre studied Schloss carefully. “The core of the old party is here in Munich. These are the people who really hate the Jews. I would say violently so.”
Schloss leaned back as Mitner marched into the room carrying two beer steins and a plate of warm pretzels. A young girl followed him carrying a bowl of mustard.
“Here you go, Herr Partieleiter. I am cooking the sausage and potatoes as we speak.”
“Thank you, Herr Mitner. I know we are in good hands.”
He made a throwing away motion. “It's nothing.”
“No, but you have provided good service to me and to the party. I appreciate it.”
Mitner bobbed his head again, and backed out of the room. Schloss looked over at Rainer and smiled as he reached for a pretzel. “We must remember that people like this are the backbone of the party. And it is wise to heed their sensibilities.”
“That is one of the many important things I have learned from you, Mein Herr,” Rainer said. “The other is loyalty to those for whom I work.”
Schloss dipped the pretzel into the mustard took a bite of the warm softness. He smiled at the flavor as he reached for his stein with the other hand. “It seems, Karl, you are leading up to a point you would like to make with me.”
Rainer turned his head to check the doorway, then looked back at Schloss. “Your plans for an alternate Final Solution. I do not have a lot of use for the Jews, but what we are doing to them is grossly immoral. I believe your ultimate goal is workable.”
“But?”
“There is a long growing season before we can dig up those potatoes.”
Schloss laughed. “As always, Karl, you are the soul of tact. I don't know what I would do without you.”
“I serve the Fatherland.”
“As do I.”
Mitner bustled back into the room carrying a telephone with a long cord. He handed the receiver to Schloss. “Telephone call, Herr Partieleiter.”
“Thank you, Herr Mitner.”
He waited until the inn keep backed out of the door again. “Schloss.”
“Goering, Herr Partieleiter. The Englanders are flying tonight.”
Schloss muttered a curse. “I suppose the unofficial truce was too good to last. What is their target?”
“Unknown at this point. I suspect Berlin, though.”
“Are you ready to implement the plan we have discussed?”
Goering paused. “Not entirely. Our fighters, of course, will be in the air to intercept. I believe we have enough bombers to track this raid, however.”
“Then you are making it happen, Herr Reichsmarshall?”
“Oh yes. The English will be landing at dawn. We will have difficulties in providing coverage during the daylight.”
“We understood this,” Schloss said. “I think a maximum effort will force the English to think twice about their tactics. I want them reacting to us for a change.”
“Agreed. Where can I reach you?”
“I will stay here tonight, and be at the party headquarters in Munich in the morning. Please let me know the outcome.”
“Of course.”
“Viel Glück,” he said, which was good luck.
“Machs gut,” Goering replied, which meant take care.
Schloss hung up the phone. Rainer looked over at him curiously.
“It appears the English have decided to punctuate the evening with some bombs.”
Rainer shook his head. “I had hoped they would not do that.”
“I was not confident Churchill would honor our unofficial little truce, but I had my hopes as well.”
“What are we going to do about him?” Rainer asked.
“My feeling is that if we stop bombing the cities, and concentrate on military targets, the war will lose its immediacy to the English. Perhaps they will select a new prime minister who will listen to reason.”
“Is that even possible?”
Schloss smiled and nodded. “Oh yes. The English system of government is unpredictable, if nothing else. They could easily produce another Chamberlain; somebody we could work with.”
“Would they do such a thing?”
Schloss thought about his world, where the electorate turned Churchill out of office almost as soon as the allies had won the war. He just had to encourage something like that a little sooner. If he could buy the British out of the war, the chances of the United States coming into the conflict were dramatically reduced.
“We have to play a long game, Karl,” Schloss said. “We have been very lucky so far in this war, but we really haven't been that smart. I really cannot speak to the thousand year Reich, but I would like very much to buy us another hundred years.”
Rainer stared at Schloss, not even breathing. “You have thought all this out, haven't you?”
“Not even close. Oh, I have a pretty good general idea on where we need to go, but as they say, the devil is in the details.”
Mitner chose that moment to march back into the room with the platters of food.
“Here we go, Herr Partieleiter. I trust you will find this satisfactory.”
“Oh, it looks wonderful as usual,” Schloss replied. “I've been thinking about this meal all day.”
“Surely you exaggerate,” he laughed.
“Ask Karl here.”
Rainer smiled and nodded. Schloss picked up his knife and fork and began eating. The sausage and potatoes were very good. And the flavor of the dark lager was soothing. After the stress
of the day, Schloss found himself relaxing. He had grown comfortable around Rainer and could let his guard down somewhat. Rainer was very loyal, but Schloss knew he would eventually test the limits of that loyalty.
Mitner was subservient, and anxiously waited to jump to his bidding – like a faithful dog. Schloss decided he was being unfair, but that was exactly what it reminded him of. Yet, he considered, one should treat his dog kindly, for the animal really knew no better. Then Schloss thought to himself, My God! I am starting to think like a Nazi swine bugger. I will not take advantage of this man.
Rainer studied him as he sat across the table. “A pfennig for your thoughts, Herr Partieleiter.”
“Ha. You do not want the thoughts I have to contend with. Let us just say I am amazed to be in the center of all this,” and he swept his arm around. “And I am astounded at the opportunities that present themselves.” He stopped talking suddenly, aware he might have given himself away.
Rainer smiled and tipped his stein towards Schloss. “To opportunities, Herr Partieleiter.”
Schloss smiled in return and raised his stein. “Thank you, Karl. To opportunities.”
The conversation drifted into routine and desultory topics. Mitner later brought in schnapps and pastries and the two men eased their way into dessert. After some unfortunate events while in college, Schloss had learned to manage his alcohol intake, so at this point in the evening he merely felt mellow. Rainer, he observed, had imbibed rather more, although not really drunk. Schloss stood up.
“Karl, my friend, I believe I shall retire. It has been a long day. Tomorrow promises more of the same.”
Rainer stood up and clicked his heels together, and bowed slightly. “Herr Partieleiter, the pleasure was mine.”
Schloss called out. “Herr Mitner, is the toilet where you left it last time, or have you moved it?”
The inn keep stepped into the room grinning broadly. “It is at the end of the upstairs hall just where you found it last time, Herr Partieleiter. And you are in room three as usual.”
“You are too kind, Herr Mitner.”
“Not at all, Herr Partieleiter. I am too happy to serve. I believe you will find your room exactly as you desire.”
