by Ward Wagher
“We both know who is doing this,” she said. “You do not require a court of law to take action. You have proven that time and again.”
“And the time is not yet right,” he snapped. “I appreciate your concern, Frau Marsden, but you must trust me on this.”
She glared at him a few moments, and then turned without another word and walked back to the kitchen. He turned to see Renate watching him.
“Yes?”
“Frau Marsden is simply concerned about you.”
“Oh, I know it,” Schloss replied. “What is frightening is that she is absolutely correct. I am going to have to deal with this sooner rather than later.”
“And you will know when the time is right,” she said.
He sighed. “I hope so.”
Peter stepped into the foyer. “Is everything all right?”
“I assume Frau Marsden told you about the incident at the office.”
“Yes. I had just arrived here when she took the call from Renate.”
“Karl was injured and is in the hospital. I am waiting to hear how he is doing.”
“I need to run upstairs for a minute before we eat,” Renate said.
Peter watched her fondly as she trotted up the stairs. He turned back to Schloss. “Are we truly safe here at the house?” he asked.
“Probably not,” Schloss said. “However, no place is really safe for us. The party security people have increased the coverage here, and they are rapidly getting to be very good.”
“They seem professional.”
“They see themselves as the protectors of Heinrich Schloss. That concerns me because it ultimately puts them into a direct collision with the Gestapo and the SS. If we are not very careful, we will have a civil war in Germany and absolutely unpredictable results.”
“But we knew that was a risk,” Peter said.
Schloss laughed quietly. “We did. But it has become more than an academic exercise, no?”
“When you put it that way,” Peter said. He had a rueful look on his face. “Ribbentrop is concerned.”
“And why is Herr Von Ribbentrop concerned?”
“Because he does not know which way to jump. He badly wants to be on the winning side.” Peter hesitated. “And he knows that being on the losing side will be unhealthy.”
“Is he a threat, Peter?”
“No,” Schreiber replied. “The man does know his limitations. But, he will carefully watch the developing... drama, and jump aboard at the last moment. It is simply the way he is.”
“Very well, based upon what you are telling me, I won't worry about the Foreign Minister. But watch him carefully, Peter. He is not our friend.”
“He understands that,” Peter said. “He also knows that Goering, Goebbels and Himmler hate him.”
“What about Hess?” Schloss asked.
“You would have to tell me that,” Peter said. “You know the man better than almost anyone.”
All I know is what the histories told me, Schloss thought. Certainly my impressions confirm what the historians say. The man is a flake. But he is useful. And doesn't that judgment make me as bad as the Nazis?
“Very well,” Schloss said. “Frau Marsden probably has dinner on the table. We dare not wait much longer.”
“Oh, indeed,” Peter laughed.
Frau Marsden had determined early on that it was cruel to force the children to wait for Schloss to begin their meals. They had already finished their dinner when he walked in. He leaned over and kissed each on the cheek and slipped into his chair.
“And how were things today for the two best children in the whole world.”
“I made a bunny, Poppa,” Anna-Lisa said.
“Did you now? Will I get to see it?”
“Of course, Poppa,” she said carefully. “I brought it home with me.”
“I did better on my mathematics homework,” Hans-Friedrich said. “Teacher was pleased.”
“Good, good. I am proud of you, son. I always had trouble with my numbers when I was your age.”
“Did you really?” the boy asked.
“Yes. My instructors were at their wits end.”
He giggled. “You are teasing. I know you are much smarter than they were.”
Schloss smiled at the boy. “Yes, but they don't appreciate it when they find out. So I will keep your secret – that you're smarter than your teacher. But you must promise not to tell them I am smarter as well.”
“Agreed,” Hans-Friedrich said.
“Are you filling your son's head with nonsense again?” Frau Marsden asked as she carried the leftover sausage and egg casserole to the table.
“Of course not, Frau Marsden,” Schloss said.
Hans-Friedrich giggled again. He looked up as she set the pan on the table. “Frau Marsden made my favorite. I would like more.”
Schloss looked up at her.
“You have had quite enough. Now you must complete your homework and not stay up too late,” Frau Marsden said. “You had a stomach ache last time I gave you extra.”
“I will do fine this time,” he promised. The statement was spoiled when he grinned at his father.
“I just do not know what you are teaching him, Herr Schloss,” she said as she spooned a bit more of the casserole on to the boy’s plate.
“Why, I am teaching him to be a good German,” Schloss said.
Frau Marsden snorted and trundled out of the room again.
“I do not think she believed you,” Peter said with a grin.
“Don't laugh, Peter. I happen to know for a fact that your track record with Frau Marsden is no better than mine.”
“Yes, but I was not the topic of conversation tonight.”
Schloss said nothing further, but reached to the pan with the casserole and began helping himself. Renate arrived at the table and waited for him to finish so she could fill her plate as well. The dinner turned into a relaxed conversation between the adults and the two children. Later he regretfully sent Hans-Friedrich to do his homework. Frau Marsden took Anna-Lisa for her bath. But for a little while it was easy for Schloss to forget the fearful world outside the Schloss home in Charlottenburg, that sleepy suburb of Berlin.
# # #
Alden Schlempke stood outside in the dark and carefully studied the neighborhood. The fence around the residence helped immeasurably to secure the house, but he worried about the neighborhood. While the closely grouped houses and fences made it difficult for anyone bent on mischief, it also complicated his job of protecting the party leader. And with Karl Rainer in the hospital, he was frightened. Still, he had six men with him, and with Rainer's unrelenting training, they were becoming very competent.
One of the men slipped up to him. “A quiet evening, Herr Schlempke.”
He nodded. “And let's hope it stays that way. After what those clowns tried earlier, I am just as happy.”
“They were not very good.”
“Yes, and that bothers me,” Schlempke said. “One expects more finesse from the SS.”
“If that's who they were.”
Schlempke gave the other man a very skeptical look, clearly visible in the low light.
“What?”
“If not the SS, who do you think it is, Richard?”
“Well, they didn't have tattoos.”
As a general practice the members of the SS had their blood type tattooed on an upper arm. This was obviously useful during triage after a battle. It also helped identify who was who.
“True. That might be a bit of subtlety on the part of Himmler.”
“It might be the Jews.”
Richard Niessen was clearly not the brightest recruit in the group, Schlempke thought. But he was loyal and competent as a guard. Schlempke had to resist the urge to slap sense into the man.
“I'll tell you what, Richard,” he said, “I need to take a turn around the property. You stand watch here and think about your question. When I return we will discuss it further.”
The other man nodded. “I will
do so.”
“And if you notice anything at all out of the ordinary, you know what to do.”
“Of course, Herr Schlempke.”
Schlempke shook his head as he walked up the alley towards the rear of the residence. The word was out among the Jewish community about Schloss. If anything they were even more motivated to keep him alive than the party regulars. Schlempke considered himself one of the sane Nazis. While he had no great use for the Jews, the rush to destroy them on the part of the SS was madness as far as he was concerned. The camps, the guards, and the transport alone had to be chewing up hundreds of millions of Marks – possibly even billions of Marks. That was money not being spent on beating the English.
As far as he was concerned, Herr Hess's plan to allow the Jews to leave for their homeland in Palestine not only solved the problem, but would create a nation in the Middle East that was indebted to Germany. He was realistic enough to recognize that Germany needed friends.
The lights came on in the upstairs windows of the Schloss house. Schlempke noted the fact, and swung around to study the neighborhood once again. He liked and admired Rudolf Hess, but he also knew that Heinrich Schloss was the man who would get things done for Germany. Schloss was a great leader, but he liked to stay in the background. Besides he was an honorable man. Schlempke fervently hoped to keep him and his family safe.
He heard a car drive up the street and stop in front of the house, and so he turned and quickly made his way to the front. The noise of the vehicle was easy to identify in the quiet neighborhood. Two men from the party security battalion headquarters stepped out of the car. Niessen had his hand on his pistol and did not approach the car. Schlempke noted approvingly that the other men in the front of the house had faded into the shadows. Everyone was maintaining situational awareness.
Schlempke stepped over to the two new arrivals.
“Herr Schlempke, I was instructed to bring news about Herr Rainer.”
“And?”
“He came out of surgery to remove the bullet and seems to be doing well. If he can avoid the infection, he should survive.”
“Thank you.”
The men braced to attention, then climbed back into the car. He watched them drive up the street and waited a few minutes to make sure everything remained quiet. Because people were still cautious in the face of possible British bombing raids, they no longer walked in their neighborhoods after dark. Nodding to Niessen, he turned and walked up to the front door and knocked lightly. He did not like ringing the bell – it was loud enough to wake the dead. Thirty seconds later Schloss opened the door.
“Herr Schloss, I have news from Herr Rainer.”
“Very well... it's Alden, right?”
“Yes, Sir. Herr Rainer has come out of the surgery in good shape. They removed the bullet from his shoulder. Barring complications, he is expected to survive.”
“Thank you,” Schloss said. “I appreciate you letting me know immediately. Karl is important to me.”
“I understand, Herr Partieleiter. He is important to all of us.”
Schloss nodded.. “Is there anything else?”
“No, Sir. It is very quiet tonight. I hope it stays that way.”
“You and me, both, Alden. Have a good night.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Schloss quietly eased the door shut, and Alden Schlempke went back to guarding the most important man in the Reich.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
November 8, 1941; 10 AM
Beelitz-Heilstatten Hospital (Near Potsdam)
Heinrich Schloss stepped into the hospital room. Karl Rainer lay on his back with his eyes open. Sensing the movement, he looked over and saw Schloss.
“I won't annoy you by asking how you feel, Karl. Catching a bullet in the shoulder is not on the list of recommended activities.”
Rainer raised an eyebrow. “I wish you had warned me ahead of time,” he whispered.
Schloss snorted. “I am delighted you survived. Sometime, when you are feeling up to it, we must have a conversation about last night's events. I would also like to reassure you that your assistant, Herr Schlempke is doing very well.”
“Alden is dedicated,” Rainer whispered again.
Schloss nodded. “That he is. The doctors told me that you need rest most of all and I was not to tire you. I told them it was too late.”
Rainer managed to quirk a slight smile.
“So I will not take any more of your valuable time, Karl. I just wanted to let you know that things are in good hands.”
“Thank you very much,” he whispered.
“Take care of yourself.” And Schloss slipped out of the room.
He turned to the two guards at the door to the room. “Keep a good watch on Herr Rainer. We need him badly.”
The two Nazi party guards jumped to attention. “Of course, Herr Partieleiter,” one said. “We will protect him with our lives, if need be.”
“Let's just hope it doesn't come to that.” And he turned and walked out of the building, followed by Alden Schlempke.
Any time Heinrich Schloss traveled now, his minders required major plans ahead of time. Schlempke had not wanted Schloss to travel down to the hospital this morning because there hadn't been time to vet the route. The guard set across from him in the back seat alertly studying the road and country side.
The four cars in the convoy rolled along the roadway at a steady sixty-five kilometres per hour. Schloss's car was second in the group. The armed driver and a guard sat up front. Each of the other cars contained four guards, and all were heavily armed. The rapidly developing party guard corps was absolutely committed to seeing nothing happen to the party leader. Schloss was touched and more than a little embarrassed by their devotion. He had no argument with their desire to keep him alive, however.
With the entourage he was now dragging around, Schloss wondered how he was going to have any kind of a private dinner with Gisela. And if he could convince her to spend a night with him, he wasn't sure how she would react to the guards posted outside the door of their room. Perhaps he should indeed accept Frau Marsden's advice and marry Gisela. He had no doubt at this point he was thoroughly in love with her. He wondered if his reticence was due to the fact he had no desire to admit to the old woman that she was right. He snorted at the thought.
“Yes, Herr Partieleiter?” Schlempke asked.
Schloss shook his head. “Sorry, Herr Schlempke. I was just reflecting upon the strange events sometimes visited upon us by life... or fate, or whatever you desire to call it.”
“I apologize for being too forward, Herr Partieleiter.”
“Oh, you did not offend,” Schloss said. “If you feel the need to say something, please do. I will not bite your head off.”
“Thank you, Herr Partieleiter.”
“It is possible you could lose a few fingers, but that is to be expected,” Schloss continued.
The guard choked in surprise. “I will try to keep that in mind, Sir.”
“You must admit the past several months have been exceptional.”
“Pardon me for saying this,” the man said, “but those of us on the guard have wondered how you could have survived the summer and this fall without going insane.”
If you only knew, Alden, Schloss thought. I sometimes wonder if I am not in the midst of a complete mental breakdown. It has been too vivid to be merely a dream. Mein Gott, what has happened to me?
He shook his head. “If I knew the answer to that, I would tell you. Let me say simply that it has, without a doubt, been the most interesting and exciting period of my life.”
“I do not even know how to respond to that, Herr Partieleiter.”
“And I am not sure how to even expect you to respond. Just keep doing your job. The Fatherland needs all of us.”
“Absolutely, Herr Partieleiter.”
Schloss retreated into silence and stared out the window at the bare winter trees in the woodlands flowing past on this bright November morning
. A dusting of snow from the previous night's storm coated the branches and lent a stark beauty to the forests. The soothing tableau flowed past as the cars headed back to Berlin. Regardless of when, where, and whence he came, Schloss felt thoroughly at home in this land. As time went on, his mind was less apt to scurry around in that unending maze, worrying at the events that brought him here. He was beginning to accept it.
Other things helped him forget his past or future. Hess waited in Schloss's office, and stood up when he walked in the door.
“Herr Partieleiter, I apologize for coming without an invitation.”
“What is it, Rudolf?” Schloss asked.
“I thought we might talk about some things, if you have the time. I would like a favor from you.”
Schloss hung his coat and hat on the rack in the corner and stepped over to his desk. With a tap on the door, one of the office girls entered carrying a tray. On it were two cups of coffee, a carafe and a plate of pastries.
“Oh, thank you,” Schloss said. “It was cold in the car.”
The girl bobbed her head and quietly slipped out of the room again.
“Have some coffee, Rudolph. And please, be seated.”
Hess reached for one of the cups and then eased into the chair across the desk from Schloss.
“Now, what sort of a favor might you be requesting?” Schloss asked with a grin. I wonder what the little weasel wants this time. “You know that I am always happy to help my friends.”
Hess smiled uncomfortably as he sipped the coffee. “The speeches have been going very well, Herr Partieleiter. Suggesting them was a master stroke on your part.”
“That may be an exaggeration, Rudolf. You have certainly done your part to make them a success. The people have been very approving.”
“Just so. I believe that we would have the support of the people in implementing some of the changes you and I have discussed.”
“And what changes would you be talking about?” Schloss asked.
“Just that it might be a good time to select a new Fuhrer.”
“And you are, of course, suggesting that you are the logical candidate.”
“Exactly,” Hess replied, missing the sarcasm in Schloss's voice. “I think it would be a very popular move with the people. It would make the government more popular, too.”
