The Berlin channel was different. It showed the crowd milling around Rolf Stolle's residence and, now, the stalled armored vehicles in front of it. "We are still here," a frightened-sounding announcer said over the noise of the crowd. "I don't know how long we can stay on the air, though. If we didn't have our own generator, we would have been shut down already. SS men have come here, but our guards turned them back. The guards have since been heavily reinforced by Wehrmacht troops."
Was that a warning to Prutzmann and his henchmen? Or was it a bluff? The announcer seemed nervous enough to make the latter seem a real possibility. But then the picture switched to a tape of Stolle kicking at a panzer's iron tire and bellowing at the SS man leaning out of the turret. Seeing the Gauleiter 's nerve made Lise willing to forgive the announcer's nerves.
Her daughters got home from school just then. She thought that would distract her from what was going on downtown, but it didn't. They were more excited about it than she was. Francesca said, "Frau Koch says we have to do what the State Committee for the Salvation of the Greater German Reich tells us, and Odilo Globocnik is the new Fuhrer."
"Odilo Globocnik!" Roxane echoed. "Teacher made us learn how to say it."
"Us, too," Francesca said. "The Beast made us memorize his name and State Committee for the Salvation of the Greater German Reich, and anybody who couldn't do it got a swat. I did it. She's not going to hitme again." She spoke with grim determination.
"What does your teacher say?" Lise asked Alicia, who hadn't spoken yet.
"He made us learn Herr Globocnik's name," her eldest answered. "He said there wasn't any law for a committee like this one, but that wouldn't matter if they held on to power. He said we'd just have to wait and see, pretty much."
"He'll get in trouble," Francesca said. "Frau Koch says the State Committee for the Salvation of the Greater German Reich "-since she'd memorized the name, she used it every chance she got-"is going to pay back everybody who ever liked what the old Fuhrer was doing."
"Odilo Globocnik is the new Fuhrer!" Roxane showed off what she'd learned, too.
"If that State Committee wins, they may do what Frau Koch says," Lise said carefully. "But Alicia's teacher has a point. They haven't won yet.Gauleiter Stolle and lots of people are protesting against what they've done." She didn't say that Heinrich was there. Even if things went sour in front of the Gauleiter 's residence, he might get away safe.Well, he might, she insisted to herself. Aloud, she went on, "They're on the televisor, too. Do you want to see?"
"Would you get us snacks first?" Roxane asked.
That seemed reasonable, so Lise did. Then they all went back to the living room. The Berlin channel was showing the tape of Stolle kicking at the panzer again. Francesca, in particular, watched wide-eyed. There was no room for dissent in Frau Koch's universe. Seeing that there was, or might be, in the real world seemed to hearten Lise's middle daughter. Alicia asked, "What are the other stations showing?"
"They were just putting on boring reruns, I suppose to make people think everything is normal," Lise answered. "But we can see what they're doing now."
She changed the channel. It wasn't a daytime drama any more. Horst Witzleben looked out of the screen at her and her children. "I have been given the following statement to read," he said. "And I quote…" He looked down at a paper on his desk. "'Rumors relating to the ancestry of the Reichsfuhrer — SS are false, malicious, and despicable lies. He is of unblemished Aryan descent. This being so, anyone repeating or spreading the false rumors will be subject to the most severe penalties. By order of the State Committee for the Salvation of the Greater German Reich.' We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming."
Regularly scheduled programming turned out to be a nature film about the migration of storks. "What did that mean, Mommy?" Roxane asked.
"I'm not quite sure," Lise answered.
"He didn't look very happy about it, whatever it was," Alicia said. "He didn't sound very happy, either."
"You're right-he didn't," Lise said. Witzleben had been a cheerleader for Heinz Buckliger's reforms. If he'd actually been as enthusiastic a cheerleader as he'd seemed, what had Prutzmann's bully boys done to persuade him to speak on their behalf? Held a gun to his head? Held a gun to his wife's head? There were, no doubt, all sorts of ways, and they'd be the ones to know them. She changed channels again. The Berlin station was still broadcasting. The crowd around Rolf Stolle's residence was still there. Lise shrugged. "We'll just have to see what happens, that's all."
"Let me through!" somebody with a big voice shouted behind Heinrich. "Get out of my way, dammit! Clear a path!"
"In your dreams, pal," Willi Dorsch said.
Even if they didn't clear a path, the man kept on coming, using his shoulders and his elbows to force his way forward. He was a Berlin police officer. People did try to move aside for him, but in the press of bodies it wasn't easy. "Let me through!" he yelled again. "I've got important news for the Gauleiter."
He pushed past Heinrich and Willi. A moment later, a woman spoke sharply: "You might say, 'Excuse me.'"
For a wonder, the policeman actually did say, "Sorry, lady." Then, as roughly as ever, he went on toward Rolf Stolle, who was still arguing with the commander of the lead panzer.
"Was that your friend who called him on his manners?" Willi asked, grinning.
"Susanna? I do believe it was," Heinrich answered.
"She's got nerve," Willi said admiringly.
"Oh, yes. That she does."
There was a stir when the police officer came up to the gray-uniformed men guarding the Gauleiter of Berlin. They must have recognized him, for they let him through. He spoke to Stolle for perhaps a minute and a half. Heinrich wasn't that far away, but couldn't hear a word he said. He could see Stolle's reaction, though. The Gauleiter stared. His eyes went wide with surprise. Then, to Heinrich's amazement, he threw back his head and bellowed Jovian laughter at the sky.
"What the hell?" Willi said.
"Beats me," Heinrich said.
That great bellow of mirth had made everybody within a hundred meters turn and look at Stolle. With a sense of timing an actor might have envied, the Gauleiter waited for people's attention to wing his way before shouting up to the panzer commander: "Hey, you! SS man!"
"What do you want?" the officer in the black coveralls asked warily.
"You know your boss? The high and mighty Reichsfuhrer — SS? The chief Aryan of all time? Lothar goddamn Prutzmann? You know who I'm talking about?" Rolf Stolle waited again. He looked as if he could afford to let the moment stretch. He also looked as if he was enjoying himself immensely.
The panzer commander saw that as clearly as Heinrich did. His nod was a small masterpiece of reluctance. "I know who you're talking about. What about him?" He didn't use the bullhorn now.
That was sensible. It was even smart. But when he went up against Rolf Stolle's leather lungs, it didn't do him much good. "What about him? I'll tell you what about him, you pickle-faced son of a bitch," Stolle boomed in a voice audible all across the square in front of his residence. "You know what your precious Aryan Prutzmann is? He's a Jew, that's what-nothing but a lousy kike in a fancy uniform!"
"Why, you lying toad!" the panzer commander exclaimed, shocked out of his reticence as the crowd began to buzz.
Stolle shook his bullet head. "Not me, by God! What do you SS bastards use for a motto? 'My honor is loyalty,' that's it. Well, on my honor, it's the truth. It's all over the computers-and Prutzmann's come out and said on the televisor that people aren't allowed to talk about it. If that doesn't make it true, what's likely to? Here." He shoved the newly arrived police officer forward. "Tell him, Norbert."
Norbert told the same story the Gauleiter had, in a higher, thinner voice but with more details. Beside Heinrich, Willi Dorsch listened with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. He had to shake himself to turn back to Heinrich. "That can't be true, can it? But if it's a lie, it's a lie that goes right for the throat.
And if it's a lie, why would Prutzmann deny it like that? Sounds like panic. And what would make him panic like the truth?"
"Beats me." Heinrich started to quote Hitler about the big lie, but checked himself. He remembered how the Kleins had got released after they were seized. One of Prutzmann's relatives had had a baby with the same horrible disease as theirs. Maybe that was a coincidence. Or maybe the Reichsfuhrer — SS really did have Jews in his woodpile, and his enemies were seizing on it.
Where was Susanna? There, only a few meters away. She was looking back toward him as he was looking for her. When their eyes met, he saw her thoughts were going in the same direction as his. Lothar Prutzmann certainly wasn't a Jew in any meaningful sense of the word. But wouldn't it be luscious if the Reichsfuhrer — SS came to grief because people thought he was?
The panzer commander disappeared down into the turret once more, no doubt to get on the radio yet again. Heinrich would have given a good deal to be a fly sitting on the breech of the cannon in there. No such luck. Whatever the officer said, no one else but his fellow panzer crewmen heard it.
He didn't emerge for some little while. When he did, his troubled features proclaimed that he didn't like much of what he'd heard. Even so, he raised the bullhorn to his lips once more. Gamely, he said, " Achtung!What the Gauleiter says is nothing but a pack of lies. Anyone saying such things about the Reichsfuhrer — SS makes himself liable to severe punishment. You have been warned."
Rolf Stolle laughed again. "Yes, you have been warned,Volk of the Reich," he called, mockery dancing on his voice. "And what have you got to say about that?"
He waited. So did Heinrich. Would the people dare, after they'd been warned not to by men with guns?
They dared. "Prutzmann is a kike!" somebody yelled, and in an instant the whole crowd was chanting it: "Prutzmann is a kike! Prutzmann is a kike!"
Heinrich shouted it, too, as loud as anybody. "Prutzmann is a kike! Prutzmann is a kike!" He looked over to Susanna again. She was shouting the same thing, her hands cupped in front of her mouth. When their eyes met this time, they both started to laugh. They went right on chanting, though. Heinrich had never imagined anti-Semitic slogans could be so much fun.
"Prutzmann is a kike! Prutzmann is a kike!" With her mother and sisters, Alicia watched the crowd in front of Rolf Stolle's residence from the safety of her suburban living room. The panzers in the televisor screen looked like toys, though she knew they were real.
"Kike! Kike!" Roxane chortled gleefully. The word was almost a joke to her. She didn't know that she'd ever seen a Jew, let alone that she was one.
Neither did Francesca. "I wonder what the Beast will tell us aboutthis," she said. "She was going on and on about how wonderful the Reichsfuhrer — SS was, and how brave, and how patriotic. If he's really a dirty Jew…"
"Dirty Jew! Dirty Jew!" Roxane didn't seem to care what she shouted, as long as she could make noise.
Alicia didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. She sneaked a glance at Mommy, only to find her mother looking as confused as she was. Everything seemed not just upside down but dropped on its head. Alicia didn't know why Rolf Stolle and his followers thought Prutzmann was a Jew. Why hardly seemed to matter. Of all the things they could call the head of the SS, none struck a harder blow against him. Alicia understood that. She also understood that the Reichsfuhrer — SS was against all the changes the new Fuhrer had made. Did that mean using this weapon against him was all right? She didn't know. That wasn't so easy to figure out.
Over the noise of the crowd, the announcer for the Berlin station spoke in a high, excited voice: "British Prime Minister Charles Lynton calls on the men who made the Putsch to end their lawless behavior at once and release the rightful Fuhrer, Heinz Buckliger. He is joined in this call by the leaders of Norway, Denmark, Sweden, and Finland. The premier of France also agrees in principle."
"Can they do that?" Francesca asked in astonishment. The states that made up the Germanic Empire didn't talk back to the Reich. That was a law of nature. Neither did its little allies. Not talking back kept them from getting swallowed up.
"It means they think what's going on here is really, really wrong," Alicia said.
Mommy nodded. "That's what it means, all right. And they're braver than they used to be, because the new Fuhrer made them freer than they used to be."
"Holland has joined in the call for the rightful Fuhrer 's release. And"-even on this day of one astonishing surprise after another, the announcer's voice rose to a startled squeak-"in Prague, a Czech organization called Unity has declared the independence of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia from what it terms the illegal, immoral, and illegitimate government of Odilo Globocnik and Lothar Prutzmann."
"Oh, my," Mommy said. "That will mean more trouble after they get this trouble settled, if they do get it settled."
"When's Daddy coming home?" Roxane asked.
That question had also crossed Alicia's mind. She thought she'd got a glimpse of him-and maybe even of Aunt Susanna-near the panzer closest to Rolf Stolle's residence. But she hadn't been sure, and the camera had panned away before she could say anything.
"Pumpkin, I don't know," Mommy answered. "He went to the square there on the televisor this morning. Getting there was easy then. Getting away is liable to be harder. I'm not even sure they're letting people leave."
Alicia didn't like the sound of that. She tried not to show how worried she was. She had to stay strong, to help Mommy keep her younger sisters from getting upset. All she could do was wait and watch the televisor.
"Nobody's done any shooting here," her mother said. "As long as it stays like that, everything's all right."
And then, suddenly, the Berlin station announcer's voice rose not in surprise but in anger and alarm and fear: "We are under attack! I say again, we are under attack! There are SS troops outside this building, and they are assaulting it as I speak! They want to cut the Volk off from the truth and-"
There were banging noises, and shouts, and what might have been gunshots. Then the screen went blank. Alicia and her mother exclaimed in dismay. Francesca and Roxane were too little to know what that static and those swirling grays meant. As far as Alicia was concerned, they meant the end of hope.
"Change the channel!" Francesca said.
"Wait," Mommy said. "I want to see what comes on next."
What came on next, after three or four minutes of hisses and scratchy noises that made Alicia wish Mommy would change the channel, was a test pattern. Francesca and Alicia groaned. The test pattern lasted longer than the static had. Alicia's patience was wearing very thin when it finally disappeared.
Horst Witzleben's grim face replaced it. The newscaster said, "The illegal and unauthorized broadcasts formerly coming from this station have now ceased. The public is urged and instructed to disregard them, and to ignore the slanderous insults aimed at the Reichsfuhrer — SS. Regular programming will now resume here, and factual bulletins will be issued as necessary. Good evening."
Regular programming turned out to be a rerun of a game show. Alicia looked at her mother. Shaking her head, Mommy got up and turned off the televisor.
XV
Heinrich Gimpel had yelled, "Down with the SS!" and "We are the Volk!" and "All the world is watching!" and "Prutzmann is a kike!" all day long. He was tired and hungry. Some sandwiches and fruit had got to the crowd, but none had got to him. The SS's armored vehicles hadn't opened fire, but they hadn't left, either. They showed no sign of leaving. Nor was he sure they would let him-or anyone else-go.
The officer commanding the lead panzer had stayed down inside the turret for a while. Now he came out again, bullhorn in hand. "Yell as loud as you please!" he blared. "No one will hear you. No one will care. Your pirate televisor station is in the hands of the State Committee!"
"Liar!" people shouted. They shouted worse things than that, too. The panzer commander let the abuse wash over him as if it didn't matter. More than anything else, that convin
ced Heinrich he was probably telling the truth. If he'd got angry or defensive, he might have been bluffing. As things were, he seemed to think,Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me. And all the sticks and stones here were on his side. The crowd in front of the Gauleiter 's residence had only words.
Still stubborn, Rolf Stolle boomed, "You don't dare let what you do see the light of day. If you were honest, you would have started shooting while the cameras were rolling."
Beside Heinrich, Willi nervously shifted from foot to foot. "I wish he wouldn't say things like that, dammit. He'll give the bastard ideas."
"He's got ideas already. He has to," Heinrich answered. "Don't you think they've been screaming in his ear to open up for hours? He hasn't done it yet. Stolle's working on his conscience."
"Son of a bitch is an SS man," Willi said. "He had it surgically removed, just like the rest of them."
"Ha," Heinrich said: a mournful attempt at a laugh. Many a true word was spoken in jest. He wished Willi hadn't spoken these; they felt altogether too true.
Slowly, slowly, the sun sank toward the northwest. Berlin wasn't far enough north to get white nights in summer, nights where twilight never turned to real darkness, but sunset came late and darkness didn't last long. All the same, Heinrich feared it would last long enough to mask dark deeds.
He looked around for Susanna. When he spied her, their eyes met. She smiled and waved. "We've both chosen our spot," she said. "I think it's a good one."
A good one to get killed in,Heinrich thought. But maybe that was part of what Susanna had meant. She got passionately devoted to causes-and if you weren't passionately devoted to being a Jew these days, you weren't a Jew at all. Even so, Heinrich wanted to live. He had another generation at home to worry about. Susanna hadn't been lucky enough to hook up with anyone with whom she got along.
Looking for hope, he pointed up to the rooftop televisor cameras. "They're still filming, even if the signal isn't going out. The fear that people might see it one of these days may do for a conscience where nothing else will."
In The Presence of mine Enemies Page 50
