Volk

by Piers Anthony

  “I will not promise. I am not ready to commit to marriage.”

  “Let me persuade you!” She tugged at his hand.

  “How do you know I wouldn’t lie to you, as men do, to obtain your body without marriage?”

  She laughed. “The day you tell a lie, Ernst, the sky will crash about our heads.”

  He laughed too, but not much. “I hope never to test it. But too much is unknown. If I were ready and able to marry now, I would consider your proposal. But I am not, so I will not. Perhaps some later day I will. I do like you, Krista, and the thought of possessing your body threatens to drive me mad. But this is not the time.”

  She hesitated, then made a decision. “Then I will give it to you without your commitment. It is not right to tease you. Only keep me in mind, when—”

  “No. That would be a tacit commitment.”

  “Then without any understanding at all,” she said. “Please, Ernst—”

  “You don’t want to do this,” he told her. “You want only my commitment, express or implied, and you know it will be there if I do this. If I marry you, then I will expect the delight of your body, and I do long for that delight. But I can not do this now. I will instead give you all the commitment possible for me now: I will keep you first in mind for marriage.”

  “I accept that.” She caught his hand once again.

  “No more hands,” he said. “I give you this commitment without touching your body.”

  “Without?” Her eyes were big.

  “Without. Now put yourself back together.”

  She proceeded to do that, seeming relieved. “I do love you, Ernst, more than ever now.”

  “I find you fascinating, but—”

  She quickly put her finger against his lips. “That much is enough.”

  They resumed their walk. Ernst hoped never to be tempted this strongly again. Krista’s offer had been almost enough to destroy his better judgment.

  Why was she so determined to have this commitment? She had had a crush on him when she was fifteen, but that should have passed. She certainly had discovered what effect her new body had on men; she had demonstrated uncanny competence in soliciting his desire. She could have another man if she wanted. At this stage Ernst did not see himself as the best of prospects. Yet she had fastened on him instantly and persistently. Perhaps that was part of his reason for demurring; he distrusted what he did not understand, and he did not fathom her motive. Surely she did like him, and did want to marry him, and would deliver on any promise relating to it that she made. But that could not be the whole story.

  He did not think she would lie to him if he asked her the right question. But she was capable of avoiding that question. He would have to figure out what it was. Then he could decide.

  • • •

  Ernst was afraid that he would be assigned to the SS Regiment “Liebstandarte Adolf Hitler” in Berlin. That unit had a bad reputation. It had been commanded by Sepp Dietrich, but had been so inefficiently run that it was completely lacking in military discipline. The inspector of the SS VT, Major General Hauser, was a former Wehrmacht General, a traditional Prussian soldier who supported proper training and competence. But he had found it hard to implement his policies in the face of Dietrich’s resistance. It was common gossip among the troops that Berlin was fit only for misfits.

  But to Ernst’s great relief he was assigned to the “Deutschland” regiment in Munich. This was commanded by Major Felix Steiner, one of the more remarkable officers in the SS. He had been a member of a Storm battalion in the World War: one of the elite units pulled from the front lines to break the deadly cycle of trench warfare. He was convinced that the future belonged to special groups which could strike with lightning-like rapidity and force, fragmenting the opposition, and then destroy the dislocated fragments. He had resigned from the Wehrmacht in the face of opposition to his theories and come to the SS, which had been starved for good officers. He had instituted his theories of training and command there with what was beginning to look like remarkable success. Ernst knew just enough of the Major’s policies to be excited.

  Steiner had done away with barracks drill, concentrating instead on athletics. He was turning his soldiers into cross-country experts of the hunter-athlete type. He had reduced the distinctions between enlisted men and officers, fostering camaraderie between them in the face of hardship. Unit Spirit was highly emphasized. Men and officers competed together. Doors were left open in the barracks. All future officers had to serve two years in the ranks, as Ernst himself was doing. Certainly they would not forget the concerns of the ordinary soldiers.

  Ernst threw himself into the training with a will. He soon found himself in effective charge of a battle group, which was the basic unit of Steiner’s force. Such groups were supposed to be well versed in military teamwork, but still capable of functioning as regiments. The theory seemed good to Ernst, but it was apparent that the unit—indeed, all of the SS VT—suffered from a lack of officers. In the past recruitment had been severely limited, because of the competitive influence of the Wehrmacht, and most of its recruits had come from rural areas. The same was true of its officers at every level. The units compensated for this with fanatical devotion and unity, but the lack was still felt. Thus anyone with good potential promptly rose to responsibility, and Ernst quickly became important.

  Instead of the Wehrmacht’s regulation rifles, they trained with more mobile and effective weapons, such as submachine guns, hand grenades and explosives. They dressed in camouflage instead of regulation field service uniforms. And they learned how to deploy rapidly. They were able to cover three kilometers in full gear in twenty minutes. That made the eyes of conventional units pop.

  There was other things Ernst liked about Major Steiner, though he could not say so. The man gave Heinrich Himmler no respect, refused to marry, and refused to leave the Church. Ernst knew that Himmler was second only to Hitler in importance, but he was not a tenth the man Hitler was. Himmler was a pompous functionary, barely competent, and Ernst hoped never to encounter him directly. As for marriage—it was indeed expected of officers, but they had to choose approved brides, which greatly limited the romantic aspect. Ernst had been freshly reminded of this by Krista’s proposal. Sometimes marriage just wasn’t right for a man, and it was good to see a key officer asserting himself in this manner. Finally the matter of the Church: there were no harassing call-outs here. How could there be, when the Major openly espoused his Church membership?

  So Ernst really liked this unit, and did all he could to make it a success.

  Then Major Steiner summoned Ernst to his presence. “I have what I hope is not bad news for you, candidate,” he said grimly. “You have been directed to appear before Reinhard Heydrich himself. The papers for your reassignment are now being processed.”

  “But I have done nothing!” Ernst protested, horrified.

  “You have done everything to be the best SS soldier in my command,” Steiner responded. “This I have told the Commander. I have begged him to allow you to complete your training with me. He will not relent. Perhaps he has a special assignment for you. I am not allowed to inquire.”

  “A special assignment,” Ernst echoed. But what he felt was dread.

  Steiner stood and proffered his hand. Silently, they shook hands.

  • • •

  Reinhard Heydrich was an impressive figure, tall and fit. His nose was long, his forehead high, his mouth was wide, his lips full, and his eyes were small and restless, yet possessed of uncanny power when they fell on a person. His voice was high and his speech staccato, almost nervous. He seemed hardly ever to complete a sentence, yet his meaning was quite clear. Ernst was awed by him.

  “You were in America,” Heydrich said, gesturing in a vaguely westward direction. His hands were long and slender, almost spiderlike in their thinness, but his eyes were predatory. Ernst’s feeling of dread intensified. “You have friends there?”

  So that was it! His year overseas
had made him suspect. “Yes.” Ernst would not have tried to lie, even if he had thought he could get away with it. This man would not be asking questions to which he did not already know the answers.

  “Who?”

  “Only one, sir, actually. An American who was open minded about foreigners. His name was Lane Dowling.”

  “No women?”

  Ernst allowed himself a limited smile. “None there, sir. The American had a girlfriend whom I got to know, but my own girl is German.”

  “Name them.”

  “The American’s girl was named Quality Smith. Mine is Krista—”

  “What kind of name is that? Quality?”

  “She is a Quaker. A small religious sect, of pacifist inclination. I believe that some of their names reflect such concerns.”

  Heydrich seemed to ponder a moment, as if finding this information significant. “How do you feel about the Jews?” he inquired abruptly.

  So this related to the Jews! Ernst’s American contact with them must have returned to haunt him. “Sir, I am a loyal German and Nazi.”

  Heydrich smiled. “You are evasive. Answer in detail.”

  He was stuck for it. “I have no special feeling about the Jews. I knew some in America, and they appeared to be like ordinary people. I did not inquire more closely.”

  “You do not hate Jews?” Heydrich asked sharply.

  “I neither love nor hate them, sir.”

  “Then how can you be a good Nazi?” Heydrich barked.

  Shaken, Ernst fell back on his most private faith. “My believe in Nazism is independent of the existence of Jews. I believe in the Nazi principles of racial purity, anti-Communism, subservience of the individual to the needs of the state, and personal devotion to the Führer. As a troop leader in the Hitler Youth I met the great man himself, and he spoke to me and shook my hand. I watched Triumph of the Will, the greatest motion picture of all time, the perfect expression of the Nazi way. Since then, in times of private stress or doubt, I have used the swastika as my object of meditation, and it has given me spiritual renewal. It is to my mind an icon of God and a symbol of the Volk, the true spirit of the German people. It helped me cope with the strange customs of the Americans.” He drew out the silver swastika he always wore.

  “You refused to renounce the Church. You still believe in a Christian God.” It was an accusation.

  “I believe that God expresses His will through Hitler and the Nazi party. I see no need to renounce the Church, which also supports God and therefore the things of God, including the Nazi party.”

  “So you are saying you would not renounce the Church because that would have implied a partial renunciation of Hitler?”

  “To a degree, sir. But I also felt that a true Nazi will not allow himself to be browbeaten by inconsequentials. I and the other Candidates were serving loyally; our Church membership or lack of it had no bearing on that.”

  “You would have capitulated, if it had not been for the others,” Heydrich said. “You were trying to spare them.”

  The man had uncanny insight. “It is true.”

  “Your woman. Why is she so eager?”

  Was there nothing this man did not know? “I am in doubt.”

  “Could she have Jewish ancestry?”

  Ernst was startled. That had never occurred to him, but it could indeed explain Krista’s attitude. If there were a suspicion of Jewishness, to be hidden behind the status of being an officer’s wife—but no. It did not make sense. Because any woman an officer married would be subject to the most intense scrutiny, her family tree explored for six generations back. The prospect of marriage would increase the risk of discovery, not decrease it. “I doubt it, sir.”

  “But you are not sure. So you declined to marry her, until it is known.”

  “I declined to commit to marry her because I am not at the stage at which marriage is an option for me.”

  “But if she were a Jew—”

  Ernst caught on. “She is not.”

  “How so suddenly sure?”

  “Because you would not be teasing me, cat and mouse, if you did not know. You have traced her lineage and exonerated her. But I will answer: I would not condemn her were she a Jew, but I would not marry her.”

  “If the machine gun were in your hands, and Jews before you, would you fire?”

  “I would if so ordered. But that would be a task not at all to my liking.”

  “There does seem to be a softness in you concerning Jews. What would you have us do with them?”

  “I would have us facilitate their departure from Germany. I see no reason to harm them.”

  “What of the Gypsies?”

  “They are harmless, but they too should leave.”

  Heydrich’s eyes bore piercingly at him. “The fourth generation, on her mother’s side. The suspicion of Gypsism, unconfirmed.”

  Again Ernst was startled. “Krista?”

  “Would you marry a Gypsy?”

  So that was what made Krista so anxious! She feared that she might have some Gypsy ancestry, and that it would make her unsuitable for a good marriage. So she wanted to seal the marriage first. “The suspicion might be unfounded.”

  “It might. There seems to be no way to tell, given the quality of the old records. It could be a false alarm. In any event, there is no need for anyone to know. You can marry her if you choose.”

  Ernst realized that the man’s ploy was not finished. “What do you want of me?”

  Heydrich smiled, and this time it seemed genuine. “Merely your loyalty.”

  “I am loyal to the Führer and to the—”

  “Of course. And to me. For the sake of that lovely girl.”

  Now Ernst remembered something else that had been whispered about Heydrich. He liked to get evil information on his subordinates—perhaps on his superiors too—with which to blackmail them, so that they could not do any evil to Heydrich. That way the man could trust his people to serve his interest. He had gone to the trouble to find Ernst’s vulnerability—which Ernst himself had not known about, before this interview.

  “You have an assignment for me,” Ernst said, realizing that this was why he had been summoned here. He felt relief rather than dread, now.

  “You are quick to comprehend. That is one reason I selected you.”

  Ernst nodded. It was amazing that it was not his ability or dedication that had qualified him for Heydrich’s attention, but his hidden vulnerability. Yet this was a far better outcome than he had feared.

  “You speak Spanish.”

  “German, English, Spanish,” Ernst agreed. “I am not truly expert in—”

  “It will do. What do you know of Admiral Canaris?”

  Yet another surprise. What could any mission of his have to do with that eminent person? “He is head of the Abwehr, the military intelligence service. I am sure he is qualified and competent.”

  “Certainly. But is he completely loyal to the cause?”

  “I would not presume to question the loyalty of an admiral!”

  “Nor would I,” Heydrich responded easily. “But it seems that it does fall on me to verify it. For that I need a skilled, trustworthy, and unknown agent. One who speaks Spanish. One who is ultimately loyal to me.”

  “But the Admiral—” Ernst protested, aghast.

  Heydrich leaned forward, and his eyes were mesmeric in their intensity. “I know the Admiral, and respect him personally. I was once under his command, on a training vessel in the Navy.”

  Ernst was suffering dawning horror. “And you were expelled from the Navy—”

  Heydrich laughed. “I left the navy, but through no doing of Admiral Canaris’s. He was a good and fair commander, and he taught me much. Perhaps I am now in Intelligence because of him. We are friends. But there is a question which must be resolved. Were there any betrayal by any person in a position as critical as his, the security of the Reich itself could be seriously compromised. We can not allow any chance of that. We must be certain.
”

  “But I have no notion—I could not—”

  “Canaris is a nice man,” Heydrich continued relentlessly. “He tends to be easygoing and gentle, and he has too great an affinity for peace to be entirely trustworthy in the eyes of some.” His eyes flicked upward, and Ernst felt a chill, realizing that the man was obliquely referring to his own superiors, Himmler or Hitler himself. This was truly critical! “But he is too important to be challenged without ironclad evidence against him. So we must seek that evidence, to convict him or to clear him beyond doubt.”

  Now those hawk-like eyes bore on Ernst again. “You will be my agent in this matter. I hope you are able to exonerate my friend.” But those eyes were as cold as those of the death’s head itself. The man wanted the truth, whatever it was, and he would act on it.

  And Ernst would have to get that truth.

  CHAPTER 5

  ENGLAND

  Lane felt unbearably lonely after leaving Quality. He wished there had been some other way. But he had known her attitude about violence and war from the outset, so in that sense he had brought it on himself. It was as if he had now separated from his better self.

  His flight testing was in Ottawa. First he had to pass an extremely thorough physical examination. He had never enjoyed such things, but knew he would do well, because he was in excellent health. He was correct.

  They brought him to an American-built plane, a bright yellow Harvard. This was heavier and faster than anything he had flown before; its top speed was 210 miles per hour, and it had wing flaps.

  The instructor saw him gazing at it. “Think you can handle it, mate?”

  “Oh, yes,” Lane said quickly. “But not letter perfect.”

  “That’s why I’m along. I’ll take her up, then you’ll try it. If you get confused, don’t bluff; tell me. We want to come down safely too, you know.”

  Lane suspected that the man thought he would be incompetent. He hoped to refute that. But he could indeed make mistakes. He would much rather suffer embarrassment than a crash.

  The plane was equipped with duel controls, so that the trainer could take over at any moment. He took off, leveled it, and turned to Lane. “Take her, mate.”