The butler – a German, rather than a Gastarbeiter – opened the door when they approached and motioned them into the hallway. “Herr Morgenstern will see you in the drawing room,” he said, as he took their coats. “With your permission, I will escort you there.”
Andrew nodded and allowed the butler to lead the way down a long corridor. A pair of girls in maid uniforms appeared at the end, gazing at the two Americans with wide eyes. They were very definitely Slavs, Andrew noted; their skins and eyes darker than the average German. He couldn’t help noticing that they flinched back when he met their eyes – and that their skirts were far too short for common decency. Technically, raping Gastarbeiter women was illegal, but it was unlikely that anyone would bother to prosecute Arthur Morgenstern, if it came out into the open. He’d had far too many friends in high places even before the uprising.
And he’s probably had them spayed too, he thought, darkly. The bastards just wanted to make sure that no German genes blended with the Untermenschen.
He felt sick as the butler showed them into the drawing room, a splendid chamber that wouldn’t have been out of place in Buckingham Palace. The United States had dismissed the idea of eugenics long ago, but the Reich pursued it with an unblinking zeal that had always creeped him out. God alone knew how many women – including many Germans – had been sterilised for having impure bloodlines. A woman who came to work in the Reich, even on a short-term contract, would be lucky if she could have children after she left. And the amount of effort the Reich had wasted on its search for a homosexual gene…
At least it wastes their resources, he thought. Who knows what else they could have done with the money?
“Mr. Barton,” Arthur Morgenstern said, as he stepped into the room. “I apologise for the delay.”
“It was barely worth noticing,” Andrew assured him. He shook Morgenstern’s hand firmly, unable to avoid noticing that Morgenstern had a very weak handshake. “This is Penny. I think she would appreciate a stroll around the gardens.”
“My wife is currently occupied, but my daughter would be happy to assist,” Morgenstern said. He rang the bell for the butler, then sat down and motioned for Andrew to take one of the comfortable seats. “She is quite looking forward to going to America.”
“I’m sure she is,” Andrew said, as Hilde Morgenstern entered the room. “Penny will be happy to answer any questions she has.”
He shot Penelope a sharp look – he’d warned her that she would be sent out of the room – and then studied Hilde thoughtfully. She didn’t look happy to be going to America. Andrew had no difficulty in recognising the sullen petulant look of a spoiled teenage girl. It was a pity, really. Hilde would have been quite pretty if she’d taken a little more exercise. But then, very little of her life was truly hers. Caught between a milksop of a father and a dominant mother, Hilde had hardly any chance to develop a personality of her own.
She went to the university, Andrew reminded himself, as Hilde practically marched Penelope out of the room. She’s not an idiot.
“I suppose that leads to the first point,” Morgenstern said, once the maids had served coffee and left the room. “When can she leave?”
“We hope to be flying back all non-essential personnel on Sunday,” Andrew said. “The Brits will be dispatching a large aircraft for both sets of embassy staff. I was going to suggest that Hilde accompanied them, with her luggage sent on afterwards. Once she was in London, she would be flown to Washington and then fostered with a suitable family.”
“One that meets our requirements,” Morgenstern said, hastily.
Andrew nodded, careful to keep his distaste off his face. He could understand Morgenstern demanding a wealthy foster family for his daughter, but he’d also stipulated that the family had to be white, ideally of Germanic origin. Andrew had a private suspicion that Hilde was in for a shock, if she did go to a wealthy Germanic family. Several of them were Jewish, while almost all of them hated the Third Reich. She’d be better off with a family that had roots leading all the way back to the War of Independence.
“It shall be arranged to suit her,” Andrew assured him. “Has she picked a university?”
“I’m afraid not,” Morgenstern said. “She… has been reluctant to go.”
Hah, Andrew thought. He’d read that on the girl’s face. And what have you told her?
He put it into words. “How much have you actually told her?”
“That it would be better for her if she was on the other side of the world,” Morgenstern said, shortly. “Her mother agrees with me. But she is rather less keen to leave her friends and go.”
Andrew sighed. “Have her delivered to the embassy on Saturday night and we will make sure she gets on the plane,” he said. If worst came to worst, Hilde could be handcuffed to a chair and transported to the aircraft. It wasn’t something he cared to do – it would definitely raise eyebrows in London and Washington – but it was possible. “Now, how does the provisional government intend to respond to the growing threat from the east?”
Morgenstern frowned. “We’re going to fight, of course,” he said. “Troops are already being deployed to block the threat.”
Andrew had his doubts. The Wehrmacht was no longer the smooth fighting machine it had been, back in the days it had crushed Poland, France and Russia. If some of his sources were to be believed, too many experienced officers had retired to make it easy for the provisional government to pull the military back together. But Morgenstern had access to the very highest levels of power.
Which doesn’t mean anything, he reminded himself. The Mexican Government didn’t realise how bad things were becoming until it was far too late.
He leaned forward. “And what are your chances?”
“Uneven,” Morgenstern said. “Some of the military officers profess high confidence, others are rather more concerned. In any case, our industrial base is in trouble.”
Andrew nodded in agreement. At least two of the German industrial belts lay within easy reach of the SS forces, massing on the far side of the border. They were already being stripped of everything that could be moved, according to satellite observation, but far too much of the machinery wasn’t easy to transport elsewhere. The SS would have problems replacing the trained manpower – the Reich had been running short of trained manpower for years – yet it could be done. If, of course, they had the time.
He kept his opinions to himself as Morgenstern chatted, silently wondering if the provisional government knew the United States had a hold on its Minister of Industries. Volker Schulze was a complete unknown, as far as OSS was concerned; CIA and MI6 didn’t know much more, if anything, about the new Chancellor. Perhaps Schulze was happy to keep a backdoor channel open between America and the provisional government… or, perhaps, he would react badly when he found out that Morgenstern was effectively committing treason. No, there was no effectively about it. Morgenstern was committing treason.
“The United States is ready to offer a loan to the provisional government,” he said, once Morgenstern had finished. “Naturally, we are unwilling to take sides in your internal dispute, but we are prepared to loan you money on very favourable terms.”