Around noon, the surgeon arrives at the hospital. The operation begins straightaway.
At a quarter past twelve, Frank bites the bullet and rings Hitler. As expected, the Führer is not happy. The worst bit is when Frank has to admit that Heydrich drove around town in an unarmored Mercedes convertible without bodyguards. At the other end of the line, Hitler screams, just for a change. The contents of the Führer’s ravings can be divided into two parts: first, that pack of dogs that they call the Czech people are going to pay dearly for this. Second: How could Heydrich, the best of them all, a man of such importance for the good of the Reich—the whole Reich, you understand—how could he be cretinous enough to be guilty of such self-neglect? Yes, guilty! It’s very simple. They must immediately:
1.
Shoot ten thousand Czechs.
2.
Offer one million Reichsmarks as a reward for any information leading to the criminals’ arrests.
Hitler has always been fond of figures. And, where possible, nice round figures.
In the afternoon, Gabčík—accompanied by Libena, because a couple always looks less suspicious than a man on his own—goes out to buy a Tyrolean hat. It’s a little green hat with a pheasant feather. He does this to look more German. And this hasty disguise works better than he could have hoped: a uniformed SS guard calls him over and asks for a light. Ceremoniously, Gabčík takes out his lighter and touches it to the German’s cigarette.
I’m going to light one too. I feel a bit like a graphomanic depressive, roaming around Prague. I think I’ll take a pause here.
But only a short pause. We have to get through this Wednesday.
The man in charge of the inquest is Commissioner Pannwitz: the black-coated man glimpsed earlier in the hospital, sent by the Gestapo to find out the news. Judging by the clues left at the crime scene—a Sten, a bag containing an English-made antitank bomb—there is nothing very mysterious about the origin of the attack: London. Pannwitz makes his report to Frank, who calls Hitler back. The internal Resistance is not responsible. Frank advises against mass reprisals because they would suggest that the local population was largely opposed to the Germans. Executing individuals suspected of the crime, or of complicity—and their families, for good measure—would seem the best way of putting the event back in its true perspective: an individual action, organized abroad. Above all, they must not let the public form the unpleasant impression that the attack is an expression of national revolt. Surprisingly, Hitler seems more or less convinced by this argument in favor of moderation. The mass reprisals are put on hold for the time being. However, as soon as he puts the phone down, Hitler starts ranting at Himmler. So that’s how it is, eh? The Czechs don’t like Heydrich? Well, we’ll find them someone worse! At this point, obviously, he needs some time to reflect, because finding someone worse than Heydrich is no easy task. Hitler and Himmler rack their brains. There are a few high-ranking Waffen-SS leaders who might be suitable for organizing a good slaughter, but they’re on the Eastern Front—and in the spring of 1942 they’ve got their hands full. In the end, they fall back on Kurt Dalüge because he happens to be in Prague already, for medical reasons. Ironically, Dalüge—the chief of the Reich’s regular police, and just promoted to Oberstgruppenführer—is one of Heydrich’s direct rivals, although he has nothing like the same stature. Heydrich refers to him only as “the moron.” If the Blond Beast regains consciousness, he is not going to be pleased. As soon as he’s back on his feet, they must think about promoting him.
He regains consciousness. The operation has gone well. The German surgeon is quietly optimistic. It’s true that they had to remove the spleen, but there are no apparent complications. The only slightly surprising discovery was some tufts of hair, which were inside the wound and all over his body. It took the doctors a while to figure out where they came from: the Mercedes’s leather seats, ripped open by the explosion, were stuffed with horsehair. In the X-ray department, they were worried that there might be small fragments of metal lodged in some vital organs. But there’s nothing, and the German elite in Prague can begin to breathe again. Lina, who wasn’t told about the attack until three p.m., is at his bedside. Still groggy, he speaks to her in a weak voice: “Take care of our children.” Right now, he doesn’t seem very sure about his future.
Aunt Moravec is ecstatic. She bursts into the concierge’s apartment and asks: “Have you heard about Heydrich?” Yes, they’ve heard: it’s all they’re talking about on the radio. But they have also broadcast the serial number of the second bicycle, abandoned at the scene of the crime. Her bicycle. They forgot to scratch it out. Her happy mood is instantly extinguished and replaced by bitter reproach. Ashen-faced, she curses the men for their negligence. But she still firmly intends to help them. Aunt Moravec is a woman of action and now is not the time for self-pity. She doesn’t know where they are; she must find them. Indefatigable, she leaves.
All over town, they are plastering the bilingual red posters to the walls—the posters they use whenever they need to proclaim something to the local population. There are many such posters, but this one will undoubtedly remain the highlight of the collection. It says:
1. IN PRAGUE ON MAY 27, 1942, THERE WAS AN ATTACK ON THE INTERIM REICHSPROTEKTOR, SS OBERGRUPPENFÜHRER HEYDRICH.
For information leading to the arrest of the perpetrators, there will be a reward of ten million crowns. Whoever shelters these criminals, or helps them, or who, having any knowledge of them, does not denounce them, will be shot, along with his entire family.
2. A state of emergency has been declared in the Oberlandrat region of Prague. The state of emergency will be proclaimed by the reading of this declaration on the radio. The following measures have been decided:
1. All civilians, without exception, are forbidden to go out on the streets between 9:00 p.m. on May 27 and 6:00 a.m. on May 28;
2. All bars and restaurants, all cinemas, theaters, and other places of entertainment are to be closed, and all traffic on public highways stopped during these hours;
3. Whoever, in contradiction of this order, is found on the street between these hours will be shot if they do not stop at the first command;
4. Further measures are anticipated and, if necessary, will be announced on the radio.
At 4:30 p.m. this declaration is read out on German radio. From 5:00, Czech radio begins to broadcast it every thirty minutes; from 7:40, every ten minutes; and from 8:20 until 9:00, every five minutes. I suppose anyone who lived through this day in Prague—if they are still alive—would be able to recite the entire text by heart. At 9:30 the state of emergency is extended throughout the Protectorate. Meanwhile, Himmler has called Frank to confirm Hitler’s new orders: the hundred most important people imprisoned as hostages since Heydrich’s arrival the previous October are to be executed.