"Eating habits?"
"I ask because of lunch," Hess confided.
Begg gave every appearance of insouciance as he replied. "A plate of weisswьrst and a pint or two of your marvelous beer will suit us down to the ground, old chap."
Hess frowned. "Both Alf"-he coughed, anxious to let the investigators know he was on such intimate terms with Hitler-"I mean Herr Hitler and myself are convinced vegans. We are firmly opposed to the cruel treatment of animals and understand the dangers to health involved in eating their slaughtered meat." He shuddered. "Adolf Hitler is a man of considerable feeling. He would not harm a fly, let alone another human being. I hope you don't judge us all by Berlin decadence or aggression, which is largely a foreign and alien invention, anyway."
As they talked, they strolled through the passenger foyer of the great modern aerodrome. Over a dozen pairs of steel masts held ships, or awaited vessels from all over southern and eastern Europe. The 'drome was one of Munich's very latest monuments to municipal pride.
The weather was much improved and a warm, golden sun was reflected in the silvery hulls of the airships. Through massing white clouds, rays of sunlight struck the distant outlines of Munich herself, her twisted gables and glittering spires. As they reached the exit, Begg was delighted to see Dolly waiting for them at the curbside.
Dolly was Begg's massive, supercharged Duesenberg touring car, custom-made, powered by a V-12 engine tuned to take the great automobile up to two hundred miles an hour if necessary.
Sinclair slipped discreetly into the shadows of the backseats, leaving Hess to sit next to Begg as the detective engaged the engine and gears. With a mighty purring roar, they were soon on their way to Munich, following Hess's precise directions. In what seemed a quixotic request, Begg asked Hess to give him a quick tour of the city and take them to the Nazi HQ, familiarly known as the Brown House, before lunch. Knowing the ways of English detectives to be mysterious and circuitous, Hess did not hesitate in obeying.
Sinclair had visited the city several times and had an affection for it, but Begg knew Berlin much better. He remarked on Munich's pleasant architecture, the broad tree-lined avenues and parks, her well-appointed public galleries and museums, her extraordinary Grimmelshausen Museum, which warned of the horrors of war, the little landing fields, right on the edge of the city, where the autogyro buses came and went.
Hess had lived here for much of his life. He pointed out the various sights. Munich was a busy provincial metropolis with an excellent public transport system, chiefly trams and buses, though increasingly the autogyro companies were taking business from the main lines. As her many churches indicated, she was predominantly Catholic by religion. Her almost Italian embrace of modernity was striking, especially since so much of her new architecture was in the vein of Gaudi and the Viennese moderns. The Nazis, Hess informed them primly, would tear down all decadent architecture and replace it with impressive classical designs. Meanwhile the old Bavarian capital had the baroque quaintness usually associated with German provinces, tributes to the taste and vision of her princes and governors.
Dolly was soon purring through the old quarter of the city, making a circuit of the huge, covered market, then driving along another avenue, sparsely occupied by large mansions and official buildings, some flying the flags of other nations. Here Hess gave the order to stop. They had arrived at the Brown House, the N.S.D.A.P. head-quarters. The respectable surroundings made one think twice about the party's violent image. The huge silk Nazi "hooked cross" banners were very striking as they stirred in the faint, westerly breeze.
Once at the Brown House, Hess's status was confirmed. Smartly uniformed SA men in their odd ski-cap headgear and brown uniforms sprang to open the doors of the car, and the three occupants were greeted with a barrage of "Heil Hitlers" and lifted arms, as they entered the busy vestibule decorated in the very latest "Folkic" style. Bustling as it was, the place had a mournful, depressed quality, as if everyone in it grieved for their leader's loss and feared for his safety in the face of slander and scandal.
Now Hess became a different man. He took on the authority and manner of a high-ranking officer as he led the two Englishmen through the simple, quasi-rustic foyer and up the low, wide staircase.
"This is the Fьhrer's own office."
Hess guided them into a large, triangular room dominated by a portrait of Hitler himself, his hands in Napoleonic pose, his stern, cool eyes fixed on the problems of the Nation and those who would threaten Germany's security again. Outside there appeared to be a large amount of building work going on.
"We are making a barracks for the SA boys," explained Hess. "This place, of course, is a natural target for Sozie attack." Sozie was the slang for Socialist, just as Nazi was slang for National Socialist. The street clashes between the two groups had become endemic and notorious throughout Germany.
"I'd be obliged, Herr Hess," said Begg, "if you wouldn't mind telling us again exactly what you know about the circumstances surrounding the discovery of poor Frдulein Raubal's body. I know you were the first party member on the scene."
"Naturally the Winters called me first," agreed Hess. His black, bushy eyebrows twitched as if with a life of their own. He pulled at his earlobes and, grinding his teeth, stared into a middle distance where he seemed to be looking at a cinema screen presenting the events he described.
"Geli is Alf's ward, you know. His niece. His half sister's child. When he moved into his new apartment in Prinzregensburgstrasse he needed someone to look after the place, so he invited his sister to come and be his housekeeper. He insisted she bring her daughter Geli, too. He was, I will admit, a little infatuated, but more in the way a childless man might yearn for a daughter. He doted on the girl. He bought her whatever she wanted. He paid for drama lessons. Singing lessons. Dancing lessons. He took her with him everywhere he went."
"Even to political meetings?" asked Begg, making a note.
"Even to those. His career had begun to prosper. The SA were glad to see him with a girl from time to time. He paid for the singing lessons, because she had a talent for operetta, which Adolf loves. Of course there were more puritanical party comrades, such as Heinrich Himmler, who disapproved of this relationship. Himmler felt it detracted from Hitler's seriousness, and it made him vulnerable to the anti-Nazi press. There were vile rumors, of course, but those are always attached to successful politicans.
"Geli caused the odd scene in public, and Alf seemed unable to control her. Alf knew how Himmler felt, but he ignored him. Geli fired his political engine, he told Himmler. Without Geli he could not give the speeches which swayed the crowds.
"But it was not only Himmler who noticed," Hess said, "how much less the rich ladies would give to party funds when they saw their beloved Herr Hitler, who on other occasions had laid his head in their laps, with his niece. They had influence over their husbands. And the industrialists Adolf wanted to win over were not too sure about a man who took his niece everywhere he went.
"I know there were strong arguments in this very room. Once Adolf became so incensed by what he said was interference in his private life that he fell to the floor and began to tear at the carpet with his teeth. He can be very wearing sometimes. That is why few of us ever wish to upset him…"
"The carpet?" declared Sinclair. "With his teeth?"
"I wasn't there on that occasion, but Rцhm, Strasser, and Doctor Gцbbels were, as I recall."
"You have told us about Captain Rцhm, but have not explained about Herr Strasser and Doctor Gцbbels."
"Personally, I prefer Rцhm, for all his predilections. He is at least an honest soldier and as loyal to Hitler as I am. Gregor Strasser is the leader of our party in the Reichstag. He's a bit of a left-winger. A very distinguished man, but rather at odds with Adolf over the direction of the party. Strasser is more socialist than nationalist. Doctor Gцbbels is the intellectual of the party. A frail little man with a club-foot. He represents what I call 'the Berlin faction'-those who have more recently attached themselves to our party's destiny."