Hitler was seated at his desk writing.
“I’m working on my acceptance speech,” Hitler said without looking up. “Give me just a moment, I don’t want to lose the thought.”
“Shall I leave and come back later?”
“No. Just a moment.”
Vierhaus stood as straight as possible, lifting one shoulder to balance the hump on the other side of his back, trying to minimize the grotesque posture caused by his deformity. Hitler looked over at him.
“Sit, sit, Willie.”
“Yes sir.”
Vierhaus sat down. Hitler continued writing, his scratching pen the only sound in the room except for the wind which moaned through the eaves outside. He stopped, the pen poised at his lips, then scribbled out another sentence.
“This will be the most important speech of my life,” he said, staring at the paper. “I must challenge them as never before.”
“Yes, mein Führer”
The little man finally put his pen down and leaned back in his chair, reading what he had written.
“Listen to this, Professor. ‘We must raise the German people by their own labor, their own industry, their own determination and daring, their own perseverance, so they will perceive Germany, not as a gift, but a nation created by themselves.’ What do you think?”
Vierhaus thought for several moments before answering.
“Excellent, Führer, excellent. Powerful. I would consider only one small suggestion.”
Hitler glowered but said nothing.
“Where you say ‘they will perceive Germany,’ perhaps ‘perceive’ is a bit too intellectual. Accept might be more understandable to the public.”
“Humph,” Hitler snorted. “Seems a bit weak, that word accept.” He did not take criticism well but even as he disagreed he drew a line through the word “perceive” and wrote “accept” over it.
As a clinical psychologist, Vierhaus knew and understood Hitler’s contradictions far better than did most of his henchmen. He encouraged them and used them to fuel Hitler’s most outrageous schemes, many of which he himself had subtly planted in the Führer’s mind. Here was a man whose personal sanctuary was modest at best but who had spent millions on the renovation of Brown House. A man who decried the use of alcohol yet drank beer, champagne and wine; who loved sausage but decried eating meat; who hated hunting but eagerly encouraged the murder of his political enemies and Jews; who could coo like a dove one moment and go into fits of rage an instant later, driven out of control by rampant paranoia; who ate meagerly in public but whose cook, a grossly fat man named Willy Kannenberg, produced exquisite seven- and eight-course meals for him; who demanded radical self-discipline yet indulged himself in sweets, fruit and cream cakes and literally drowned his tea and coffee in sugar and cream; who publicly encouraged and rewarded the marriage of purer Aryans yet kept a mistress.
“It is wiser to have a mistress than to be married,” Hitler had told Vierhaus once, then added with a wink, “Of course, this only holds true of an exceptional man.”
Psychotic behavior patterns all, yet Vierhaus accepted them, even encouraged them, for he also saw the other Hitler. Pale, slight, his thin brown hair draped over one eye, here was a man so common he should have been easy to ignore but who was, instead, a man who could not be overlooked in any company. Self-assured, confident, dignified, his flashing, cold-steel eyes signaled the fanatic within and the cutting-edge mind that lurked behind the spurious smile. People were awed in his presence without knowing why.
Vierhaus understood it all. Unlike Goebbels, Goring, Himmler and the rest of the sycophants who agreed blindly with everything Hitler said, Vierhaus recognized both the genius and the madness of the man. He had recognized it nine years before when he had first seen Hitler at Landsberg prison. Here was a political prisoner who was living in relative splendor, his cell decorated with flowers and pictures, a special cot in the corner, his meals specially prepared for him, writing a book which outlined his plan to overthrow the government. Amazing, Vierhaus had thought, this little man with incredible self-assurance around whom power seemed to energize. if they did not put him in a madhouse or assassinate him, he could become a very dangerous man.
Now he marveled at the understatement. What was it Nietzsche had said? All greatness is tinged with madness. How accurate.
Hitler was standing with his back to the door, staring out the window.
“My father never understood the world,” Hitler said with- out turning around. “He accepted everything that was handed to him.” He turned and glared at Vierhaus. “That is what has been wrong with Germany. They have accepted what was handed to them. But they are learning. Yes, Willie?”
“Yes, mein Führer, they are learning..”
Hitler smiled and stamped his foot on the floor.
“Chancellor, Willie. I am Chancellor of Germany.”
Vierhaus bowed slightly. “And I salute you, Chancellor Hitler.”
“Chancellor Hitler,” Hitler echoed..
He poured himself a cup of coffee, doused it with cream and sugar and gestured to Vierhaus to join him.
“I have a thought to share with you,” Vierhaus said very softly as he fixed his coffee.
“Not this morning,” Hitler said quickly. “You know the rule, Willie, no business at the Berghof. It can wait until we are back in Munich on Monday.”
“Of course, of course,” the mind doctor answered quickly. “I just thought it would be something For you to mull over. I admit it is a rather daring plan but . . .“ and then he sank the hook for he knew just how to lure the little man into his net, “it could resolve the Communist problem.’’
Hitler sat down at his desk and stared at Vierhaus.
“By God, you are a devious one, Willie,” he said. “Perhaps that is why we get along so well.”
“Danke, mein Fuhrer” Vierhaus said with a grin.
“And what do you suggest, Herr Doctor, that we kill all the seventy-seven communists in Parliament? Hmm?” He chuckled and sipped his coffee.
“Yes,” Vierhaus said, leaning forward and speaking almost in a whisper. “But first we must have u reason to get rid of them.”
Hitler stopped smiling. His jaw tightened and his eyes turned snakelike.
“And what would that reason be?”
Vierhaus stared straight into his eyes.
“Burn the Reichstag,” he said.
Hitler looked perplexed for several moments, then his lips curved into a smile.
“You are a mad one, Willie,” he said.
“I am deadly serious.”
“Burn the Reichstag!”
“Think about it, mein Fuhrer, “Vierhaus continued, his voice still almost a whisper. “It is to all Germans the most sacred building in Germany. Right now, the Communists are the strongest party in the country. If the Reichstag were put to the torch and the Communists were blamed for it, the people would be outraged. Excuse enough to bring the party down once and for all. Then focus attention on the Brown House as the new seat of government. You rid yourself of the Reds, throw the parliament into chaos