I nodded vaguely; Ferdinand Marian was the actor who’d played the Jew Süss, in the film of the same name.
“But it’s exactly the same on Wilhelmstrasse. Everyone scrabbling to get the leader’s attention. Yes, they’re just like actresses, some of these people, with Bormann and Speer the very worst of them all. You’ve done well, Gunther. Very well indeed. I can’t tell you how pleased I am.”
“Thank you, sir.” I was already looking at the exit, wondering when I might finally escape the doctor’s pleasure and go home to my own apartment. After driving all morning from Munich, I was tired. Especially following a sleepless night in bed with Dalia. As a lover she was proving to be quite insatiable.
“You’re wasted in the War Crimes Bureau, Gunther. You should come and work for me here. I need someone resourceful. Someone who can think for himself. I suppose that’s what’s held you back in your chosen career. I mean, it’s very difficult to get on when you’re so independently minded as you are. But I can use that. And now I come to think of it, there’s one more job I need you to do for me. Yes, I’m afraid you can’t go and see your new wife quite yet. Sorry about that, but this is much more urgent. You might even say that this is your fault — the result of your earlier good work. That might well be unfair. But really it can’t be helped. Yes, this has to be sorted out as soon as possible.” He looked at his watch. “The sooner the better.
“Now that Mussolini has gone — yes, I’m afraid so, Gunther, the Duce has resigned and Badoglio has taken over in Italy. That’s what all the fuss is about. Out there. In the corridors of power, so to speak. Why everyone is running around like headless turkeys. The whole situation is still very obscure. I’ve just got back from the leader’s GHQ in Rastenburg, where I spent hours in conference with him. Anyway, everything is in a state of flux here, in Italy of course, and in Croatia. The Croatian Poglavnik, Ante Pavelic, is already here in Berlin to seek assurances from von Ribbentrop. Not that von Ribbentrop could give anyone an assurance about anything very much. I’m afraid that our illustrious foreign minister is diplomatically illiterate and couldn’t manage to reassure a simple schoolboy if his pockets were full of lollipops.”
I took a deep breath before prompting him. All I really wanted to do now was go home. “So, what’s this job you want me to do for you, sir?”
“Oh, yes. Well, this is our problem, do you see? The one we created just a few days ago in this very office, you and I. Yes, I freely admit, this is my fault, too. But in my own defense, Gunther, I should say that this was your idea. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you did come up with the idea. The Poglavnik has brought some of his people with him. His head of internal security, Eugen Kvaternik; Lorkovic, his German liaison minister; Peric, his foreign minister; and various bodyguards and Ustaše officers. And here’s the real hair in the soup. It seems that one of these officers is none other than our old friend Colonel Dragan. Yes, that’s right. Dalia’s father. Father — what’s his name?”
“Father Ladislaus. He’s here in Berlin? Christ, how did that happen?”
“It’s all von Ribbentrop’s fault. He just went ahead and issued everyone in the Poglavnik’s delegation with a visa without consulting anyone in this ministry, or even the Ministry of the Interior. Well, you’d have to find someone in the Ministry of the Interior, I suppose. Anyway, he’s here now and it seems more than likely he’ll try and make contact with Dalia, if he can, don’t you think? I’ve already called security down at the film studios to make sure he’s not allowed through the gate.”
“He won’t go to the studio,” I said. “He won’t need to. Her address in Griebnitzsee was on the letter I gave to the colonel when I met him, at Jasenovac. I can’t imagine he’d have lost it. When I gave him the letter he put it in his breast pocket, over his heart.”
“That is unfortunate.”
“The house has got to be his first port of call.”
“I can see you understand the problem. I knew you would. So it’s up to you now to make sure he doesn’t ever see her. After all, he is supposed to be dead. At least that’s what you’ve told her, isn’t it? That the Father Abbot from the monastery in Banja Luka told you that he was killed in the war by Serbs, or something? It wouldn’t do at all if they met now. Not after all the effort we’ve been to in bringing her back to Berlin. Chances are she’d go straight back to Switzerland. And then we’d be back to square one.”
I nodded. I could already hear the way that Goebbels would spin this if ever Dalia came to demand an explanation of him:
“I can understand why you’re upset about this, Dalia. But you mustn’t blame me. And you mustn’t even think of going back to Switzerland. The fact is, that awful fellow Bernhard Gunther has lied to us both. He told me your father was dead, too. I’ve no idea why he did that. It’s inexcusable, I agree, but I had nothing to do with it, you must believe me.”
“Drive over to the house in Griebnitzsee, for a start, and make damn sure Colonel Dragan doesn’t get through the fucking door. Tell Dalia he’s an impostor, tell her he’s an assassin — tell her anything you damn well like and shoot him if you have to, but just make sure the two of them never meet. If they do, she’ll know we’ve both lied to her. You and me. And no amount of special pleading will fix that, Gunther. He is her father, after all, even if he is a psychopath.”
“Where is the Croatian delegation staying?”
“All over the city. Pavelic and Kvaternik are at the Adlon with some of the bodyguards. Peric is at the embassy. Most of the Ustaše officers are at the Villa Minoux, in Wannsee. But a few, including Dalia’s papa, are staying with the Grand Mufti at his villa in Goethestrasse.”
“Jesus, that’s halfway to Babelsberg.”
“No doubt he and the mufti are comparing notes on this SS regiment of Bosnian Muslims that Haj Amin has persuaded Himmler to set up so they can go and murder some more Jews. What are they called?”
“The Handschar,” I said.
“Crazy, if you ask me, but when did something like common sense ever stop Himmler? Well? Have you any bright ideas? About what to do about this unconscionable mess we’ve managed to make?”
“I think the best thing would be if I got her out of town for a few days. Until the delegation from Croatia has left Berlin.”
“That’s an excellent idea. But not Switzerland, eh? We’ve only just got her back. Somewhere in Germany would be best. But where would you suggest?”
“It had better not be in Berlin. Dalia’s too famous to put up in any Berlin hotel. Why can’t you take her to Rastenburg?”
“You are joking, aren’t you?”
“Sorry.” I thought for a minute. “Look, don’t you have a safe house? Somewhere you go when you don’t want to be found?”
“I’m a married man, with six children. Seven if you count my wife’s son, Harald. What kind of man do you take me for, Gunther?”
“I could always take her to my own flat.”
“No, I don’t think that would be appropriate, do you?” He thought for a minute. “Actually I do know a place. There’s a small cottage I own, near the Potsdam Forest in Wirtshaus Moorlake, a little way southwest of Pfaueninsel. You could take her there, I suppose. Tell her — tell her that the Aviation Ministry have given us some intelligence that there’s going to be a bombing raid on the film studio, to destroy German morale.”