“Some more proselytizings?”
He averted his eyes.
“No, no, that’s ail settled down. This is something… different. Perhaps Professor von Leeb would like to explain.”
The old man nodded and regarded me silently for a moment.
“Lieutenant Haider, what in your opinion is the Third Reich’s most lasting contribution to world civilization?”
Oh, shit.
“Professor,” I answered, choosing each word, “I’m not sure I’m really qualified to answer. I’m a policeman, I’ve never been involved in politics, my cooperation with the Gestapo was just a question of interagency…”
The Professor cut me off.
“I understand that,” he said with a vaguely paternal smile. “But I am not asking for political opinions, only your own personal evaluation, one which will never go beyond this room.”
That last bit made me even more uneasy, but I had no out.
“Well, Professor, I suppose it would be the great advances in society, full employment, a lasting peace, the space program, the creation of a true folk community, the brotherhood of the Nordic peoples, the great progress in medicine and science…” I trailed off a bit feebly. I’d thrown in every sacred cow I could think of, and I hoped they were enough to satisfy him.
“Yes, Lieutenant, that’s all quite true, but only a partial answer to my question.” The Professor’s voice was truly professorial now, and his eyes had glazed as if he were addressing some distant graduating class at Heidelberg. “Those achievements, however worthy in themselves, are not uniquely National Socialist. But what accomplishment of the Third Reich towers alone as an immutable gift to future generations, as our greatest legacy to posterity?” His voice was just above a whisper, his eyes half-closed. I squirmed in my seat like a student grilled by some merciless proctor while Kohler glanced at me apologetically and twitched his shoulders in a half-shrug.
“I’m sorry, Professor, I don’t think I…”
He suddenly smiled again, warmly, and held up his hand. “I understand your difficulty. It is something we have all come to take as a matter of course, rather as a man accepts his health or the air he breathes, not as a precious gift but as the natural order of things.” He paused portenously. “The greatest accomplishment of National Socialism, Lieutenant, is that after three thousand years humanity has been purged of its most terrifying organic pestilence. Today, the world is finally judenrein.”
So that was it.
“Yes, of course, Professor.” God, I could use a drink.
“Just ponder that fact for a moment, Lieutenant. Think of it not as something you have read in dusty history books but as a vibrant, living human reality. An entire generation has grown to young adulthood without ever having seen a Jew”—he spat the word out like a man who’s found half a cockroach in his mashed potatoes—“without ever having been exposed to their corruption, their-perversion, their deceit. The world is free, Lieutenant, truly free of those mongrel vermin for the first time in history. And that is the greatest contribution of National Socialism, perhaps the greatest single achievement of recorded history.”
I nodded warily. What the hell was this all about?
“I can tell you, Bill,” Kohler broke in, “the Professor is one man who knows what he’s talking about. He’s been in the fight since the beginning. He’s an Alte Partei Kamerad.”
My guts tightened, and I could feel the sweat springing out on my forehead. An Old Party Comrade. A member of the N.S.D.A.P. before the Munich putsch in ’23. There were maybe ten of them left alive in the world today, any one of whom had more power in his little finger than anybody outside of the Fuhrer. No wonder von Leeb talked as freely as he did. They could wear crappy suits and funny sweaters and look like Bowery bums and one word could turn a country upside down. I felt sick.
“Professor,” I stammered, “this is a great honor. I had no idea…” I started to stand up, but von Leeb waved me back to my seat, beaming magnanimously.
“My role has been a modest one, Lieutenant,” he said, his eyes giving the lie to every word. “Most of my friends have fallen along the way, and the credit is theirs, not mine. And, above all, the Fuhrer’s.” He fell silent for a moment and when he resumed talking his voice was dreamy. “Do you know, when I joined the Party we were derided as crackpots, fools, starry-eyed idealists. We were beaten by the police, jailed, some of us murdered by Jews and Bolsheviks. But we never for one second contemplated giving up, and we kept on fighting till we gained the world. Or most of the world.” His mouth abruptly tightened and his voice grew harsher, probably thinking of Japan. “Our ideals have been consecrated in blood, and they have triumphed. But there is always the danger that a successful revolutionary movement will grow fat and complacent with the fruits of victory.” I doubted that would ever happen to the Professor; his eyes gleamed with the light of a true believer. “As one of your own countrymen once remarked, Lieutenant, ‘eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.’ That is why we are here today.”
I didn’t know what to say, but mercifully Kohler came to my rescue.
“Bill, the Professor has been the director of the Seidlitz Institute for three years now. He retired from public life in 1969 at the same time as the Fuhrer, but until then he was in command of the Einzatgruppen.”
Involuntarily, my eyes darted to the little gnome in the corner. He looked like a librarian, bland and harmless. It was hard to believe.
Von Leeb smiled pleasantly.
“Yes, Lieutenant, in a sense we are colleagues.”
“It was a monumental achievement, Professor.” My respectful tone was genuine this time.
“Our task was not easy, believe me.” His voice grew nostalgic again. “I remember the Fuhrer calling me in to Buckingham Palace right after the capitulation and saying, ‘Johann, I have given Europe to Himmler. The rest of the world is yours!’ What a task! But great times demand great efforts. We had not only to eliminate several million Jews in the British Isles and on the North American Continent, but afterwards to seek out those who had gone to ground in Latin America.” His eyes filmed mistily. “Ach, they gave us a run for our money sometimes, believe me. I remember saying to myself after we unearthed the last nest in Brazil, ‘Johann, you are no longer young, you deserve a rest, perhaps a little cottage on the Obersalzberg, time to read, reflect, even paint a bit.’ But no, that was not to be. Next came South Africa, then Palestine, and finally Asia.” His hands clenched on the briefcase. “It took us two years before the Emperor agreed to give us a free hand, and even then his agents in Australia and New Zealand tried to obstruct us. It was not till 1964 that we polished off the last of them, a group of several hundred hiding out in the ruins of Angkor Wat in Indochina.” He laughed happily. “What a feeling that was! To know it was all over, that after forty years we had finally won! We were tired men, Lieutenant, but our victory was sweet.”
I tried to keep my voice firm, admiring but not obsequious.
“I’ve read about some of the Einzatgruppen’s exploits, Professor. The way you tracked down that group in Sydney, the ones who’d had the plastic surgery…”
He smiled deprecatingly.
“By that time, Lieutenant, we could smell the scum, no matter what they’d done to their noses.”
He broke off, and a shadow seemed to pass across his face.
“Forty years, Lieutenant. Forty years of our lives. Those years cannot be mocked!”