The cheering started again.
“Bitte, bitte,” the MC said. He waited till the room was quiet.
“I am going to be counting on each one of you to do your duty for the New Reich.” More cheers, a standing ovation. “Now I want to show you something.”
On cue two Blackshirts appeared from behind the dais, escorting a man in a striped concentration-camp uniform, hands tied behind his back, black hood over his head.
The MC said, “Do you know what this is?”
The Blackshirts yelled, “Jew, Jew, Jew.”
“Better hold onto your wallet.”
The hall erupted in laughter.
“That’s right. He wants your money. He wants your car. He wants your house. He wants everything you own. Are you going to let him take it?”
“Nooo,” said the Blackshirts, on their feet again.
Colette balanced her camera on top of the railing and pressed the button on the speed winder, taking more shots.
“Who do you think the prisoner is?”
“An actor. Harry, this is drama. They’re doing it for effect.”
Then the Blackshirts were on their feet, singing:
“What’s that?” Harry said.
“The ‘Horst Wessel Song,’” Colette said. “It’s the Nazi theme song.”
“It’s catchy.”
“Harry, we have to go. They always sing it at the end.”
They went back downstairs through the kitchen, Blackshirts banging their ax handles and cheering. The smoker had returned, standing just outside the door. They crouched behind a stainless-steel counter. Harry could hear the MC wrapping it up. “I want to thank you for joining us tonight…”
Colette looked worried. “Harry, we have to do something. They’ll be coming out any minute.”
He glanced around the kitchen, got an idea. Moved to the industrial range against the wall, picked up a heavy cast-iron skillet. Harry moved to the door, went out and hit the Blackshirt on top of the head. He dropped to the ground. Harry tossed the skillet in the dumpster. They dragged the Blackshirt into the parking lot and left him next to an Opel. First impression, he was drunk. It might buy them a little time. Then he heard voices, turned and saw Blackshirts coming out of the hall.
They crouched and ran to Colette’s car and got back to her apartment at 10:38. She had a darkroom and was anxious to develop some of the film. Harry made himself a drink, sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper.
Half an hour later Colette came out of the darkroom with four still-wet eight-by-ten photos. She put them on the table, each showing part of a face.
“I had to enlarge them four hundred per cent to get anything, that’s why there’s so much grain.” Colette took out scissors, trimmed off the excess and fit the quadrants together on the kitchen table. “Recognize him?”
“Ernst Hess,” Harry said.
“Why would he be at a Blackshirt rally?”
“My guess, he’s sympathetic to their cause, but with his Christian Social Union affiliation he can’t take the chance being seen endorsing them.”
“How do you know about the CSU?”
“It’s in the paper. Right here.” He turned the article around to show her. “They’re having a board meeting tomorrow at nine a.m.”
She glanced at him and smiled.
“I’ve seen that look before. You have something in mind, don’t you?”
Eighteen
Harry spent the night at Colette’s again. In the morning they drove to Hess’ apartment building, arriving at 7:30, parked across the street between two Volkswagens and waited. “Why’re you so sure he’s here?”
“He was at the rally until after ten last night, and he has to be downtown at nine o’clock. If you had a morning appointment, would you go all the way to Schleissheim, or stay in the city?
“Makes sense,” Harry said.
“After the meeting there will be a press conference, so they can tell the media what they talked about, what decisions were made. Hess will be gone for hours.”
“How do you know somebody else isn’t in the apartment?”
“If somebody is we’ll deal with it.”
“I like your confidence.”
“Harry, if you don’t take risks you don’t get a story.”
“How do we get in?”
“That, I am not sure.”
“It’s an important detail, don’t you think?”
Colette had brought a thermos of coffee, poured them each a cup and handed him a piece of strawberry-cheese strudel on a napkin. They ate breakfast, watching the building.
At 8:20‚ a black Mercedes sedan pulled up across the street from them. Harry recognized the driver, Hess’ bodyguard, and ducked down in his seat. Rausch got out of the car, closed the door, and took his time scanning the the cars parked on both sides of the street. He went in the building and came out ten minutes later, Hess behind him, the big man’s eyes moving, alert. He opened the rear door for Hess, then walked around the car, got in behind the wheel and drove off.
Harry sat up, glanced at Colette. “You ready?”
They stood in front of the building. The door was locked. Harry studied the directory. Hess was in apartment 4B. Colette pushed the button, heard the buzzer, but nothing happened, maybe proving that no one was in the apartment. But that didn’t help them much.
“How’re we going to get in?”
Colette said, “Wait here. I have an idea.” She headed down the sidewalk.
“Hey, where’re you going?”
She turned the corner and disappeared.
Colette circled around to the rear of the six-storey building that took up a quarter of the block. She went in the employees’ entrance and down a staircase into a subterranean room, huge furnace glowing hot, the smell of fuel oil, and a network of pipes. It was dark but she could see a man in a green custodial uniform, wrench in his hands, working on a leaking pipe. She surprised him. Doubted many of the high-rent tenants wandered down into the bowels of the building.
“May I help you, Fräulein?”
He was short, stocky, about her age. Needed a bath and a shave.
“I am looking for the engineer.”
“I am the engineer.”
“I have a problem,” she said, pausing for effect. “I locked my keys in the apartment along with an important file.”
“What number?” He seemed shy but willing to assist a woman in distress.
“4B. I work for Herr Hess. He is giving the presentation in one hour. If I don’t get it—” She let the custodian imagine what would happen to her. “Do you have a key?”
“Have you talked to the manager, Herr Steiger?”
“This is the second time I have done this. I am embarrassed.” She looked at him and smiled. “Could you help me, please?”
Harry waited a few minutes, no idea what happened to her. Went back to the car, sat in the driver’s seat, not sure what to do. And then the door to the building opened, Colette standing there looking for him. Harry got out of the car, crossed the street.
She led him to the elevator and up to the fourth floor. The door to Hess’ apartment was unlocked. “How’d you do it?”
“I turned on the charm.”
Harry grinned. She had it to turn on.
The interior was big and spacious, professionally decorated, with views of the ancient spires of Altstadt on one side and the modern glass office buildings of downtown Munich on the other. They walked through the apartment. There were two bedrooms, one larger than the other, an office, kitchen and living room.