The Children's War (197 page)

68

“A
H,
HERR TRAUGUTT,
CONGRATULATIONS.”

“Thank you.” Richard nodded and smiled. Funny how many people knew him as soon as the promotion became public. It was a good promotion as well—one of the rare times the increased prestige was in accord with political reality. At the lower levels of the hierarchy, that was almost always true, but here, near the top, so much depended on posturing and allies and other intangibles that a promotion could often be interpreted as a move down or away from the core of power. Not this time: he was moving straight up in direct response to his increased political leverage. The Führer’s personal adviser on internal security.

It was easy to smile at all the congratulations, and it was no wonder there were so many who went out of their way to remind him that they were friends. Not least of whom was Karl. He was waiting in Richard’s outer office, suddenly timid about entering without permission. The boy from the provinces would soon be his boss.

“Richard! Can I still call you that?” Karl wheezed.

“But of course, Karl. Come on in,” Richard soothed as he led Karl into his office.

Karl took a seat after Richard had sat down, and after offering Richard a cigarette, he lit one for himself, then plunged in. “Congratulations. Why didn’t you tell me? I had to hear it from the boys!”

“Sorry. It was supposed to be completely hush-hush. But now you know.”

“Yes, things just go from good to better with you,” Karl moaned. “It was so fortunate how you broke up that disloyal ring working at
Die Zeit.”

“More than working at,” Richard corrected. “Actually running it.”

“Yes, yes! So fortunate, too, that you brought the head of Krupps down for corruption.”

“I like to think of it as good work rather than good fortune,” Richard said with a hint of malice.

Karl was oblivious to the hint. “Burckhardt really liked that, since he was in line for the chairmanship. Did you know that?”

Did Richard know? He stifled a laugh. He had selected that sleazeball Rentschler with particular care. Of course he was corrupt, they all were. Of course he carried out dubious foreign deals, they all did. Of course he used slave labor and brutality in his factories, who didn’t? The latter, at least, was not a crime. The corruption, however, under the right circumstances, was. And the right circumstances certainly existed with Burckhardt in line for the chairmanship. Had Richard known? Ha! It was the hard evidence that was difficult to find, and in the end Richard had had it planted.

Zosia herself had handled the majority of it, leaving a paper and computer trail that en route picked out a few others, targeted for one reason or another, before inexorably leading to Rentschler. She had done a masterly job and had mentioned to Richard that it was not only to promote his career, but was also a form of revenge for her husband’s suffering as a Krupp slave.

Richard answered Karl briefly, “Yes, I heard something about that,” without adding that not only had he known that the influential Burckhardt would appreciate Richard’s efforts, but he also knew, quite coincidentally, that Burckhardt had a great deal of influence in selecting who would fill the vacancy for the Führer’s personal adviser on internal security. Yes, it was all very, very fortuitous.

“You certainly impressed everyone with your advice about that invasion, too,” Karl continued as if he had memorized a list. Things to do to get promoted? What had Richard done?

“How did you know about that?” Richard asked, genuinely appalled.

“Oh, just gossip. I know, I’m not supposed to be in that loop. I’m surprised you were and didn’t tell me. I thought we were friends.”

“Security,” Richard answered tersely.

“Afterwards, the word was you were excellent in the negotiations. You seemed to understand exactly where they would cave and where they would hold fast.”

Richard studied Karl intensely, but there were, as far as he could tell, no hidden implications, no subtle threats of blackmail. Still, it was worrying.

Karl seemed to understand Richard’s look as a question. “Oh, I know I’m not supposed to know about that either—but, you know, people talk. They seemed quite proud of you there.”

Richard nodded. He had not had time to let anyone know he would be at the negotiations, but as soon as Katerina had seen him, she had indicated she would be willing to make some meaningless concessions to promote his career. They had not rehearsed anything in advance, but they knew each other and the situation well enough to be able to ad-lib remarkably well. He had, during the meeting, gone from whispering into the ear of his superior to being encouraged to speak directly to the enemy as it was clear that what he had to say caused them to tremble and occasionally give ground. Despite the invasion’s having been an utter fiasco, Richard’s masterly handling of the old woman had even led to her conceding a bit of territory. Naturally, neither she nor Richard mentioned that the worthless bit of swampy borderland was essentially indefensible.

It seemed time to draw Karl’s list to a close, so Richard stood, thanked him for his visit, and mentioned that he was quite busy. However, Karl remained seated and lit another cigarette. He did not even bother to offer Richard one. It could have been taken as a threat if only his face had not conveyed such a miserable hangdog expression.

“What is it?” Richard was driven to ask as he reseated himself on the edge of his desk. Was Karl planning to blackmail him?

“Oh, Richard,” Karl moaned, “my friend, it’s all going so well for you, but for me, it’s just been terrible! Every move I made with that Halifax thing was a disaster! And now, they’ve removed me from that position and . . .”

“Well, it’s probably just as well you’re out of that job. After all, you’re security, what do you know about propaganda?”

“But you said I should do it! You encouraged me!”

“At the time, I thought it would be good for your career.”

“But I think they’re going to investigate me! How did that tape get out in the first place? They might find out I viewed a copy of it. They might blame me!”

“You returned it to your source, didn’t you?” Richard asked with concern.

“Right away. As soon as I got it back from you.”

Still no hint of blackmail, but clearly Karl was not going to fail to mention Richard if he did get investigated. Richard was much better informed than Karl and knew that it would probably be worse than an investigation. The propaganda disaster had and was still causing far-reaching repercussions, and scapegoats were essential. One would be that fool torturer who had signed off on Halifax claiming he was no danger to society. Karl was the other obvious choice. He had screwed up so badly, he would be driven out, and it was doubtful that it would be a matter of simply resigning. If he did not end up shot or hanged, he would be expected to commit suicide. It was that bad.

Before that occurred, he would probably be interrogated. That was what worried Richard. Karl would give him up in a second, hoping to save his own
skin by blaming Richard for his advice. It was a dangerous situation: one or two political enemies, one or two envious people, could see him made the scapegoat with or even instead of Karl. Richard could be shot for incompetence or hanged for having viewed the videotape unofficially. Even worse, if a plot was suspected, his entire cover could be blown and everyone in his family would be at risk.

It was time to cover his tracks. To that end, he decided to calm Karl down a bit and see precisely what his state of mind was, then Richard would decide on his exact plan of action. He drew up a concerned, reassuring voice and said, “Karl, dear friend, don’t get too worried. Look, why don’t we meet after work for a beer and discuss how things are shaping up? Say about six?”

Karl smiled weakly and agreed. He stubbed out his cigarette, reached into his jacket pocket, and felt the small knife he had carried since earning it as a boy in the Hitler Youth. “Six will be fine.”

Karl was already at their club when Richard arrived. Richard spotted him in the public bar at the front and watched from a distance as Karl pawed at and whispered into the ear of a dark-haired woman sitting close to him. Richard grimaced with annoyance at the display and marched over to interrupt.

“Ah, is it six?” Karl asked as he wrapped a finger seductively around a lock of the woman’s hair. “Let me introduce you to my friend here, uh . . .”

“That’s quite all right,” Richard assured Karl, and winking at the woman, he pulled Karl away toward the private lounge.

“What’s the matter with you?” Karl asked, not yet sure if he had the option of being offended by his friend’s abruptness.

“What did you say to her? Did you confide your troubles? Did you mention me?” Richard could not help himself from asking.

“Oh, I . . .” Karl looked to his friend, wondering what the right answer was. “Don’t be jealous, I would have given you credit sooner or later,” he finally said.

Richard sighed his relief and waved at the waiter to bring them two drinks. “Look, don’t you realize those women can be trouble?” All he needed was Karl confiding in an informant!

“Oh, I can handle them,” Karl assured him breezily. “I make sure they’ve been thoroughly vetted before I take a new one on. I was just toying with her.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Richard snarled, but it was too late, Karl was on a roll.

“Bit cruel, I’ll admit, getting her hopes up like that, but they’re such avaricious creatures. . . . I don’t have trouble with them, though, not since . . . And I handled that.”

“How so?” Richard asked with an encouraging smile. He doubted Karl had any useful information in him, but it was a lifelong habit of his to listen to anything anyone had to say—the silly gossip and bragging stories of his comrades were often his best source of news and blackmail information.

“Oh, some bitch I had an affair with, years back. Pretty thing, long, straight black hair, dark eyes, tall . . .” Karl sighed as he remembered his long-ago passion.

“And?”

“Well, she got pregnant. I told her it wasn’t my problem, and that was it, she just disappeared.”

“When was this?”

“Hmm.” Karl thought back. “Must have been twenty years ago, at least.”

“Were you married then?” Richard asked, lighting a cigarette.

“Of course. Geerd was just born about that time, or was it Horst? One of them. Anyway, you know what wives are like when they’re pregnant, or just after. Can’t do a thing with them. This lady, she was, well, it was like fireworks, every time. Must have been Italian, although her name was German.”

“What was her name?”

“Um. You know”—Karl sounded slightly nervous—“I’m not sure I remember.”

“Doesn’t matter. So, she just disappeared after getting pregnant?”

“Yeah, almost like she didn’t care to trap me or try and get money. Just up and left. Left her job, everything, as far as I could tell.”

“Did you try and trace her?”

“Why should I have?”

“No reason, just wondered.”

“No, the last thing I wanted was a pregnant woman howling at me. God knows I had enough of that at home. Anyway, I thought I was done with it, but then, years later, back when I was in Paris for a few months, she just shows up. Just out of the blue.”

Richard stared down at the table so that Karl would not see his expression, then took another drag off his cigarette. “Paris, you say?” he asked casually.

“Yeah. She shows up, still looking good, and she tells me I have a teenage son and she wants some money. First she asks nicely and I gave her some, quite a bit in fact, but she says it’s not enough. She knows I have lots more and she needs it. Threatens to make trouble if I don’t pay her. ‘A lump sum,’ she said. Pay her just once more and she would be out of my life forever.”