Hitler's Angel (25 page)

The girl stops him with a movement of her hand. She looks at him, squints, as if she can see inside him.

‘You don’t seem well this morning,’ she says.

‘I didn’t sleep much.’

‘Obviously.’ She pauses, reluctant to say what she has on her mind. ‘I want to hear the end of this, but I can wait until you feel better. I can come back this afternoon. Or tomorrow.’

He shakes his head. He is almost done. He needs to finish before the memories overwhelm him completely. ‘Don’t you want to know what happened?’

‘Of course,’ she says. ‘But not at the expense of your health.’

‘My health.’ He smiles. ‘My health is the least of my worries.’

Henrich sat at his desk, typing the last of his report. He looked exhausted, like a man who had been up all night. He smelled like a man who had driven for days and had not bathed.

‘You look like hell,’ Henrich said.

‘So do you,’ Fritz said. He tossed Henrich the keys to his own car. ‘You drive.’

‘Where are we going?’ Henrich asked.

‘To settle this,’ Fritz said.

She curses softly, the words too vulgar for a woman. It startles him.

She presses a button, removes the tape, and turns it over.

He smoothes his hair back with the heel of his hand, a habit from his soldiering days. ‘Do you want me to repeat?’

‘No,’ she says. She presses the ‘record’ button and the tape whirs. ‘Just go on.’

The traffic on Prinzregentenplaz was heavy that morning, but Henrich had no trouble finding a place to park. The
wealthy inhabitants of the area were working or travelling or driving their cars. They weren’t home on a weekday midmorning, waiting for the Kripo to call.

Fritz counted on that.

He got out of the passenger side, and without waiting for Henrich, mounted the stairs and pushed open the heavy doors with one hand. The hallway was silent, the doors to the offices closed. The scents of leather and boot black were stronger now than they had been the first time, and the silence was eerie.

Henrich came in behind him, eyes wide, saying nothing. He would follow Fritz’s lead.

Fritz climbed the formal stairway, a hand on the banister for balance. Dots swam in front of his eyes. He made himself breathe. He had fought in a war with injuries worse than this. Certainly, he could continue an investigation in the same way.

He waited until Henrich was beside him before knocking on the apartment door. He heard a rustling behind the thick wood, then a woman’s voice shouted, ‘Go away.’

Frau Winter.

‘It is Detective Stecher, Frau Winter. Open the door.’

‘You are not needed here.’

‘No,’ he said, ‘but we need to talk with you. A man has been killed.’

At that, the door swung open. Fritz placed his meaty palm on the door and slid his boot between the door and the frame. He used his shoulder to push the door wide. Frau Winter blocked him, but he shoved her aside.

‘You are not welcome here,’ she said.

‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘Where is Herr Hitler?’

‘He is not here. I have told you that.’

‘So you have,’ Fritz said. He nodded to Henrich, who came inside and closed the door. The entry was narrow, not made for three people. ‘Where is Frau Dachs?’

‘I don’t know,’ Frau Winter said. She glanced at Henrich, as if she were appealing to his good reason.

‘Surely you can lie better than that,’ Fritz said. ‘Which room is hers?’

Frau Winter did not answer. She crossed her arms, a formidable guard in Hitler’s abode.

‘Which room?’

‘If you do not leave, I will call for help.’

‘Like the help that found me last night?’

She bowed her head forward, a tiny acknowledgment of his injuries, and their cause.

‘She didn’t even look startled to see your injuries?’ the girl asks.

‘No,’ he says. ‘She knew what had happened to me.’

‘Stay with her,’ he said to Henrich. ‘See that she doesn’t move.’

‘You are making a mistake,’ she said.

Fritz turned his back on her, and headed down the hall. As he had suspected, it had been cleaned. The blue carpet looked almost new. He could see the faint blood drops only because he knew where to look.

Geli’s door was closed. He turned the glass knob. The door was locked. He had expected as much.

He continued down the hall. Most of the rooms had open
doors and closed curtains. It was impossible to tell the time of day. The place smelled of polish and leather mixed with tobacco and wine. The scent of decay was long gone.

Finally he found another closed door. He knocked, then turned the knob. The window was open here, the room flooded with sunlight. Frau Reichert sat inside, huddled in a small chair. An old woman sat beside her, back to the door, staring out the window.

‘Go away,’ Frau Reichert said. ‘Please.’

‘Frau Dachs,’ Fritz said, ignoring Frau Reichert. ‘I am Detective Inspector Stecher. I would like to talk with you about Geli.’

‘Please,’ Frau Reichert said. ‘She is old. She knows nothing.’

‘I’d like her to tell me that,’ he said. ‘Frau Dachs?’

She raised her head, but didn’t turn. She was old, and her hair was thinning on top. He could see her pink scalp through wisps of white hair.

‘Frau Dachs, I need to know what you saw.’

‘She can’t tell you,’ Frau Reichert said. ‘Please.’

Frau Reichert was right. The old woman could tell him nothing. It would be wrong to get her to speak in this house.

‘I will take you to the precinct,’ he said. ‘We will protect you.’

Frau Dachs turned her head slightly. Her skin had softened, fallen in on itself, a cascade of wrinkles.

‘Wouldn’t you like to leave this house of death?’ he asked.

She stood, hand braced on her chair. She too had a dowager’s hump. She was frail, but her eyes were bright, sharp, alive.

‘I would love to,’ she said, as if he were asking her to dance.

They left the apartment as quickly as they could, Frau Dachs between them. Frau Reichert was yelling behind them, and Frau Winter had disappeared.

‘She will use the telephone,’ Frau Dachs said breathlessly. Each step was difficult for her. ‘She will call
them
.’

‘Whom?’ Fritz asked.

‘His people. They will stop us.’

‘No, they won’t,’ Henrich said. ‘I pulled the telephone from the wall.’

Fritz glared at him over the old woman’s head. Henrich shrugged and grinned. ‘She wouldn’t let go of it. I guess I must have pulled it away too hard.’

When they got to the bottom of the steps, they helped Frau Dachs across the polished floor. Four more steps and they would be to the car. Fritz put his arm around Frau Dachs, wincing as her slight weight pressed against his broken ribs.

‘Check,’ he said to Henrich.

Henrich went to the door, pushed it open, and looked in both directions. ‘Clear to the car,’ he said.

Together they half lifted, half pushed Frau Dachs forward. She leaned on Fritz’s good arm as they steered her down the steps. They protected her with their bodies as they crossed the sidewalk, and helped her into the back seat.

Fritz slid into the passenger side, and Henrich into the driver’s. He took off, heading toward the precinct. Fritz looked over the seat. Frau Dachs was huddled in the back, looking small. Over her shoulder he saw a black car
following too close.

‘I think Frau Winter contacted someone,’ he said.

‘She couldn’t,’ Henrich said. ‘I pulled the telephone from the wall.’

The black car was very close. The driver and his passenger were wearing NSDAP uniforms.

‘Nonetheless,’ Fritz said.

Another car pulled out of a side street. Henrich swerved around it. Frau Dachs ducked.

‘They don’t have guns, do they?’ Henrich asked.

‘I don’t want to find out,’ Fritz said. ‘This car has more power. Go!’

Henrich speeded up. He took the next corner so fast that the car wobbled on two wheels. Frau Dachs clung to the back of the seat, her face white. Fritz remained turned, his eyes on the black car. It was fading in the distance. Henrich took another corner, and then an extra.

‘Where are you going?’ Frau Dachs asked, her voice tremulous.

‘The precinct,’ Henrich said.

‘No,’ Fritz said. ‘She won’t be safe there.’

Henrich turned another corner, and was back on the main road. ‘We’ve had no trouble with the NSDAP there,’ he said.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Fritz said. ‘There are Schupo who belong to the NSDAP. Anything could happen.’

‘I thought you would protect me,’ Frau Dachs said.

‘We will,’ Fritz said, although he wasn’t certain how. They would know his car. They knew his apartment. The Schupo were guarding his apartment, protecting its contents. He and
the Chief had set that up the night before. He had nowhere safe to take her.

‘We’ll go to my apartment,’ Henrich said. ‘It isn’t far. I will give you the keys and take the car to the station. I will bring mine back.’

‘Good,’ Fritz said. ‘Tell the Chief where we are. Tell him we must find somewhere safe for Frau Dachs, and warn him not to tell anyone else.’

‘Frau Winter knows you, young man,’ Frau Dachs said.

‘I’m aware of that,’ Henrich said. ‘But they’ll go to the precinct, then to Fritz’s. It will buy us time.’