Tempting Fate (83 page)

“No. You stopped serving me and my family when you spoke to Konrad Natter.” There was no satisfaction in closing the door on him, only a desolation that bit into her with remote fury as she made her way out of the servants’ wing.

Text of a letter from Helmut Rauch to Hermann Göring.

Nymphenburg

October 29, 1926

My dear Herr Göring:

I was honored to have your letter of the 24th, and have made all haste to answer once I had assembled the material on hand and added what I could learn from others, so that you could have as complete an assessment as possible. I quite agree that it is a most shocking thing and it is most wise of you to insist on this investigation. If there is any way in which I maybe of further assistance to you, I hope that you will call on me at once so that I will be able to give whatever aid you require.

I have been to the
Wolf und Rabe,
which, as I am sure you know, is a workingmen’s tavern in Geltbeutel Strasse. I spoke with the landlord there, and he provided me with a description of the hochgeborn visitor which matches that of Graf Franchot Ragoczy. He tells me that the man came to his tavern and asked about our SA men who met in his back room off the courtyard. He indicated that he wished to speak with them privately, and bribed the landlord handsomely.

You are as aware as I am what became of Vortag, Abscheu, Recht, Krümmer, and Grube. Heinz Vortag left the SA meeting when they were dismissed, and his men came back to their tavern with him, as they had done so many times before. Vincenz Grube was planning to go to his sister’s house when he had finished having a drink or two with his friends. His sister said that he often stayed out drinking quite late and thought nothing when he did not arrive by eleven at night. Romuald Abscheu was supposed to stay with Krümmer, and neither of them were missed until long after they had been killed. Recht worked as a railroad dispatcher, and when he did not arrive for work, his supervisor informed SA headquarters, since the man is also a member of our party. It was shortly after ten in the morning when the police asked the landlord to open his back room.

It is the opinion of the investigating officers that Ragoczy hired men to kill the five men because he believed that they were responsible for the accidental death of his daughter last May 31, during the riot. He had told the police that he had witnessed the killing himself and that it was deliberate murder. The officers, allowing for his overwrought state, listened to his complaint then, and later questioned the SA officers who had been in charge of riot maneuvers. They assured the police that the girl’s death could not possibly have been the result of SA or other NSDAP activity, and so they quietly dropped the matter. It has been assumed that Ragoczy did not believe that the police had done a proper investigation, and stated formally that he believed the police to be biased.

From what I have been able to discover, Ragoczy sent his manservant to various workingmen’s taverns to listen to what was being said, and in two or three weeks had happened upon the
Wolf und Rabe
, where he was told about Vortag’s group meeting in the back room. Being a cautious man, he verified this for himself, along with the evenings Vortag’s men were to be found there, and then he placed this information in the hands of his employer, who hired thugs to attack our men.

We have not yet been able to find out which group of bullies did the work, but the police have determined that there were at least six men involved, and they have said that they assume the crime occurred in the following way: Ragoczy arrived at the tavern, ostensibly alone, but actually accompanied by his hired men, who waited in the street while Ragoczy convinced the landlord to give him access to the back room. The landlord, seeing one unarmed man, somewhat undersized, did not anticipate trouble and agreed, after the bribe I have mentioned, to let the man have entrance. Ragoczy proceeded into the courtyard, where he summoned his men, and they went into the back room to wait for Vortag and his four SA members. There was a great deal of noise from the tavern, and for that reason the battle between Ragoczy’s toughs and the SA fighters was not readily apparent. The landlord informed the police and myself that the taproom is often quite rowdy, and it has been assumed that the noise was covered by the singing and talking that occupy most of the patrons of the tavern, some of whom are Spartacists and might well have agreed to aid Ragoczy in concealing this atrocity, for Ragoczy has admitted that he spent a great deal of time in Russia before and during the Great War. It would not amaze me if I should learn that many of them had been bribed, as the landlord was, to be more than usually active that night in order to give him the chance to conduct his attack uninterrupted.

I will not dwell on the hideous state of the bodies; the police report does that concisely enough, and there is nothing I can add to their photographs and records that would provide information of any particular use. The policemen who saw the back room have told me that they are convinced that the attack was well-planned and executed—what an ironic word, under the circumstances—by men of unusual ferocity. One of them must have been quite large, because it would not be possible for a small man, or men, to inflict such massive wounds.

You ask my opinion of Graf Ragoczy: I must admit that I have not met him many times, and foreigners are not always easily understood by our more logical, direct race; still, I have formed a number of impressions of the man, which, in confidence, of course, I will be pleased to elucidate. Ragoczy, as you probably know, has a title of Graf from the old Austro-Hungarian Empire, although he apparently is not part of the family by that name who were directly removed from power in the Eighteenth Century. He has explained that he is a member of the older branch of that family, the first Prinzes of Transylvania. He himself does not use the title Prinz, but could do so with propriety, should he choose to do so. He appears to be in his middle forties, about one and two-thirds meters tall or a shade more, of trim form but built on robust lines. He has pronounced cheekbones, very unnerving dark eyes, dark curling hair that shows an auburn highlight, and a certain wryness to his countenance that is not always pleasant. He gives himself the air of a man who knows a great many secrets. I have been told that his strength is fairly formidable, but have seen no demonstration of this for myself. He is reputed to be something of a violinist and pianist, but again, I have not heard him play, and so have no judgment to offer in that regard. His manners have been called good, but he is much too haughty and sardonic for my taste. It is the old way, I suppose, and when I see it so clearly, I can fully understand why it was the old alliances were doomed to failure.

Yes, I do believe that Ragoczy could be a dangerous man, but whether he is or not has not been determined. A man as wealthy as he is must always be reckoned with, for he will have the capacity to purchase many things, such as misguided loyalties and the gratitude of others. I have no definite proof that he has done so, but I believe it possible that he may have aided several of the Jewish families in the area, for what reason, I cannot say. He is often capricious.

He has, I believe, formed a romantic alliance with a neighbor woman, but I doubt it has progressed too far. I do not agree with the lady’s late brother that the two are actually lovers, because it often seemed to me that he—the brother—would take the most extreme position as a matter of course. I do believe that this lady is greatly interested in Ragoczy, but in large part because she has many pressing problems and he has the capacity to relieve the most pressing. I cannot believe that this woman would prefer a Jew-loving foreigner to a proper Deutscher, yet it was the thing her brother feared. In time I hope to demonstrate that her brother was incorrect, but that is not your immediate concern, and does not materially affect Ragoczy.

At the time I was employed at BKK, I was somewhat familiar with Ragoczy’s investments and sources of wealth, which were fairly extensive. While there are many investments in this country, he has also other sources of revenue in other countries. I am aware that he maintains an apartment in Paris and fairly lavish quarters in Venice. He has paid for telephone lines to his Schloss, and the building is electrically wired and powered by his own generator, which reveals his, extravagance as well as anything could.

You suggest that his family may have connections with the Bruderschaft, and I am aware that there have been Ragoczys in our Lodges before, but Dietrich’s assumption that this man is in some mysterious way connected with the great fraud of the Eighteenth Century, to Comte de Saint-Germain, I can only say that I find such an idea absurd. Ragoczy may have the address of a courtier, but I doubt he has the intellect or the interest in occult teachings. He has never shown the least curiosity about the Thule Bruderschaft, and in fact has been faintly condemning of the Gesellschaft. He is clearly a product of Nineteenth-Century materialism and rationality.

I will be happy and honored to discuss any aspect of this further with you at the march on the twelfth of next month. But let me take the liberty of saying that I very much doubt that Ragoczy merits so much attention. I believe that my life and mind are being put to finer use in the cause of National Socialism than in the investigation of an exiled Hungarian nobleman whose time has long since passed. Should you decide that you require me to investigate further, of course I will do so, and with all the attention I can bring to such a task. However, I doubt that there will be much gained from such activity. It would be one thing to find his hired thugs and let the police deal with them, but the man himself, that is another matter. It is my understanding that he wishes to leave Deutschland, and I believe we should allow him to do that, without hindrance. It is always possible to seize his funds invested here for our own uses, which is doubtless part of your plan. Beyond that, I believe we may count ourselves lucky to be rid of him, as he might prove to be a thorn in our side, criticizing and in general casting doubts on our high purpose. You must not think that I would consider him a serious threat to us, but he might be an embarrassment, particularly since he is still convinced that Heinz Vortag and his Unfortunate men were responsible for his daughter’s death. By the way, I am sure you know that the child was his ward, not his daughter, and I doubt that he will carry the matter too far, as she was not his actual flesh and blood. Those of noble background often find excuses to harry those they imagine to be their social inferiors. This does not reflect on you, Herr Göring, of course, for you have shown yourself doubly worthy of the respect due the hochgeborn, for you have achieved that state of mind where your thoughts are educated and elevated, at the same time demonstrating a genuine appreciation of all that makes the Teutons the master race of the world. Such perceptions cannot be expected of a man with Ragoczy’s background. All those Eastern Europeans are such bastard races that they are quite hopeless.

With my full regard and esteem, and in fellowship for the Thule Gesellschaft and Bruderschaft, I remain

Most sincerely at your service,

Helmut Rauch

4

Scrofulous patches of dirty snow littered the street, and above the darkened baroque roofs, the sun was rising, a reddened bruise in livid clouds. Off to the right a boat whistle hooted at the dawn, a forlorn sound in the cold new day.

Ragoczy paused in front of the elaborate and old-fashioned front of his house on the east side of Salzgries, looking up at the pillars, in need of paint. He started up the steps, then turned around. To his left was the tower of Ruprechskirche, and beyond it, magnificent in the distance, the tall, narrow spire of Stephanskirche. On his right, the less imposing roof and spire of Santa Maria am Gestade. He went to his door and rapped sharply twice.

Almost three minutes later a sleepy servant came to the door. He stared at his employer, for Ragoczy was still in full evening clothes, with the Order of Saint Stephen of Hungary fastened to a wide scarlet sash. His long silk-lined cloak was opened and he had lost his top hat. “I’m back,” he said as he came through the door.

“Ja, Mein Herr,” the servant agreed dully. “I see that you are.”

“Where is Roger? Tell him that I wish to see him at once, in my room.” He turned away toward the stairs, but paused when he realized that the servant was still in the entry hall, a frown deepening on his brow. “Well? What is it, man?”

The servant flushed. “Nothing, Mein Herr. We were told that you might be out quite late, but…”

“I don’t usually give servants an account of my actions,” Ragoczy snapped, then added flippantly, “I have been at the opera.”

Both Ragoczy and the footman knew that the opera had been over several hours before, but neither pointed this out.

“I did not mean…” the footman began, stammering as he tried to meet Ragoczy’s ironic gaze.

“Of course not,” Ragoczy relented urbanely before continuing on up the stairs to his quarters. As he walked, he removed his cufflinks, holding them in one hand as he went into his private chamber. His head ached and fatigue hung on him like a sodden garment. Slowly he removed the scarlet sash that crossed his shoulder and chest, thinking it marked the path of the proper katana test cut. He had had such a sword once, but had lost it on that miserable voyage out from Spain. With care he unfastened the elaborate gold-and-red centered sunburst of a badge, taking care not to snag the jewel-tipped silver rays on his brocaded cummerbund. When, he wondered, was the last time he had worn the full regalia of the Order? It had been the middle of the last century, certainly no later than 1860. There had been a gala at the Schönbrunn Palast and the Empress Elizabeth had attended, her glorious dark hair cascading in loose curls down her back, her jeweled bodice emphasizing her tiny waist. He had seen her once after her son’s tragic suicide at Mayerling. All the fire had gone out of her then, but she had been curious about Ragoczy, and had spoken to him for an hour or so before departing again for Greece. Ragoczy set the large badge and scarlet sash aside and dropped his cufflinks onto his dressing table.