Chapter 6
Düsseldorf
Early 1980s
HE WAS SITTING in a dark corner of the bar, drumming his fingers on the table.
Tall, blond and Nordic, he somehow managed to feel out of place in both Germany and Italy. A psychologist once told him it was an identity crisis. Not that the information had ever done him much good. More comfortable in Germany than in Italy, he always felt uneasy. The smoke in the bar was affecting his eyes. He began to rub them as Rüdi Bretz returned to the table with two dripping glasses of lager.
"Full in here tonight, Enzo."
At least Rüdi sounded cheerful. He nodded, forcing a smile. "These bars are where I feel at home, my friend."
If only it were true. Where did he feel at home? Not here -- or anywhere else for that matter. "Perhaps we should get down to business."
Rüdi Bretz laughed. "I sometimes think there's Jewish blood in you, Enzo. I can tell by the way you say that!" He leaned forward, catching him by the nose and twisting it playfully. "I know all about that little secret you're hiding!"
He pulled himself away angrily, before carefully raising his shoulders as though to shrug off the very possibility. Deep down inside he really hurt. If anyone in the ADR found out about his mother they would drop him from membership. He looked around warily, wishing Rüdi would keep his stupid jokes to himself.
"Have you got something on your mind?" Rüdi swung his briefcase onto the small table. "Here you are, six videos and a sixteen-millimeter film. The film is even better than last month's."
"That's good." He wasn't listening; he was locked into his own world. One day he was destined to be accepted by the believers of the German Homeland. To be more honest, he'd find a way to accept himself as a true member.
The video trade was not for his personal benefit. It never had been. All the income he and Rüdi derived from this enterprise, or at any rate most of it, went straight into an account they had opened for the Düsseldorf Chapter of Achtzehn Deutschland Reinigung. They had already deposited a considerable amount of money. Making the videos was Rüdi's idea -- funding the neo-Nazis his. Together they made a great team. He took the unedited material obtained by Rüdi Bretz down to Rome where he had access to the facilities such an operation demanded.
In the studios of TV Roma a co-operative and sympathetic editor took the film and videos apart shot by shot, reassembling them with additional sound effects into a very attractive form. The market for such merchandise might be limited, but the small demand involved extremely wealthy customers with insatiable appetites for sex and sadism. The income was excellent, the security was guaranteed.
"Have you heard of a man called Phönix?"
Rüdi looked surprised. "Of course. He's the driving force behind the ADR."
"I met him in London last week. He sees the need for unity with other right wing groups. He'll support my name going forward as an instructor."
Having revealed and established the contents of the briefcase, Rüdi snapped it shut and placed it on the floor. "They're looking for youth instructors in Düsseldorf. I'd go for it if Phönix is prepared to back you. Wasn't your father with the Hitler Schule?"
"He was an instructor." He could talk about his father; he could never talk about his Italian mother. And never, never would any of his German friends be allowed to find out she was Jewish. "I've been thinking about the missing relic, Rüdi. It was handed to a Jewish Christian in Saint Peter's in the war. His name was Angelo Levi. The man's a canon now, working in the archive department in the Vatican. If TV Roma can prove he still has it, maybe he'll sell it back to me, ja?"
Rüdi nodded, but for some reason seemed slightly bored. "So you keep telling me. Are you coming back to my place for a drink?"
"I'd like to, of course, but it's always the same problem. There's only the one late night plane to Rome." He drained his glass. "How's the wife?" Not improved in looks at all, he could be certain of that. Helga Bretz had definitely been at the back of the queue when good looks were being given out.
"Fine." Rüdi nodded, though without any noticeable enthusiasm.
"And the boy? Karl, isn't it?"
Rüdi's eyes brightened instantly. "A big lad. Nearly seven now. He's already into military modeling. Wants to make that old paper knife of mine into a Göring dagger. He's got a picture of one on the wall above his bed. I might let him remodel it when he's a bit older."
"Big, you say."
"He's grown up quite a bit since I took him in hand. Helga fussed over him too much. I recently found out that he was afraid of everyone and everything at school. A son of mine, acting like a babe-in-arms? Not my way to bring a boy up, I can tell you." Rüdi laughed. "He's going to camp this summer. That should help."
"Good."
Rüdi now seemed determined to share his family news, especially anything relating to his remarkable son. "The hell of it is, Enzo, I've had to buy myself a new letter opener. Got myself a real dagger for the job -- a wartime model from the flea market. Karl reckons it's genuine, but he needn't think he's getting his hands on it, the young Rowdy!" He used the word affectionately.
"I see." He had no wish to learn anything about Rüdi's family; he had merely felt under some obligation to inquire. Meeting in bars like this was the best way of seeing his friend. The late night plane was always a good excuse for not going home with Rüdi Bretz. "We still need to know where my father found the relic in Italy. Any luck with tracing the wartime photographer?"
Rüdi tipped back his glass for the warm remnants of lager. "Another?"
He shook his head. "Any news?"
Rüdi shrugged. "SS in Rome. I suppose there could have been a photographer with the unit. A man with a camera would have taken hundreds of pictures. Perhaps I'll get someone working on it."
Rüdi was a good companion, but never forceful enough. Why did the ADR see anything in him? "Do it soon, my friend. You know how much I want that Shrine." He felt for the briefcase.
"The Eternal Shrine," added Rüdi, although he didn't sound especially passionate about it.
"Rüdi, you know it's been my dream to mount a display in Berlin. The head from the statue of Jesus Christ alongside the relics of Hitler and the Third Reich. It's what my father, Sturmbannführer Kessel, would have wanted."
"Not a chance," said Rüdi, wiping the beer from his mouth. "The law would never allow it."
"If we could advertise the event throughout the world..."
"No newspaper would take our advertisements."
"You're right, my friend, but perhaps one day the situation will change. If we had a way to make it known, the people would be drawn in such crowds that the authorities would be powerless to stop us. Remember that night in Düsseldorf when I showed you my father's private papers and we talked about a magnet? You and I, Rüdi, we'll find a way to draw believers from all over Europe."
Later that night, on the flight back to Rome, there was plenty of time to reflect on the plan. His plan -- the one way to win the approval from Phönix and the others in the ADR that he so desperately sought. By the end of the century, by the year two thousand, things would be very different if he had his way.
It had been a clever move to get TV Roma to stir things up at the Vatican. Soon he would recover his father's property and put it to use in a breathtaking plan.
The pilot lined up for the approach to Fiumicino, the main airport on the outskirts of the Eternal City.
Shout in the Dark Page 9