“Na!” said the Reichsminister Doktor. Then, becoming serious: “I leave the administration of justice to the proper authorities; but where the matter concerns a person with international reputation, I surely have a right to be consulted. I promise you that I will look into the matter the first thing in the morning and will report to you what I find.”
“Thank you very much,” said Lanny. “That is all I could ask.”
The little great man appeared to notice the look of worry on his wife’s gentle features; he added: “You understand, I do not know what crime your Jewish friend may be accused of, nor do I know that the overzealous Dr. Ley really has anything to do with it. Let us hold our minds open until we know exactly what has happened.”
“What you have said will go no further, I assure you,” declared Lanny, promptly. “I am not here to make gossip but to stop it.”
XI
The Reichsminister of Popular Enlightenment and Propaganda relaxed in his chair and sipped the wine which his wife poured out for him and for the guests. “Na!” he exclaimed. “Tell me what you think of our Führer’s speech.”
Lanny started to repeat what he had said to the forester’s son, and the bel canto duet was sung over again. Juppchen proved an even more romantic tenor than Heinrich; there was no language too ardent for him to employ in praise of Hitler. Lanny realized the situation; a deputy was free to criticize his fellow deputies, the Leys and the Strassers, the Hesses and the Röhms, but the Great One was perfection, and on him the butter of flattery was laid thickly. Heinrich had informed Lanny that the Goebbels home had become Adi’s favorite haunt when he was in Berlin; here Magda caused to be prepared for him the vegetable plates which he enjoyed, and afterward he relaxed, listened to music, and played with her two children. Lanny didn’t have to be told that the wily intriguer would use the occasion to fill his Chief’s mind with his own views of the various personalities with whom their lives were involved. So it is that sovereigns are guided and the destinies of states controlled.
The Reichsminister of Popular Enlightenment and Propaganda enjoyed every aspect of his job and worked at it day and night. Here he had two rich and well-dressed Americans, and at least one of them appeared to be intelligent. He thought just what Heinrich had been thinking for the past twelve years—to send Lanny Budd out as a missionary to spread the faith in the lands where he was at home. Said Goebbels: “All that we National Socialists want is to be left alone, so that we can reorganize our country’s industry, solve the problem of unemployment by public works, and show the world what a model state can be. We have absolutely nothing to gain by forcing our ideas upon other peoples.”
Said Lanny: “Ten years ago Mussolini told me that Fascismo was not for export. But since then I have seen him export it to Germany.”
The Reichsminister Doktor perceived that this was indeed an intelligent young man, in spite of his well-tailored clothes and rich wife. “We have learned where we could,” he admitted.
“Even from Lenin,” smiled the other.
“If I answered that, Mr. Budd, it would have to be, as you Americans say, off the record.”
“Naturally, Herr Reichsminister. I ought to explain to you that I had the good fortune to be secretary and translator to one of the experts on the American staff at the Peace Conference. I learned there how international business is carried on, and to keep my own counsel.”
“Are you older than your years, Mr. Budd—or is it that you are older than your looks?”
“I was only nineteen at the time, but I had lived all over Europe, and knew the languages better than a geographer from what we call a ‘fresh-water college’ in the Middle West.”
“Eine frisch-Wasser-Universität?” translated the Minister of Enlightenment, puzzled; and when Lanny explained, “Süsswasser,” he said: “One thing that I envy you Americans is your amusing forms of speech.”
“Other people laugh at us,” responded Lanny, “they fail to realize that we are laughing at ourselves.”
“I perceive that you are a philosopher, Mr. Budd. I, too, had aspirations in that direction, but the world of affairs has claimed me. Tell me honestly, without any evasion, what will Europe and America make of the Führer’s speech?”
“They will be pleased, of course, but surprised by its tone of politeness. The skeptical ones will say that he wishes to have no trouble until Germany has had time to rearm.”
“Let them learn one of his sentences: ‘that Germany wishes nothing but to preserve her independence and guard her borders.’”
“Yes, Herr Reichsminister; but there are sometimes uncertainties as to where borders are or should be.”
The other could not fail to smile. But he insisted: “You will see that all our arming is defensive. We are completely absorbed in the problems of our own economy. We mean to make good the Socialism in our name, and show the outside world as well as our own people that the problems of unemployment can be solved. In five years—no, I dare say in three—there will not be a single man desiring work in Germany and not finding it.”
“That indeed will be something to watch, Herr Reichsminister.”
The great man started to explain how it could be done; and from that abnormally wide mouth there poured a torrent of words. Lanny had observed the same thing with Hitler and Mussolini and many lesser propagandists—they forgot the difference beween an audience of four and an audience of four million, and were willing to expend as much energy on the former as on the latter. Crooked Juppchen went on and on, and perhaps would have talked all night; but his tactful wife chose an opportunity when he was taking in breath, and said: “The Herr Reichsminister Doktor has a hard day’s work behind him and has another before him. He ought to have some sleep.”
The others started to their feet at once; and so they missed hearing about the Autobahnen which the new government was going to build all over Germany. They thanked both host and hostess, and took their departure quickly. After they had delivered Heinrich to his home and were safely alone in their car, Irma said: “Well, do you think you got away with it?”
“We can’t tell a thing, in this world of intrigue. Goebbels will think the matter over and decide where his interests lie.”
Irma had understood a little of the conversation here and there. She remarked: “At least you got the dirt on Dr. Ley!”
“Yes,” replied her husband; “and if we have the fortune to meet Dr. Ley, we’ll get the dirt on Dr. Goebbels!”
18
I Am a Jew
I
Lanny wasn’t taking his father’s suggestion of reporting to the American Embassy. The attaché who was Robbie’s old friend was no longer there. The Ambassador was a Hoover appointee, a former Republican senator from Kentucky and Robbie Budd’s type of man; but he was ill, and had gone to Vichy, France, from which place he had given an interview defending the Nazi regime. As for Lanny himself, he didn’t expect any serious trouble, but if it came, he would put it up to the Embassy to get him out. He had agreed with Irma that when he went out alone he would set a time for his return; if anything delayed him he would telephone, and if he failed to do this, she would report him as missing.
In the morning they took things easy; had breakfast in bed and read the papers, including interviews with themselves, also full accounts of the Reichstag session and other Nazi doings. Their comments were guarded, for they had to expect some form of spying. Except when they were alone in their car, everything in Germany was to be wonderful, and only code names were to be used. Heinrich was “Aryan,” Goebbels was “Mr. Mouth,” and the Frau Minister “Mrs. Mouth.” Disrespectful, but they were young and their manners were “smart.”
There came a telephone call from Freddi; he gave no name, but Lanny, knowing his voice, said promptly: “We saw some fine Bouguereau paintings last night, and are waiting for a call telling us the price. Call later.” Then he settled down and wrote a note to Mrs. Dingle, in Paris, enclosing various newspaper clippings, and saying: “The picture
market appears promising and we hope to make purchases soon. The clarinet and other instruments are in good condition.”
While he was writing, one of Irma’s friends, the Fürstin Donnerstein, called up to invite the young couple to lunch. Lanny told Irma to accept for herself. It was a waste of time for her to sit through long interviews with officials in the German language; let her go out and spread the news about Johannes, and find out the reaction of “society” to the disappearance of a Jewish financier. Lanny himself would wait in their suite for messages.
They were dressing, when the telephone rang. The “personal secretary” to Herr Reichsminister Doktor Goebbels announced: “The Herr Reichsminister wishes you to know that he has taken entire charge of the matter which you brought to his attention, and he will report to you as soon as he has completed investigations.”
Lanny returned his thanks, and remarked to his wife: “We are getting somewhere!”
Irma replied: “He was really a quite agreeable person, Lanny.” He looked at her, expecting a small fraction of a wink; but apparently she meant it. He would have liked to say: “Too bad his public speeches aren’t as pleasant as his private conversation.” But that could be said only in the car.
He added a postscript to the note to his mother: “I have just been given reason to hope that our deal may go through quickly.” He was about to offer to accompany Irma to the luncheon, when there came a tap upon the door, and a bellboy presented a card, reading: “Herr Guenther Ludwig Furtwaengler. Amtsleiter Vierte Kammer: Untersuchungs- und Schlichtungsausschuss N.S.D.A.P.” Lanny didn’t stop to puzzle out this jet of letters, but said: “Bring the Herr up.” Studying the card, he could tell something about the visitor; for the Germans do not customarily put the title “Herr” on their cards, and this was a crudity.
The officer entered the reception room, clicked his heels, bowed from the waist, and remarked: “Heil Hitler. Guten Morgen, Herr Budd.” He was a clean-cut youngish man in the black and silver uniform of the S.S. with the white skull and crossbones. He said: “Herr Budd, I have the honor to inform you that I was yesterday appointed to the personal staff of the Reichsminister and Minister-Präsident of Prussia, Hauptmann Göring. I have the rank of Oberleutnant, but have not had time to have new cards engraved. Seine Exzellenz wishes to invite you and Frau Budd to his inauguration ceremonies, which take place the day after tomorrow.”
“We are greatly honored, Herr Oberleutnant,” said Lanny, concealing his surprise.
“I present you with this card of admission. You understand it will be necessary to have it with you.”
“Assuredly,” said Lanny, and put the treasure safely into the inside breast pocket of his coat.
The other went on: “Seine Exzellenz the Minister-Präsident wishes you to know that he is giving immediate personal attention to the matter of Johannes Robin.”
“Well, thank you, Herr Oberleutnant,” said the American. This time his surprise couldn’t be concealed. He explained: “Only a few minutes ago I had a call from the office of another Reichsminister, and, was told that he had the matter in charge.”
Said the officer: “I am instructed to inform you that if you will accompany me to the residence of Seine Exzellenz the Minister-Präsident, he personally will give you information about the matter.”
“I am honored,” replied Lanny, “and of course pleased to come. Excuse me while I inform my wife.”
Irma paled when told this news, for she had heard about Göring, who had so far no rival for the title of the most brutal man in the Nazi government. “Can this be an arrest, Lanny?”
“It would be extremely bad form to suggest such an idea,” he smiled. “I will phone you without fail at the Fürstin Donnerstein’s by two o’clock. Wait there for me. If I do not call, it will be serious. But meantime, don’t spoil your lunch by worrying.” He gave her a quick kiss and went down to the big official car—a Mercédès, as big as a tank, having six wheels. It had a chauffeur and guard, both in Nazi uniforms. Lanny thought: “By heck! Johannes must be richer than I realized!”
II
A short drive up Unter den Linden and through the Brandenburger Tor to the Minister-Präsident’s official residence, just across the way from the Reichstag building with its burned-out dome. Lanny had heard no end of discussion of the three-hundred-foot tunnel which ran under the street, through which the S.A. men were said to have come on the night when they filled the building with incendiary materials and touched them off with torches. All the non-Nazi world believed that Hermann Wilhelm Göring had ordered and directed that job. Certainly no one could question that it was he who had ordered and directed the hunting down and killing, the jailing and torturing, of tens of thousands of Communists and Socialists, democrats and pacifists, during the past three and a half months. In his capacity of Minister without Portfolio of the German Reich he had issued an official decree instructing the police to co-operate with the Nazi forces, and in a speech at Dortmund he had defended his decree:
“In future there will be only one man who will wield power and bear responsibility in Prussia—that is myself. A bullet fired from the barrel of a police pistol is my bullet. If you say that is murder, then I am a murderer. I know only two sorts of law because I know only two sorts of men: those who are with us and those who are against us.”
With such a host anything was possible, and it was futile for Lanny to try to guess what was coming. How much would the Commandant of the Prussian Police and founder of the “Gestapo,” the Secret State Police, have been able to find out about a Franco-American Pink in the course of a few hours? Lanny had been so indiscreet as to mention to Goebbels that he had met Mussolini. Would they have phoned to Rome and learned how the son of Budd’s had been expelled from that city for trying to spread news of the killing of Giacomo Matteotti? Would they have phoned to Cannes and found out about the labor school? To Paris and learned about the Red uncle, and the campaign contributions of Irma Barnes which had made him a Deputy of France? Lanny could pose as a Nazi sympathizer before Heinrich Jung—but hardly before the Führer’s head triggerman!
It was all mystifying in the extreme. Lanny thought: “Has Goebbels turned the matter over to Göring, or has Göring grabbed it away from Goebbels?” Everybody knew that the pair were the bitterest of rivals; but since they had become Cabinet Ministers their two offices must be compelled to collaborate on all sorts of matters. Did they have jurisdictional disputes? Would they come to a fight over the possession of a wealthy Jew and the ransom which might be extorted from him? Göring gave orders to the Berlin police, while Goebbels, as Gauleiter of Berlin, commanded the party machinery, and presumably the Brownshirts. Would the cowering Johannes Robin become a cause of civil war?
And then, still more curious speculations: How had Göring managed to get wind of the Johannes Robin affair? Did he have a spy in the Goebbels household? Or in the Goebbels office? Or had Goebbels made the mistake of calling upon one of Göring’s many departments for information? Lanny imagined a spiderweb of intrigue being spun about the Robin case. It doesn’t take long, when the spinning is done with telephone wires.
III
Flunkies bowed the pair in, and a secretary led Lanny up a wide staircase and into a sumptuous room with a high ceiling. There was the great man, lolling in an overstuffed armchair, with a pile of papers on a small table beside him, and another table with drinks on the other side. Lanny had seen so many pictures of him that he knew what to expect: a mountain of a man, having a broad sullen face with heavy jowls, pinched-in lips, and bags of fat under the eyes. He was just forty, but had acquired a great expanse of chest and belly, now covered by a resplendent blue uniform with white lapels. Suspended around his neck with two white ribbons was a golden star having four double points.
The ex-aviator’s love of power was such that he was assuming offices one after another: Minister without Portfolio of the Reich, Minister-Präsident of Prussia, Air Minister, Commander-in-Chief of the German Air Force, Chief Fore
ster of the Reich, Reich Commissioner. For each he would have a new uniform, sky blue, cream, rose-pink. It wouldn’t be long before some Berlin wit would invent the tale of Hitler attending a performance of Lohengrin, and falling asleep; between the acts comes the tenor in his gorgeous swanboat costume, wishing to pay his respects to the Führer; Hitler, awakened from his nap, rubs his eyes and exclaims: “Ach, nein, Hermann! That is too much!”
Next to his chief, Göring was the least unpopular of the Nazis. He had been an ace aviator, with a record of devil-may-care courage. He had the peculiar German ability to combine ferocity with Gemütlichkeit. To his cronies he was genial, full of jokes, a roaring tankardman, able to hold unlimited quantities of beer. In short, he was one of the old-time heroes of Teutonic legend, those warriors who could slaughter their foes all day and at night drink wassail with their unwashed bloody hands; if they were slain, the Valkyries would come on their galloping steeds and carry them off to Valhalla to drink wassail forever after.
IV
Lanny’s first thought: “The most repulsive of men!” His second thought, close on its heels: “I admire all Nazis!” He bowed correctly and said: “Guten Morgen, Exzellenz.”
“Guten Morgen, Mr. Budd,” said the Hauptmann, in a rumbling bull voice. “Setzen Sie sich.”
He indicated a chair at his side and Lanny obeyed. Having met many of the great ones of the earth in his thirty-three years, Lanny had learned to treat them respectfully, but without obsequiousness. It was the American manner, and so far had been acceptable. He knew that it was up to the host to state why he had summoned him, and meantime he submitted to an inspection in silence.
“Mr. Budd,” said the great man, at last, “have you seen this morning’s Paris and London newspapers?”
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