Blackford Oakes read the editorial that morning and wondered whether its author had apprenticed in the New York Times. What makes them all sound so orotund? he wondered. Perhaps the editorial writers’ anonymity.
He would be watching of course—over the television, at the Anselmsklaus in the courtyard. Overstreet and Conditti had said they too wanted to watch, and asked Black if he would translate for them. Erika had taken her staff to Bonn so as to go to work instantly after the press conference. She could not translate Wintergrin’s answers to the questions ahead because he declined to write his answers out or, for that matter, even to give out the substance of most of them. Blackford knew that the rational thing was to hope that the press conference would go poorly for him, causing a precipitous drop in Wintergrin’s standing in the polls. But he could not quite bring himself to root for the successful victimization of Wintergrin by that great psywar machine the new cartel had put together.
By Tuesday morning, under the battering of the weekend’s events, Wintergrin’s rating took a dive. He was down to twenty-six per cent, with Adenauer holding firm at thirty-six per cent. Blackford knew—a fatalistic intuition told him so—that that ten-point spread, which was a Safe Conduct pass for Wintergrin from November 11 to old age, would contract. But by how much? He dared to hope the spread would stay big enough to relieve him of his awful assignment. After all, that there was movement over the weekend—Wintergrin down eight points in five days—confirmed that his standing was volatile and that there was in fact something of an expertise in the manipulation of public opinion. Blackford switched on the power at the fuse box, walked over to the stool and bent over the chromoscope, manipulated the levers, and lost himself in concentration on the hues that filtered through six different tinctures of blue glass. Sliding the right-hand lever forward, he could see how the blue he had come up with would appear at dusk on a sunny day, on a cloudy day, at high noon on a sunny day. His researches persuaded him that the legendary Gerard must have experimented with different lights in different locations, before specifying the final, perfect composition. He was still sitting on the stool, bent over the viewing port, when he was interrupted by Overstreet, raising his voice to be heard over the machine’s whir.
“It’s ten to eleven. Shouldn’t we go?”
Blackford raised his head and walked back to the wall to switch off the machine.
At the Anselmsklaus the saloon was crowded. Every villager and off-duty sentry was on hand, there being no other television sets around save for one in the castle, before which Countess Wintergrin, entirely alone, sat after the butler had tuned the set and pronounced it ready. Thirty-five people pressed about the bar and listened, in the minutes before Wintergrin would make his appearance, to a commentator discussing the gravity of the questions that would be put to the candidate of the Reunification Party.
In Bonn, in the little office outside the large reception room, Wintergrin looked at fresh clippings supplied by Heinrich Stiller. He reached out to capture the full flavor of the assault—the particulars he knew well enough—and as he dropped one clipping after another neatly to one side after reading it, his face was without expression, though once or twice he fastened, and then unfastened, the lower buttons on his jacket. He looked very young, gentle, unassuming—and determined. Since the program would be broadcast live on television, at two minutes to eleven Grossmann, who had come in from the platform, addressed the scattered staff and began the countdown.
“TWO MINUTES. God what a mob, Axel. They’re sitting on the radiators. It’s hot as hell. You’ll have to face a little to the right. The lights on the left are blinding. ONE MINUTE THIRTY SECONDS. Hot as hell! I’ve tried to open some windows. Siegfried Schlamm is sitting right in front of you. He’s looking real mean. Looking natural. ONE MINUTE. Did you see Der Spiegel gave him a big raise? He was offered a job by the Cologne-Düsseldorf-Bonn group. I think you can count on his getting in the first question. I’ll have to recognize him. Adenauer had a press conference this morning THIRTY SECONDS and said he thought it quite possible that you would pull out of the race, leaving the leadership of—get this—quote our common cause unquote in quote more seasoned hands unquote. He’s playing that FIFTEEN SECONDS ‘seasoned hands’ stuff so much you would think he went to school with FIVE SECONDS Moses. Good luck, Axel.” Kurt Grossmann opened the door and, following him, Axel Wintergrin went out on the stage and walked directly to the podium. Grossmann edged Wintergrin gently to one side and took the microphone himself:
“Ladies and gentlemen, Count Wintergrin will not be making a prepared statement. As most of you are aware, he will be delivering an address tonight in Frankfurt. The floor is therefore open to questions.”
Unlike most public figures, Wintergrin did not like to recognize a raised hand himself. He felt this practice objectionable on two counts. First, he could be accused of favoritism—of neglecting one hand in favor of another that had been raised earlier. Second, he disliked the schoolmasterish symbolism—humiliating, he had always thought, to the press’s image and to its august function. The suppression of a free press, he had frequently said, made Hitler possible. So Grossmann took the responsibility and, in resigned recognition of the anticipated initiative by Schlamm (who had raised his hand before Grossmann even began talking), he nodded to him, and twenty other raised hands went down.
“Count Wintergrin, it was alleged last Thursday in the Daily Mirror that you have a son living in London. Indeed his name was given, and his alleged mother with whom he is living was identified. Do you have a comment on this?”
“Yes,” said Wintergrin. “I have available, for those of you who feel the matter germane, photo copies of a letter from the lawyer of my son’s mother dated January 12, 1948, and a second letter from that lawyer dated approximately one year later. In the first he acknowledges in behalf of the boy’s mother my willingness to adopt him, but advises that his client desires to defer any action on the matter until the baby is a little older.
“The second letter, written sometime after the Heidelberg Manifesto, advises me that the child’s mother wished to put off renaming the child until political matters in Germany quieted down. One week after receiving the letter I executed a notarized will naming him as my heir. Copies of the will are also here. The boy’s mother is married, and if she permits him to come here when the situation is stabilized, my heir will return, I trust, to a united Germany.” Grossmann’s timing was deft. Without a second’s hesitation he recognized the next questioner in the rear, the representative of Die Welt.
“Count Wintergrin, the French Chamber of Deputies voted on Friday, by a count of three hundred and forty-one to eighty-two, its disapproval of your program.”
“Of course. That will take a moment or two to analyze. In the first place, it is altogether natural that Frenchmen should be less anxious than Germans to reunify Germany. I don’t think it’s reasonable to expect that other countries will be willing to face sacrifice on the same scale as the beneficiary country seeking to recover its own nationhood, and the freedom of its own countrymen. On the other hand, I could not in good conscience ask my fellow Germans to make sacrifices that exceeded those made by so many Frenchmen to liberate their own country during the past war. General de Gaulle said while in London that if Frenchmen had to fight for a century to free their country, they would be prepared to do so. Unlike those great French leaders who summoned the French to war for the liberation of their country, I am not summoning anyone to war, inasmuch as I do not believe war necessary merely to assert a right so universally respected. I do say that we must be prepared to fight if necessary: but that is in no sense new. Under the NATO agreement, practically all the nations of western Europe are pledged to fight if necessary to preserve their freedom and indeed each other’s. It is only distinctive about my platform that I believe that our brothers in East Germany should enjoy the same rights and protections we enjoy in West Germany and others enjoy in Italy, France, Scandinavia, the Low Countries, and Great Bri
tain. I am quite certain that when reunification comes, the French Chamber will rejoice in the same spirit as freedom-loving people throughout the world rejoiced when Frenchmen were liberated.”
“Jesus Christ!” Blackford said to Overstreet. “Good God almighty! How’re they going to stop that guy! He just managed to make the frogs look good while disemboweling them!” The Germans in the saloon were cheering.
In the press room Grossmann once again turned quickly to the next questioner, who stood by a television crew.
“Count Wintergrin, how do you account for the five million East German signatures urging us to vote against you and your party?”
“You are perhaps familiar, Herr Klaus, with the threat made to ex-President Theodore Roosevelt during the period of American neutrality in the First World War. The German ambassador advised the former President that if America joined the war on the side of the Allied powers, one million German Americans would rise up against their government. Mr. Roosevelt observed that in America there were more than one million lampposts. By the same token, there are five million lampposts in East Germany, with which to intimidate the population. I do not doubt that a totalitarian government can deliver signatures behind any petition whatever. What is perhaps remarkable is that only five million signatures were presented. As you know, the Soviet Union has a great penchant for unanimity. East Germans went to the polls only one year ago, and delivered ninety-nine point four per cent of the vote for Herr Ulbricht.”
There was a rustle of papers, and then the Reuters man was recognized.
“Count Wintergrin, the Norwegian Trygve Amundsen last Wednesday revealed … perhaps I should say, alleged … that during the time you were in the resistance in Norway you were in fact working secretly for the Nazis. He produced a document which purports to describe a meeting between you and”—the Reuters man was examining his notes—“a Captain Hessler, on July 4, 1944, at which you advised Captain Hessler of the date of a bombing run planned by the British against the heavy-water installation at Vemork, on July 7. The records indeed show that the British initiated such a raid on that day and that the surprising intensity of antiaircraft fire resulted in the devastation of the British squadron.”
The reporters stirred. Wintergrin paused for a moment. Then he reached into his pocket and brought out a folded piece of paper which he placed on the podium.
“I was of course aware the matter would be brought up, and am glad that the matter can be clarified.
“One: I have never laid eyes on Trygve Amundsen, though I acknowledge that he was a member of the resistance.
“Two: I never met, heard of, or was interrogated by, Captain Hessler. He was not one of the Gestapo officials who tortured me at Oslo during the spring of that year.
“Three: As we meet here, Mr. Amundsen is meeting with members of the press in Norway. He is issuing the following statement and will answer questions about it put to him by the press. I shall read it, if I may:
“‘On October 30, I received a telephone call in my office from a stranger. He advised me that unless I cooperated with him in a certain matter, either my son, or my wife, would be slaughtered. My wife is very ill and in a tuberculosis sanatorium. My six-year-old son is with his grandparents. He told me that if any report were made to the police, my wife or my son would similarly be executed. He then told me that I must be prepared to testify that Count Axel Wintergrin was a double agent during the period of the resistance, and that when I took part in the final raid on the Gestapo headquarters in Oslo I retrieved a memorandum documenting a conversation between Captain Hessler and Count Wintergrin in which Wintergrin betrayed the British Air Force. I received in the morning mail the next day the page from the Nazi journal. I proceeded to make the public accusation.
“‘Since doing so, members of the resistance—my former colleagues—who fought alongside Count Wintergrin and were personal witnesses to his bravery, approached me and promised to supply protection against the threatener. Measures were taken over the weekend that succeeded in tracing the telephone caller—who narrowly escaped the country. The Norwegian police and Interpol have been notified and are on the alert to arrest him for the crime of threatened murder and extortion. I heartily apologize of course to Count Wintergrin, but also to the German people. Signed, Tryve Amundsen.’”
Blackford signaled the waiter, and ordered a drink. “Poor mixed-up guy,” he thought. “So. Work your way out of every trap, and what do you do? You commit suicide.”
Everyone now was ordering beer. And, at the press hall, the applause was spontaneous, even heartfelt. The press manifestly felt dirty at having been so easily led to the diffusion of a sordid and apparently baseless accusation. Rather than let the applause continue, Wintergrin signaled quickly to Grossmann to recognize the next questioner, but the Reuters man insisted on a follow-up question.
“Have you speculated, Count Wintergrin, on who is the probable client of the man on the telephone?”
“Yes,” Wintergrin said, “yes, I have.”
There was silence.
The Reuters man said, “Well?”
Everyone laughed. Wintergrin looked uncomfortable.
“I should think it most probable,” he said, “that the enterprise, clearly motivated to discredit me, was the handiwork of the same party or parties who produced five million votes alleging that East Germans prefer servitude to liberty. The two libels are cognate—”
“What does ‘cognate’ mean?” Overstreet whispered to Blackford.
Blackford interrupted his own running translation.
“Related, sort of. Shhh.”
“But,” the Reuters correspondent persevered, “it isn’t only the Communists who seek to discredit you, is it? The majority of the French Parliament, for instance, are not Communists.”
“Of course not. And although I would hope for encouragement by every German, I can hardly expect the vote of every German, and would never for a moment suggest that those who oppose me are in any sense sympathetic to Communism. What I am saying is that the Norwegian enterprise is typically totalitarian in its total disregard of truth, fair play, and the appropriate sense of restraint. It is for that reason that I have speculated—your word—on the probable sponsor of the project.”
Grossmann now interrupted: “Next question?”
The next questioner was Erik von Königsberg, the grand old man of German journalism, imprisoned throughout the Nazi years.
“Count Wintergrin, on Thursday the Russians announced a general mobilization. It would appear that they are preparing for the contingency of a victory by you, in which case they would use all their armed might to crush you, your party, West Germany, and conceivably the rest of Europe while they are at it. May I have your comments on that?”
“Yes, of course, Herr Königsberg.
“In Heidelberg, on September 28, I said in my address: ‘Inevitably the Russians will threaten to block with their whole military might any move to liberate East Germany.’ In Cologne on October 4, I said: ‘The Soviet Union will make great objections, no doubt including ostentatious mobilization of its forces.’ In Stuttgart on October 11, I said: ‘Germans must not permit themselves to falter under threats of force from the Soviet Union, precisely calculated to deter us from our path.’
“Now, I am aware that to predict that something will happen, which I did, does not make its happening any the less significant.
“But bear in mind the following. In the present situation, the Soviet Union theoretically does not need to mobilize in order for its armies to reach the English Channel. It has one hundred and seventy-five divisions along the eastern front, five times the number of NATO’S, and a similarly disproportionate number of tanks and support aircraft.
“The Soviet Union is kept at bay by a combination of factors, among them the atomic deterrent, postwar economic exhaustion, and the difficulty the Soviet Union would have in administering conquered territories of people who are enjoying their freedoms after the long nightmare of Naz
i rule and Nazi occupation.
“Now, here is a concrete piece of intelligence: Since the Soviets’ theatrical summons to mobilization: one, no reserves have in fact been called up; two, no fresh orders have been issued to the reserves; three, no administrative centers have been established for the processing of recruits. In other words, save for the announcement itself, exactly nothing has happened. The Soviet Union is not satisfied to coerce the East Germans. It desires to influence the election in West Germany.”
The press began talking all at once, and Grossmann gaveled for silence.
“You will want to know how I have that information. I cannot tell you. I can tell you this, however, that on investigating it, to the extent that you have your own sources, you will find it to be true.
“Now”—Wintergrin did not want to slow the momentum and wait for what he knew would be the next question—“on the matter of an atomic defense, since the topic is raised over and over again. I am aware that Dr. Oppenheimer has said that it is a ‘scientific impossibility’ for me to have come up with the bomb. I wish to repeat here: I do not threaten the bomb except against anyone who is prepared to annihilate Germans seeking their own freedom. I have no intention of inflicting violence on, or making war against, the Soviet Union. I am simply advising the German people that I am a practical man, with no taste for windmills. Although I believe in the end in the supremacy of the spirit—witness the valiant struggle of the Israelis to survive against such heavy odds—I also believe in the necessity of making only credible assertions. In economic strength this country is already third in the world, so soon after our devastation. We are a nation of fifty million people. Our factories can give us the conventional tools of war. And the bomb—should it come to that? I am free to say only this, that it is true—Dr. Oppenheimer is correct—as of now it is scientifically impossible for Germans to have developed an atom bomb. But it does not follow that we cannot have acquired an atom bomb. That is my answer to Dr. Oppenheimer. And”—now he was clearly addressing the television audience—“my message to the German people is: Don’t let any of the distractions with which you have been assaulted during the last week deter you from what is your clear resolve. Until we free our brothers we are continuing victims of an ignoble past.”
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