Strange Attractors (1985)
Page 22
chiefly to retain his position as President of Manchester-
Westinghouse-Farbin Industries. The company manufactured
refrigerators for the Reich.
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‘We follow the racial hygiene laws strictly,’ said Shillington, his
hair damp from perspiration. He insisted on speaking in' his
atrocious German, though Rudolfs English was adequate.
Tm sure you do,’ Rudolph said, and then fell silent.
The pudgy industrialist squirmed, clearly unsure whether to
speak again. He feared the work camps, though Rudolf had sent
few suspects there, let alone used his power of summary execution.
Kahr’s fears might be politically expedient, but they were not based
on reality. Rudolf put his captive out of his misery.
‘The SD isn’t a political police, like our colleagues in the Gestapo
SS. We’re an information gathering service for the Party and the
Ftihrer. The fact that Heydrich is technically subordinate to
Reichsfiihrer Himmler doesn’t imply any organisational links with
the Schutzstaffel.’
‘To be . . . sure.’
The H auptm ann sighed, tapped on the armrest of his chair.
‘W hat I’m sayng, H err Shillington, is that we don’t indulge in the
medieval practices of our friends. At worst, we occasionally shoot
traitors.’
The fellow pulled himself together at this glimmer of hope,
‘Tell me about Karl Schmidt,’ Esser said.
Shillington was startled, hie proceeded to pour out information
Rudolf already possessed: Schmidt’s pre-eminence amongst the
Barossa Germans, his lack of any real pre-War Nazi sympathy, his
support for the ‘great mass of the racially sound Anglo-Saxon Folk’.
In particular, Schmidt had disagreed with the policy of withholding housing renovations from the unclassifieds.
Yet many of these people, in the fullness of time, would be found
to be Untermenschen. They would hardly require their homes
once they were relocated to the planned Shires, the equivalent of
the Castle System operating in the SS Territories. The U ntermenschen here would make adequate peasants and workers, since the worst dross had already been sanctioned.
Rudolf grew restless. ‘This much is public knowledge, H err
Shillington.’
‘One more thing, H err H auptm ann!’ The man’s perspiration
gleamed on his forehead. ‘This Schmidt’s father was a Socialist for
a brief period. A member of the International Workers of the
World! I found out from my wife. She’s from the Barossa. Don’t tell
her, I beg you, she’d never forgive me if she discovered who spoke of
this. Family ties are strong there.’
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157
Rudolf pressed a button on the table. The bright lights above
softened, broadened to illuminate the corners of the room.
‘I understand you have two sons. Which school do they attend?’
‘Bremen College,’ the Australian told him, trembling. He did not
add: formerly St Peter’s.
Rudolf crossed the room, found a bottle of schnapps.
‘Perhaps they’d like to study at the Hindenberg Gymnasium in
Berlin. Would you care for a drink?’
He pushed her against the table, face-down. H er long brown hair
had been cut recently and she wore a satin dress. He pulled it up,
his throat dry as he undid the buttons on his fly. The Fuhrer had
forbidden zippers as an invention of American Jewry — one of
their last.
Trudi was whispering that she loved him. but she did not assist
his efforts. He pulled down her panties and shoved aside the remaining crockery on the table. The radio was playing the noon broadcast of Deutschland Uber Alles. Aching with desire, he
penetrated her, clutching her buttocks.
They had never been able to make love without fear in the
Ukraine, when their families had been out supervising Unter-
menschen slaves at their respective farms and factories, or vying for
social superiority at Folk Gatherings.
He almost missed that desperate thrill which had materialised
with his homecomings. That illicit fulfilment of desire, when Trudi
had absconded from her parents’ estate to tryst with him.
The remembrance of their love in that sea of hate fuelled his
passion; she began to moan.
‘You’re quite certain, Doctor?’
The worn man spoke quietly. ‘Yes, Fraulein. There’s no doubt.’
He was anxious to appear polite. There had been a long line of
women waiting to be processed, outside the surgery, mainly those
ordered in for preliminary classification or seeking permission to
fill child quotas. Being a German she had moved to the head of the
queue. She sensed that the doctor was repelled by her; perhaps it
was a reflection of revulsion for himself, for he was certainly old
enough to have been practising before the War, fulfilling different
needs.
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‘Thank you,’ she said in her halting English. She rose and left as
quickly as possible, for the smell of death was in the air, and she
wanted only to forget.
‘The Schmidt situation will soon be resolved most satisfactorily,’
said the Gauleiter. Rudolf hugged himself tightly, surprised at the
cold. He was unprepared for it, as were the hundred or so Barossa
Germans gathered in Elder Park. They shuffled around in small
groups, or sat in the deckchairs provided. They were surrounded
by tall gum trees. A full moon, and several blazing torches fixed on
stands, illuminated the park. One of the nearby trees was strangely
dark, but he lacked the energy to investigate.
‘W here are the SS?’ asked the H auptm ann. ‘I’m surprised you
handed him over to them for punishment. The Death’s Heads are
our common rivals.’
‘These locals,’ said Kahr. ‘They love the Hitler Youth, power is
wonderful, yet they shy away from responsibility. You’re an agent,
I’m a politician. I can’t afford to shun the SS. It was bad enough
that you didn’t order any executions. In any case, the Wehrmacht
prefers not to process such cases, so there is no alternative.
‘The Black Men swear to Woden. They even told the Jews they
could go free if they professed belief in the Germanic Pantheon;
some of the stupid bastards believed them. You’re familiar with the
Wild H unt?’
‘The . . . myth? I was told of it as a child, it’s true.’
‘They’ll be here soon,’ Kahr said. There was the sound of hoofs,
and of barking. Flares burst overhead, miniature suns that slowly
descended to the earth.
First came a figure in an ill-fitting uniform. Rudolf recognised
Schmidt, his face contorted, his costume that of a Soviet General
from the War of Redemption. The hapless man scrambled across
the grass, stumbling once. Through the shadows, behind him,
came a snarling dog, a great wolfhound. Schmidt was running
towards the great tree.
Several of the beast’s companions came in pursuit, travelling
alongside half a dozen men and women on horseback. Flames
gleamed from horned helmets; the riders were garbed as Germanic
gods. Rudolf recognised one of the Valkyries, a courtesan from
Greater Barossa’s sole SS Castle. Woden cantered at their head. All
carried spears, wickedly pointed.
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159
‘In these plays of theirs,’ Kahr whispered to him, ‘the SS blend
image and reality,’ The crowd, at last making out the identity of the
supposed traitor, cheered half-heartedly at his dilemma. ‘Schmidt
was told that if he reaches the tree and climbs to its topmost
branches, they won’t kill him.’ Rudolfs temporary superior was
absorbed in the drama; he had an aristocratic indifference: to
cruelty for its own sake.
The Wild H unt was drawing closer. One of the wolfhounds
snapped its jaws at Schmidt’s very heels. W ith a final effort, his
breath rasping audibly across the open ground, the m an sprinted
for the trunk of the huge tree. In the torch light, the bole was deep
red. Some Australian species?
Miraculously, Schmidt reached his goal, jumped , . . fell. Rudolf
heard titters. The uniformed man, desperate, dogs tearing at his
calves, tried to climb, could gain no hold on the trunk. The riders
were approaching now at a more leisurely pace.
Kahr roared with laughter. ‘The SS are true to their word. No
one can dispute their ethics!’
‘Pardon?’
‘Why, if he climbs the tree, he’s safe — but . . . but they greased it.’
The Gauleiter chuckled. ‘And bless their hearts, they used red
grease.’
Rudolf averted his gaze. Shadows shifted under a falling flare.
The world turned to fragments. He controlled his fear. He was safe.
By the time he woke in the morning, he assured himself, his upset
would be gone. He would have forgotten the Wild Hunt.
Unfortunately, he could not ignore the deep happy cries of the
hounds, the shared experience of the chase, of hum an desperation.
To leave would be to show disapproval towards the State, and he
was an officer. He had seen far worse.
One of the Valkyries rode back, passing him. He watched her,
fascinated by her ecstasy. H er forehead was smeared with liquid,
the kill a ruby sign upon her.
They sat in K ahr’s personal cinema. Rudolf did not know why he
had been summoned. The Gauleiter’s expression was stern and he
did not shake hands but clasped Rudolf on the shoulder and led
him to a seat, announcing that they had business to conclude.
Grim business.
‘You’ll not leave this cinema a whole man,’ Kahr said bluntly.
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Rudolf recognised the tone; he had used it himself, ordering people
to the camps. Kahr’s attitude was in marked contrast to his mood
during the previous night’s sport. Perhaps he wished to unnerve
Rudolf. The H auptm ann rose. His political acumen brought him
back to his senses; he sat down again and turned to the screen as the
projector came to life. W hat could the Gauleiter possibly have to
show him?
It was a poor quality movie, and the camera jum ped frequently,
but he recognised his bedroom. Why would Kahr have ordered
this? Was a purge of the SD imminent, as the Abwehr had been
eliminated years ago? His heart pounded furiously. Surely the
Party would not act so, or, weakened by the loss of its ally, it too
would eventually succumb.
His lover entered the room, clad in a night-gown. It was after
curfew, to judge by the clock on the mantelpiece. A figure appeared
on the side of the screen, shadowy, nakedly male. Trudi turned her
head and smiled. The figure approached, his blond hair tousled
My God
and he
No, no, no
recognised their Untermensch body servant.
He sat still. His head felt heavy.
The film was quite long.
The Gauleiter handed him a pistol. ‘Take it,’ he said. ‘It was captured from the Resistance in the early years. I shan’t speak of this again, and neither shall you. I’d never have forgiven myself if our
suspicions had proved untrue, H auptm ann Esser. Clean up your
house.’
He opened the front door and waved aside the butler.
He had once tallied the num ber of deaths for which he had been
immediately responsible. It had come to seven hundred. He was
not sadistic, surely; merely efficient. Most of those sanctions had
been easy to order, since there was an established flow, an ongoing
process. Normally there was no single point at which one had to
proclaim life or death. Once one had bathed in the Styx one
emerged changed, aware of the inevitability of death, purified.
‘ We are barbarians!’ the Fiihrer had said. ‘Barbarians with technical skill!
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161
The gritty realism of the camera; it had been an in-house film,
unlike D r Goebbel’s propaganda features.
He walked to their bedroom, putting on his gloves and unbuttoning his holster.
The body servant had already been summoned to a camp, to join
several thousand Australians in the search for medical knowledge
and the promotion of the sciences. Perhaps it was better that way.
Duty and pleasure were already synonymous within his mind.
A National Socialist is a man of action. In sharing this conviction, Mussolini’s Fascism had been admirable.
7 o be is to do.
He reached the door and opened it.
She lay asleep on their bed, in her night-dress. The cover was of
white silk, the colour of her skin. He did not want to have to think.
Don’t touch me like that, please, Rudolf, not in public, later, I feel dirty.
He approached her and took out the pistol, cocking it and placing the muzzle against her temple.
Several times he believed he had pulled the trigger, only to
realise that she still breathed.
He had beaten his parents to death with an axe-shaft. They had
arrived home early to find him engaged in sex with Trudi. That
had been different. Their hatred would have driven them to disgrace her and her family. She had already shown difficulty in accepting one of the SD as her lover. He could not stand his
parents’ knowledge of his best-kept secret, and had taken out his
agony on the Slav rebels. Both pasts, real and professed, had
merged over the last year.
‘Trudi?’
She awoke and yawned.
‘You’re home early, darling — ’
She was still. He had not moved the muzzle away.
‘Did you ever sleep with our body servant?’
‘No.’ The lie made her sin more awful.
‘Do you love me?’
‘We’re . . . bound by our passions. Forever.’
‘You’re ashamed of me in the open! W here’s the proof of our love?
This past month or two you’ve grown ever colder to me.’
She shook her head slightly. ‘We’re above the norms of civilisation, but it’s just that in public, the crowds — your parents looked like that when you . . . held the club, when they didn’t run.’ He
lowered the pistol. ‘The stars foretold death today,’ she whispered.
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> He could not kill her. She was his link between past and present,
his goal, his success. If she did not exist he could only hate himself,
and his purpose. Rudolf knelt on the bed, straddling her. If they
had a future, they would share it. To hell with the Gauleiter. He
kissed her, grasped her night-dress, tore it apart.
It came to him, too late.
The m irror was opening.
Before he could reach the pistol they were upon them.
The officer forced the gun into Rudolfs hand; the H auptm ann
resisted and it was several moments before the weapon fired. The
camera focused on Trudi’s face.
‘H ardly useful,’ said the SS Sturmbannfuhrer. A little of his
blond hair remained. His blue eyes did not blink very often. ‘The
SD itself is not an inexperienced agent, to be deceived by a stand-in
and splicing. Nor can we always rely on the Fiihrer’s . . . problems,
to work in our favour. We were lucky that she revealed his crime.
Lucky that you investigated her reference to it.’
The Gauleiter ordered the film stopped.
‘The fates work for us. His m urder of his parents will have to be
enough for you.’
‘It is.’
The two men left the cinema.
‘Heydrich will be enraged,’ said the Sturmbannfuhrer, perm itting himself a smile. ‘Sympathy with disloyal Party members, a crime of passion, and now this. His parents! Him mler is already
preparing a guest editorial for the Volkischer Beobachter. This is the
first step towards victory. The Castle System will come to Greater
Barossa, not the weaker Shires plan. Let the Party try to expel you.
You’ll administer the Pacifika Territories in due course.’
They entered the reception room.
‘It’s strange,’ K ahr said. ‘She didn’t inform the H auptm ann.’
‘W hat?’
The Gauleiter told him.
‘Then she was as foolish as he,’ said the Sturmbannfuhrer, frowning. ‘Who can tell the ways of the mad?’
Rudolf ran; he had no time to discard his heavy boots and baggy
clothes. He threw his cloth hat away and fled through the night.
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In the distance there was barking.
He knew it was pointless to play their game, yet he could not help