Inconsequential Nazi

by Ward Wagher

  “I’m sorry. I have already made plans for tonight. Thank you for asking, though.”

  “I don’t want to seem forward,” he said. “but I wonder if I might get on your calendar for tomorrow night?”

  She hesitated, and he quickly said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

  She shook her head quickly. “No, that’s not it. Smoke was just in here being an ass, and I’m trying to gather my wits again. Yes, tomorrow night would work. Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”

  “I assume I could come by here to pick you up as usual,” he said. “About 7 o’clock?”

  “Yes, that would be fine. Thank you.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then.” He touched the brim of his hat and smiled as he turned to leave.

  She shook her head as she finished clearing her desk. She pulled her purse from the chair well under the desk and set it on top. She walked over to the hat tree and shrugged into her coat. As overheated as Smoke typically kept the embassy, stepping out into the cold wind was always a shock. While it would be March in a few days, the winter showed no sign of letting up soon.

  She walked quickly through the embassy hallways to the front entrance. Waving to the Marine guards, she stepped outside and shivered in the cold wind. A German government Mercedes was parked at the curb and she trotted over to it. The driver jumped out of the car and scurried around to open the door for her. She slipped into the back seat where Karl Rainer waited.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, Karl,” she said. “Smoke came into my office right at 5 o’clock and ruined what had been a pretty decent day.”

  Rainer chuckled. “We will have a nice dinner and pleasant conversation. I believe that will take care of the tension in your life.”

  She giggled. “You have this way of helping me to relax, Karl. I’m glad we were able to get together, tonight.”

  “I am hoping that you will have more of your weekend free than just tonight,” he said with a smile as he slid an envelope out of his coat pocket. “I scored a couple of tickets to the Berlin Philharmonic concert for tomorrow night. I was hoping you would be able to attend.”

  “The Philharmonic?” She squealed. “That’s amazing. I had tried to get tickets, and they were sold out.” She then jumped. And leaned over to put her hand on his arm. “But I already made other plans for tomorrow night. I’m so sorry, Karl. I would have loved to go.”

  His face was unreadable at that moment as he slid the envelope back into his coat pocket. “These things happen, Misty. Perhaps another time.”

  The driver took them to the Potsdamer Platz and stopped in front of Haus Vaterland. He opened the back door so that Misty and Karl could step out onto the sidewalk. Karl took her arm and they walked into the edifice. The Haus Vaterland was one of the premier tourist attractions in Berlin. Themed restaurants occupied multiple floors of the building. They entered the elevator and rose to the fourth floor. Karl guided her into the Lowenbrau where they were seated. She looked around in amazement.

  “This looks just like a bierkeller I visited in Munich,” she exclaimed.

  “Rainer chuckled. “That’s the general idea, Misty. I thought you might enjoy a meal here.”

  Her eyes glowed as she looked around. “This is really interesting. There are all kinds of different eating places here. Somehow, I have missed visiting here since I arrived in Berlin.”

  “I think we can assuage your curiosity then. There is a restaurant called the Wild West bar up on the fifth floor. Perhaps next time we can visit that, and you can tell me how realistic it is.”

  “I think I would like to see that,” she said. “What do you recommend from the menu?”

  “This is actually the first time I have eaten here,” Rainer said. “It will be an adventure for both of us.”

  They engaged in small talk during the meal and she was able to relax. She thought it was pleasant to just enjoy the meal and the ambiance. While many of the other diners recognized Karl Rainer, they politely left him alone. The after-dinner coffee arrived and Karl cleared his throat.

  “There is a slightly delicate matter I need to discuss with you Misty,” he said diffidently.

  She looked quickly at him. “What do we need to talk about?”

  “You are an intriguing lady, and I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you,” he said carefully. “I enjoy having you as a friend, and I believe you feel the same. I wonder if we might consider and talk about whether we could move to something more?”

  “Oh, Karl. We have had this conversation before.” She looked down at her coffee cup, and then picked it up to sip, as she gathered her thoughts. “Would you leave Germany and come to the United States with me? I don’t think that you would be willing to do so. I’m an American, Karl. Our nations are now at peace, but remember I am employed by the American government. I just don’t see how we could make anything work.”

  “Would you be willing to leave your job at the embassy?”

  She bit her lip. “I love my job. I think I am very good at it. But yes, for the right man I would leave my job at the embassy.”

  “I sense a conditional in there,” he murmured. “Would it be because of the American major?”

  “No.” She hesitated. “Yes... I don’t know.”

  “I just don’t see how we can continue the relationship at this level, Misty,” he said softly. “I think we have some decisions to make.”

  “I gotta think about this, Karl,” she said.

  Later that evening back in her apartment at the embassy, she drew a bath and sprinkled in some bath beads a friend had brought from Paris. She settled in for a long soak and prepared to continue reading a novel she had borrowed from one of the office girls.

  After staring at the same page for fifteen minutes she shook her head. What was she going to do about her two gentlemen friends, as Smoke called them? Until recently she had been fairly sure that she was in love with Rainer. She was comfortable around him as she had been with no other man. Yet she was nearly as attracted to Lane Johnson in a very different sort of way.

  Both were very direct in what they wanted to do. Neither was afraid to make decisions, and she sensed the same kind of ruthlessness in Lane that she had seen in Karl. Yet Karl was a strict German who managed his life by an internal code of honor which was burnished so brightly as to be blinding at times. Lane was as honorable, but he reflected a Midwestern practicality that she had seen during her summers in Indianapolis. And, she liked that. What was she going to do?

  In either case, this conflicted with the instructions Director Donovan had given her before she left Washington. She was to insinuate herself into the high-level leadership of the Reich and provide an intelligence conduit back to the OSS in Washington. One way or the other she had seriously compromised her mission, and she didn’t know what to do about that either.

  In frustration, she threw the book across the room and used her toe to pull the plug in the bathtub. She stood up and grabbed her towel, furious with herself for dithering like this. Her father had repeatedly taught her to make decisions when decisions were required. She needed to make a decision now and decided that Daddy would be disappointed with her.

  Pulling her robe around her, she marched into the small sitting room of her apartment. Pacing back and forth, she could not make up her mind and wondered if there was anyone in the entire benighted town whom she could talk to.

  She considered whether she had enough leave time accumulated so she could book passage to New York and talk to her father. And then she remembered, that there was perhaps another person in Berlin she could talk to. But she was not sure how she would be able to get in touch with her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  February 26, 1943; 8 PM

  German Federal Foreign Office

  Wilhelmstrasse

  Berlin, Germany

  “Sir Percy Loraine,” announced the majordomo at the entrance to the reception room.

  Around the ro
om, heads turned to watch the entrance of the new British ambassador to the German Reich. He was fashionably late, which gave the other guests the opportunity to arrive and settle in at the reception given in his honor. Heinrich and Gisela Schloss stood in one corner, each with a flute of Sekt.

  “Will the ambassador greet you first, Hennie?” Gisela asked.

  “This is Peter’s party,” Schloss responded, “the ambassador needs to greet him first.”

  Schloss had decided to attend the reception because of the importance of the relationship with the English. He wondered if he might have made a mistake in doing so, as most of the diplomats in attendance obviously wanted to catch his eye so they could speak with him. But he wanted to reinforce the efforts of the Foreign Ministry in reestablishing decent relations with the former enemy.

  The Portuguese ambassador was becoming almost too obvious in catching Schloss’s attention, so he smiled and nodded at the diplomat who then quickly waddled over to speak to the Reich Chancellor.

  “Senhor Ambassador,” Schloss spoke, “how good of you to come tonight.”

  “Herr Reich Chancellor, I was very pleased to be invited.”

  “And how are things in Lisbon?”

  The ambassador, Aristides De Sousa Mendes, managed a wry smile. “Things have settled down a lot since the unfortunate business last fall. To have a friendly head of state murdered in our country was beyond horrifying. One still wonders what the English were thinking.”

  “Very true, ambassador,” Schloss replied. “It appears, though, the Americans and the English have apparently come to terms with it.”

  “Very true, however, I believe they had little choice.”

  “Indeed,” Schloss agreed.

  “And how is Frau Schloss?” the ambassador asked.

  “I am well,” Gisela said. “It is good to see a friend of the German Reich here, tonight.”

  “It is good to be friendly with the Reich. So much has changed over the past couple of years.”

  Schloss merely nodded but said nothing further. Sousa Mendes looked back and forth to see if anyone else was in earshot.

  “We are very concerned about what we are hearing out of the Soviet Union,” he said quickly.

  Schloss felt a tingle of fear. “What have you heard about the Russians?”

  “We have an unconfirmed rumor that Stalin wants to invade Germany as a means of salvaging his government.”

  “Is that so?”

  Sousa Mendes nodded. “We do not have very much in the way of intelligence assets in Moscow; however, we are working diligently to confirm the truth of the rumor.”

  “Senhor Ambassador, thank you for bringing this to my attention. May I ask that you schedule an appointment with Foreign Minister Schreiber to give him an update on what you have just told me?”

  “Of course, of course,” Sousa Mendes nodded so deeply that it was almost a bow. “I shall be delighted to do so. Prime Minister Salazar instructed me to convey the message to you personally, Herr Reich Chancellor. Another major war in Europe would be tragic.”

  “I completely agree, Senhor ambassador,” Schloss responded. “Again, thank you for taking the time to see us tonight.”

  Sousa Mendes nodded again and looked around uncomfortably. He then stepped away and walked quickly over to the buffet.

  Gisela whispered to Schloss, “Hennie, what was that all about?”

  “Either Stalin wants to make sure that the whole world knows about his plans, or he is getting ready to pull some kind of a massive deception on us.”

  “Could his security be that poor?” she asked.

  “That would be hard to believe,” Schloss said. “And, here comes the Englishman.”

  He turned with a broad smile as the British ambassador walked across the room to them. He gave the man a very proper handshake.

  “Sir Percy,” he said, “welcome to Berlin. I trust you will find our city to your liking.”

  “Herr Reich Chancellor,” the Brit said with a very sober face. “It is an honor to meet you, Sir. And, thank you for honoring us with your presence tonight.”

  Schloss nodded to acknowledge his statement. “I know that the Foreign Minister Schreiber has scheduled several meetings with you. I wanted to reinforce our desire to begin building a new relationship with the United Kingdom. I consider the recent war as unfortunate, and I never want something like that to happen again.”

  “The Queen has instructed me to do everything I reasonably can to achieve the same goals,” the ambassador replied.

  “I am glad that we will be able to start off with broad agreement on that point.”

  “Yes, well, we try to remain practical.”

  Sir Percy stood staring at Schloss, looking uncomfortable.

  “Once again, it was an honor to meet you, ambassador,” Schloss said.

  With the conversation clearly over, the ambassador moved away and scanned the room. He then marched over to greet Gordon Smoke, the American Ambassador.

  “He looked like he had bit into something sour when he mentioned the Queen,” Gisela said.

  “I don’t believe the English diplomatic corps is very pleased to have the Queen managing their affairs so closely.”

  “At least he is saying the right things,” she said. “Perhaps the Queen will drive things through to a happy conclusion.”

  “That is my fervent hope,” Schloss said. “And here comes the Americans.”

  “Herr Reich Chancellor,” Ambassador Smoke began, “a very nice party tonight.”

  Schloss smiled at the ambassador and glanced over at Misty Simpson who was rolling her eyes.

  “We are happy you were able to be here tonight ambassador, and hello Fräulein Simpson. Good to see you again.”

  “We are delighted at the cooperation between our two countries,” Smoke continued. “The U-boats are giving a good account of themselves and the Pacific, and it seems the Luftwaffe is getting the B-17s integrated into their squadrons.”

  “I am happy that we have found some areas that are mutually helpful.”

  “I heard you had a chance to see the Haus Vaterland, Misty,” Gisela said.

  Misty looked surprised but quickly smoothed her face into a smile.

  “Yes, it is an amazing place. I am planning to try some of the other restaurants there very soon.”

  “Lucky you,” Schloss smiled. “My security will allow me to visit places like that anymore.”

  “We would like to find other areas where our two countries can work together,” Smoke blurted out, trying to take control of the conversation again.

  Schloss put his hand on Smoke’s arm. “Be sure to make an appointment with Herr Schreiber. I am sure he will be delighted to arrange for discussions of that type.”

  Smoke blushed deeply, and Misty looked disgusted.

  “I will, of course, do that,” Smoke stammered. “Thank you for your time, Sir.”

  As they walked away Schloss heard Misty saying, “God, Smoke! Why didn’t you just roll over and ask him to scratch your belly?”

  “Apparently, Herr Smoke still has much to learn,” Gisela commented with a smile.

  “The man is an idiot,” Schloss said. “However, he always seems to land on his feet.”

  In spite of his hatred for time wasting fol-de-rol like diplomatic receptions, Schloss concluded that this one was relatively successful. It was clear that Queen Margaret was very much in the driver’s seat in England, and her diplomats were, however unwillingly, following her bidding. With the threat of another war on the European continent, getting England into the same kind of relationship Germany had with America was critical. He was not sanguine about the chances of achieving such, but the iron–hard will of the Queen made things barely possible.

  § § §

  February 26, 1943; 11:30 PM

  Reich Chancellor’s Apartment

  Reich Chancellery

  Berlin, Germany

  As often as possible, Schloss would meet with Peter Schreibe
r immediately after a diplomatic soirée to compare notes and discuss possible responses. They sat in Schloss’s sitting room along with Gisela and Renate and drank coffee as they conversed.

  “Percy Loraine does not like us,” Schloss commented.

  “No, really?” Peter replied. “Whatever gave you that idea, Hennie?”

  “I may have to speak to Karl about those dungeons, Peter,” Schloss said ominously.

  Gisela spoke sharply to him. “Be nice, Hennie!”

  “I am always nice. Isn’t that right Peter?”

  Peter waved a hand. “I do not believe I want to get into a family discussion tonight.”

  “Wise of you,” Renate warned. “You have to go home with this member of the family.”

  “How did we get into this situation, Peter?”

  “What, with the English?”

  “No. With our wives. We have no problem facing down the English, or even the Russians. But our wives have us quivering in our boots?”

  “I believe they have spent too much time around Frau Marsden.”

  “All right, Peter,” Renate snapped.

  Peter grinned at her but said nothing further. Peter and Hennie mutually chose to sip on their coffee.

  “Aristides De Sousa Mendes gave me some disquieting information tonight,” Schloss said

  “About the trial of the English assassination team?” Peter asked.

  “Surprisingly no,” Schloss replied. “He had information from his diplomats in Moscow that Stalin was planning to start a war against Germany as a way of preserving his government.”

  “Does the whole world know about this?” Peter exploded. “I’m beginning to wonder whether or not Stalin is dropping these breadcrumbs along the path as a way to get us to attack them preemptively.”

  “I have wondered at that, myself. I just wish someone was well enough placed to pick up the invasion date for us. It seems like we are hearing everything else.”

  “It sounds like it is really going to happen,” Gisela said. “It is frightening.”

  “The Americans have a term called a sucker punch. It refers to catching your opponent by surprise and rendering him temporarily unable to respond. Guderian and the general staff are working on plans to do something like that if the Russians come across the border.”