“You’re not coming?”
“My job is to wait here. The boss will be leaving right away. I have to be ready for him, today especially—we have things to talk about.”
I climbed the broad stairs, which conveyed a sense of the luxury of the building. Unlike most buildings I knew, there were no dark corners, no steep, narrow climbs through the dark.
A woman wearing an apron opened the front door of Hitler’s apartment. “He’s through there,” she said, pointing down the corridor that ran between rooms on both sides. “The second room on the left.”
I smelled fresh pastries from the kitchen on the opposite side of the corridor as I stepped into the designated room. I looked around and didn’t see anyone, only the tall windows that looked across Prinzregentenplatz to the buildings on the other side.
“In here.” The command came from my left, and I saw another room that hadn’t been visible from the hallway. I stepped inside. Hitler was standing behind his desk, his back to a set of bay windows that offered an even more impressive view.
“Heil Hitler!”
“I don’t have much time: I have to leave in a moment,” Hitler replied, his eyes briefly taking me in and focusing back on his desk. It was only then that I noticed the gun. He caught my glance following his. “You know what kind of pistol this is?”
“A Walther 6.35 caliber.”
“Very good. I know you’re a responsible lad, well trained and good with young people. I have a job for you. My niece lives in a politician’s house, which means she needs to know how to protect herself.” He picked up the gun and handed it to me. “Politics can be dangerous, as you know. I want you to take her to the shooting range today and teach her how to use this.”
I kept my eyes on the gun in my hand, hoping I hadn’t colored when he mentioned Geli. “Yes, sir.”
He gave me a curt nod, gathered up his briefcase and left. A moment later, I heard low voices in the corridor and the front door close. I remained standing in the study, uncertain what to do next.
Geli appeared in the doorway, dressed in a brown skirt and a white blouse that she hadn’t tucked in. Her hair was still tousled from bed, and she was barefoot. I felt an almost irresistible desire to grab her, to pull her to me, to let my hands disappear under her loose clothing, but I only stood there. “I see I have a new teacher today,” she said, casting a bemused look in my direction. “Leave it to Uncle Alf to come up with surprises.”
I recovered enough to offer a slight bow. “At your service, Fräulein.”
She put her hands on her head, trying to cover her unruly hair. “God, I must look like a witch. Go get some coffee or whatever you want in the kitchen. I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes.”
It’s funny about that day. I remember only fragments and emotions, elation one moment, despair the next. I recall a long tram ride, but only because at a certain point so many passengers had crowded on that we were pressed together, not for long, but long enough to make me feel that everything was possible again, until she stepped back without saying or doing anything to acknowledge what had happened. When I saw her distracted look, I realized that the moment had meant nothing to her. It wasn’t that she seemed angry, as she had been in front of the café. Her mind was elsewhere.
At the range, showing her how to aim the gun, I let my hands grasp hers to steady the weapon. Just for a moment she looked straight at me. “Sorry, this must be so boring for you,” she said, resorting to the teasing tone that I so desperately missed. I didn’t let go of her hands when I should have. She casually shook them off and fired. “Another miss—see what you made me do?” she scolded me.
But in the next instant, she was as distracted as before, talking about “Uncle Alf” and “that monkey girl.” When I asked what girl, she launched into a disjointed account of how the photographer Hoffmann and a girl called Eva had appeared at a café where she and Hitler were the night before. “He tried to make it look like they just happened to stop by while we were there, but I know that they’d planned it all out. Can you imagine: She wore this coat with fur hanging from the sleeves and collar—it looked ridiculous. I told Uncle Alf it looked like a monkey coat, and he was furious with me. What can he see in a girl like that?”
I wanted to ask why she was so upset, what difference it made to her, but I didn’t. I taught her to shoot as best I could, and I listened. I no longer remember most of what she said, but there were snipes at other girls who took an interest in Hitler. And I recall when I finally asked her about Emil.
“Oh, Emil. You know the marriage is off—it’s been off for a long time.”
I went through the rest of the day in a happy haze, convinced that whatever happened, I was in a better position than I’d thought. True, she hadn’t indicated that she was interested in me the way she was before. But when I hesitantly asked her whether I could see her again, she allowed that if I knew Hitler was out, I could drop by at some point, even if she didn’t make it sound like much of an invitation. At least she wasn’t rejecting me. And Emil was out of the picture.
But when I returned to Prinzregentenplatz with Geli in the afternoon, he was leaning over the front seat of the Mercedes looking for something.
“What have you lost?” I asked.
“Nothing that can’t be replaced.”
Geli kept walking, not saying a word. She asked me for the gun. “I’ll take it up.” She paused. “Thanks for the lesson.”
When she had shut the front door behind her, I turned to Emil, who was now standing beside the car. “Give me a lift back?”
He shook his head. “I’m not driving anymore.”
“So where do you keep the car at night—right here in front?”
“That’s not my problem. I’m done.”
I looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“I’m done with both of them,” he said stonily. “With Geli, with her darling uncle. If you want my advice, you should do the same.”
“You’re leaving Hitler? Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Emil started walking away from the car and the building, and I followed. He didn’t reply at first, but then he said: “I guess I can tell you about it now.”
“About what?”
He was staring straight ahead, his jaw set and his eyes cold as he kept walking. “I have pictures.”
“What kind of pictures?”
“The kind that made it possible for Hitler and me to reach, let’s say, an amicable parting of the ways. The kind that didn’t allow him to cheat me out of my back pay. The kind that guarantee he’ll never touch me, never dare to harm me. The kind that make me sick to think I worked for him for so long and that I actually planned on marrying Geli. I’ve had it with both of them; they can play their games alone now, or with anybody else Geli wants to trap. She’s already got her eyes on some medical student.”
I was waiting for him to explain more, and he knew it. We stopped at a corner. “I’m going left here, and you’re going straight, so I guess it’s good-bye for now.”
“Come on, Emil. What kind of pictures?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“All right, they’re sketches,” he said. “His sketches.”
“Sketches of?”
“Geli. At least I know they’re of her.”
I waited again, not daring to ask.
He held out his hand, and I shook it. “Figure out the rest yourself,” he said curtly.
He started down the street, but then he looked back at me and stopped. “Oh, all right. If you have to have this spelled out, they’re pictures of Geli, from the bottom up as it were.” He tried to summon a smile, but his face twisted into a grimace. “We’ll grab a beer sometime.”
“From the bottom up?”
“Yes, Karl, how much do I have to explain? If you want to see a woman—I mean, really see a woman, you’d lie down on the floor and look straight up between her legs. Not many
of us would think of doing something like that, and I can’t think of anyone who would see this as an artistic opportunity. Except for . . .”
He shook his head and walked off.
—
It was one of those strange dreams when I knew I was dreaming but everything was so vivid that, even as I was struggling awake, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was really happening.
I had been walking along the shore of a lake when Geli surfaced from under the water not far ahead of me. Her wet body shimmered in the fading sunlight as she emerged fully naked, and although she wasn’t looking at me yet, I knew that the excited anticipation in her eyes was only for me. I rushed forward excitedly to greet her, knowing that we would soon be making love on the grass. But in that instant, I saw a figure on the grass already—a familiar face dominated by a short cropped mustache. Holding a whip and dressed in a suit and tie, he was lying back, propped on his elbows, a terrifying smile on his face as his eyes locked on Geli, who saw only him. She was oblivious to my presence. Hitler motioned her forward with his whip, and she began to step over him, planting her legs on either side as he leaned back further. From her moist triangle, a few drops of water dripped onto his forehead, nose and mouth, which was contorted in an euphoric grin. I tried to yell at her to run away, but I couldn’t get the sound out. I woke up in a cold sweat, my blanket scrunched up at my feet.
I stood at the washbasin, looking into Sabine’s small mirror at the sorry reflection. What was going on? I sat back down on the bed, trying to banish the dream and succeeding only in conjuring it. It was then that something caught my attention at the door, and I noticed the envelope lying there. It must have been delivered by hand, since there was no stamp. I tore open the envelope and unfolded the single sheet of paper: “I’m sorry about yesterday.” It was signed “Geli.”
Snapped out of my lethargy, I dressed and rushed back to Prinzregentenplatz. I approached cautiously, checking first if there was any sign of the black Mercedes. As I drew nearer, I saw the woman who had greeted me the day before open the door and, basket in hand, step outside. I pulled back so she wouldn’t see me. Once she was gone, I entered the building and ran up the stairs. I caught my breath and knocked, preparing an explanation for whoever opened the door about finishing up the shooting lesson with a few final instructions.
The door swung open almost immediately, and I was facing Geli.
“I wanted to see you,” I said.
She looked at me quizzically and motioned for me to be quiet, pulling me by the hand to her room. It was brighter than Hitler’s study next door, and her belongings were strewn about. On a small desk, I could see a letter she must have been writing as I knocked.
She closed the door and looked me up and down. I wanted to step forward and pull her to me, but I didn’t even try. Something in her expression stopped me cold.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” I asked and immediately felt foolish. I must have flinched, because she abruptly laughed.
“You don’t have to be scared of me.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth, a short kiss, making me eager for more. But when I reached out, she deftly eluded my grasp.
“No,” she insisted with a coquettish grin. “Well?”
“I got your note.”
“Yes?”
“I thought you might want to see me.”
She sat down on the edge of her bed. “Last night after you left, I wanted to talk to you. I guess that’s why I sent you the note. But now . . .”
“But now what?”
She shook her head and didn’t respond.
I looked around and spotted a familiar watercolor landscape. “Wasn’t that in your uncle’s room on Thierschstrasse?”
Her voice dropped to a low whisper, and she dropped her head. “Yes, it’s something he painted.”
I stepped forward and knelt in front of her, cupping her face in my hands and drawing it up so she couldn’t avert her eyes. “What is it, Geli?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Her eyes filled with tears. I sat down beside her and put my arm around her, meeting no resistance as I eased her head onto my shoulder. “Help me, Karl, help me.”
“I will,” I promised. “Just tell me how. What’s the matter?”
She looked up and smiled, wiping away the tears. “Oh, Karl, you’re such a sweetheart. I know I can count on you, but there’s nothing to worry about. I just felt a little down for some reason. You’ve cheered me up. Thanks.”
I never knew where I stood with her.
“Don’t look at me that way.” She laughed. “Don’t you know women are strange?” This time she was the one who embraced me, and I eagerly rushed in, tasting her mouth and running my hand over her breast. She matched my hunger with hers but then pulled back. “Slow down, Karl, please. I don’t know how long he’ll be out. He could come back at any moment.”
“Why are you so scared?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. He just can be so demanding at times. He wants to know where I go, who I’m with. I need a bit of breathing room. But he’s wonderful in so many other ways.”
“You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?”
“Aren’t you, Karl?”
“No.”
“Oh, really? If he walked in right now, what would you say?”
“I don’t know.”
“You see, you help him, you admire him, but you also aren’t sure what to think of him. We’re not all that different.”
“Maybe not, but I don’t live in his apartment.” I hesitated before adding: “And what about, you know . . .”
Geli’s eyes met mine with an unwavering gaze, and no remaining trace of tears. “What?”
I couldn’t summon the courage to respond honestly.
“Did Emil tell you something yesterday before he quit?”
“No.”
She stood up. “If he did, don’t believe anything. He has some strange ideas. Because he’s still jealous, I suppose.” She paused. “It’s a good thing Uncle Alf didn’t let me marry him when I wanted to.”
“Look, I just wanted to know that you’re all right. I want to help you.”
Geli moved toward me, running her hand across my cheek. “You don’t have to worry. I’m fine. But if I ever need your help, I know I can count on you.”
“Is that all you want from me?”
“Oh, Karl.” She kissed me again, allowing me to press her against me before lightly pushing me away. “You’re almost like a brother to me.”
“You certainly have some odd ideas about family relationships.”
“I think you should go,” she said frostily, starting to turn away.
“Geli, I’m sorry. I just think about you all the time, and I worry about you. It makes me think and say stupid things at times.”
She relented slightly, turning back toward me. “Why do you keep saying you’re worried about me?”
“When I watch you with your uncle, you have this strange look sometimes.”
“Oh, Karl, as if you’re the cheerful one, always laughing. Can’t a girl be lost in thought?”
“It’s something else, too.”
“Yes?”
“I had this dream about you last night.”
“What kind of dream?”
“Look, you’re right: I’d better be going.”
But she took my hands in hers and stood blocking the door. “You can tell me, really you can. Whatever it was, I won’t mind.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
So I blurted it all out, not sparing any details.
“You did talk to Emil, and you believed him.” Her fists struck my chest. “You bastard, what kind of a girl do you think I am? Who do you think you are?”
“Geli, I didn’t say I believed the dream,” I said, backing away from her blows. “I didn’t even want to tell you. You were the one who made me.”
“Get out!” She yanked the door of her room
open and shoved me through it. “Don’t come back again. Never, I warn you.”
“Geli, please, listen to me.”
At that moment, we both heard the front door opening. Hitler entered. I stood there paralyzed, but Geli was already in front of me, rushing to greet him. “Uncle Alf, can we go for a drive today?” she asked in a cheerful voice.
“You know I can’t today,” he replied, but his gaze rested on me. I tried not to show my discomfort; I was convinced that I was failing miserably.
“That’s too bad, the weather is so beautiful. You remember Karl—Private Naumann?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “He left his cap here before we went out shooting yesterday and came to pick it up. He also was kind enough to ask whether I’d like another lesson.”
“Would you?”
“No, I learned all I needed.” She laughed. “Besides, a girl can only do so much with a gun.”
“I’ll be going now,” I added. “Sorry I forgot my cap.” I nodded to Hitler, who didn’t respond.
Geli held open the door. “Bye-bye,” she said in the same cheery voice that she had used to greet Hitler. “Thanks again for the lesson.”
As she closed the door behind me, I heard her pattering on in the same voice, though I couldn’t catch the words. I walked down the stairs, out of the building and, I was convinced, out of her life.
Chapter Fifteen
“Do you feel any remorse?” the prosecutor asked.
I knew what my answer should be. “No, none at all.”
My lawyer looked away, dismayed. But I felt a rare moment of elation. It felt liberating to speak the truth, nothing but the truth.
In Sabine’s tiny apartment, it was impossible to stay apart for long. When I came home late one evening after she had already gone to bed, Leo barked, and she whispered, “Come here.” I gratefully accepted the invitation. But as much as I wanted her, and wanted to make amends, I never fooled myself into believing that I regretted Geli. As much as I tried to push her out of my mind, she was always there—an alluring, maddening presence that hovered in Sabine’s apartment as well.
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