Kurt obliged him, and watched the man read. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Kurt had a feeling this would take a while, and a knot that had already formed in his stomach did a slow tumble and turned into a cramp. He bent at the waist and emitted a sigh.
“Very well,” Gollner said, handing back his papers. “We may begin.”
Kurt had given a lot of thought to what to say first. His father’s recent lessons on how to do business had come to mind. He must take the initiative, set the tone. No matter how threatened he felt, he figured he could maintain some leverage as long as he didn’t give up his choicest information too easily. He also needed to make it seem that he had more backing and clout than he really did. So he started out boldly.
“I am here on behalf of my family. I wish to offer important information concerning state security and morale, but only in return for certain assurances that my family’s patriotic role in the war effort will be allowed to continue. I also want assurances that those closest to me will not be harmed, although I am quite willing to be punished for my own indiscretions.”
He hadn’t planned on adding the part about punishment, but somehow in his momentum the words spilled out. Perhaps he was already ashamed of what he was doing. If Gollner was impressed, he did a good job of hiding it. He merely glanced at the stenographer to make sure she was getting everything. Then he answered in a monotone.
“All of that is quite interesting, Mr. Bauer. What is it you wish to tell us?”
“First I must have your assurances.”
Gollner was clearly not pleased to be answered in this manner. He frowned and jotted something in a small notebook while the stenographer kept her pencil poised in the air.
“Very well. But tell me first, does your father know you have come here?”
“I am here with his blessing.”
“So he is aware at this very moment that you are here? Answer carefully.”
“No. He is not.”
Gollner again wrote in his notebook. A drop of sweat slid down Kurt’s back.
Kurt spent the next few minutes outlining his family’s current state of affairs. He mentioned his brother’s war service as well. He took special pains when describing the canceled marriage and the background check by the Racial Office.
“I wish to make it clear that, up to now, no one in my family ever knew that this particular ancestor had been a member of such an undesirable faith,” he said.
He noted a shift in Gollner’s expression, perhaps even a hint of relish, and he worried that he might have done something wrong. Had he been able to read the man’s mind, he would have realized that Martin Gollner was sighing inwardly in relief that this boy was seeking “assurances” on such a trivial matter. These SS ancestry checks were a huge pain in the ass, not to mention a colossal waste of manpower. Although marriages were sometimes halted as a result, nothing further ever came of them, especially not when the so-called taint had occurred so long ago. But it was just as well that Bauer didn’t know that. Once again, it was a case of the Gestapo’s reputation preceding it, its presumed thoroughness in enforcing every little matter. All this fretting by the Bauers was foolish, unless of course some ranking minister-Stuckart, for example-took a personal interest in seeing that the family was punished. But that, too, seemed unlikely when you considered that the Bauers were supplying every Panzer division.
Gollner let the boy prattle on. He could then act like he was doing the family a big favor. He wouldn’t even need clearance from a higher-up to offer a “deal.”
“There is also the matter of a certain young lady who must be protected in all these proceedings,” Kurt continued. “She is not a member of my family, although I like to believe there is a chance that she may be fairly soon. She has been the victim of overzealous friends, one in particular, and as a result she has been goaded into participating in reckless behavior. If you take steps to prevent this friend from further influencing her, then I am sure she will respond quite reasonably.”
“Look, Mr. Bauer. I can’t guarantee that she won’t be punished, not until I hear what it is she has done. But in any investigation there is always the possibility for leniency. So why don’t we proceed on that assumption, and also on the assumption that no harm will come to your family or its business interests. That way you have already accomplished half of what you came here for. But now you must begin offering me something in return, unless you would prefer this to become a very lengthy and awkward process, in which your father and no doubt many other persons above me would have to become closely involved. Understood?”
“Yes, understood.”
Kurt poured himself more water, swallowing twice to wet his lips.
“And, of course, you must also understand that whether or not I can live up to these terms depends greatly on what it is you give me. Its quality and quantity. Both matter. Details, meaning names first and foremost, are of vital importance. Certainly you must see that my generosity can extend only as far as yours?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well, then. Begin.”
Gollner nodded to the stenographer, who flipped back a page of her notebook. Then he lit a cigarette, inhaled slowly, and sagged back comfortably in his chair.
Kurt began. And, as requested, he was very generous indeed.
TWENTY-THREE
Berlin — March 20, 1943
The Gestapo officers announced their arrival at the birthday party of Dieter Bussler with a prim knock at the door, as if already apologizing for bringing arrest warrants instead of gifts.
Their decorum was oddly appropriate, because in a sense they
Kurt had worked out the logistics for the raid with Martin Gollner during a four-hour conversation, a chat that proceeded more like contract negotiations between rival lawyers than an interrogation. At the time Kurt had been relieved by the air of civility. Later he wondered if it hadn’t placed him at even more of a disadvantage, because in the end he was no match for Gollner in the subtle art of give-and-take.
Gollner emerged from the confrontation with the names, roles, and contact information of every local member of the White Rose. Kurt came away with a few lukewarm assurances that had strings attached. The biggest of those-a promise to let his family hold on to its business empire-had never been in doubt to begin with, as Gollner well knew.
Would the Gestapo have discovered the White Rose names anyway, through interrogations elsewhere? Gollner implied as much to Kurt, but later told his superiors that he doubted it. The Munich interrogations of Falk Harnack and Jorg Strasser hadn’t yielded a word about White Rose activity in Berlin, although the two men would certainly be asked about it now, if only to double-check Kurt’s offerings.
For Gollner the most sensitive issue was Kurt’s insistence on serving a prison sentence along with his friends. No doubt the boy wanted to convince the others that he hadn’t been the rat aboard their sinking ship. He also wanted to assuage his guilt and impress his girlfriend. But incarcerating any Bauer would be a hard sell with Gollner’s superiors. He got them to go along only after convincing them that he could leverage the results of the family’s racial background check against Kurt’s father, Reinhard.
On the Saturday morning before the fateful birthday party, Gollner worked out the final details with Reinhard himself, face-to-face. Before telephoning to arrange the meeting, Gollner allowed Kurt to warn his father in advance. That meant he had to tell his father about everything, which turned out to be harder than telling Gollner. Reinhard was furious about his son’s foolish White Rose activities, not to mention the boy’s defiance in continuing to see Liesl against his wishes. But once he got over his anger he earnestly got down to the business of trying to work out the best possible deal for Kurt and the family.
The meeting was at the office of Gollner’s supervisor, on Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse. Gollner relinquished the last of his precious coffee in order to display the proper hospitality. He assured the industrialist that for the good of the
