Night had fallen by the time they reached the house, a magnificent old timbered home near the top of the hill on Sonnenbergstrasse. Lamplight shone through an arched window, seeming to beckon them inside. Erich’s mother was effusive in her welcome. Kurt had always found her a bit chilly, but she was warm and generous this evening. Perhaps she was homesick.
“It is so good to see someone from Berlin,” she said. “Terrible to think about what they must be going through. Did Erich tell you about our villa?”
“Yes, Mother. All about it. I’m taking him to the parlor for a drink. So no interruptions, please.”
“Whose place is this?” Kurt asked, once they were alone.
“Belongs to a friend of my uncle Max. Comfy, isn’t it? And well stocked, as you can see. Would you like a gin? I’m trying to be ready for when the British take over.”
Kurt laughed.
“Gin would be fine. You’re supposed to have it with tonic, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but we don’t have any. How about straight up?”
“Sure. I’ve never tasted it.”
It was strong and resinous, like biting into the tip of an evergreen, but not unpleasant.
“I’m glad I saw you,” Kurt said, feeling his spirits lift. “We might have gone weeks without running into each other.”
“Maybe. Although I’d already heard you were around.”
“Oh, yes?”
“A certain Herr Schlang told me. Said he’d seen you over at the Bellevue.”
“Oh. Him.”
The room went quiet. Erich, smiling, seemed to be waiting for more of a reaction. Kurt, feeling put upon, set his drink down and stood to leave.
“Really, Kurt, it’s all right.” Erich slapped him on the back. “These are confusing times. You’re not the only one wondering what to do next or where to turn.”
“I wouldn’t think you’d have much to worry about on that score.”
“Oh, quite the opposite. My father could end up with a rope around his neck, especially if the Russians find him. Even our friend Schlang has his concerns. But he tells me your father seems to be on the right track.”
“My father?”
“Schlang said he was seen here and there during previous visits to Bern. Apparently he was seeking an audience with, well, people who might soon be in a position of influence. I guess that’s one way of putting it.”
“I wouldn’t know. You’ll have to ask my father.”
“Oh, c’mon, Kurt. Everyone knows how it’s done here. I’m not expecting you to break a family confidence. Far from it. I just want you to know that, well, if there is anything you can do for my family along those same lines, not only would my father and I be most grateful, we would also be willing to help in any way we can in the meantime. And I’m sure that Herr Schlang feels the same. You see?”
“I suppose.”
Maybe this explained why Schlang hadn’t applied any further pressure on Kurt, and-so far, at least-had allowed his father to recuperate in relative peace. If Erich really wanted an introduction to the Americans, Kurt could try to arrange one. The Stuckart name certainly seemed likely to get the attention of Icarus.
Was it unseemly to think of using his friend this way? Yes, certainly, but wasn’t Erich doing the same? He realized something else as well: Once you had dipped your toes into the cold water of betrayal and withstood the initial shock, it was much easier to contemplate a second plunge, as long as you could make it work to your advantage.
“I’ll give it some thought,” he said finally.
“I suppose that’s all I can ask for. Truth be told, even my father put some feelers out in the same direction- toward this Dulles fellow everyone keeps mentioning. None of it went anywhere, I’m afraid. Apparently the Americans have put all of the Stuckarts on some list of ‘black’ Germans. But the Bauers, I’m told, have landed in the ‘white’ column. So anything that you might say on our behalf, well, you see what I’m getting at.”
“Absolutely. How about another drink?”
“Capital!”
Kurt began to feel better about his family’s prospects. Even with the dark memory of Liesl still clouding his judgment, he might yet work things to their advantage on other fronts. But his optimism was shortlived.
“You know,” Erich said, while handing him a drink, “Schlang also mentioned someone else who is looking for help. Someone who is still in Germany, and I’m told you’re familiar with him as well.”
“Yes?”
“Martin Gollner.”
He realized instantly that this must have been Erich’s plan all along. Coax him to help out, then show him they had the means to ruin his standing with the Americans, in case he was reluctant. Hadn’t Schlang already hinted as much? It was powerful leverage.
Yet for the moment it only made him more determined to pursue a course of action that would benefit his family alone, and to hell with everyone else. Maybe that was always the nature of wartime once you moved beyond the front lines-every man for himself. He was certainly prepared to fight on those terms, but he knew he had better measure his words carefully with Erich.
“Yes,” he said, “I know Gollner.”
“Well, he has a few ideas on how to impress the Americans, and he seems to believe you’re the one person who might be able to make them see things his way.”
“Does he really?”
“Oh, yes. Would you like to hear them?”
“Even if I don’t, something tells me that Herr Schlang will soon be asking more persuasively.”
Erich laughed, then gave Kurt another companionable slap on the back. Anyone watching through the window would have thought they were the best of friends, laughing about old pranks.
“You know, Kurt, I always wondered how you got better marks than me in school. Now I’m beginning to see why.”
Kurt smiled thinly, and Erich kept talking. He spent the next two hours laying out the details of Gollner’s plan, and Kurt realized that his life was about to become a lot more complicated.
But he did more than just listen. He planned, too, plotting an alternate strategy, one better tailored to his own needs-not that he would ever share any of the details with Stuckart or Schlang. He could play at this game of unholy alliances as well as they could, and, in the process, not only win but also bring harm to those who had wronged him and his family.
Their meeting lasted until 2 a.m. By then, Kurt was already contemplating his next move. Best of all, he had stored up loads of information to pass along to the disagreeable American he knew only as Icarus.
TWENTY-NINE
Bern, Switzerland-September 8, 1944
Icarus still would not return Kurt’s calls. Nor would anyone else from the American legation.
Day after day Kurt delivered the same disappointing news to Erich Stuckart: not yet, but soon. He could tell Stuckart was beginning to doubt him. If only his father were better. Reinhard would know how to arrange an audience with
Kurt held Stuckart and Schlang at bay by telling them that the Americans were too preoccupied with events elsewhere. There may have been some truth to it. The Allied armies had come ashore at Normandy and were smashing their way across France. Paris was liberated, the Rhine was in sight, and the Swiss border to France was now open to all Allied traffic. In the east, the Soviets were pushing the Germans across Poland and the Baltics. To the south, in Italy, Mussolini had been deposed and the Germans were in retreat. Soon the Fatherland would be
