killed my brother, and why.’
‘You will learn no more, regardless of what you do. But any further inquiries will be regarded as treason.’
‘I hardly need to make further inquiries, after this visit from you. It is now clear that my worst suspicions were right.’
‘I require you to drop your seditious campaign immediately.’
Werner stared defiantly back but said nothing.
Macke said: ‘If you do not, General Dorn will be informed that there are questions about your loyalty.’ Werner could be in no doubt about what that meant. He would lose his cosy job here in Berlin and be dispatched to a barracks on an airstrip in northern France.
Werner looked less defiant, more thoughtful.
Macke stood up. He had spent enough time here. ‘Apparently General Dorn finds you a capable and intelligent assistant,’ he said. ‘If you do the right thing, you may continue in that role.’ He left the room.
He felt edgy and dissatisfied. He was not sure he had succeeded in crushing Werner’s will. He had sensed a bedrock defiance that remained untouched.
He turned his mind to Pastor Ochs. A different approach would be required for him. Macke returned to Gestapo headquarters and collected a small team: Reinhold Wagner, Klaus Richter and Gunther Schneider. They took a black Mercedes 260D, the Gestapo’s favourite car, unobtrusive because many Berlin taxis were the same model and colour. In the early days, the Gestapo had been encouraged to make themselves visible and let the public see the brutal way they dealt with opposition. However, the terrorization of the German people had been accomplished long ago, and open violence was no longer necessary. Nowadays the Gestapo acted discreetly, always with a cloak of legality.
They drove to Ochs’s house next to the large Protestant church in Mitte, the central district. In the same way that Werner might think he was protected by his father, so Ochs probably imagined his church made him safe. He was about to learn otherwise.
Macke rang the bell: in the old days they would have kicked the door down, just for effect.
A maid opened the door, and he walked into a broad, well-lit hallway with polished floorboards and heavy rugs. The other three followed him in. ‘Where is your master?’ Macke said pleasantly to the maid.
He had not threatened her, but all the same she was frightened. ‘In his study, sir,’ she said, and she pointed to a door.
Macke said to Wagner: ‘Get the women and children together in the next room.’
Ochs opened the study door and looked into the hall, frowning. ‘What on earth is going on?’ he said indignantly.
Macke walked directly towards him, forcing him to step back and allow Macke to enter the room. It was a small, well-appointed den, with a leather-topped desk and shelves of biblical commentaries. ‘Close the door,’ said Macke.
Reluctantly, Ochs did as he was told; then he said: ‘You’d better have a very good explanation for this intrusion.’
‘Sit down and shut up,’ said Macke.
Ochs was dumbfounded. Probably he had not been told to shut up since he was a boy. Clergymen were not normally insulted, even by policemen. But the Nazis ignored such enfeebling conventions.
‘This is an outrage!’ Ochs managed at last. Then he sat down.
Outside the room, a woman’s voice was raised in protest: the wife, presumably. Ochs paled when he heard it, and rose from his chair.
Macke pushed him back down. ‘Stay where you are.’
Ochs was a heavy man, and taller than Macke, but he did not resist.
Macke loved to see these pompous types deflated by fear.
‘Who are you?’ said Ochs.
Macke never told them. They could guess, of course, but it was more frightening if they did not know for sure. Afterwards, in the unlikely event that anyone asked questions, the whole team would swear that they had begun by identifying themselves as police officers and showing their badges.
He went out. His men were hustling several children into the parlour. Macke told Reinhold Wagner to go into the study and keep Ochs there. Then he followed the children into the other room.
There were flowered curtains, family photographs on the mantelpiece, and a set of comfortable chairs upholstered in a checked fabric. It was a nice home and a nice family. Why could they not be loyal to the Reich and mind their own business?
The maid was by the window, hand over her mouth as if to stop herself crying out. Four children clustered around Ochs’s wife, a plain, heavy-breasted woman in her thirties. She held a fifth child in her arms, a girl of about two years with blonde ringlets.
Macke patted the girl’s head. ‘And what is this one’s name?’ he said.
Frau Ochs was terrified. She whispered: ‘Lieselotte. What do you want with us?’
‘Come to Uncle Thomas, little Lieselotte,’ said Macke, holding out his arms.
‘No!’ Frau Ochs cried. She clutched the child closer and turned away.
Lieselotte began to cry loudly.
