'Well, no,' Susanna said. Could he be as naive as he sounded? She had trouble believing it. True, the Nazis didn't interfere so much with a professor of Middle English or Gothic or Old High German. But why would they? Susanna's research touched the modern world almost nowhere. If she'd taught sociology or psychology or political science, it would have been a different story. Anthropology? Anthropology was so full of Aryan doctrine, it was hard to tell science-if there was any-from ideology there.
Franz Oppenhoff seemed oblivious to all that. 'Inquiry is good,' he said with the air of a man making a large concession. Then his gaze sharpened. 'And I congratulate you on placing your recent articles in two most distinguished journals. This brings credit to the whole department.'
'Danke schon, Herr Doktor Professor,' Susanna said. 'I hope you will agree it also brings credit to me?'
Did Oppenhoff turn red? With all the booze he carried, it was hard to tell. The cigar could have caused his cough. 'No doubt it does,' he said without conviction. 'Your research is, ah, most original.'
'Thank you again,' Susanna said, though he hadn't meant it for a compliment. She'd undoubtedly written more about the roles of women in literature, for instance, than all the men in the department put together.Herr Doktor Professor Oppenhoff would have looked down his nose at that even more than he did-he was an unreconstructed Kuche, Kirche, Kinder man-if she hadn't repeatedly placed her articles in some of the most prestigious academic publications in the Germanic Empire.
'Modern ideas,' he muttered now. 'Well, you are better suited to cope with them than I am. When they say they are going to change the ideology we have lived under for longer than I have been alive…Is it any wonder I have a hard time working up much enthusiasm?'
'If the change is for the better, we should make it,' Susanna said. She made herself a fresh drink, wishing the scotch would change for the better.
'Yes. If,' Oppenhoff said. 'Who knows? Whatever happens, you are bound to see more of it than I do.' With that cheery reflection, he went off to inflict himself on someone else. Susanna took a long pull at the new drink, even if it was nasty. If the Security Police ever found out what she was, the department chairman would outlive her by years.
'What's this?' Heinrich Gimpel asked as he and Willi Dorsch got off their bus and started toward Oberkommando der Wehrmacht headquarters. The trip in from Stahnsdorf hadn't been much fun. An icy dagger of a wind from off the Baltic-seemingly straight from the North Pole-brought flurries of snow and spatters of freezing rain with it, which made standing at the bus stop an ordeal. Then the bus had had to detour around a wreck the freezing rain had probably caused. And now black-uniformed Security Police stood alongside the usual Wehrmacht guards. The Wehrmacht men did not look delighted to have company.
'Have you forgotten?' Willi answered. 'The Gauleiter 's going to tell us howwunderbar we are this morning.'
'Oh, joy.' Heinrich had no trouble containing his enthusiasm. Rolf Stolle, the Party leader who essentially ran Berlin, was a hard-drinking, womanizing bruiser. If this generation had anybody whose debauchery came close to the legendary Goring's, Stolle was the man. 'What he knows about this place would fit on the head of a pin.'
'Well, yes,' Willi said. 'But he'll be entertaining. Wouldn't you rather listen to him than stare at spreadsheets?'
The honest answer to that was no. If Heinrich said as much, Willi would laugh at him and call him a greasy grind. He shrugged instead. Willi laughed at him anyway, which meant he knew what Heinrich wasn't saying.
Up at the top of the stairs, the Berlin police scrutinized identification cards before giving them to the usual guards to run through the reader. The Wehrmacht men smirked slightly as they returned the cards to Heinrich and Willi.These fellows think they're important, they might have said.They think so, but they're wrong.
Signs taped to the walls said, 'HEAR ROLF STOLLE IN THE ASSEMBLY HALL! ' Heinrich sighed. He really would rather have worked. What did he need with one more tub-thumping Nazi blowhard? But he couldn't take the chance of antagonizing the Party.If anybody wonders why one of my projects is late, I'll tell the truth, that's all.
Televisor cameras were set up in the assembly hall. Whatever Stolle said would go out locally. It might even go out all over the Reich, all over the Empire. That did not rouse Heinrich's enthusiasm. Broadcast speeches were no more exciting than any other kind.
Rolf Stolle clumped around up on stage. He was a big bald bear of a man, with a wrestler's shoulders and an actor's large, graceful hands. Resignedly, Heinrich sat down in a plushy chair. He wondered if he could fall asleep without being noticed. He closed his eyes in an experimental way. But he was awake. If he hadn't had his morning coffee…He had, though.Maybe Stolle will put me under. There was a hopeful thought.
More analysts and officers and secretaries came in, till the front rows were full and the hall nearly so. It wouldn't do for the Gauleiter to make a televised speech in front of a lot of empty seats. Stolle took his place behind the lectern. More Security Police stood behind him as bodyguards. Heinrich tried to yawn without opening his mouth. By the way Willi snickered, he might have done better.
'Good morning, gentlemen-and all you pretty ladies, too,' Stolle boomed. A couple of women giggled at his leer. Heinrich's guess was that the luck he enjoyed with them came from his rank, not from his person.He certainly wouldn't have wanted that big oaf pawing him. The Gauleiter went on, 'We are where we are today because of what the Wehrmacht has done for the Reich. Without our armed forces, Germany would be weak and our enemies strong. With them, we are strong, and our enemies mostly dead.'
Heinrich didn't bother keeping his mouth shut when he yawned this time. How often had he heard such boastful claptrap? More often than he wanted; he knew that. Next, Stolle would talk about how wonderful the National Socialists were.
And he did: 'The Wehrmacht is the gun, and the Party is the man who aims it. We chose the targets for your might, and you knocked them down one by one. Wise leadership served us well.'
It was all as predictable as the Mass. With fancy uniforms and swastika flags, the Nazis tried to make such ceremonials as majestic as the Mass, too. In Heinrich's private-very private-opinion, they were just bombastic. To most Party Bonzen, the two words might have been interchangeable.
But then, though Rolf Stolle kept right on hamming it up for all he was worth, he suddenly stopped boring Heinrich, for he went on, 'Wise leadership is always important. And our beloved Fuhrer is very wise in setting our affairs to rights. Some of the things we did in days gone by are no longer needed. And some of the things we did in days gone by, perhaps, we never should have done at all.'
Heinrich looked at Willi. Willi was looking back at him. A low mutter of surprise ran through the hall. Whatever people had expected Stolle to say, this wasn't it.
'There are people who say, 'Let's not change this,'' he rolled on. 'There are people who say, 'Let's not remember this.' There are people who say, 'Let's not remind the Volk that the Party was supposed to be democratic, that the first Fuhrer said so right from the start.' These people, some of them, have lots of decorations. These people, some of them, have lots of power. These people, most of them, have got fat and comfortable and lazy with things just the way they are. And,meine Damen und Herren, that's a pile of crap!'
The mutter of astonishment that went through the hall wasn't low this time. Rolf Stolle beamed, as if he'd set eyes on a good-looking blonde. His bald bullet head gleamed under the televisor lights. 'A pile of crap I said,meine Damen und Herren, and a pile of crap I meant. the Fuhrer knows it, too, and he's trying to clean it up. But he needs help. And he needs something else, too.
'Trouble is, Heinz Buckliger is a gentleman. He wants to go slow. He wants to be polite. He doesn't want to hurt anybody's feelings, God forbid. But I am here to tell you, I don't think going slow and being polite will get the job done. I am here to tell you, when you see a pile of crap, you grab the biggest goddamn shovel you can find, you wade in, and you clean it up. No ifs, ands, or buts.'
Stolle slammed his fist down on the lectern. 'We have to move faster. We have to push harder. If it were up to me, I'd get rid of a lot of the lemon-faced naysayers who sit behind big desks and look important. Let 'em do something useful for a change, or else put 'em out to pasture.And let the people speak. As soon as we have real elections, you'll see what they think about folk like that. The sooner, the better. And let the chips fall where they may. They will, too.Danke schon. Auf wiedersehen.'
He made as much of a production of leaving the stage as most people did of coming to it. Only a thin spattering of applause followed him. Heinrich understood that. He hardly remembered to clap himself. What he'd heard, what Rolf Stolle had said, left him stunned. He couldn't possibly have been the only one, either.
Beside him, Willi said, 'My God.'
