Time Bomb

Jews.

The first stage would be mass evacuation under the guise of Arbeitseinsatz- the “labor effort.” Those evacuees not liquidated by “natural causes” would be “treated suitably.” The whole thing had the arrogant detachment of an academic conference, the participants conducting scholarly, high-minded discussions of optimal killing techniques…

A secret conference, revealed to posterity only because Herr Eichmann, compulsive clerk that he was, had taken copious notes.

A conference held in the Berlin district known as Wannsee.

Wannsee.

Wanna see.

Wanna see? Wanna see too? Two?

My breath grew short and the ache in my jaw reminded me I’d been clenching my teeth.

I returned my gaze to the book. The pages before me were well thumbed, foxed to fuzz at the corners.

In the right margin the words had been penciled, in the neat, measured printing I’d come to know as Ike Novato’s:

“Wannsee II? Possible?”

Several inches below that: “Crevolin again? Maybe.”

Then a phone number with a 931 prefix.

The Fairfax district.

Wannsee II.

Crevolin. It sounded like a hair-replacement tonic. Or something made from petrochemicals.

Some kind of code? Or maybe a name.

I dialed the Fairfax number. A receptionist recited the call letters of one of the TV networks. Surprise slowed my response and before I could answer she repeated the triad of consonants and said, “May I help you?”

“Yes. I’d like to speak with Mr. Crevolin.” Fifty percent chance of getting the gender right.

She said, “One moment.”

Click.

“Terry Crevolin’s office.”

“Mr. Crevolin, please.”

“He’s out of the office.”

“When do you expect him back?”

“Who is this, please?”

Not knowing how to answer that, I said, “A friend. I’ll call back later,” and hung up.

I dialed the Holocaust Center and asked for Judy Baumgartner. She came to the phone sounding cheerful.

“Yes, Alex, what can I do for you?”

“Milo asked me to look through Ike Novato’s books. I just came across something Ike wrote in one of the margins and thought you might be able to explain it to me.”

“What is it?”

“Wannsee Two. He wrote it in the margin of a chapter on the original Wannsee conference.”

“Wannsee Two,” she said, pronouncing it Vahn-say. “He never mentioned that to me. Strange that he should even know about that.”

“Whys that?”

“Wannsee Two’s pretty esoteric. Just a rumor, really, that circulated years ago- back in the seventies. Supposedly, there was a secret meeting between elements of the radical right and those of the radical left- white leftists who’d broken with the black militants and turned heavily racist. The alleged goal was to set up a national socialist confederation- plant the roots of a neo-Nazi party in this country.”

“Sounds like the Bund, reborn.”

“More like the Hitler-Stalin pact,” she said. “The extremes crushing the middle. We checked it out, never found any evidence it had happened. The prevailing wisdom is that it’s apocryphal- one of those urban folk myths, like alligators in the sewer system. But chances are this particular myth got a little special help. The rumor began circulating just around the time of Cointelpro- the counterintelligence program the Nixon administration set up to sabotage radical movements.”

“Where was this conference supposed to have taken place?”

“I’ve heard different versions, ranging from Germany to right here in the U.S. I’ve even heard claims that it took place on a military base- the confederation was supposed to have lots of members in the armed forces and in various police forces around the country. How’s that for something to feed your paranoia?” Pause. “Wannsee Two. This is the first I’ve heard of it in a very long time. I wonder how Ike knew about it.”

“His landlady was an old radical with an interest in the Holocaust,” I said. “The two of them used to talk politics. She may have told him about Wannsee Two and he may have decided to research it.”

“Well, given that, I can see why he’d pursue it. Blacks were a prime target of Wannsee Two. The way the story goes, one of the intentions of the confederation was to foment hatred between the minorities, Pit the blacks against the Jews- have the blacks kill the Jews, which would be easy because the Jews were passive wimps, ready to march into the ovens again. Once the blacks had served their purpose, they would be annihilated. Also a snap, because they were so gullible and stupid. And of course, when the cowardly Hispanics and Asians saw what was going on, they’d leave the country of their own accord- go back where they came from- and the borders of White America would be hermetically sealed.”

“Sounds pretty nuts.”

“So did Hitler, at the beginning. That’s why we investigated the Wannsee Two thing as thoroughly as we’ve ever investigated anything. But we never came up with anything to support it.”

I said, “There was something else in the margin. Crevolin. And a phone number. I called it and got the office of someone named Terry Crevolin, at one of the TV networks.”

“I know Terry!” she said. “He works in development- screening scripts. He worked with us last year on our war-criminal special-The Hidden. We won an Emmy.”

“I remember. Did Ike know him?”

“Not as far as I know, but I’m starting to see there were lots of things I didn’t know about Ike.”

“Could they have met at the Center?”

“No. Terry was just here a couple of times, for meetings. And that was last year, months before Ike showed up. Though I suppose there could have been a chance meeting if Terry dropped in without my knowing it. What exactly did Ike write in that book?”

“Wannsee Two?-the two in roman numerals- followed by the word Possible? Then Crevolin again? Maybe. And Crevolin’s number. It could mean he tried to talk to Crevolin once- about Wannsee Two- hadn’t been able to reach him, and was thinking of trying it again. Any idea why?”

“The only thing that comes to mind is that Terry used to be involved with the New Left- even wrote a book about it. I recall his mentioning that. He seemed kind of embarrassed and proud at the same time. I guess Ike could have seen him as a source, though how Ike would know that, I have no idea.”

“A source on the New Left?”

“Maybe. Certainly not on the Holocaust. Terry wasn’t especially knowledgeable about that until we educated him. You’ve really got my curiosity piqued. If you find out anything useful, please let me know.”

***

I called the network again and got patched through to Crevolin’s office. He was still out. This time I left my name and said it was about Ike Novato. Then I phoned Milo at the West L.A. station, planning to play Show and Tell. He wasn’t in either. I called his home number, got Rick’s recorded voice on a machine, and recited what I’d learned about Wannsee II. Saying it out loud made me realize it wasn’t much: a dead boy’s exploration of an urban myth.

I searched through the rest of Ike’s books, found no more marginal notes or Wannsee references, and repacked