Himmler leafed through the stack – starting with the Führer’s messages – to see whether anything required immediate attention. Everything else went back in the inbox where it sat until the end of the day. There were always messages from various politicians or other interested parties offering suggestions or asking for support for this or that project. These messages usually commenced with flattering phrases, praising the Reichsführer’s perspicacity or expressing gratitude for his kind attention on this matter or that.
Today the Gleiwitz matter was at the top of his agenda. Himmler’s minions had staged a false flag incident, an attack on a German radio station by ‘Polish soldiers,’ who were, in fact, German prisoners forced to dress in Polish uniforms and then killed. Hitler feigned fury. ‘This night for the first time Polish regular soldiers fired on our territory. Since five forty-five a.m. we have been returning the fire, and from now on bombs will be met by bombs.’
By the time Himmler had finished dealing with Gleiwitz, it was almost ten in the evening. A manila envelope without return address was the last thing left in his inbox. Himmler thought he would leave it for another time. He turned the envelope over a few times, trying to see whether there were some identifying marks. Seeing none, he slid the papers out. It was a handwritten document on ordinary letter paper, but it had a business format.
TO: SS Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler
SUBJECT: SS Standartenführer Reinhard Pabst: Serial Killer.
‘What the devil …!’ Himmler said aloud. He sat up straight and started reading.
The material in Himmler’s hands had not come from Hauptsturmführer Altdorfer. It had come directly from Willi.
The Arrest
Reinhard Pabst was dressing for work. He had ceremonial duties today, so he was wearing his uniform. There was a knock at his door. When he opened it, two SS men stepped inside, followed by an SS Hauptsturmführer he did not recognize. ‘Reinhard Pabst,’ the captain said, ‘you are under arrest.’
Reinhard was put in handcuffs. All rank and decorations were torn from his uniform, and he was taken by car straight to Gestapo headquarters. He was led to an interrogation room where he sat alone and waited.
Recently promoted, thinking himself at the top of his game, Reinhard was stunned by this turn of events. He could only believe that someone had made a terrible error and would have to pay grievously for this. Two Gestapo interrogators came into the room.
Before either man could speak, Reinhard said, ‘I hope you know who I am, and that I report directly to Reichsführer Himmler. I warn you now, before it is too late, before this foolishness goes any further.’
The two men did not look as if they had even heard him. They studied the sheaf of papers they had brought in with them. They pointed at text and nodded at one another.
‘I have to warn you again, gentlemen …’
‘Reichsführer Himmler ordered your arrest,’ said one of the interrogators, looking up finally.’
‘That is not possible,’ said Reinhard.
One held up the order with Himmler’s signature for Reinhard to see.
‘That is a mistake,’ said Reinhard just as firmly. One could almost imagine that he did not even remember having murdered thirteen women, or, if he did remember, could not conceive of it as a punishable offense.
The two interrogators looked at him with blank faces. One man said, ‘The time is ten twenty-five,’ and wrote it on the blank page in front of him. The two men began questioning Reinhard, which consisted of going through the murders one by one in detail, turning what they now knew to be true into a question. Each question began, ‘And did you on such and such a date …’ and ended with Reinhard saying, ‘I did not.’
It was a measure of the depth of Reinhard Pabst’s insanity that in response to every question he was asked by his interrogators, he protested his innocence. When he saw that wasn’t working, he rambled on about the superiority of men, the uncleanness and deceitfulness of women. To become the superman we were all capable of, he had to quash the darkness within, to kill his feminine side. ‘I am following the Führer’s own foundations. The sacred soil on which we stand. We are all baptized in blood.’ He went on and on in that vein, straying further and further into hysteria and madness. After three exhausting hours of unproductive questioning, Reinhard was handcuffed and driven to Dachau where he would stay until a final judgment was rendered.
Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler was not squeamish about violence. After all, an SS man was supposed to be violent. And even an SS man enjoying violence was not a problem as far as Himmler was concerned. That was to be expected, given their training, and it was even to be encouraged. Still, the Reichsführer was shocked, he had to admit, at the wanton brutality the killer of these thirteen women had exhibited. This was somehow killing on a different level, although he would have been hard pressed to explain the difference between what Reinhard had done and the killings that were done every day on his orders. Maybe it was that the perversion was so blatantly on display here. There was no rational ideology behind the killing, no societal objective, no larger good. It was just violence for the sake of violence. Himmler wondered what had driven Reinhard Pabst to do it, while never once wondering what drove him, Heinrich Himmler, to do what he did. He liked Pabst and had thought of him as the ideal SS man.
Himmler saw that a criminal of Pabst’s sort probably had to be executed. But he considered briefly whether there might be a way to paper
