General Eberhardt centered the projector on the table to reduce Cray's image. "We have another report about the American, this from a professor at Berlin Polytechnic. Jack Cray was his student for two terms in 1936. Cray was taking postgraduate work in mechanical engineering." He glanced again at his notes. "He took the fluid dynamics course from Professor Jorgen Hock, who remembers him well."
"Tell Inspector Dietrich of the information on the American's enrollment forms," Director Golz said.
Eberhardt lifted several sheets of paper from the table. "Cray was born in the western United States, in a town called Wenatchee in the state of Washington. His father was an apple grower and a school principal who apparently gave Cray his bent for education."
"Who gave him his bent for commando operations?" Dietrich asked.
"Americans routinely circumcise their male children," Reichsführer-SS Himmler commented. "Irrespective of race or religion. Did you know that? Doubtless it makes them prone to brutality."
Eberhardt chewed on his lip a moment before continuing. "From his records at Berlin Polytechnic we know that in 1935 Cray graduated from Princeton, a university in the state of New Jersey. His marks were excellent, and he received a Wallingford scholarship to study advanced engineering courses at Berlin Polytechnic. He had a Kreuzberg address while in Berlin. Professor Hock does not recall him ever saying anything in class."
"But you said Hock remembers him well," Dietrich prompted.
"Not from anything in class. Professor Hock was walking across Berlin Polytechnic's commons one day, between the administration building and the engineering building. A half-dozen Wehrmacht cadets were taking turns dueling with sabers."
Himmler interrupted, "The party has not purposely encouraged dueling, of course. But our lads have caught the Prussian martial spirit, and who's to blame them?"
Eberhardt went on, "Apparently the students had been practicing with each other, perhaps trying to gain scars on their cheeks like von Rundstech's. Professor Hock says the students were boisierous, and were showing off, making sure passersby saw their skills with the blades."
"And this Jack Crayjomed them?" Dietrich asked.
"Not exactly. Cray was also on the commons, swinging at a ball with a bat, a baseball bat. He was hitting the ball against the side of the engineering building again and again. The cadets began to taunt him, questioning his manliness."
"Are you sure it wasn't the other way around?" Dietrich asked "Professor Hock saw the entire sorry episode," Eberhardt answered. "The duelers called out things like 'Do all Americans play with sticks instead of swords?' That kind of puerile thing. Cray ignored them for a while, batting his ball But then the cadets walked over to the American, taunting him."
Director Golz wagged his head. "You can see it coming, Otto."
"Finally one of them, a cadet named von Dehm, challenged the American to a duel. At this point the American finally ceased batting the ball and turned to the cadets. Professor Hock says that other students had begun gathering around, watching. The American said, ‘You don't know anything about dueling'. Cadet von Dehm shoved a cutlass under Cray's nose and replied, 'I'll teach you the rudiments — the Prussian thrust and the Mecklenburg parry — but it'll be a painful lesson'. The other cadets hooted."
"Professor Hock heard all of this?" Dietrich asked. "He admits to having been among the assembling crowd. In any event, the American smiled winningly, Hock says, and then very suddenly and unexpectedly charged von Dehm with the baseball bat." Golz shook his head again. Himmler sniffed, "Not very sporting, I'd say."
"It was over in two seconds," Eberhardt concluded. "Von Dehm was on the ground, his cutlass in the grass beside him, his right wrist and right collarbone broken. And Jack Cray said, ‘That's called my Babe Ruth thrust'."
Golz laughed but saw Himmler's scowl and promptly quieted himself.
Gestapo Müller asked, "Who is Babe Ruth?"
"I'll find out." Eberhardt bent over the table to write a reminder to himself. "But, more important, Jack Cray is loose and appears headed to Berlin."
"Are we certain he is not still in Bohlen, near Colditz?" Müller asked.
"AWA General Reinecke ordered a class-one search. The village was circled by over five thousand members of the Home Guard, Hitler Youth, BDM, police, and prison-service guards. Bohlen was searched house to house. The American is no longer there."
Himmler said, "This Jack Cray is coming to Berlin to attempt to assassinate the Führer."
"How do you know that?" Dietrich asked.
Himmler was so unaccustomed to questions that his mouth snapped shut.
General Eberhardt said, "At this point in the war the enemy can accomplish virtually all of its military objectives by using their bombers. There is simply no need for the Americans to go to extreme lengths to free this commando unless they had some very delicate but very important task in mind."
"Like a murder," Golz added.
"You are only making suppositions about this American's mission," Dietrich said.
"We do not preclude the possibility he may have some other mission, some other target," Golz said. "But, we must assume the worst, and so we will undertake
a
massive effort to find and defeat this Jack Cray. Everyone around this table will be involved."
"You have very little evidence," Dietrich persisted.
Eberhardt replied, "That's the difference between your job and mine, Inspector. As a policeman, you must find enough evidence for a jury to convict a criminal. But my duty is to protect the Führer, and I can and must act on supposition, on the slightest of suspicions, on the hint of a rumor."
"If the Reich is to survive, the Führer must survive; it is as simple as that," Himmler said. "Director Golz tells me you are the best man- hunter in the Reich. You are to stop this American."
He removed a pen from his breast pocket and opened the folder. As he wrote on a piece of stationery, he continued, "I have spoken with Jodl and Goring. They agree with me regarding the urgency of your task, and they have pledged that whatever you need for your search — manpower, communications, equipment — will be yours instantly."
He passed the letter to Dietrich, who lifted it to his eyes. At the top of the page was the embossed emblem of the
Reichsführer-S
S
above Himmler's printed name. The letter read in scratchy handwriting: "This is Chief Detective-Inspector Otto Dietrich. You are to obey his orders as if they were my orders. Himmler."
The
Reichsführer
said, "This note will assist you, I trust."
Otto Dietrich would go to his grave wondering where he found the courage to next say, "Where is my wife?"
Himmler's eyebrows rose. "General Müller?"
"At a facility outside Munich," Müller said. "She is being detained pending investigation as your accomplice." His eyes had not left Dietrich since the inspector had entered the room.
"I won't do anything until she is set free."
"You are hardly in a position to bargain," Gestapo Müller said in his gravel voice.
Dietrich brought a finger around like a turret gun to Müller. "You release her from that place or I won't do a goddamn thing."
Müller colored and half-rose from his chair. His mouth opened, but Himmler's cold glance cut him off.
The
Reichsführer
waved his hand airily. "She will be released within one hour, and will be brought directly to Berlin. You have my assurance."
General Eberhardt handed the detective the RSD file about the American. Eberhardt said, "This American, this Jack Cray."
"Yes, sir?"
"He is a genius at military violence. It will be far too dangerous for you to try to take him alive."
"Don't let Cray even get a look at you," Director Golz cautioned. "It might be fatal."
Eberhardt advised, "Put a bullet in him. From a great distance, if possible."
"I understand, sir." Dietrich started toward the door.
He was brought up by Müller's piercing voice. "You are to report your every move to me."
Dietrich hesitated, then turned back.
Müller added, "Your wife will be released. But the Gestapo is like the Lord. What it gives, it can take away. Remember that."
Reichsführer Himmler clucked his tongue at Müller's boorish threat. But he added in a pleasant tone, chilling only if the source was considered, "Now, Inspector Dietrich, kindly begin your work, and do not fail us."
11
“AHEAD," Otto Dietrich urged. "They aren't poisoned."
Lieutenant Heydekampf translated his words to English.
Dietrich had spread out the French crullers on butcher paper on the table. The tops of the doughnuts were ridged with white icing. The ward was filled with the rich scent of the pastry.
David Davis and Harry Bell held their breaths and stared at the senior allied officer. Ian Hornsby rarely let indecision cross his face, but he was clearly agonizing.
Dietrich helped him. "Offering pastries isn't some new German interrogation technique."
Heydekampf again changed the words to English.
When Hornsby slowly reached for one of the doughnuts, Bell and Davis leaped for them.
Ulster Rifleman Davis crammed one into his mouth, then mumbled, "You almost had a bloody mutiny on your hands, Captain."
Bell chewed frantically. "I would have joined Davis. A mutiny, I swear. Christ, this is good."
The inspector said, "You, too, Colonel Janssen and Lieutenant Heydekampf. I know you don't eat well anymore."
Heydekampf could not keep the gratitude from his face. He passed a cruller to the camp commandant before taking one for himself. The skin on Heydekampf's neck was still blistered and oozing from the delousing-shed fire. Biacelets of burned skin were around his wrist. Everyone chewed in silence for a moment.
The first thing Otto Dietrich had done after leaving the Gestapo headquarters was to reenter Heinrich Muller's Mercedes. When the SS chauffeur balked at driving the inspector without further instructions from Gestapo Müller, Dietrich produced Himmler's letter. With a laugh, the driver started the engine. On the inspector's orders, the driver took him to the Adler Bakery on Hermann Goring Strasse. The bakery provided cakes and bread for senior Party members. The baker swore he had no pastries that day. Flashing Himmler's letter quickly resulted in four dozen crullers. The SS driver had then volunteered around a mouthful of pastry, "We could have a lot of fun with that letter. I know some places on Friedrichstrasse." The street was home for Berlin's elegant brothels, some of which still stood. Dietrich declined with thanks.
Then Dietrich had visited his precinct station to requisition the talents of Peter Hilfinger, his assistant for the past six years. On first sight of Dietrich, Hilfinger had grabbed him in an unprofessional bear hug, and then had been quick to drop whatever he had been working on to join him.
They had stopped briefly at an orthopedic surgeon's clinic on Krummestrasse, where Dietrich and Hilfinger conducted an interview while the driver waited at the curb. Then they drove to a haberdashery. The inspector had given the driver six more of the pastries when they arrived at the new airstrip at the Tiergarten.
Gestapo Muller's Fieseier Storch airplane had then taken Dietrich and Hilfinger from Berlin to Colditz. The inspector had eaten four crullers on the flight. The pilot had juked the plane from cloud to cloud during the flight, hiding from prowling Allied fighters. Dietrich did not know whether his nausea during the ride was motion sickness or was from the rich pastries. Between bites of crullers and bouts of nausea, he filled in Hilfinger on the assignment.
Dietrich walked around a bunk to a barred window, giving the POWs more time to sate their sweet tooths. On Dietrich’s suggestion, Peter Hilfinger waited in the hallway so they would not give the impression they were trying to overwhelm the prisoners. Dietrich looked out into the prisoners' yard. At least a dozen guards were posted in the small area. The Gestapo had assumed administration of the prisoner camp, and six agents were also in the yard, all wearing the telltale trench coats. Colonel Janssen had been relieved of command but had not yet been arrested or ordered to Berlin, which offered him hope.
"If you will continue to translate for me, Lieutenant Heydekampf," Dietrich said over his shoulder. To help support himself, he put his hand against the window frame, hoping the POWs wouldn't notice. His legs were still weak from his time at Lehrterstrasse. The charred remains of the delousing shed were below him to his left. "Group Captain Hornsby, you are the senior allied officer at Colditz. Major Bell is the senior American officer. Colonel Janssen believes that you, Captain Davis, are the Colditz escape committee chief. He doesn't know for sure, but I trust his instincts."
Dietrich paused, allowing Heydekampf to render his words into English. Then he said, "I asked you to meet with me because you three undoubtedly planned and assisted Jack Cray's escape."
More translation. The three POWs were still eating with zest. But now their eyes were locked on the back of the German inspector as he spoke.
Dietrich turned from the window. "After your capture, each one of you was questioned at Auswertestell West at Oberursel. Techniques there are sophisticated and successful. I'm sure that you have discussed your experiences there, and now understand fully our interrogation techniques. You know the water glass trick, and the escape ruse, and the Red Cross questionnaire subterfuge, all designed to get new prisoners to divulge information."
Hornsby furrowed his brow at Heydekampf's translation, then glanced at Bell, who shrugged and reached for another cruller. Captain Davis licked icing from his fingers. They had no idea where the detective inspector was leading.
Dietrich continued, "So it would be impossible for me to trick you into divulging information about the American's escape."
"Too right," Davis said after Heydekampf's translation.
"But I don't need to." The inspector patted a bunk, then picked up a paperback copy of John Steinbeck's
The Moon Is Down
from a tray at the bunk's headboard. "I am going to tell you how you and the American did it."