How could the old man possibly have heard her?
«You’ve come, I see,» said Gerhardt, no madness in his voice. «Quickly now, these woods are cold. Get inside, in front of the fire. We’ll have tea.»
The room seemed larger than the outside structure would indicate. The heavy furniture was old but comfortable, a profusion of leather and wood. Helden sat on an ottoman, warmed by the fire and the tea. She had not realized how cold she’d been.
They had talked for a few minutes, Gerhardt answering the first question before she’d had a chance to ask it.
«I came here from Berlin five years ago, by way of München, where my cover was established. I was a ‘victim’ of ODESSA, a broken man living out his years in senility and solitude. I am a figure of ridicule; a doctor at the clinic keeps my records. His name is Litvak, should you ever need him. He’s the only one who knows I’m perfectly sane.»
«But why was your cover necessary?»
«You’ll understand as we talk. Incidentally, you were surprised that I knew you were outside.» Gerhardt smiled. «This primitive lakeside cottage is very sophisticated. No one approaches without my knowing it. A hum is heard.» The old man’s smile vanished. «Now, what happened to Klaus?»
She told him. Gerhardt was silent for a while, pain in his eyes.
«Animals,» he said. «They can’t even execute a man with any semblance of decency; they must mutilate. May God damn them!»
«Who?»
«The false Wolfsschanze. The animals. Not the eagles.»
«Eagles? I don’t understand.»
«The plot to kill Hitler in July of ’forty-four was a conspiracy of the generals. Military men—by and large, decent men—who came to see the horrors committed by the Führer and his madmen. It was not the Germany they cared to fight for. Their objective was to assassinate Hitler, sue for a just peace, and expose the killers and sadists who’d functioned in the name of the Reich. Rommel called these men ‘the true eagles of Germany.’»
«The eagles…» Helden repeated. «‘You won’t stop the eagles …’»
«I beg your pardon?» asked the old man.
«Nothing. Go on, please.»
«Of course, the generals failed, and a bloodbath followed. Two hundred and twelve officers, many only vaguely suspect, were tortured and put to death. Then, suddenly, Wolfsschanze became the excuse to still all dissent within the Reich. Thousands who had voiced even the most minor political or military criticisms were arrested on fabricated evidence and executed. The vast majority had never heard of a staff headquarters called Wolfsschanze, much less any attempt on Hitler’s life. Rommel was ordered to kill himself, the penalty for refusal to carry out an additional five thousand indiscriminate executions. The worst fears of the generals were borne out: the maniacs were in total control of Germany. It was what they had hoped to stop at Wolfsschanze. Their Wolfsschanze: the true Wolfsschanze.»
«Their… Wolfsschanze?» asked Helden. «‘The coin of Wolfsschanze has two sides.’»
«Yes,» said Gerhardt. «There was another Wolfsschanze, another group of men who also wanted Hitler killed. But for an entirely different reason. These men thought he had failed. They saw his weaknesses, his diminished capacities. They wanted to supplant the madness that was with another madness, far more efficient. There were no appeals for peace in their plans, only the fullest prosecution of the war. Their strategies included tactics unheard of since the Mongol armies swept through Asia centuries ago. Whole peoples held as hostages, mass executions for the slightest infractions, a reign of abuse so terrible the world would seek a truce, if only in the name of humanity.» Gerhardt paused; when he continued, his voice was filled with loathing. «This was the false Wolfsschanze, the Wolfsschanze that was never meant to be. They—the men of that Wolfsschanze—are committed still.»
«Yet these same men were part of the conspiracy to kill Hitler,» Helden said. «How did they escape?»
«By becoming the fiercest of Hitler’s loyalists. They regrouped quickly, feigned revulsion at the treachery, and turned on the others. As always, zealousness and ferocity impressed the Führer; he was essentially a physical coward, you see. He put some of them in charge of the executions and delighted in their devotion.»
Helden moved to the edge of the seat. «You say these men—this other Wolfsschanze—are still committed. Surely most of them are dead by now.»
The old man sighed. «You really don’t know, do you? Klaus said you didn’t.»
«You know who I am?» asked Helden.
«Of course. You yourself mailed the letters.»
«I mailed a lot of letters for Herr Oberst. But none to Neuchâtel.»
«Those that were meant for me, I received.»
«He wrote you about me?»
«Often. He loved you very much.» Gerhardt’s smile was warm. It faded as he spoke. «You asked me how the men of the false Wolfsschanze could still be committed after so many years. You’re right, of course. Most of them are dead. So it’s not they; it’s the children.»
«The children?»
«Yes. They’re everywhere—in every city, province, and country. In every profession, every political group. Their function is to apply pressure constantly, convincing people that their lives could be so much better if strong men protested weakness. Angry voices are being substituted for genuine remedies; rancor supplants reason. It’s happening everywhere, and only a few of us know what it is: a massive preparation. The children have grown up.»
«Where did they come from?»
«Now we come to the heart of the matter. It will answer other questions for you.» The old man leaned forward. «It was called ‘Operation Sonnenkinder,’ and it took place in 1945. Thousands of children between the ages of six months and sixteen years were sent out of Germany. To all parts of the world…»
As Gerhardt told the story, Helden felt ill, physically ill.
«A plan was devised,» continued Gerhardt, «whereby millions upon millions of dollars would be available to the Sonnenkinder after a given period of time. The time was calculated by projections of the normal economic cycles; it was thirty years.»
Helden’s sharp intake of breath interrupted him, but only briefly.
«It was a plan conceived by three men…»
A cry emerged from Helden’s throat.
«These three men had access to funds beyond calculation, and one of them was perhaps the most brilliant financial manipulator of our time. It was he and he alone who brought the international economic forces together that insured the rise of Adolf Hitler. And when his Reich failed him, he set about creating another.»
«Heinrich Clausen…» whispered Helden. «Oh, God, no!… Noel! Oh, God, Noel!»
«He was never more than a device, a conduit for money. He knows nothing.»
«Then …» Helden’s eyes grew wide; the pain in her temples sharpened.
«Yes,» said Gerhardt, reaching for her hand. «A young boy was chosen, another of the sons. An extraordinary child, a fanatically devoted member of the Hitler Youth. Brilliant, beautiful. He was watched, developed, trained for his mission in life.»
«Johann… Oh, God in heaven, it’s Johann.»
«Yes. Johann von Tiebolt. It is he who expects to lead the Sonnenkinder into power all over the world.»
The sound of an echoing drum inside her temples grew louder, the percussive beats jarring and thunderous. Images went out of focus; the room spun and darkness descended. Helden fell into a void.