The force of the man engulfed Mitzer. In that brief moment he saw the power and charisma that Willi Kushmann never had. It was a time for radical action, and Frick had the magnetism that such a leadership would need.
'I…you have my loyalty…all my efforts.' Mitzer stated, not comfortable in calling Frick by his first name any longer. The leader of the party deserved more respect.
'No more than I expected, Grob. And I'll give you the means with which to achieve our aims. I won't concern you with those plans at this stage. But, when the time is right, they will give you all the ammunition you need to convince your colleagues. In the meantime, we must let the communists and Zionists fight our cause for us. Shit to them all. Bloody Croatians and Serbs and Rumanians, even the Russians are coming across our borders looking for jobs. Our jobs. Taken away from our people.' The hatred built in his tone. 'Even the Jews are claiming their property back in what was East Germany. The shits. They bled us dry before 1930 and now they want to do it again. Our people will love that. Their homes, their land, was taken from them by the communists, and now, when they have learnt to work their own property again, the Jews are using the courts, the German courts, to take back that property. Why? Because they say it was stolen from them before the War. Stolen from them? They are the thieves of history. How the fuck can you steal from a thief?'
Frick fell back in his chair, his anger suddenly released from his body. Mitzer watched him, saw his leader sit still while he gathered himself.
'We must never let them back,' said Frick quietly. 'Never.' He suddenly stood up. 'Time for you to go. We both have work to do.'
Mitzer levered himself out of the armchair and followed Frick to the door. Frick swung round and faced the industrialist.
'One more thing. The Lucy Ghosts.'
'That's going according to plan,' said Mitzer.
'Yes. But impractical. Wasted effort.'
'They're key people.'
'Past people.'
'With vital knowledge.'
'Twenty years ago. Not now.'
'We promised that…'
'We don't have the resources. We must concentrate our efforts here, in the Fatherland.'
'It'll be impossible to stop it.'
'I leave it in your hands. Deal with. It has to stop.'
'It's their money that's made all this possible.' Mitzer regretted the words as he spoke them. He saw the fury in Frick's eyes. He changed tack quickly. 'There have been accidents.'
'Accidents?'
'Deaths.'
'What do you expect? They're old now.'
'Violent deaths. Murdered. Friends who wanted to come home.'
'Friends. No. People who were forcing us to bring them home before we were ready.'
The horror of Frick's words stunned Mitzer.
''Not us, Grob. We were not responsible,' Kragan interjected quickly.
'I'm sorry. It has been a great shock. Especially poor Willi's death.'
'What the Fuhrer meant was that we have other priorities. If we don't stamp our authority soon, one of the other parties will. They are all scrabbling for power. What we have planned will ensure we dominate German politics in the future. We can have our thousand year Reich. But we must do it on our terms.'
'How many of the old guard have died?' asked Frick, changing the subject.
'Nearly twenty.'
'That many?'
Mitzer nodded. 'Unfortunately, three of them were agents. Two for the Americans and one for the KGB.'
'So?'
'It would be a tragedy if the truth was to get out.'
It won’t,’ said Kragan. ‘The Americans and Russians don’t understand the knew game. They have no idea what to look for. No, as the Fuhrer says, we need to concentrate on more important matters. You must talk to them, tell them to be patient.'
Mitzer knew there was no redress. 'I'll arrange things.'
'I know you will,' said Frick. 'Remember, The Lucy Ghosts died with Boorman. There are no more ghosts, Grob. Only the memories of old men. Revolution requires a society of extremes. It's there for us, now, as it was in 1933.'
Frick opened the door into the ante room and signaled the Stermabeitalung to escort Mitzer from the room.
'Thank you for your time. Remember, out of chaos comes order. But to achieve order, we must have chaos. Goodbye, my old friend.' Frick bade Mitzer farewell. He didn't shake his hand, simply gave him the Nazi salute.
Before Mitzer could return it, Frick had closed the door and left him with the two Stermabeitalung, who escorted him out of the room and into the corridor.
The interview was over.
Nobody said Happy New Year.
The promise was broken and Mitzer the envoy sent to break it.
Inside the suite, Kragan watched Frick looking out of the window.
He knew better than to interrupt. His leader's sudden change in mood was well known.
'He must never find out.' Frick said at last. 'He'd be a dangerous enemy.'
'Only a handful of our people know.'
'In Cannes. He wasn't one of ours.'
'We hired him. So nobody could trace it back to…'
'I know why. But I don't want any black bastards, or any foreigners, used again. From now on we only use our own Stermabeitalung.'
'It could lay us open to risk.'
'Why? Our people are the best. They wouldn't have made a mistake. Not like the African.'
'He panicked.'
'Precisely. If he hadn't, if he'd carried out his orders, it wouldn't just be Willi we'd be mourning.'
'If the CIA and KGB are involved…'
'They won't find anything. Not until it's too late.'
I suggest we should hold back on any more action on the Lucy Ghosts.'
'It's not my fault. Bastards shouldn't have been pushing to come back. The last thing we want…Shit to the Lucy Ghosts. I will not live in the past. They've served their purpose. Germany needs us to look to the future.'
Ch. 25
'Is this all that was saved?' Alexei Rostov asked the Head of Archives as they entered the large meeting room where the remains of the fire from the fourth floor had been moved.
'Yes, sir. And it's more than half the information we had filed.'
Rostov walked along the long line of charred and scorched filing cabinets, the bitter smell of burning lingering heavily in the room.
'Many of the filing cabinets were wooden,' continued the man from Archives. 'We lost all those. But the metals one, like these, resisted the heat for much longer. We saved most. The emergency fire crew arrived quickly. Thank God.' The man caught his breath. God was still a foreign agent as far as the KGB were concerned. He continued quickly. 'Without all these drills we've been having, we could've lost everything.'
'And the transfer onto computer?' Rostov smiled and blithely ignored the religious comment.
'Back on schedule. I don't think we've lost anything of great importance.'
Rostov stopped along one of the rows and wiped the soot away from the front of a cabinet, revealing the insignia that was the symbol of the Nazi party, the eagle straddled over the swastika.
'What's this?' asked Rostov.
'War booty. After the war, we confiscated…,' Rostov grinned at the explanation for stealing. '…as many useful items as we could from the Germans. Filing cabinets, typewriters…'
'Tanks, rockets, scientists. I know,' Rostov joked. 'I hope they never present us with an inventory of all that was taken and demand them back. What caused the fire?'