‘Not for much longer.’ Konrad Adenauer gazed onto Siebengebirgsallee, where a black-painted official car was waiting. The chauffeur stood smoking by the garden fence. ‘I’m afraid I might soon have a little more time on my hands.’
‘How can you say that, Konrad? The Reichstag vote will give the Nazis something to think about, and a week later it will be the local elections. This madness will soon pass, mark my words. They lost millions of supporters in November; they’re on the way out.’
‘If only that were true.’ Their visitor sipped his tea. ‘No, no, Engelbert. My time as mayor is over. Our time is over. The Nazis won’t allow power to be wrested from them. Not now.’
The mayor pronounced the word “Nazi” with a short a, making it sound more like “Nazzi”.
Rath was afraid the conversation would turn to politics; it almost always did with his father, and with this particular visitor it went without saying. Engelbert Rath was proud to be on first-name terms with the mayor of Cologne, a friendship that had proved instrumental to his career as police director down the years.
Rath fished his cigarette case out of his pocket, knowing his father had refrained from his customary afternoon cigar out of consideration for the non-smoking Adenauer. Even so, he lit a cigarette and gazed out of the window. It was cold, and the chauffeur was back inside the sedan.
Engelbert Rath threw his son an angry glance, before answering. ‘Everything is still up for grabs. We’re in the middle of an election campaign, which is precisely the reason you refused to meet Hitler a week ago, a move I wholeheartedly agree with. The man was in Cologne as an electoral candidate, not in his capacity as Reich chancellor. Which is also why you had the swastika flags removed from the Deutzer Bridge.’
‘Correct. Because I want to see out my final days in office with dignity and resolve.’
Adenauer set down his cup and fished a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it and showed it to father and son. A pamphlet. ADENAUER MUST GO, Rath read.
‘It’s the only message that brown rabble are pedalling. I’d like to continue as mayor after 12th March, but I’m not counting on it. Gussie and the children are prepared for defeat.’ Adenauer stirred his tea, his thoughts elsewhere. ‘Hitler should have been countered with force a year ago. It’s too late now.’
‘I refuse to indulge your pessimism, Konrad! Hitler’s cabinet exists only by the grace of Hindenburg. If the brownshirts overstep the mark, the Reich president will clamp down on them. As for the voters…’
‘Politically speaking, Hindenburg’s a fool,’ Adenauer interrupted. ‘Just like that schemer, Papen. Hitler’s working at our behest, he’s supposed to have said in his gentleman’s club. To think, a man like that once belonged to our party, the Westphalian fussbudget!’
‘Our constituents will never give the brownshirts their votes. Catholic voters will stay loyal to the Centre Party!’
‘Maybe, but you’re forgetting the women. This Hitler’s got them all running around after him.’ Adenauer looked out of the window, as if Germany’s entire female population was assembled outside the Rath villa. ‘We never should have given them the vote.’
‘I don’t know about that… my Erika certainly won’t be voting for the Browns. Nor will your Gussie.’
‘The elections won’t change anything. The streets belong to the Nazis, and have done for some time. If need be they’ll get what they want by force.’
‘Politics, eh?’ Engelbert Rath seemed unable to conceive of a future in which he could no longer call upon his links to the Centre Party or Social Democrats, and certainly not enough to get worked up about it. ‘There are more important things in life,’ he said, but Gereon knew he didn’t mean it. For Engelbert Rath there was nothing more important than politics, at least where it served his professional advancement. ‘How are Gussie and the children?’
‘Thank you, they’re in good health. Though the SA are getting more and more brazen since they’ve been allowed to pose as auxiliary police officers. You ask them why they are loitering by the house and they say they’re guarding the street. Can’t you do something?’
‘My hands are tied.’ The great Engelbert Rath appeared suddenly weak, his all-powerful façade crumbling. ‘The SA has a mind of its own. Its commanding officers aren’t easily incorporated into conventional police hierarchy.’
‘That’s what I’m talking about. Our time is up.’ Adenauer set down his tea cup.
Rath gazed out of the window. The chauffeur was outside again, lighting another cigarette. No doubt smoking wasn’t permitted inside the Cologne mayor’s official car.
‘How about you, young man?’ Adenauer asked, and it took Gereon a moment to realise the question was directed at him. The mayor fixed him with his narrow, Indian eyes. Without thinking, he sat up. ‘Can’t resist the pull of the Rhine?’
‘Just a holiday.’ Rath cleared his throat. ‘Chalked up too much overtime.’
‘How do you like Berlin? Settling in OK?’
Rath shrugged.
‘Gereon is soon to be married,’ his father prompted. ‘To a Berliner, born-and-bred.’
‘Well then, congratulations.’
‘Thank you, Mayor.’
‘Where is the marriage taking place? Here in Cologne?’
‘We… uh… we have… first we have to…’
‘Gereon’s bride is Protestant,’ Engelbert Rath said, and it sounded like an apology.
‘What can I say? Berlin.’ Adenauer shook his head, apparently surprised that a place like the German capital even existed. ‘You’re here for Carnival too of course?’
‘Yes, of course. I mean: as well.’ Rath felt as though he were being interrogated. ‘I’m here mainly to visit my parents.’
‘And your lady bride? Is she with you? You must introduce us some time.’
‘I… No. Fräulein Ritter is working. She’s a CID cadet and…’
‘A police officer?’
Rath nodded. ‘Yes. A very good one too.’
‘We’ve already had the pleasure of Fräulein Ritter’s acquaintance,’ Engelbert Rath said. ‘A charming young lady.’ He paused briefly. ‘I’ve mentioned to Gereon that there’ll be a Rosenmontag parade again this year. Thanks to your support, Konrad.’
‘It’s the Cologne business world you have to thank.’
‘Your modesty does you credit. Now, I wanted to ask: tomorrow on the town hall balcony… I should have said something sooner, but my son’s appearance has put me off guard… Would it be too much to ask if…’
‘Of course not. There’s always space for a Rath on the balcony.’ Adenauer’s gaze wandered from Engelbert to Gereon Rath. ‘It would be a great honour if you could join us tomorrow, young man.’
‘Oh, thank you.’ Rath was so dumbfounded he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
‘Think nothing of it.’ Adenauer looked at him with his narrow eyes. ‘Perhaps you’ll consider returning to Cologne one day. We could use men like you in these troubled times.’
‘I’ll think about it, Mayor,’ Rath said, knowing that he wouldn’t. He’d never persuade Charly to move to Cologne, not with Erika and Engelbert Rath so close by. Besides, Berlin was his city now, that strange metropolis that offered so little by way of homeliness, but somehow got under your skin.
Adenauer looked at his silver fob watch. ‘My driver will be getting impatient.’ He stood up and shook both Raths by the hand. ‘A pleasure, Engelbert. Believe me, I appreciate your friendship now more than ever.’
Engelbert Rath escorted the mayor out while Gereon stood at the window, lighting another cigarette. Adenauer’s car started up as Rath senior returned.