“Because I was a fool. Each time, I heard only half the message. I heard that they wanted to change things. They wanted to save the Aryan race, which I believed in. I thought they wanted to bring about all the good things that were originally part of the Nazi teachings. Yes, there were good things in them,” he added when Alex turned to stare at him. “They became twisted, and evil in the end, but they started out with good intentions.” He dropped his eyes, staring into the fire. “I started out with good intentions.”
“But that changed, didn’t it?” Teren asked.
“Yes. Franz Eisenbein joined our church. He had only recently graduated from seminary, and he was filled with such righteous indignation. He would thunder away at the crowd, teaching them that God wanted what was best for them. Week after week, it was that God had a plan, and God wanted the best for his people, and the Aryans were his chosen race. I thought it was wonderful how he would create such enthusiasm in the crowd. “
Alex snorted. “Of course. Germans are superior. The Aryan race is supreme. Wonderful.”
Teren touched Alex’s arm, but said nothing.
Odbert shifted in his chair, and a look of pain drifted across his face. “I do not think like that anymore.”
“But you did.”
“Yes,” he whispered.
They were all silent for a moment, then Teren prodded Odbert to continue his story. “What happened that made you change your thinking?”
He frowned. “There was violence. Two members of Eisenbein’s youth group were arrested for beating a Jewish boy. He publicly denounced the beating, saying violence solved nothing, but secretly, he was giving money to the young men’s parents for their defense. He also arranged for the victim to be discredited — and the boys were let off with a suspended sentence.
“Even before that, Franz began taking the younger men on weekend trips. He told me they were training weekends, to teach the boys to be warriors of God. I believed him. I even went on one with them. He never spoke about the Jews, or anyone else. Only about the need for a strong German people.” Another sigh. “And I let him lead the church. I was getting old, and I wanted to retire. I became less and less important, and he became the spiritual leader. And he never spoke about Nazis or Jews in public. But in private,” he shook his head, “he became the Fuehrer, all over again.
“That’s when I decided to give him the account, and fully retire. My injury from the war had caused parts of my spine to disintegrate, and I could hardly walk. I saw where Franz was taking the church, but I could do nothing to stop him. So, I retired.”
“Yet, Eisenbein came to see you today,” Teren said.
“He did indeed. He has come several times. I never found the strength to openly tell him he was wrong.”
“Instead,” Alex said, “you gave him money, and power, and the tacit approval to carry on with his neo-Nazi doctrine.”
After a moment, the old man nodded. “Yes.” He looked up at her, “I am just a man, Miss Reed, and not a very intelligent one at that. I believed in Utopia, the dream of the perfect society. I followed one man that promised it, and did not have the strength to argue with another. I am only human, and I will never claim perfection, or any kind of sainthood. I am very aware that the world will never remember either Werner Hoppe or Jurgen von Odbert with anything but disgust.”
“You can change part of that,” Alex told him.
“How?”
“Tell us about Stephen Radcliffe.”
“Ah.” He nodded, leaning back as far as his chair would let him. “Stephen is like Franz, full of fire and righteousness. He has great plans. I worry about what will happen if he succeeds in his quest.”
“What quest is that?”
“He wants to put a friend of his in the White House. He considered running for it himself, but did not, at that time, have the funds and supporters necessary.”
“So, for the funds, he came to you and Eisenbein?” Alex asked.
“No. He went to a man named Radinkov, from Czechoslovakia. Radinkov convinced him that there was a great deal of money to be made selling the weapons from the former Soviet Union. Plus, they could open up new territory to the drug cartels. Radcliffe began setting up deals —”
“Drugs for guns,” Teren said. “And he would send Treville in to oversee them?”
“Treville was in charge certainly, but he never got his hands dirty. Only once did I ever know of him actually showing up at a meeting, and that was six months ago. It seems his regular representatives were killed.”
Teren nodded. They were the people she and Perry had replaced on that fatal mission.
“Stephen met Franz several years ago, and they agreed to work together. Franz gave Stephen names of Nazi strongholds, and Stephen would assist them in acquiring weapons. However, as he was becoming more important politically in the United States, Stephen could not be involved in many of the things that were planned. John Treville became his representative to the meetings with Franz and myself.”
“Is Stephen still a part of the group, or is he more of a figurehead right now?” Teren asked.
“Well,” Odbert was hesitant, “he is respected for his views. But Franz and John both think he is not as committed to doing anything necessary to bring about the white Christian nation he speaks about. Recently, he has angered both of them because he sat down with leaders of the black community. While he says that it was the right thing to do, to make them trust him, John and Franz said it showed weakness.”
Alex sat back down on the couch. “So, Stephen isn’t involved with the assassination plot. Treville is the leader of that group.”
The silver gray head shook, no. “John Treville is a new Martin Bormann. He is not a leader, but a follower. He followed Stephen Radcliffe until Franz said Stephen was not pushing hard enough. Then, he followed Franz. A year ago he met a man whom he called CJ. It is the only name I have ever heard used for this man, and I don’t think even Franz knows who he is. John became a devout disciple of this CJ, and it was he that came up with the plan.”
“What plan?” asked Teren.
“Kill members of the anti-nazi movement in the US. CJ said it would cause a great deal of fear in the American liberals, and that if the liberals fought back, the Nazis would be ready with armed troops.”
“What about law enforcement? Weren’t they worried about that?”
“CJ said it would be taken care of.”
Teren raised her eyebrow at that.
“So, you knew they were going to kill political activists in the United States,” accused Alex, “and you did nothing.”
He shrugged. “What could I do? I was already in this wheel chair. I heard many plans being made.Some of them were carried out, but most were not.”
Alex leaned forward to speak, but stopped when Teren held up a hand. “Stephen signed a money transfer, less than a year ago. It was to a bank account in the name of John Treville and Martin Richmond.”
“John said he needed an operating budget for the plans he and CJ had worked out. Franz, being out of the country at that time, sent a message to Stephen asking him to sign the papers. Stephen did so, without asking what the plans were.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I was listening in on the phone call.” He half smiled. “They think because I’m old, that I won’t know or understand. Yet I know more of what happens than they do.”
“You keep your hand in, more than you say you do.”
“No, Frau Olind. My ears and eyes, yes. My hands, no.”
He and Teren smiled at one another, and Teren realized she was beginning to like this man. Former Nazi, neo-Nazi, whatever, she liked him. Teren had no idea what Alex was thinking, but she felt they could trust the old man.
Which thoroughly surprised her.
“Okay. So, what do you know about CJ?”
“I’m afraid not very much. I have heard his voice on the phone, and he speaks in low tones. He sounds very cultured.”
“Doesn’t give us much to go on.”
“I’m sorry. I have nothing else.”
Alex had leaned back for the moment, content to let Teren take the lead. She was having a hard time keeping her emotions in check.