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“The Vatican, so to speak, of the new religion Himmler was trying to establish? Oh, yes, Jim told me all about it. Just as soon as I can, I’m going to have a look at that place. What is this man Macher’s connection with that?”
“Himmler and/or von Dietelburg sent him to blow the place up when 3rd Armored Division was getting close. His orders were to tell SS General Siegfried Taubert, who was in charge of the castle, to remove, quote, all sacred items, end quote, and then blow the place up.
“When Macher got to the castle, he found that Taubert had left, presumably with the sacred items. But when we captured Taubert trying to get into Italy, no sacred items. He stashed them somewhere—we’re still looking.”
“Macher didn’t have enough explosives, couldn’t blow up the castle,” Cohen said. “He used what he had—anti-tank mines—to blow up—take down—the southeast tower and the guard and SS buildings. Then he tried, unsuccessfully, to burn the castle down. Then he took off for Italy. We caught him, not knowing who he was, and the CIC put him in the unimportant-SS-prisoner enclosure in Darmstadt. When I heard he was there, I had him moved here.
“Castle Wewelsburg, the people who ran that, Cronley and I believe, are the people running Odessa. And yes, Colonel Thomas, Odessa is real, active, and dangerous.”
“So your fiancée’s uncle, it would seem, Sergeant Brownlee,” Cronley said, “is not some gentle soul suffering from constipation, but rather somebody who participated—almost certainly at the orders of former SS-Brigadeführer Franz von Dietelburg—in the murder of Sturmführer Luther Stauffer, almost certainly because Stauffer was in Odessa and they were afraid he’d start talking to us.
“Does this give you any idea of how your incredible stupidity has fucked things up?”
Brownlee didn’t reply.
“Who did you pass the cyanide capsules to?”
“Wilhelm.”
“Wilhelm who?”
“I don’t know his last name. He runs the chow line.”
“Wilhelm Reiss,” Casey furnished.
“Right,” Brownlee confirmed.
“The idea being that he would pass the Ex-Lax to Macher as he went through the chow line?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Casey, was this guy Reiss in the chow line among the people you ordered locked up?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Brownlee, give Mr. Ziegler your fiancée’s name and address.”
“Trude didn’t know the laxative pills were cyanide—she’s a good woman.”
“Your loyalty to your beloved is touching, Sergeant,” Cronley said.
“Are you through with Sergeant Brownlee, Mr. Cronley?” Colonel Rasberry asked.
“Just as soon as he gives Ziegler his girlfriend’s name and address, I will be.”
“Mr. Justice Jackson, sir?” Rasberry asked.
“I have nothing to ask him at this time,” Jackson said.
“Then with your permission, sir, I will place Sergeant Brownlee under arrest, pending proceedings under Article 31 of the Manual for Courts-Martial 1928.”
“That seems to be the appropriate action, Colonel.”
“Sergeant Major, take Sergeant Brownlee into custody and place him somewhere where he cannot make contact with anybody and ensure that someone is watching him twenty-four/seven to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”
“Yes, sir. Let’s go, Brownlee.”
Sergeant Brownlee, tears running down his cheeks, stood up.
