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“Interesting point, Janice,” Henderson said thoughtfully.
“How about the Jews?” Cronley asked. “They know what the Germans did to the Jews here.”
“What they did to the Jews here is provable. It was incredible, but then we sent the photographers to the extermination camps and they took pictures of the ovens and the piles of bodies and that made it credible. All you’ve got to show the Jews—all you’ve got to show anybody—is pictures of a castle that was burned and looted. Like Tony here, if it wasn’t you and Cohen, my professional opinion of what you just told us would be ‘Oh, bullshit!’”
“Actually, it’s worse than that,” Cronley said. “Cohen is so interested—maybe obsessed—with Wewelsburg because he thinks the Nuremberg trials will be pissing in the wind.”
“The vengeance of the victors?” Henderson asked softly.
“Particularly the vengeance of the Jewish victors, who as all Germans know, are really running everything.”
“What you and Morty need, sweetie, is to get some Nazi big shot—preferably a lot more than one—whom the Germans still adore and get him, them, to fess up convincingly. That’s going to be hard because we’re going to hang the big shots who could do that for us.”
“There’s a lot of big-shot Nazis still on the loose,” Cronley replied. “Properly questioned, I hope I can get some answers from them. I start tomorrow morning with Sturmbannführer Heinz Macher, who tried to blow up Castle Wewelsburg.”
“No offense, Jim,” Henderson said, “but do you think you’re qualified to do that?”
“No. But since I have an honest face, speak Strasbourger German, and I’m neither Jewish nor Russian, I’m going to give it one hell of a try.”
VIII
[ONE]
The Dining Room
Farber Palast
Stein, near Nuremberg
American Zone of Occupation, Germany
0725 23 February 1946
Colonel Mortimer Cohen, Captain Chauncey Dunwiddie, and Casey Wagner walked up to the table where Cronley and Major Henderson were about to finish their breakfast.
“Casey I expected. But to what may I attribute the honor of the unexpected presence of you two?” Cronley asked.
“I need your permission to do something,” Cohen said seriously, as he sat down.
Cohen needs my permission?
What the hell?
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Henderson said.
“Tony, this is Captain Dunwiddie, my executive officer,” Cronley said.
“I had the privilege of meeting the captain at the Mansion yesterday,” Henderson said.
“You told me. I forgot,” Cronley said. “So let me bring him up to date. Tiny, Major Henderson is one of the good guys. He’s welcome at the Mansion.”
“So Colonel Cohen told me,” Dunwiddie said.
“What’s going on?” Cronley asked.
“Colonel Rasberry has a problem with his enlisted men,” Cohen said.
“He told me,” Cronley said. “They’re all eighteen years old and don’t know how to drive.”
