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‘Maybe,’ replied Goebbels, staring into the fire, ‘perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it’s time to take stock…’
‘Well, I’d better be getting back to my flat.’ Minki stood up and pulled on her coat.
‘Can I come with you?’ Goebbels gazed longingly at her.
‘I really shouldn’t,’ she said. ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t sleep with you again – at least not while you’re involved with someone else.’
‘I may not be involved for long,’ Goebbels replied. ‘I’m not sure Else and I have a future. She has no style, no class. She’s a bit of a human dumpling, if I’m honest.’
Minki sniggered. ‘She sounds frightful.’
He stood up and stroked Minki’s neck. In spite of herself, she shivered slightly, aroused, yearning for physical comfort and human contact. Goebbels, though not classically handsome, was certainly an attentive lover. ‘Oh, all right,’ she said. ‘You can come back. But don’t think it means anything…it’s just for tonight.’
‘Just for tonight then.’
9
MUNICH
March 1924
Two weeks into the trial, the long hours of evidence were beginning to take their toll on spectators and journalists alike. Leila, Peter and Edmund attended the courtroom each day, with either Martin Gruber or Julius Zerfass taking it in turns. But Minki, predictably, flitted in and out, filing copy erratically between ‘private engagements’, as she called them.
‘What do you do when you’re not in court?’ Leila asked Minki one evening as the three young journalists strolled into the centre of town after a day in the courtroom.
‘Oh, I meet people, hunt out stories, that sort of thing.’
‘But the real story is in the courtroom,’ protested Peter.
‘Hitler’s trial yes – but there are other stories that Streicher is more interested in.’
‘What sort of things?’ asked Leila.
‘Oh, nothing that would interest you,’ replied Minki evasively. The truth was Streicher had asked her to follow up a lead about a Jewish ritual murder cult. She knew it was complete nonsense, of course, but she had to investigate.
She quickly changed the subject. ‘Why don’t we all have a drink and chew the cud a little? I’d love to hear your views on the case, Peter.’
‘I really shouldn’t, I’ve got work to do.’
‘You don’t like me, do you?’ Minki said suddenly, staring accusatorily at Peter, her blue eyes challenging him to answer her honestly.
‘Oh, Minki.’ Leila blushed with embarrassment.
‘I hardly know you,’ Peter replied. ‘So, there’s nothing to like, or dislike.’
‘Then get to know me – have a drink with me, at least. Leila, you’ll come too, won’t you?’
Leila had observed in the past how all men ultimately fell under Minki’s spell. She combined an almost ethereal feminine beauty with a certain boldness not often found in a woman.
Peter smiled. ‘All right…But just a quick one.’
Minki led the way to a small bar she knew. It was packed with journalists, fresh from the trial. She pushed her way through the crowd towards the back, and confidently parted a heavy embroidered curtain, revealing a private room. In the centre was a table big enough for six people. ‘Sit here,’ she told them, ‘I’ll order the drinks.’
‘How did you find this place?’ Leila asked, when Minki returned.
‘A friend brought me here once,’ Minki replied. ‘This area’s normally reserved for private meetings, but they know me here…they won’t mind.’
‘You really are full of surprises,’ said Leila admiringly.
