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“Seems like I’m the only cop in this room,” said Bauer.

The chief took a moment to recover, stunned by the insubordination. He directed a finger at Bauer but took a moment to find his words. “Inspector,” he finally said, his voice low and trembling, “you are done for the day.”

“No,” said Bauer, chin up. “I’m not even close to done.”

“You are done, Inspector! I don’t want to see your face around here again until Monday morning. You’ll report to me then, and we’ll talk about your future in this department.”

Bauer, fists balled, chest burning, poised to come over the table at the chief, silently counted to ten, his wife’s advice. “Tell Hitler I say hi,” he hissed before storming out of the office.

Helldorff was standing at the bottom of the staircase when Bauer returned to the detectives’ floor. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Bauer. “The chief complimented me on my findings so far and asked me to continue investigating with all deliberate speed.”

“Where are you going?” asked Helldorff, trying to keep up with him.

“To continue my interview with Anni Winter.”

“They’re gone, Bauer.”

He stopped in his tracks, turned to Helldorff. “Say again?”

“Inspector Brecht sent them home. On orders of the chief, he said. They walked out of the station five minutes ago.”

“Brecht, that little guttersnipe.” Bauer walked over to the conference room to see for himself. Sure enough, it was empty. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled. He marched into the detectives’ room, but Brecht’s desk was empty. “Where is he?” he called out. “Where’s Brecht?”

Nobody seemed to know.

“Bauer—what’s going on?” Helldorff asked again.

Bauer drew a breath and looked over at his kriminalassistent. Helldorff was fresh, just a rookie. He hadn’t developed a layer of tough skin yet. And for this case, he’d need a full suit of body armor.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said. He put a hand on Helldorff’s shoulder. “But you need to stay as far away from this case as you can.”

7

Berchtesgaden, the Berghof

Bavarian Alps

“I AM RUINED. YOU know this, don’t you? I am ruined. I have nothing left. There is nothing. Nothing!”

Adolf Hitler, dressed in a robe, his hair mussed and fallen into his face, his eyes deep-set from lack of sleep, stood at the window of the cottage, looking out over picturesque Lake Tegernsee nestled in a rolling wooded hillside. A number of Nazi flags hung from the docks; several NSDAP officials also had homes on the lake.

“Nonsense, mein Führer.” Hess stood a distance from Hitler. It had been years since he’d seen him like this, despondent and disheveled. Hess had smuggled Hitler to this house, owned by the publisher of Mein Kampf, roughly an hour south of Munich, to shield him from both the police and press. “We will navigate this problem and move forward. You will be back campaigning in no time—”

“Campaigning? Do you not see, Rudolf?” He turned to Hess, fists clenched. “This scandal is exactly what my enemies have been waiting for!” Hitler reentered the cottage and began to pace now, striding across the main room, with its dark wood paneling and rustic furniture. “Oh, how they will rejoice! How they will positively marvel at my fall! Why, I can imagine the look on Fritz Gerlich’s face when he hears of this. It will not matter,” he added, “that this was not my fault. Such questions will not even enter the conversation. Oh, no. All that will matter are the salacious headlines! The things they will say!”

At once the Führer stopped his pacing and collapsed onto a sofa. His head dropped into his hands. “Do you not see that it’s over, Rudolf? Are you the only one who does not see?”

Hess squatted down beside the Führer. “I believe in mein Führer, as do the others. Look out over the lake. Look at those flags. Think of all the people who only think of you when they think of the National Socialists. We are nothing without you.”

The Führer laughed, a bitter chuckle that sounded more like a hiccup.

“You need sleep, mein Führer. You need to eat. Let me have them prepare some liver dumplings, your fav—”

“No. No!” He sprang off the couch. “No meat! Not ever again! I cannot fathom the thought of eating the flesh of animals, not after seeing—no. Leave me, Rudolf. Leave me to my misery.”

Hess watched the Führer head back out onto the patio, the wind lifting his hair and flapping his robe.