AllFreeNovel Stories worth discovering

The Munich Affair

Page 82

by James Patterson

SA troopers, in their brown uniforms and swastika armbands, rifles slung over their shoulders, started kicking the detainees lying prone on the ground. “Traitors!” they shouted. “Bolshevik sympathizers!”

“Hey! Stop!” Bauer forced his way through the throng of officers and onlookers. “These people work for a political party. They aren’t resisting! They aren’t traitors!”

“Arrest that man!” one of the SA troopers shouted, pointing at Bauer. “Those who defend traitors are traitors themselves!”

Two detectives—men Bauer knew well, had worked with for years—did not hesitate to grab him by each arm. Bauer lashed back, knocking one of them off-balance, before turning to the second detective and raising his fist.

“Stop! That is a direct order!”

Bauer turned and saw Kriminalinspektor Peter Helldorff rushing to intervene. “I will handle this man. Return to your affairs, detectives.”

Helldorff turned Bauer away from the crowd. “Bauer, get out of here right now!” the young man hissed. “Before they arrest you!”

“They can’t arrest me.” Bauer whipped his arm free.

“They can and they will. They can place anyone they want in protective custody. Haven’t you been paying attention?”

As they stood looking back at the headquarters, a member of the local KPD came out denouncing the aggression of the “fascist regime.” SA storm troopers beat him with the butts of their rifles, leaving him stumbling and bloody before he lost his footing and, to the cheers of the mob, face-planted on the cobblestone street.

“They’re going to kill that man,” Bauer said, stunned. “Right in front of half of our police force. And we’re doing nothing!”

More brownshirts came from the KPD offices, carrying pamphlets and various papers, throwing them into a pile in the middle of the street. With the exuberant encouragement of the crowd, they set fire to the papers, a blaze of orange flame.

Helldorff grabbed Bauer by the shirt. “You were right,” he said in a harsh whisper. “You were right, and I was wrong. I made a grave mistake. If I could go back and change what I did, I would. But I can’t now.”

The KPD leader lying bloody on the street tried to crawl forward. The SA troopers kicked him, spat on him, tore his shirt. One guard went so far as to urinate on the man’s back.

All the while, the crowd pumped their fists and cried out in wild celebration as the Munich police officers stood by silently.

“What’s happening to this country?” Bauer mumbled.

“It’s already happened,” said Helldorff. “There’s no turning back now.”

70

Der Gerade Weg office

Färbergraben 12

FRITZ GERLICH FINISHED READING the draft prepared by his deputy editor.

“This is good, Gunther, but it’s missing the larger point. Even with all the propaganda surrounding their principal rivals, the Nazis still couldn’t get a majority of the vote in the March fifth parliamentary elections. They barely cracked forty-three percent.” He grabbed his deputy editor’s arm. “That proves my point—Hitler does not have the mandate he claims. Even with all the lies he conjured up about his opponents!”

“Okay. I understand.”

“And yet—and yet, he’s going to try to govern as if he has that mandate. Will the Communists and Social Democrats who were elected even show up to parliament? Will they be arrested immediately? Will the ones currently in ‘protective custody’ be allowed to show up to cast votes as legislators? This—this is madness, is it not?”

“Understood, Fritz. I’ll make some revisions.”

“And do it fast. We need to get this issue out tonight. There is no time to waste!”

The editor started toward his desk, then stopped. “Fritz, will this be our last edition?”

Gerlich removed his glasses and wiped them with a cloth. “Gunther, I have told you before and I say it again—you are free to leave, as the rest of our staff has. If I must be a one-man periodical, I will. You will have my understanding and my deepest gratitude for staying this long.”

They both heard the noise and turned toward the front door. It was locked. A guard was present, standing outside, but he was no match for the six brownshirts, rifles in hand, looking through the large window.

“Go, now,” said Gerlich. “Out the back door. Now!”