Page 87

“Indeed, you should not, mein Führer.” Joseph Goebbels, sitting across Hitler’s desk alongside Hermann Göring, sat forward. “Countermeasures are in order.”

“Yes—countermeasures! Precisely! Countermeasures.” Hitler shook his head, fuming, veins prominent on his forehead. “The rest of Europe thinks it can intimidate me? The Jews in the United States think I care for their threats? I will not compromise. I will never show weakness.” He marched to the window and looked out over the plaza. “That’s what they want. They want me to react with weakness.”

“Never apologize,” said Goebbels. “Instead, I suggest a boycott of our own, mein Führer. A national boycott of Jewish businesses within Germany.”

Göring cleared his throat. “We must be careful, mein Führer, not to harm our self-interests. For the time being, Jewish businesses provide a substantial share of our economy. That will change, of course, but we cannot end it abruptly. Should economic conditions sour dramatically, we will have to answer for it.”

“Then a boycott just for one day,” said Goebbels. “To show them what we are capable of. And we let it be known: if the worldwide Jews persist in their attempts to intimidate us, the boycott will be resumed until German Jewry has been annihilated.”

Hitler pointed at Goebbels. “And say just like that! ‘Until German Jewry has been annihilated.’ Those words verbatim!”

“As you wish, mein Führer.” Goebbels made a note on his pad.

“What else?” Hitler asked himself, rubbing his hands together. “We continue on our legislative path. The civil-service law.”

“Mein Führer,” said Göring. “We just passed the Enabling Act, granting you unfettered power. Perhaps a short pause might be in order before—”

“No, Hermann!” Hitler pounded his desk. “No delays. No pauses. I don’t want them in our government service. I don’t want them poisoning the minds of our children. I don’t want them in our courts. I don’t want them laying their hands on our German citizens!”

Göring knew better than to argue.

“I want that law passed next week! And what little of the Jewish intelligentsia remains will be gone.” He removed a handkerchief and wiped his mouth. “Speaking of the intelligentsia—where is its fearless leader? Have we located him?”

“Not yet,” said Göring. “We’ve searched his flat in Berlin, his cottage in Caputh, his university office. We understand he is out of the country but returns soon.”

“Well, find him!” Hitler shouted. “And lock him up! They listen to him. Everyone listens to him.”

“Don’t you worry, mein Führer.” Goebbels rose to his feet. “In no more than a week’s time, intellectualism in this country will be dead. And with it, any meaningful resistance to our cause.”

75

Port of Antwerp

Belgium

IT WAS GRAY AND gusty as the Jewish professor disembarked the boat with his wife, Elsa. They clutched each other as they walked down the ramp, the winds whipping off the Scheldt and threatening to blow the professor’s hat from his head.

He was returning from a two-month visiting professorship at the California Institute of Technology. He’d intended to return to Berlin, his home, and resume his work at the Prussian Academy of Sciences. But while in Pasadena, like everyone else in the United States, he had listened with horror to the details of the Reichstag Fire Decree and the subsequent roundup of intellectuals and political enemies.

Waiting for them at the port was Ludwig, a former student now living in Brussels. The professor had always remembered Ludwig as vibrant, full of life, eager to learn and conquer the world of physics. Today, however, the young man’s eyes were down, his head hung low.

“Ludwig, thank you for meeting us. Is it as bad as I’ve heard?”

“What have you heard?”

“That most of our department was taken into protective custody the day after the fire. That the SA stormed through the Academy and rounded up every great mind.”

“And not only the Jewish ones,” said Ludwig with a sigh.

“Of course not,” said Elsa. “The Nazis wouldn’t stop there. They fear nothing more than intellectual independence.”

They walked with Ludwig to his black town car as a porter trailed behind with their luggage.

“Professor, they ransacked your office,” said Ludwig, wincing. “They searched your place in Berlin twice. They destroyed the interior.”

“So I’ve heard,” said the professor.

“I took the liberty of visiting your cottage in Caputh, and—”