The Arms Maker of Berlin by Dan Fesperman Page B

Paris pushcart express. Not that you should breathe a word of it to him, of course.”
    “My lips are sealed. So what brought you to the villa today?”
    “The whole family’s here. My dad had some big appointment nearby so he decided we’d all make a day of it. Unfortunately it’s boring as hell. Nothing to do but sit there staring at the boar heads lined up on the wall. And it’s cold as a cave, or will be till he gets the fireplace going.”
    “So you decided to warm up with a little dash across the waves?”
    “Yes. I’m brilliant that way aren’t I?”
    Erich flashed his goofball horsey smile, gritting his teeth into the biting wind as he revved the engine back to full power. They headed down the shoreline. New tears were already streaming from the corners of his eyes.
    “You know,” he shouted above the noise, turning so that Liesl could hear as well, “if you two were interested, it would sure help warm the place up if you could stop by for a while. By now they should have a fire going, and afterward I could give you a lift home in my dad’s car. He’s got the ministry ration allotment, so gas isn’t a problem. It would be quicker than taking the S-Bahn.”
    Kurt sensed potential trouble in the arrangement and was on the verge of saying no. But when he glanced at Liesl she nodded. Perhaps she was more tired than he had realized.
    “I’d like that,” she said. “And thank you.”
    “Splendid! Then let’s change course. Hold on!”
    He turned the wheel sharply to starboard, and they leaned into the sweeping curve, heading west toward what remained of the dusk, a faint glow in the bare treetops along the far shore. So much for keeping his two worlds apart, although Kurt supposed they were bound to have collided sooner or later.
    “I heard yesterday that congratulations are in order for your sister,” Erich shouted. “When’s the wedding?”
    “No date yet. Depends on when he’s posted to the front, I guess.”
    Liesl gave him a look, and Kurt felt like a fool.
    “Wedding?” she said. “Traudl’s getting married and you haven’t told me?”
    “Well, it’s not really a sure thing until the background check is finished.”
    “Nonsense,” Erich said. “He was probably just afraid you wouldn’t approve of his new in-laws. Bruno’s an SS man. Spit-polished and shiny, with all the lightning bolts. Very fearsome. Except to Traudl, of course.”
    Leave it to Erich, even in jest, to zero in on the real reason Kurt had kept the news from Liesl. He didn’t dare look at her.
    “Well, I’m sure that if he’s all right for Traudl,” she said awkwardly, “then he’s probably a fine young man.”
    Later, when Kurt would look back on the progression of the whole disastrous evening, he would decide that this was where events had begun to veer off course. Not only did it wreck their earlier sense of ease, it primed them for what turned out to be their most fractious disagreement.
    “So what was your dad’s urgent business?” Kurt asked, hoping to change the subject.
    “See that big white villa on the far shoreline, dead ahead?”
    “The one with the huge lawn?”
    “That’s it. Normally it’s some sort of guesthouse for visiting security police, but this morning there was a big powwow there. Or boring powwow, I should say. Invitation only—not that anyone would have wanted to crash it. Especially since the host was the even more boring Reinhard Heydrich. Talk about someone who loves to hear himself speak. My dad said he hardly shut up the entire morning.”
    Heydrich was the chief of the Reich Main Security Office, which made him boss of both the Sicherheitsdienst, or SD, and the Gestapo secret police. Rarely, if ever, did anyone toss around his name as lightly as Erich just had. Liesl shifted uncomfortably at Kurt’s side.
    “I don’t know about boring,” she said, “but he’s certainly dangerous. Supposedly he’s the reason Professor Schlosser’s been detained. Another faculty