The Seventh Secret by Irving Wallace

life. There are still some of them around, scattered about Germany, old people now, but many of them with vivid memories of the events of April 30, 1945. In fact, there was one of them right here in the neighborhood."
    Emily sat forward. "Who?"
    "Ernst E. Vogel. He was an SS bodyguard at the Führerbunker when both Hitler's corpse and that of Eva Braun were carried out and cremated. I interviewed him for a short feature about two years ago. He was very convincing as he related the facts that he remembered."
    "This Herr Vogel, is he still alive?"
    "I should think so. He seemed healthy enough then. You might start with seeing him before you go further. Then you can judge for yourself. I have Vogel's phone number and address in my desk at the office. I'll call it in to you as soon as I get back."
    "I'd be most grateful, Mr. Nitz."
    "Once you've seen Vogel, you can then see your dissenting informant, and weigh their opposing views."
    Emily was silent for a few moments, watching Nitz smoke his cigarette. At last, she gave an embarrassed cough. "I have a confession to make to you, Mr. Nitz. I want to be truthful. I don't have an appointment to see the German informant my father saw, the one who was close to Hitler. So far, he's refused to see me."
    Nitz's ears seemed to perk up. -He won't? Why not? He saw your father."
    "Yes," said Emily. -Then, after my father's death, I wrote him that I was coming to Berlin to follow through, and I hoped he would see me and give me the same cooperation and information that he had given my father. He answered me with one line—he could not see me or anyone else about the matter.- She paused. -I wonder why the change of heart?"
    Nitz considered this. "He may have been scared into silence by your father's suspicious death. He may have become worried about neo-Nazi fanatics—oh, yes, some of them still exist." Noting the quick curiosity on Emily's face, Nitz decided to elaborate the point. -Miss Ashcroft, you are familiar with Unternehmen Werwolf created in the closing days of the war?"
    Emily nodded. "Enterprise Werewolf, guerrilla groups of German soldiers established by Himmler, trained by the Waffen SS, after D day. They were dressed in civilian clothes, and were supposed to infiltrate the Allied lines and assassinate any important Germans who were collaborating with the enemy. You think there are some still around?"
    "Not unlikely. They were secret fanatics determined to protect Hitler's image—and his life. Your informant might very well worry about these neo-Nazis, might fear one of them could search him out and kill him, too. I suspect your informant is simply afraid to see you."
    "Well, I'm going to persuade him otherwise," Emily said with determination. "I'm going to use all the wiles I possess to make him see me."
    Nitz stubbed out his cigarette and stood up. "I wish you good luck. Remember me if you get a story I might be able to use."
    Emily was on her feet. "I won't forget. I owe you a good deal. Not only for your kindness, but for your suggestion about Vogel."
    "Well, don't let Vogel discourage you with his firsthand stuff. Just listen to him. When you've heard him out, go after your reluctant informant even harder. Use the eyewitness stuff you learn from Vogel to bait the other man. That tactic often works. If you get lucky, go ahead with the bunker search." At the door, hand on the knob, Nitz halted, and appraised her. "Please heed one piece of advice I'm going to give you. If you are going ahead, if you do decide to dig, don't announce it publicly as your father did. Don't take any chances. Hit-and-run accidents in Berlin are not uncommon occurrences. Find the truth. But also stay alive."
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    E mily had waited restlessly in her suite for the telephone to ring.
    Forty-five minutes later, true to his word, Peter Nitz had called her upon returning to his office at the Berliner Morgenpost . He had Ernst Vogel's telephone number and his apartment house address.
    Emily had