The Seventh Secret by Irving Wallace Page B

Führer bunker SS guards had been giants.
    Now, seated next to Ernst Vogel, she in an old fashioned armchair, he in a rocker, Emily intended to find out why her father had not interviewed this former SS guard.
    "Another book on Hitler?" Vogel asked her once they were seated. "There have been so many. It has become an industry."
    "True," said Emily calmly. "But most were written in the forties and early fifties when some of the members of Hitler's inner circle were not available to be inter-viewed. You may remember that they were taken to the Soviet Union for interrogation and confinement. The Soviets would not allow outsiders to see them. They were available only after they were gradually re-leased and allowed to come back to Germany. My father thought it was time for a more complete and up-to-date biography of Hitler."
    "I suppose so," said Vogel.
    Emily brought her briefcase to her lap and took out one of her paperclipped lists. "These are the persons my father interviewed." She handed it to Vogel. "I could not find your name on it."
    Vogel's eyes ran down the names. Handing the sheets back, he asked, "When did he interview these people?"
    "He started ten years ago. He and I began writing the biography five years ago. But my father died recently, so I'm concluding the work alone."
    Vogel had been leaning forward to hear her better. "Ten years ago, five years ago, I was not seeing interviewers. He probably wrote me and I did not reply. In those times, I thought I would write about my experience myself. So I would give my story to no one.
    Eventually I learned, despite all my notes, I am not a writer. I am a reader and a bookseller. But I wanted the story told, so I began to see interviewers. The young man on the Morgenpost . . ." He tried to recall the name.
    "Peter Nitz."
    "Yes, Nitz, he was one of the first I met with a few years ago. So you are writing a book on Hitler? I have never given an interview for a book. I suppose it will be printed in German also, and I will have copies?" He waved behind him toward the dining room area. The walls were lined with shelves of books, and the floor was littered with unopened crates. "Some are popular recently published books, but my main business is mail order of older books, rare ones. I inherited the business from my parents. They were killed in an American aerial bombing of Berlin, while I was in the army. Books are my life, but I also have a hobby. Hunting. I am a crack marksman. Have always been an expert shot since I was in kneepants. That's why I did well in the SS.''
    And that's how he came to be an SS guard at the Führerbunker , Emily thought. They wanted not only giants, but crack marksmen, too.
    "Can we talk about Hitler?" Emily asked.
    "About Hitler, I must say this. He was, in his way, a great man, no question. I had only two things against him. I did not agree with his anti-Semitism. Some of my parents' best customers were Jews. They were always decent and honest people. The other thing I held against Hitler was his trying to conquer Russia. Hitler and all his army and air force couldn't conquer Russia. That was the beginning of Hitler's downfall. But before that, he was a great man. So you want to know more about his death?"
    "About the last day or two of his life. I have considerable material on what happened in the bunker. But material on his death is very contradictory."
    "Everyone sees what he wants to see," said Vogel. "I can only tell you precisely what I saw and heard."
    "That's exactly what I want you to do."
    Vogel gently bobbed in the rocking chair as he adjusted his hearing aid. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" he asked.
    "I said whatever you're prepared to tell me is exactly what I want to know," she said more slowly and distinctly. She pushed the lists back into her briefcase and withdrew a yellow pad and pen.
    Vogel was fiddling with his hearing aid again. "This impairment—happened the last day—the Soviet bombardment of our Chancellery area