Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [193]
One of Hansen’s first moves was to travel to Washington and urge the Secretary of State to come to Germany and deliver a statement of policy to the people.
They were shaken from the winter, frightened of what lay ahead, and a lethargy had engulfed them.
The Secretary of State spoke at Heidelberg reaffirming America’s aim to unify the zones and return its institutions to the people. It had a galvanizing effect on the demolished nation.
Immediately thereafter, Hansen began negotiations with the British for the purpose of making the American and British zones a single economic and political unit. This forced the Soviet Union to step up their own timetable, for they knew that the French would have to follow suit. The unity of the Western Zones could build up a powerful German threat and end their own plans of domination.
All four powers jockeyed for position for a Conference of Foreign Ministers. In preparation, Hansen flew to Washington to brief the American delegation. His opening remark threw off the last pretenses:
“Gentlemen, the Soviet Union will cooperate with the West only as long as they receive reparations from our zones. The instant this stops they will proceed with plans to stop unification of the Western Zones. They will endeavor to remove us first from Berlin, then from Germany, then from Europe.”
Chapter Twenty-six
THE TRAGIC STRAINS FROM Beethoven’s “Pathétique Sonata” reached Sean’s ears as he approached the door to Ulrich Falkenstein’s flat in Kreuzberg. He stopped for a moment, listened, then rang the bell. The music inside stopped.
“Lieutenant Colonel O’Sullivan?” Ernestine asked
“Yes.”
“Please come in. I am Ernestine, Herr Falkenstein’s niece. My uncle telephoned to say he would be a few minutes late, that he was distressed by the delay and hoped you would not mind.”
“Certainly not”
She led him into the only patched-up room that had been made cozy, which served as both living room and his study.
“Could I prepare you some tea?”
“No thank you.”
The bookshelves sagged under hundreds of volumes. Sean walked along and browsed at the titles in German, French, English, consisting of both profound comments and the popular fiction of the mid-thirties. He found himself at a row containing Jefferson, Paine, and Thoreau. “Quite an assortment.”
“He reads incessantly and usually far into the night. He is trying to make up for those years he lost in Schwabenwald.”
Her words struck Sean as rather strange. He thought about it for a moment, and then discovered that in all the time he had been in Germany he had never heard a German before mention the name of a concentration camp in casual conversation.
He stopped at the piano. There was a photograph of Ulrich’s brother Wolfgang, who had been hanged by Hitler. And another photograph, perhaps Falkenstein’s wife, whom he never mentioned, but likewise never forgot. Sean hit a few notes in a vain effort to read the music.
“You must play very well,” he said.
“Gallant but not true, Colonel. I play poorly. Nonetheless it is the first time in years I have had either an opportunity or the atmosphere. As you see, the rooms are not damaged and it is quite peaceful. One of the first things lost in the bombing was my piano. My sister joked that the American flyers must have heard me and aimed at our house.”
Sean turned to look at her. He had noticed her graceful movement from the moment she answered the door. The fingers that played the piano were long and artful, but had also known hard work. Her face was particularly elegant, with flawless skin set off by deep, sorrowful, expressive eyes.
Her hair, immaculately groomed and businesslike, was however, entirely feminine. Her voice was unusually soft and without Germanic abruptness. Ernestine began to fidget.
Sean ended the tour.
“Are you sure?” she asked, pointing to an array of richly