Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [302]
“Is there really a chance for us?”
“We know the worst in ourselves and each other and we’ve faced it openly. I guess a couple of people like us have the best chance in the world.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
THE NEW YEAR’S OFFICE party was in full swing. Sean ducked it to get back to his own office to finish work on a pressing document.
There was the first rumblings of a shift in population from the Soviet Zone. Because there was an avenue of escape Sean felt that there could be floodlike crossings of refugees in the future. They had to establish ways to weed out spies among the refugees, establish secret places to protect important defectors, arrange housing for ordinary refugees, ways to move them from Berlin into the zone quickly. Most of all, Sean underlined, The Gate Must Be Kept Open.
This is the only offensive position we hold against the Communists.
We can physically bleed their economy by encouraging more people to defect....
He was interrupted by the phone.
“Colonel O’Sullivan.”
“Hi, this is Lil.”
“Hi.”
“I’ve been trying to reach Bless for half an hour.”
“Last time I saw him he was feeling no pain and chasing a couple of WAC’s around General Hansen’s desk.”
“That fat cop! He knows we’ve got a party tonight and he knows I’ve got to get to the commissary and he knows he’s got the car.”
Sean glanced at his watch. “I’ve got about a half-hour’s work. I’ll run you to the commissary because I think he’s going to need a nap.”
“You’re a love.”
“Ernestine said she’d be over by nine to help you get everything ready.”
Sean put in a call to have “patrols” scour the halls for Blessing and send him to his office. He continued to work on his report.
“Just before the battle ... mother ...
I am thinking most of you!”
Sean sized up the alcohol content of his friend. Bless was about fifty-fifty, still in operating condition. He plopped into a chair, scratched his belly, and set his feet on Sean’s desk. “You sent for me, sir?”
“Lil’s got the storm flag up.”
“Ohhhh, Jesus. I was supposed to take her to the commissary. Ohhhhh, Jesus. I bet she chews out my tail.”
“If you’ll crap out for fifteen minutes I’ll run you home and take her to the store. You’ve got to get a nap if you’re going to be jolly at the party later.”
“Sean, you’re a pal. You got it made. Don’t get married.”
“Matter of fact, that’s kind of what I have in mind. New Year’s is a good time to begin with a clean slate.”
Bless became sober, quick. His feet dropped off Sean’s desk with a thud and he broke into a sweat. “You better come to my office,” he said grimly.
Sean was puzzled by the sudden change. He followed Bless across the hall; the door was locked behind them. Bless unlocked his desk and Sean was handed a familiar-looking folder. Blessing had his hands on his face. “I swear to God, I don’t know what to do.”
Without opening the folder, Sean sensed what had happened. “How long have you had this?”
“About two weeks ago CIC had him listed along with about twenty others for a routine check. It was only last week we found those hidden files from the Labor Ministry. No one has seen this but me ... and you.”
Sean opened the cover ... BRUNO FALKENSTEIN.
His trained eye searched the pages of the Nazi documents. There had been three Falkenstein brothers all raised in the tradition of the pre-war Democratic Party labor movement.
Ulrich became a major figure in the unions and political life in Berlin. His brothers, lesser figures.
When Hitler came, Ulrich and Wolfgang were among the few who held to their beliefs in the face of disaster. Ulrich went to Schwabenwald Concentration Camp; Wolfgang was murdered by slow strangulation at Plötzensee for his part in the plot against Hitler.
Bruno was the mediocre of the three. Nazi doctrine appealed to mediocre men. The Nazis made mediocre men big, gave them positions beyond their ability in a normal society in exchange for unquestioning obedience. Bruno became a Nazi. Today he echoed the German chorus that he was forced into it to protect his