Games of State - Tom Clancy [12]
The Frenchman released the German's hand and Richter fell in beside him. Richter took his guest's elbow and ushered him slowly through the darkness.
"Don't feel that you have to defend Dominique to me," Richter said. "It's good business to keep an eye on what your peers are up to."
Peers? Jean-Michel thought. M. Dominique owned a billion-dollar manufacturing company and controlled one of the most powerful right-wing groups in France in the world. He recognized a very select few as his peers. Despite their parallel interests, Herr Richter was not among them.
Richter changed the subject. "The hotel room we booked for you," he said. "It's acceptable?"
"Extremely pleasant," Jean-Michel replied. He was still annoyed by Richter's arrogance.
"I'm glad," Richter said. "It's one of the few old hotels left in Hamburg. During the war, the Allies bombed most of the city to dust. Hamburg's misfortune for being a port. It's ironic, though, that so many of these old, wooden buildings survived." He swept his arm as if to embrace all of St. Pauli. "The Allies didn't attack prostitutes and drunks, only mothers and children. Yet they call us monsters for atrocities like the mythical Holocaust."
Jean-Michel found himself responding to Richter's impromptu passion. Though it was illegal in Germany to deny the Holocaust, he knew that while Richter was in medical school he used to do so with regularity. Even having his full scholarship revoked for making anti-Semitic remarks did not stop him. Judicial officials were reluctant to prosecute agitators who were otherwise non-violent, though they were finally forced to go after Richter when a foreign news crew videotaped his "Jewish Lie" speech at Auschwitz and aired it. He spent two years in prison, during which time his aides ran his young operation-- making sure that Richter's personal legend grew.
Because of the man's courage and his devotion to the cause, Jean-Michel decided to forget their bad start. Besides, they had business to conduct.
They reached a table and Richter switched on a lamp in the center. Beneath the translucent shade was a small white Pan playing his pipes.
Jean-Michel sat down when Richter did. The light fell just short of the German's eyes, but Jean-Michel saw them anyway. They were almost as translucent as the shade. The man had made a fortune from this club and from a hostess service he operated in Berlin, Stuttgart, Frankfurt, and Hamburg. But the Frenchman was willing to bet that Richter had been a bastard even when he was poor.
The Frenchman looked up at the second floor. It was lined with doorways. Obviously, these were rooms for members who wanted to do more than dance.
"We understand you have an apartment here, Herr Richter."
"I do," Richter said, "though I only stay here one or two nights a week. I spend most of my time at the 21st Century National Socialist Party suites in Bergedorf, to the south. That's where the real work of the movement is done. Writing speeches, telephone solicitation, transmitting E-mail, radio broadcasts, publishing our newspaper-- do you have this week's Kampf?"
Jean-Michel nodded.
"Excellent," Richter went on. "It's all very legitimate. Not like the early days, when the authorities hounded me for one alleged misdemeanor or another. So," he said, "you've come to honor Chaos Days. And to represent your employer in 'discussions,' as he called them in my one brief telephone connversation with him."
"Yes, Herr Richter." Jean-Michel leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. "I am here with a proposition."
Jean-Michel was disappointed. Richter didn't move.
"You have my attention," Richter said.
"It is not commonly known," said Jean-Michel, "but M. Dominique has been quietly underwriting neo-Nazi groups around the world. The Razorheads in England, the Soldiers of Poland, and the Whites Only Association in America. He's trying to build a worldwide network of organizations with a common goal of ethnic purity."
"Together with his New Jacobins," Richter said,