McSweeney's Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales - Michael Chabon [135]
“Well, the thing’s from Briennerstrasse. Seems to be genuine. That’s a pretty posh avenue in the salubrious bit of Munich. Papal Nuncio’s there and all that. So these chaps seem to have some powerful backers, as you say. Naturally, Begg, you wouldn’t consider working for such people!”
“Well, I agree it might be a bit unsavory to take their money, but I’m curious. Fascinating, eh, the dreams of power of failed shopkeepers and frustrated shipping clerks?”
“That’s downright perverse, Begg!” exclaimed the sensitive Celt. “Keep ’em away with a ten-foot pole, I say.”
“Currently President Stalin’s favorite foreign policy strategy, the ten-foot Pole.” Sir Seaton referred to Lenin’s successor, who led the Bolshevik Party in the Duma and was spouting nationalistic rubbish every day, winning votes from Monsieur Trotsky, the liberal internationalist. “Poland as a buffer zone in case civil war breaks out in Germany. Could be the touch paper for another world conflict.”
“Germany’s safe enough,” Taffy insisted. “She has the best and most just political constitution in the world. Certainly better than ours. Even sturdier than the American.”
Like so many old Harrovians, but unlike his former schoolfellow Begg, Sinclair had a comfortable, phlegmatic belief in the sense of the commons and their strong survival instinct both as social democrats and as self-interested individuals with jobs and businesses to ensure. War made economic sense for a couple of years at most and then began impoverishing the participants. It was the one lesson learned from the recent beastliness ending with the Treaty of Versailles.
Begg took back the German wire and read it aloud, translating swiftly. “ My dear Sir Seaton: Here in Germany we have long admired the exploits of your famous English detectives. We are sufficiently impressed with your national virtues as a detecting folk to inquire if you, paramount in your specialized profession, would care to come at once to Munich, where you will have the satisfaction of rescuing a reputation, bringing the guilty to justice, and also knowing you have saved a noble and betrayed nation. The reputation is that of our country’s most able philosopher-general. I refer, of course, to our Guide Herr Adolf Hitler, author of Mein Kampf and bearer of the Iron Cross, who has been devastated by the murder of his ward, Fräulein ‘Geli’ Raubal, and whose reputation could be ruined by the scandal. With a view to seeing the triumph of justice, could we, the National Socialist Party, enjoin you to lose no speed in taking the earliest zeppelin from Manchester to Munich? While B.O.A.C. provides an excellent run from Croydon and appears quicker, there is a long delay making stops at Berlin and Frankfurt. Therefore we recommend you take the modern German vessel which leaves Manchester Moss Side field at five PM and arrives at ten AM the next morning. An excellent train leaves Kings Cross at two PM and connects with the airship, the Spirit of Nuremberg. Please excuse the brevity of this telegram. My inner voices tell me you are destined to save not merely Germany but the entire Western world from an appalling catastrophe and become the best-loved Englishman our country has ever known. On the presumption that you will accept our case, as you accept your historic destiny, I have sent, via courier, all necessary first-class travel documents for yourself and an assistant, together with documents enabling you to bring any personal transport you favor. We are, you see, familiar with your foibles. I will personally be at Munich International Aerodrome to meet the ZZ.700. I look forward to the honor of shaking your hand. Writing in all