McSweeney's Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales - Michael Chabon [138]
Begg, as Sinclair could tell, was a little taken aback by Herr Hess’s intensity.
“Eating habits?”
“I ask because of lunch,” Hess confided.
Begg gave every appearance of insouciance as he replied. “A plate of weisswürst and a pint or two of your marvelous beer will suit us down to the ground, old chap.”
Hess frowned. “Both Alf”—he coughed, anxious to let the investigators know he was on such intimate terms with Hitler—“I mean Herr Hitler and myself are convinced vegans. We are firmly opposed to the cruel treatment of animals and understand the dangers to health involved in eating their slaughtered meat.” He shuddered. “Adolf Hitler is a man of considerable feeling. He would not harm a fly, let alone another human being. I hope you don’t judge us all by Berlin decadence or aggression, which is largely a foreign and alien invention, anyway.”
As they talked, they strolled through the passenger foyer of the great modern aerodrome. Over a dozen pairs of steel masts held ships, or awaited vessels from all over southern and eastern Europe. The ’drome was one of Munich’s very latest monuments to municipal pride.
The weather was much improved and a warm, golden sun was reflected in the silvery hulls of the airships. Through massing white clouds, rays of sunlight struck the distant outlines of Munich herself, her twisted gables and glittering spires. As they reached the exit, Begg was delighted to see Dolly waiting for them at the curbside.
Dolly was Begg’s massive, supercharged Duesenberg touring car, custom-made, powered by a V-12 engine tuned to take the great automobile up to two hundred miles an hour if necessary.
Sinclair slipped discreetly into the shadows of the backseats, leaving Hess to sit next to Begg as the detective engaged the engine and gears. With a mighty purring roar, they were soon on their way to Munich, following Hess’s precise directions. In what seemed a quixotic request, Begg asked Hess to give him a quick tour of the city and take them to the Nazi HQ, familiarly known as the Brown House, before lunch. Knowing the ways of English detectives to be mysterious and circuitous, Hess did not hesitate in obeying.
Sinclair had visited the city several times and had an affection for it, but Begg knew Berlin much better. He remarked on Munich’s pleasant architecture, the broad tree-lined avenues and parks, her well-appointed public galleries and museums, her extraordinary Grimmelshausen Museum, which warned of the horrors of war, the little landing fields, right on the edge of the city, where the autogyro buses came and went.
Hess had lived here for much of his life. He pointed out the various sights. Munich was a busy provincial metropolis with an excellent public transport system, chiefly trams and buses, though increasingly the autogyro companies were taking business from the main lines. As her many churches indicated, she was predominantly Catholic by religion. Her almost Italian embrace of modernity was striking, especially since so much of her new architecture was in the vein of Gaudi and the Viennese moderns. The Nazis, Hess informed them primly, would tear down all decadent architecture and replace it with impressive classical designs. Meanwhile the old Bavarian capital had the baroque quaintness usually associated with German provinces, tributes to the taste and vision of her princes and governors.
Dolly was soon purring through the old quarter of the city, making a circuit of the huge, covered market, then driving along another avenue, sparsely occupied by large mansions and official buildings, some flying the flags of other nations. Here Hess gave the order to stop. They had arrived at the Brown House, the N.S.D.A.P. headquarters. The respectable surroundings made one think twice about the party’s violent image. The huge silk Nazi “hooked cross