Reich. At home in Munich, he focused on his work, kept his head down and avoided the Reich’s inner politics. But today he had attracted the Führer’s attention, for better or for worse.
“Better dig up a few suspects for the chopping block, eh?” Lange said.
The Führer’s penchant for mock trials before the Fallbeil, a stationary guillotine, was well-known, but Gunter would conduct his investigation his own way—to the extent he was allowed to. “I’m still a Kriminalpolizei, Lange. We follow the law.”
When he’d heard the shots fired at Sacré-C?ur, Gunter had caught sight of the glint of the rifle in a fourth-floor window. The sniper wouldn’t get far. Chances were the squad had already apprehended the shooter and the Sicherheitsdienst, SD, the SS intelligence, had the shooter waiting for Gunter’s interrogation.
Lange shook his head. “Our Führer’s as slippery as an eel in the Elbe. How many times has he escaped death? But you already know all about that.”
There had been eight attempts on Hitler’s life on record since the National Socialists’ rise to power, and Gunter knew that almost double that number hadn’t been reported.
But he didn’t voice agreement; he didn’t trust Lange. After seven years under National Socialism, Gunter knew better than to comment on the Führer, lest Lange twist his words and backstab him Gestapo-style. How often had Gunter witnessed someone slip up and make an untoward remark, leaving behind nothing but an empty desk.
“My job is to bring the perpetrator to justice,” Gunter said instead. The standard line.
As Gunter turned away from the still-smirking Lange, his boss, Gruppenführer J?ger, a broad-shouldered dark-haired man in full SS regalia, strode toward them from an airplane hangar.
“I’ll be following the Führer,” J?ger told Gunter. “He insists.” His words were politic but his expression conveyed his chagrin. No man was a hero to his valet and no Führer to his security chief. “I’m leaving the investigation under your control, Gunter.”
“Of course, Gruppenführer.”
“The Führer himself requested I put you in charge, Gunter. Such an honor.”
An honor, yes, but being on the Führer’s radar was a double-edged sword. Life changed in a moment—just yesterday evening he’d been in Munich, checking decoded messages that reported a possible British parachute drop in France, when his assistant, Keller, took a call for him.
“Your wife told me to tell you she’s frosting the Kuchen.”
Gunter could still make it home in time. How often did his daughter turn two years old?
He’d slipped that evening’s reports and his daughter’s present, a Steiff teddy bear, into his case. Before he could make it any farther, though, Keller had brought him J?ger’s telegram, which summoned him to the airfield immediately for a flight to Belgian HQ at Br?ly-de-Pesche, to continue on to Paris early this morning.
Gunter could almost smell the Schokoladenkuchen. Ach, why on his daughter’s birthday?
He blinked again, still trying to dislodge the stubborn grit from his eye, bringing himself back to the dusty runway. “A privilege, Gruppenführer.”
“Make us proud, Gunter,” said J?ger. “You excel at the hunt. No one assembles the pieces better than you, putting order to the chaos.”
“Danke.” He hoped his boss would leave it at that and let him get to work.
J?ger nodded. “Your uncle trained you well.”
Gunter’s mother had abandoned him as a child on his policeman uncle’s doorstep. He’d never known his father. Gunter counted himself lucky to be raised by his uncle, who had made sure there was always a coat on his back and bread in his school lunch pail, even during the hungriest days of the Weimar Republic. His uncle, a stickler for order and detail, had provided young Gunter a sense of safety he’d never known with his mother. No wonder he’d followed in his uncle’s footsteps. He’d found a great sense of purpose in police work, a world where his efforts produced tangible results.
“An honor to be of service,” Gunter said, a repetition of what they’d learned to always reply at the police academy. “I’ll assemble a team and report back to you as soon as I have news, and liaise with the SD at the Paris Kommandantur.”