Robert Wilson - The Company of Strangers

The dining room was full, but rather than being morbid with the news of the death of the most important and capable engineer in the German Reich, it was rife with the rumour of a successor. The monochrome mass of braid and band, oak leaf cluster and iron cross seethed like the bullring of the Bourse. Only one man was silent, head up, hair swept back, dark eyes shining under the thick straight eyebrows – Albert Speer. Voss blinked, sure as a camera shutter, and captured the image – a man on the brink of his destiny.

Voss took a coffee, fed himself into the knots of conversation and soon realized that anybody with anything to do with construction and transportation was in the room.

‘Speer will take the Atlantic Wall, the U-boat pens and the Occupied West. It’s already been talked about.’

‘What about the Ukraine? The Ukraine is more important now.’

‘You didn’t forget that we declared war on the United States before Christmas.’

‘No, I didn’t, and nor did Todt.’

Silence. Heads swung to Speer’s table. People were putting things to him and he was managing vague replies to their questions, but he wasn’t listening. He was coming to terms with a price. Appalled at the animal troughing around him, unwilling to accept anything that they attempted to confer on him, he was trying to justify to himself not only his presence there (for the first time and on such a tragic occasion), but something else whose nature he couldn’t quite grasp. He seemed to be coping with a strong, unpleasant smell which had reached his nostrils only.

‘He won’t give it all to him…the Führer wouldn’t do that. No experience.’

‘He’ll split Armaments and Munitions away from Construction.’

‘You wait…the Reichsmarschall will be here any moment. Then we’ll see…’

‘Where is Goering?’

‘At Romiten. Hunting.’

‘That’s only a hundred kilometres away…has anybody called him?’

‘Goering will take Armaments and Munitions into his Commission for the Four Year Plan. He’s in charge of the war economy. It fits.’

‘The only thing that fits, if you ask me, is that one’s face over there.’

‘What’s Speer doing here, anyway?’

‘He was stuck in Dnepropetrovsk. He flew in with Captain Nein last night.’

‘He fetched him?’ asked a voice, aghast.

‘No, no Captain Nein flew in there with SS General Sepp Dietrich and offered Speer a lift.’

‘Did Speer and the general…talk?’

There was silence at that probability and Voss moved across to some air force officers who were picking over the details of the crash.

‘He must have pulled the self-destruct handle.’

‘Who? The pilot?’

‘No, Todt…by accident.’

‘Did it have a self-destruct mechanism on board?’

‘No, it was a new plane. It hadn’t been fitted.’

‘What was he doing in a two-engined plane in the first place? The Führer has expressly forbidden…’

‘That’s what Todt was told yesterday. He was furious. The Führer waived it.’

‘That’s why they took the plane up for a practice spin.’

‘And you’re sure there was no self-destruct mechanism?’

‘Positive.’

‘There were three explosions…that’s what the flight sergeant said.’

‘Three?’

‘There must have been a self-destruct…’

‘There was none!’

Voss went to the decoding room to pick up any positional changes in the field. He took the decodes to the situation room. The corridor was silent. Hitler rarely moved before eleven o’clock, but on a day such as this? Surely. The apartment door stayed closed, the SS guards silent.

Weber was already working on supply positions in the Ukraine. He didn’t look up. Voss leafed the decodes.

‘SS Colonel Weiss was looking for you,’ said Weber.

‘Did he say what he wanted?’ asked Voss, bowels loosening.

‘Something about those boxes of files…’

‘Have you heard, Weber?’

‘About the plane crash, you mean?’

‘The Reichsminister Todt is dead.’

‘Were those files on board?’

‘Yes,’ said Voss, stunned by Weber’s insouciance.

‘Shit. Zeitzler’s going to be mad.’

‘Weber,’ said Voss, amazed, ‘Todt is dead.’

‘ Todt ist tot. Todt ist tot. What can I say, other than it will brighten the Führer’s day not to have that doom merchant on his shoulder.’

‘For God’s sake, Weber.’

‘Look, Voss, Todt never agreed with the Russian campaign and when the Führer declared war on America, well…poof!’

‘Poof!?’

‘Todt was a very cautious man, unlike our Führer who is…what shall we say…?’

‘Bold.’

‘Yes, bold. That’s a good, strong adjective. Let’s leave it at that.’

‘What are you saying, Weber?’

‘Keep your head down and your ears out of that corridor. Do your job, don’t blabber, this is all that matters,’ he said, and drew a circle around himself. ‘You haven’t been here long enough to know what these people are capable of.’

‘They’re already talking about Speer. Goering taking over…’

‘I don’t want to know, Voss,’ said Weber, closing his hands over his ears. ‘And nor do you. You’ve got to start thinking about those files, how they got on that plane and why SS Colonel Weiss wants to talk to you, because if he wanted to talk to me after such a morning I’d have been in the toilet an hour ago. Start thinking about yourself, Voss, because here in Rastenburg you’re the only one who will.’

The mention of the toilet sent Voss out of the room at a brisk pace. He sat in one of the stalls, face in hands, and passed a loose, hot motion which, rather than emptying him, left his guts writhing.

Colonel Weiss caught up with him while he washed his hands. They talked to each other via the mirror, Weiss’s face disturbingly wrong in reflection.

‘Those files…’ started Weiss.

‘General Zeitzler’s files, you mean?’

‘Did you check them, Captain Voss…before you took them into your care?’

‘Took them into my care?’ Voss asked himself, chest wall shuddering at the impact of this implication.

‘Did you, Captain? Did you?’ persisted Weiss.

‘They weren’t mine to check, and even if they were I wouldn’t know why I would have to check a large amount of documentation irrelevant to me.’

‘So who filled those boxes?’

‘I didn’t see them filled.’

‘You didn’t ?’ roared Weiss, throwing Voss into free-fall fear. ‘You put boxes on to a Reichsminister’s plane without…’

‘Maybe you should ask Captain Weber,’ said Voss, desperate, lashing out at anything to save himself.

‘Captain Weber,’ said Weiss, writing him down in his book of the damned.

‘I was doing him a favour putting the files on the plane in the first place, as I was for…’He coughed at a garrotting look from Weiss and changed tack. ‘Is this part of the official inquiry, sir?’

‘This is the preliminary investigation prior to the official inquiry which will be conducted by the air force, as it is technically an air force matter,’ said Weiss, and then more threatening, ‘but as you know, I’m in charge of all security matters in and around this compound…and I notice things, Captain Voss.’

Weiss had turned away from the mirror to look at him for real. Voss stepped back and his boot heel hit the wall but he managed to look Weiss straight in his terrible eye, hoping that his own stress, from the G-force steepness of the learning curve, was not distorting his face.

‘I have a copy of the manifest,’ said Weiss. ‘Perhaps you should read it through now.’

Weiss handed him the paper. It started with a list of personnel on the flight. Speer’s name had been added and then crossed out. Underneath was the cargo. Voss ran his eyes down the list, which was short and consisted of four boxes of files for the Army Chief of Staff, delivery Berlin, and several pieces of luggage going with Todt to Munich. There was no mention of a metal trunk for delivery to the SS Personalhauptamt in Berlin-Charlottenburg.