Laurent Binet - HHhH

With regard to the reward of ten million crowns for information leading to the arrest of the perpetrators, which is to be paid in full, the following questions must be asked:

1. Who can provide information on the criminals?

2. Who saw them at the scene of the crime?

3. To whom do these objects belong? Above all, whose is the ladies’ bicycle, the coat, the beret, and the bag?

Whoever is able to provide this information and who fails to do so voluntarily will be shot with his family in accordance with the notice of May 27 declaring the state of emergency.

Be assured that all information received will be dealt with in the strictest confidence.

Furthermore, from May 28, 1942, all owners of houses, apartments, hotels, etc., in the Protectorate must declare to the police all persons staying with them who have not already been reported. Failure to do so will be punishable by death.

SS-Obergruppenführer

Chief of Police

Office of the Reichsprotektor

of Bohemia and Moravia

The Czech government-in-exile declares the assassination attempt on the monster Heydrich an act of vengeance, a rejection of the Nazi yoke, and a symbol of hope for all the oppressed peoples of Europe. The shots fired by the Czech patriots are a show of solidarity sent to the Allies and of faith in the final victory which will ring out all over the world. Already, new Czech victims are being killed by German firing squads. But this latest fit of Nazi fury will once again be broken by the unbending resistance of the Czech people, and will succeed only in reinforcing their will and determination.

The Czech government-in-exile encourages the population to hide these unknown heroes and threatens punishment for anyone who betrays them.

In his Zurich postbox, Colonel Moravec receives a telegram sent by agent A54: “Wunderbar—Karl.” Paul Thümmel (alias A54, alias René, alias Karl) has never met Gabčík and Kubiš, and took no direct part in the attack’s preparations. But with this single word he echoes the joy felt on hearing the news by everyone, all over the world, fighting against Nazism.

The concierge’s doorbell rings. It’s Ata, the young Moravec son, come to fetch Valčík. The concierge doesn’t want Valčík to leave. He could live in the attic, he says, on the fifth floor: nobody would look for him up there. Here, Valčík plays cards and listens to the BBC and eats the delicious cakes made by the concierge’s wife, which he says are as good as his mother’s. The first evening, he had to hide in the cellar because there was a Gestapo agent in the building. But he feels very safe, staying with these people. So why not stay? the concierge insists. Valčík explains that he’s been given orders, that he’s a soldier, that he is bound to obey, and that he must rejoin his comrades. The concierge shouldn’t worry: a safe haven has been found for them. Only, it’s very cold. They’ll need blankets and warm clothes. Valčík picks up his coat, puts on a pair of green glasses, and follows Ata, who is taking him to the new hiding place. But by accident he leaves behind the book lent to him by his previous host. The owner’s name is written inside. The fact that he forgets this book will save the owner’s life.

Capitulation and servility are the lifeblood of Pétainism, and old President Hácha—every bit as senile as his French counterpart—is a master in the art. To show his goodwill, he decides, in the name of the puppet government he leads, to double the reward. So Gabčík’s and Kubiš’s heads are now valued at ten million crowns each .

The two men at the church door are not here to attend Mass. The Orthodox church of St. Charles Borromeo (today renamed the Saints Cyril and Methodius Cathedral) is an immense building, and one side of it faces Resslova Street—that sloping street which runs from Charles Square down to the river, right in the heart of Prague. One of the men is Professor Zelenka, alias “Uncle Hajsky” of the Jindra organization. He is met at the door by Father Petrek, an Orthodox priest. Zelenka has brought a friend with him. This is the seventh friend he’s brought to the church. It’s Gabčík. They take him through a trapdoor to the church crypt. There, amid stone recesses that used to hold dead bodies, he is reunited with his friends: Kubiš and Valčík, but also Lieutenant Opalka and three other parachutists, Bublik, Svarc, and Hruby. One by one, Zelenka has brought them all here. Because, while the Gestapo is still tirelessly searching all the city’s apartments, no one has yet thought to look in the churches. Only one parachutist is missing: they’ve had no news of Karel Čurda at all. Nobody knows where he is, whether he’s hiding or he’s been arrested, or even if he’s still alive.

Gabčík’s arrival causes a sensation in the crypt. His comrades rush to hug him. He recognizes Valčík, his hair dyed brown, sporting a thin brown mustache, and Kubiš, whose eye is swollen and whose face still bears the scars of the explosion. These two are clearly the most demonstrative in their joy at seeing him again. Gabčík’s feelings are torn: he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Naturally he is very happy to see his friends, all of them pretty much safe and sound. But he’s so sorry for the way things turned out. He’s barely been reunited with them before he begins his bitter litany of excuses and self-reproach. They will soon become accustomed to this. He curses the bloody Sten, which jammed just when he had Heydrich at his mercy. It’s all my fault, he says. I had him there in front of me, he was a dead man. And then this piece-of-shit Sten… ah, it’s too stupid. But he’s injured—you got him, Jan? Seriously injured? You think? Lads, I am so sorry. It’s all my fault. I should have finished him off with the Colt. But there were bullets flying everywhere, and I ran, with that giant hot on my heels… Gabčík hates himself, and nothing his friends say can console him. It doesn’t matter, Jozef. What you did is huge, don’t you realize? The Hangman himself! You injured him! Heydrich is injured, that’s true, he saw him fall, but apparently he’s recovering in hospital. A month from now, he’ll be back at work—perhaps even earlier. It’s true what they say: those bastards are bulletproof. Anyway, the Nazis have always had the luck of the devil when it comes to surviving assassination attempts. (I think of Hitler in 1939, who had to give his annual speech at the famous Munich beer hall between 8:00 and 10:00 p.m., but who left the building at 9:07 to catch his train—and the bomb went off at 9:30, killing eight people.) But Anthropoid is a pitiful failure—there you go, that’s what he thinks—and it’s all his fault. Jan did nothing wrong. He threw the grenade. Sure, it missed the car, but he was the one who injured Heydrich. Thank God Jan was there! They didn’t fulfill their mission, but thanks to him at least they hit the target. Now the Germans know that Prague isn’t Berlin, and that they can’t treat this place like home. But frightening the Germans was not the objective of Anthropoid. Perhaps they were too ambitious after all: no Nazi as high-ranking as Heydrich has ever been shot. But no, what am I saying? If it wasn’t for the stupid, stinking Sten, he’d be dead, that pig… The Sten, the Sten!… It’s a piece of shit, I’m telling you.

Heydrich’s condition has suddenly and inexplicably deteriorated. He’s in the grip of a powerful fever. Himmler has rushed to his bedside. Heydrich’s tall body lies weakly under a thin white sheet drenched with sweat. The two men philosophize about life and death. Heydrich quotes a line from his father’s opera: “The world is just a barrel organ, which the Lord God turns Himself. We all have to dance to the tune that is already on the drum.”