Upton Sinclair - Dragons’s teeth

"We are greatly honored, Herr Oberleutnant," said Lanny, concealing his surprise.

"I present you with this card of admission. You understand it will be necessary to have it with you."

"Assuredly," said Lanny, and put the treasure safely into the inside breast pocket of his coat.

The other went on: "Seine Exzellenz the Minister-Prasident wishes you to know that he is giving immediate personal attention to the matter of Johannes Robin."

"Well, thank you, Herr Oberleutnant," said the American. This time his surprise couldn’t be concealed. He explained: "Only a few minutes ago I had a call from the office of another Reichsminister, and was told that he had the matter in charge."

Said the officer: "I am instructed to inform you that if you will accompany me to the residence of Seine Exzellenz the Minister-Prasident, he personally will give you information about the matter."

"I am honored," replied Lanny, "and of course pleased to come. Excuse me while I inform my wife."

Irma paled when told this news, for she had heard about Goring, who had so far no rival for the title of the most brutal man in the Nazi government. "Can this be an arrest, Lanny?"

"It would be extremely bad form to suggest such an idea," he smiled. "I will phone you without fail at the Furstin Donnerstein’s by two o’clock. Wait there for me. If I do not call, it will be serious. But meantime, don’t spoil your lunch by worrying." He gave her a quick kiss and went down to the big official car—a Mercedes, as big as a tank, having six wheels. It had a chauffeur and guard, both in Nazi uniforms. Lanny thought: "By heck! Johannes must be richer than I realized!"

A short drive up Unter den Linden and through the Brandenburger Tor to the Minister-Prasident’s official residence, just across the way from the Reichstag building with its burned-out dome. Lanny had heard no end of discussion of the three-hundred-foot tunnel which ran under the street, through which the S.A. men were said to have come on the night when they filled the building with incendiary materials and touched them off with torches. All the non-Nazi world believed that Hermann Wilhelm Goring had ordered and directed that job. Certainly no one could question that it was he who had ordered and directed the hunting down and killing, the jailing and torturing, of tens of thousands of Communists and Socialists, democrats and pacifists, during the past three and a half months. In his capacity of Minister without Portfolio of the German Reich he had issued an official decree instructing the police to co-operate with the Nazi forces, and in a speech at Dortmund he had defended his decree:

"In future there will be only one man who will wield power and bear responsibility in Prussia—that is myself. A bullet fired from the barrel of a police pistol is my bullet. If you say that is murder, then I am a murderer. I know only two sorts of law because I know only two sorts of men: those who are with us and those who are against us."

With such a host anything was possible, and it was futile for Lanny to try to guess what was coming. How much would the Commandant of the Prussian Police and founder of the "Gestapo," the Secret State Police, have been able to find out about a Franco-American Pink in the course of a few hours? Lanny had been so indiscreet as to mention to Goebbels that he had met Mussolini.

Would they have phoned to Rome and learned how the son of Budd’s had been expelled from that city for trying to spread news of the killing of Giacomo Matteotti? Would they have phoned to Cannes and found out about the labor school? To Paris and learned about the Red uncle, and the campaign contributions of Irma Barnes which had made him a Deputy of France? Lanny could pose as a Nazi sympathizer before Heinrich Jung—but hardly before the Führer’s head triggerman!

It was all mystifying in the extreme. Lanny thought: "Has Goebbels turned the matter over to Goring, or has Goring grabbed it away from Goebbels?" Everybody knew that the pair were the bitterest of rivals; but since they had become Cabinet Ministers their two offices must be compelled to collaborate on all sorts of matters. Did they have jurisdictional disputes? Would they come to a fight over the possession of a wealthy Jew and the ransom which might be extorted from him? Goring gave orders to the Berlin police, while Goebbels, as Gauleiter of Berlin, commanded the party machinery, and presumably the Brownshirts. Would the cowering Johannes Robin become a cause of civil war?

And then, still more curious speculations: How had Goring managed to get wind of the Johannes Robin affair? Did he have a spy in the Goebbels household? Or in the Goebbels office? Or had Goebbels made the mistake of calling upon one of Goring’s many departments for information? Lanny imagined a spiderweb of intrigue being spun about the Robin case. It doesn’t take long, when the spinning is done with telephone wires.

Flunkies bowed the pair in, and a secretary led Lanny up a wide staircase and into a sumptuous room with a high ceiling. There was the great man, lolling in an overstuffed armchair, with а рilе of papers on a small table beside him, and another table with drinks on the other side. Lanny had seen so many pictures of him that he knew what to expect: a mountain of a man, having a broad sullen face with heavy jowls, pinched-in lips, and bags of fat under the eyes. He was just forty, but had acquired a great expanse of chest and belly, now covered by a resplendent blue uniform with white lapels. Suspended around his neck with two white ribbons was a golden star having four double points.

The ex-aviator’s love of power was such that he was assuming offices one after another: Minister without Portfolio of the Reich, Minister-Prasident of Prussia, Air Minister, Commander-in-Chief of the German Air Force, Chief Forester of the Reich, Reich Commissioner. For each he would have a new uniform, sky blue, cream, rose-pink. It wouldn’t be long before some Berlin wit would invent the tale of Hitler attending a performance of Lohengrin, and falling asleep; between the acts comes the tenor in his gorgeous swanboat costume, wishing to pay his respects to the Führer; Hitler, awakened from his nap, rubs his eyes and exclaims: "Ach, nein, Hermann! That is too much!"

Next to his chief, Goring was the least unpopular of the Nazis. He had been an ace aviator, with a record of devil-may-care courage. He had the peculiar German ability to combine ferocity with Gemütlichkeit. To his cronies he was genial, full of jokes, a roaring tankardman, able to hold unlimited quantities of beer. In short, he was one of the old-time heroes of Teutonic legend, those warriors who could slaughter their foes all day and at night drink wassail with their unwashed bloody hands; if they were slain, the Valkyries would come on their galloping steeds and carry them off to Valhalla to drink wassail forever after.

Lanny’s first thought: "The most repulsive of men!" His second thought, close on its heels: "I admire all Nazis!" He bowed correctly and said: "Guten Morgen, Exzellenz."

"Guten Morgen, Mr. Buddy" said the Hauptmann, in a rumbling bull voice. "Setzen Sie sich."

He indicated a chair at his side and Lanny obeyed. Having met many of the great ones of the earth in his thirty-three years, Lanny had learned to treat them respectfully, but without obsequiousness.

It was the American manner, and so far had been acceptable. He knew that it was up to the host to state why he had summoned him, and meantime he submitted to an inspection in silence.

"Mr. Budd," said the great man, at last, "have you seen this morning’s Paris and London newspapers?"