The Hitler Covenant

The Hitler Covenant

A WWII Spy Thriller

© Pibroch Publishing 2017

Cover design by Ander Plana

Robert B. McNeill

Author’s note

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents described therein are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

One

Berlin, Friday 19 April, 1940

Max Tanner’s first encounter with Nazi brutality happened a day after arriving in Berlin. Turning from Friedrichstrasse into Unter den Linden, he noticed a man a few yards ahead who guided his steps with a thin white cane. He wore a threadbare dark coat, and a pair of long Hasidic sidelocks dangled from the brim of his faded black Homburg.

Tanner watched two members of the SS approach from the opposite direction. They hastened to block the man’s path, then Tanner saw the taller trooper unfasten his holster. The SS soldier, who wore the insignia of Scharführer, took out a pistol and swore at the man, then struck him with the butt of his weapon.

The blow sent his victim sprawling to the road, where he lay prone, blood streaming from a gash to his forehead.

Although the evening rush hour was an hour or more distant, Unter den Linden was still busy, and a stream of cars immediately began to swerve to avoid the figure huddled in the nearside lane.

Tanner couldn’t believe the lack of reaction from his fellow pedestrians. Looking around, he saw they all ignored the atrocity playing out before their eyes. Each man and woman gave the scene a wide berth, staring fixedly ahead and quickening pace.

Tanner shook his head in disgust, then strode to where the injured man lay and dragged him back to the sidewalk. Propping him against a tree, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to the wound, then removed his necktie and fashioned a makeshift bandage.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Tanner glanced at his questioner, the SS man who had carried out the attack.

‘What am I doing?’ Tanner said, then nodded to the victim. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

The Scharführer shot him an indignant look. ‘Are you blind?’ he said. ‘Surely you witnessed the Jew fail to step off the sidewalk as the Schutzstaffel approached? Aren’t you aware this is an offence?’

‘You moron,’ Tanner replied, then nodded to the injured man. ‘The only blind person here is the gentleman you just pistol-whipped. Didn’t you see his white stick?’

The Scharführer had re-holstered his pistol after the assault, but now he withdrew it again and pointed the muzzle at Tanner. ‘Your name?’

Tanner ignored him and turned back to the injured man, who was showing signs of regaining consciousness.

The second SS man also withdrew his sidearm and leveled it at Tanner, then his comrade repeated, ‘I asked for your name. Let me see your papers.’

Tanner reached inside his jacket and removed his passport and press accreditation, which the Scharführer took from him.

After examining these for a moment or two, the SS trooper said, ‘I see you are American. You speak German well. You’re a journalist?’

Tanner gave him a cold stare. ‘I believe it says so on the documents you’re holding.’

The Scharführer tapped these with the barrel of his pistol. ‘Very well,’ he replied. ‘I’m confiscating your papers and will take them to the Ministry of Propaganda in Wilhelmstrasse with a demand that your press accreditation be revoked. I’ll retain your passport, which I’ll also hand over. I’ll ask for you to be deported for making disparaging remarks about members of the Führer’s personal staff.’ The German glanced at the passport again. ‘I note you are staying at the Adlon. You will return to your hotel immediately and remain there until—’

The SS man was interrupted by the prolonged blast of a horn. Tanner glanced to the road and saw a black Horch pull up at the curb and the driver — the vehicle’s only occupant — exit the car.

The man looked to be in his mid-forties and exuded a well-practiced air of authority. He walked directly to the SS men, took a ID wallet from his suit pocket, and flashed it in their faces.

‘Major Ernst Ritter, Abteilung Z, Abwehr,’ he announced in clipped tones. ‘What’s going on, Scharführer?’

The troopers promptly re-holstered their pistols and stood to attention, clicking their heels and extending their arms in the Nazi salute. ‘Heil Hitler, Herr Major,’ the Scharführer said. Then, nodding to the injured man, added, ‘This Jew failed to vacate the sidewalk in deference to the Führer’s staff, sir, and I chastised him. After I did so, the civilian came to his aid. His name is Maximilian Tanner, an American journalist. Herr Tanner became abusive, denigrating the office of the Schutzstaffel. For this reason I asked for his papers. I intend to hand these to the Propaganda Ministry and demand his deportation.’

Ritter looked at Tanner with interest. ‘Really? You’re an American correspondent, Herr Tanner? With which newspaper?’

Tanner shook his head. ‘I’m not with a newspaper, Major. I work for an agency. Boston Worldwide Media.’

‘Ah,’ Ritter replied, then added, ‘Perhaps you would like to give me your version of what happened here.’

At that moment the injured man regained consciousness. ‘Where am I?’ he murmured softly.

Tanner turned and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s okay, sir. You’ve taken a bit of a knock. Just stay there for a moment and rest.’

He turned back to face Ritter. ‘This gentleman is blind, Major. He was making his way along the sidewalk in front of me, feeling for the curb with his stick.’ Tanner jerked a thumb at the SS men. ‘These two were walking toward us and made a beeline for the fellow the moment they spotted him.’ Tanner gave the Scharführer a look of contempt. ‘This cretin swore at the man, then bludgeoned him with the butt of his pistol.’

Ritter turned to the SS trooper. ‘Weren’t you aware the man was blind, Scharführer?’ he said. ‘Didn’t you see his cane?’

‘I did, Major. But didn’t think it important. The man is a Jew. He was on the sidewalk in contravention—’

‘No laws were being contravened,’ Ritter interrupted. ‘There is no statute which prohibits Jews from using the sidewalk.’

‘But, Major,’ The SS man protested, ‘Jews always vacate the sidewalk when members of the Schutzstaffel approach.’

‘Perhaps so. But it’s more than likely they act out of fear.’ He waved to the injured man. ‘With justification given the unnecessary force used here.’

‘But, Major—’

Ritter interrupted again. ‘Give Herr Tanner back his passport and press accreditation and the two of you can be on your way. There’s no further action to be taken.’

‘But, Major, he—’

‘I said hand him his papers back and be on your way, Scharführer. That is an order.’

The SS man’s face took on a vexed look, but he said nothing. He grudgingly returned the documents to Tanner, then he and his comrade stood to attention, turned and walked away.

After they had gone, Ritter said, ‘I’m sorry, Herr Tanner. I hope you won’t judge all Germans by the actions of those imbeciles.’

‘I won’t, Major. I appreciate your intervention.’ Tanner turned to the blind man then and said, ‘Are you okay, sir?’

‘I am, thank you,’ the man replied. ‘Still a bit dazed, but better than a few minutes ago.’ He extended his hand. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jacob Adelstein.’

Tanner took his hand and shook it. ‘Tanner,’ he said, ‘Max Tanner.’

‘Thank you for you kindness, Herr Tanner.’ Adelstein said, then waved his hand in the Ritter’s direction. ‘Pardon me, but I heard someone else. I believe there’s another gentleman here?’

Ritter leaned forward and shook Adelstein’s hand. ‘Major Ernst Ritter, sir. I’m a Wehrmacht officer. I’d like to apologize for the assault. Little comfort in light of what happened, I know, but your attacker has been reprimanded and sent on his way. I’m sorry I can’t do more than that. The SS, alas, are outside my sphere of influence.’

‘I’m in your debt for what you did do, Major Ritter, and thank you.’ Adelstein shook his head. ‘It’s my own fault, really. You see, this morning I attended the synagogue on Oranienburgerstrasse, a few blocks north of here. My apartment is a block south, in Leipzigerstrasse, the Landwehr Canal side. Usually, I continue down Friedrichstrasse and cut along from there.

‘The thing is, when you’re blind your other senses heighten. For this reason I decided to make my way home via the west side of Unter den Linden. This would allow me to experience the scent of early-blooming spring flowers in the Tiergarten, beyond the Brandenburg Gate.’ Adelstein shook his head. ‘I should have realized this would increase the possibility of my encountering SS soldiers from the government headquarters on Wilhelmstrasse.’

As Adelstein spoke, Tanner’s attention was drawn to a pretty young woman at the edge of the passing throng who stopped suddenly and threw a hand to her mouth in astonishment.

‘Herr Adelstein?’ she said, then hurried over and added, ‘Oh, my goodness. What’s happened?’ She knelt and placed a hand on the injured man’s shoulder.

‘Fraulein Brandt?’ Adelstein said. ‘Is that you?’

‘Yes. I was in one of the shops when I heard a horn sound.’ She pointed to the Horch. When I came out I looked along and saw this car parked at the curb. I thought there might have been some sort of accident ...’

Adelstein gave a weak smile. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘An accident of sorts.’ He touched a finger to Tanner’s bandage. ‘Bit of a scrape. Nothing to worry about, though. I’ve a thick old nut.’

Adelstein waved a hand to the woman then and said, ‘Gentlemen, meet my neighbor, Fraulein Ilsa Brandt. Miss Brandt lives in the apartment above me. Fraulein, meet Herr Tanner, an American journalist, and Major Ritter, an officer in the Wehrmacht. Both men came to my aid.’

Ilsa gave Adelstein a concerned look. ‘Then you were in an accident?’

‘Not really, Fraulein,’ Ritter said. ‘Herr Adelstein was the victim of an assault. Two members of the SS took exception to him being on the same stretch of sidewalk.’

‘And they did this to you?’ Ilsa said, pointing to Adelstein’s forehead.

Tanner nodded. ‘The bandaging is my handiwork, Fraulein. I’m afraid my only experience of first aid is a Boy Scout merit badge.’

Ilsa gently probed the handkerchief on Adelstein’s forehead and checked that the necktie was secure, then smiled at Tanner. ‘Your Scout badge was well deserved, Herr Tanner. You’ve done a good job.

‘But we should really get you home, Herr Adelstein,’ she added, standing up. ‘I think it best if antiseptic is applied to the wound, and it probably also needs sutured.’

Tanner said, ‘Will you call a doctor?’

‘No, I can stitch the wound myself. I completed a nursing course in Munich, my home city.’ She looked at Adelstein again and said, ‘You’re feeling okay, Herr Adelstein? No giddiness?’

Tanner realized that all color had drained from the injured man’s face.

‘Maybe a little, Fraulein,’ Adelstein replied.

Ilsa turned to Tanner and Ritter. ‘Shock,’ she said. ‘We should take him home and let him rest. It’ll take two to support him on the way there. Will either of you gentlemen lend me a hand?’

‘I’d be happy to,’ Tanner said. ‘How far is it from here to Leipzigir ...?’

‘Leipzigerstrasse,’ Ilsa corrected. ‘Only a ten-minute walk.’

Ritter waved to the Horch. ‘Look, there’s no need to walk. I’m on my way to Tirpitzufer, the same part of town. We can use my car.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Though I’m running slightly late for an appointment, Fraulein. If Herr Tanner doesn’t mind coming along and lending a hand when we get there?’

‘Of course not,’ Tanner said. ‘Like I said, I’d be happy to.’

Minutes later the Horch pulled up outside a six-storey sandstone block at the western end of Leipzigerstrasse.

Tanner and Ritter eased Adelstein out of the car, then the American turned and shook the German’s hand. ‘Fraulein Brandt and I can manage from here, Major. Thanks for your help.’

Ritter inclined his head, smiling. ‘It was my pleasure, Herr Tanner. Take care. I hope we’ll meet again.’

‘I hope so, too, Major,’ Tanner replied.

Two

Frau Adelstein paled visibly when she answered the door and saw her husband being supported by her upstairs neighbor and a tall young stranger.

‘Oh, Jacob,’ she said. ‘You’ve been hurt.’

‘It’s nothing, Anna,’ Adelstein said groggily. ‘Really. Just a little bump on the head.’

‘It’s a bit more than that, Frau Adelstein,’ Ilsa said. ‘He’s suffering from shock