FATHERLAND by Robert Harris
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TWO.....................................................................76 THREE .................................................................78 FATHERLAND FOUR ...................................................................83 by Robert Harris FIVE .....................................................................85 PART FIVE ..............................................................87 ISBN 0-09-926381-5 ONE .....................................................................87 scanned by torinoblue TWO.....................................................................92 THREE .................................................................95 Table Of Contents FOUR .................................................................101 FATHERLAND.............................................................. 1 FIVE ...................................................................102 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ......................................... 1 SIX......................................................................106 PART ONE................................................................ 2 PART SIX ..............................................................108 ONE....................................................................... 2 ONE ...................................................................108 TWO ...................................................................... 4 TWO...................................................................111 THREE................................................................... 9 THREE ...............................................................113 FOUR................................................................... 12 FOUR .................................................................116 PART TWO ............................................................. 15 FIVE ...................................................................119 ONE..................................................................... 15 SIX......................................................................119 TWO .................................................................... 21 PART SEVEN ........................................................120 THREE................................................................. 25 ONE ...................................................................121 FOUR................................................................... 26 TWO...................................................................122 FIVE..................................................................... 28 AUTHOR'S NOTE..................................................125 SIX ....................................................................... 32 SEVEN................................................................. 34 EIGHT.................................................................. 39 PART THREE.......................................................... 42 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ONE..................................................................... 42 TWO .................................................................... 45 I thank the Librarian and staff of the Wiener Library in THREE................................................................. 51 London for their help over several years. FOUR................................................................... 54 I also wish to thank David Rosenthal and -especially - FIVE..................................................................... 59 Robyn Sisman, without whom this book would never SIX ....................................................................... 63 have been started, let alone finished. SEVEN................................................................. 68 PART FOUR............................................................ 72 ONE..................................................................... 72 neglected, diseased, illiterate cretins, in order that they might have leisure to buzz along infinite Autobahnen, The hundred million self-confident German masters admire the Strength-Through-Joy Hostel, the Party were to be brutally installed in Europe, and secured in headquarters, the Military Museum and the Planetarium power by a monopoly of technical civilisation and the which their Führer would have built in Linz (his new slave-labour of a dwindling native population of Hitleropolis), trot round local picture-galleries, and listen Robert Harris, Fatherland Page 1 of 125 over their cream buns to endless recordings of The the crackle of static, punctuated by jabbering bursts of Merry Widow. This was to be the German Millennium, speech. The revolving light on its roof lit up the forest from which even the imagination was to have no means beside the road: blue-black, blue-black, blue-black. of escape. March looked around for the Orpo patrolmen, and saw HUGH TREVOR-ROPER them sheltering by the lake under a dripping birch tree. The Mind of Adolf Hitler Something gleamed pale in the mud at their feet. On a nearby log sat a young man in a black tracksuit, SS insignia on his breast pocket. He was hunched forward, People sometimes say to me: 'Be careful! You will have elbows resting on his knees, hands pressed against the twenty years of guerilla warfare on your hands!' I am sides of his head — the image of misery. delighted at the prospect ... Germany will remain in a state of perpetual alertness. March took a last draw on his cigarette and flicked it away. It fizzed and died on the wet road. ADOLF HITLER 29 August 1942 As he approached, one of the policemen raised his arm. 'Heil Hitler!' PART ONE March ignored him and slithered down the muddy bank to inspect the corpse. TUESDAY 14 APRIL 1964 It was an old man's body - cold, fat, hairless and I swear to Thee, Adolf Hitler, shockingly white. From a distance, it could have been As Führer and Chancellor of the German Reich, an alabaster statue dumped in the mud. Smeared with Loyalty and Bravery. dirt, the corpse sprawled on its back half out of the I vow to Thee and to the superiors water, arms flung wide, head tilted back. One eye was Whom Thou shalt appoint screwed shut, the other squinted balefully at the filthy Obedience unto Death, sky. So help me God. Tour name, Unterwachtmeister?' March had a soft SS OATH voice. Without taking his eyes off the body, he addressed the Orpo man who had saluted. 'Ratka, Herr Sturmbannführer.' ONE Sturmbannführer was an SS title, equivalent in Thick cloud had pressed down on Berlin all night, and Wehrmacht rank to major, and Ratka - dog-tired and now it was lingering into what passed for the morning. skin-soaked though he was -seemed eager to show On the city's western outskirts, plumes of rain drifted respect. March knew his type without even looking across the surface of Lake Havel, like smoke. round: three applications to transfer to the Kripo, all turned down; a dutiful wife who had produced a football Sky and water merged into a sheet of grey, broken only team of children for the Führer; an income of 200 by the dark line of the opposite bank. Nothing stirred Reichsmarks a month. A life lived in hope. there. No lights showed. 'Well, Ratka,'said March, in that soft voice again. 'What Xavier March, homicide investigator with the Berlin time was he discovered?' Kriminalpolizei — the Kripo — climbed out of his Volkswagen and tilted his face to the rain. He was a 'Just over an hour ago, sir. We were at the end of our connoisseur of this particular rain. He knew the taste of shift, patrolling in Nikolassee. We took the call. Priority it, the smell of it. It was Baltic rain, from the north, cold One. We were here in five minutes.' and sea-scented, tangy with salt. For an instant he was back twenty years, in the conning tower of a U-boat, 'Who found him?' slipping out of Wilhelmshaven, lights doused, into the darkness. Ratka jerked his thumb over his shoulder. He looked at his watch. It was just after seven in the The young man in the tracksuit rose to his feet. He morning. could not have been more than eighteen. His hair was cropped so close the pink scalp showed through the Drawn up on the roadside before him were three other dusting of light brown hair. March noticed how he cars. The occupants of two were asleep in the drivers' avoided looking at the body. seats. The third was a patrol car of the Ordnungspolizei - the Orpo, as every German called them. It was empty. 'Your name?' Through its open window, sharp in the damp air, came Robert Harris, Fatherland Page 2 of 125 'SS-Schütze Hermann Jost, sir.' He spoke with a Saxon screwed a flash bulb on to his camera and carefully accent - nervous, uncertain, anxious to please. 'From planted his right foot on a lump of clay. He swore as the the Sepp Dietrich training academy at Schlachtensee.' lake lapped over his shoe. March knew it: a monstrosity of concrete and asphalt built in the 1950s, just south of the Havel. 'I run here 'Shit!' most mornings. It was still dark. At first, I thought it was a swan,' he added, helplessly. The flash popped, freezing the scene for an instant: the white faces, the silver threads of rain, the darkness of Ratka snorted, contempt on his face. An SS cadet the woods. A swan came scudding out of some nearby scared of one dead old man! No wonder the war in the reeds to see what was happening, and began circling a Urals was dragging on forever. few metres away. 'Did you see anyone else, Jost?' March spoke in a 'Protecting her nest,' said the young SS man. kindly tone, like an uncle. 'I want another here.' March pointed.