Paving the New Road (25 page)

Rowland swore, but quietly, and he resumed his seat on the park bench.

“Campbell is supposed to deliver a speech tonight at this book burning they’ve organised.”

“A speech? What the hell could he possibly have to say?”

“He doesn’t know himself … the speech has been written for him, in German. He’s just going to read it.”

“I see.”

“I want you to be there.”

“Why?”

“To stop it, of course.”

“I suppose I could shout ‘Fire!’,” Rowland muttered.

“You’re not funny, Mr. Negus.”

“Well, what do you propose I do, Mr. Blanshard?”

“Campbell is scheduled to arrive at the Plaza at midnight. I will do everything I can to prevent him getting there, or at the least, getting there on time. If I am unsuccessful, he will throw a copy of
Das Kapital
onto the fire and go to the podium to address the crowd. It must not be a successful appearance. Do what you can.”

Rowland shook his head in disbelief. “Fine,” he said finally. “If Campbell shows up, I’ll try to do something.”

Blanshard folded his newspaper and lit a cigarette. “Do not get yourself arrested, Mr. Negus. There will be very little I can do for you.”

Rowland sighed. “Believe me, Mr. Blanshard, I will do my best to avoid it.” He stared out at the Königsplatz which was being prepared for the evening’s event. The standards of the SA lined the square, the black and red of Nazi banners festooned all the surrounding buildings. “And if Campbell happens to see me? He knows who I am.”

Again, Blanshard looked away as he spoke. “Get yourself to Hamburg and on the first ship out of here. You would be wise not to delay for any reason … Do you understand me, Mr. Negus?”

Rowland nodded slowly. They would have to be prepared, then.

Blanshard casually handed him the newspaper. “Page three.”

Rowland opened the paper to the indicated page. A telegram had been inserted between the leaves.

ALASTAIR BLANSHARD

BUDGET ALREADY EXCEEDED STOP

EXORBITANT EXPENDITURE ON SPECULATIVE

STOCK STOP CURTAIL STOP

MUNROE

Rowland closed the paper and handed it back. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You, Mr. Negus, are the speculative stock.”

“I see.”

“We understand each other, Mr. Negus, don’t we?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good. I have more than enough to do without having to watch your wretched pocket money!”

Rowland simmered, but he did so wordlessly.

Blanshard shoved his paper under his arm. With only the barest of nods he walked away.

“Whoa, mate, what’s the matter?” Clyde asked, startled as Rowland slammed the door so hard the windows rattled.

Milton selected a crystal decanter from Richter’s Jacobean sideboard. “You look like you need a drink.”

Rowland addressed the poet. “Did you buy anything today?”

“A sculpture,” Milton replied, hesitantly. “Actually, it was a pile of old hats titled ‘
Between Man and God
’.”

“What did you pay for it?”

“Rather a lot.”

“Good.” Rowland took the drink Milton had poured him and raised his glass to the poet. “Well done.”

“Righto, Rowly,” Clyde said quietly, “what gives?”

Rowland told them of his latest meeting with Blanshard. He kept his voice to a virtual whisper, for though he knew Richter was out and the door was closed, Blanshard had made it amply clear that they could expect no help if they were exposed.

“The cheap bastards!” Milton was livid.

Clyde shook his head, pointing accusingly at Milton. “Look what you’ve done, you idiot.”

Rowland shook his head and spoke in defence of the poet, as he fell into a seat. “The only thing that’s keeping me from telling the
whole flaming lot of them to sod off is the thought of Senator Hardy taking delivery of that deformed duck painting.”

Milton bowed. “I aim to please.”

“So what are we going to do about this book burning, Rowly?” Clyde asked.

Rowland groaned. “Hope for rain.”

Milton smiled. “We’ll heckle.”

Rowland sat up. “I beg your pardon?”

“Campbell’s reading a speech. He doesn’t speak German, and you do,” Milton said, sitting on the occasional table opposite Rowland. “Heckle him and he won’t have a clue how to respond. We could completely derail the speech.”

“And how do you propose I do that without him recognising me and exposing us?”

“Good Lord, Rowly, I can’t think of everything.”

Rowland put down his drink, yanking the invitation to the orchestrated bonfire from beneath Milton. He stared at it. Heckling wasn’t a bad idea, but for the fact that doing so would attract the attention of both Campbell and the SA organisers. It would be dangerous on many levels.

“You’re not thinking about trying it, are you, Rowly?” Clyde asked, aghast.

Rowland bit his lower lip. He wondered how much time they’d have to get out of Munich if they were exposed … and how they would do so.

“Rowly?”

Rowland frowned. “We’ll just play it by ear,” he said finally. “Do what we can, without getting ourselves arrested … but we should be prepared to have to leave in a hurry.”

Before Milton or Clyde could respond, they heard Edna’s voice in the mansion’s foyer. A few moments later the sculptress walked in on the arm of Alois Richter.

The elderly tailor had stepped out with her to one of the better hotels, where they had taken tea with Hans von Eidelsohn. Richter had become quite paternal where the sculptress was concerned and Edna had decided to find his fatherly interest endearing rather than presumptuous. The lonely widower had elicited her compassion, and so she allowed him to fuss in a way her own father had never dared.

Of course, the men with whom she usually lived had already met von Eidelsohn and in any case, they’d never felt it necessary to meet all of the sculptress’ many suitors.

“Well, I must say, Mr. von Eidelsohn is certainly an earnest young man,” Richter said, settling into the settee with the drink Milton poured him. “Is he as revolutionary an artist as our Millicent claims?”

“More like civil disobedience than revolution, I would have thought,” Rowland muttered.

Edna laughed as she sat on the arm of his chair. “You’re just jealous …”

Milton and Clyde looked up sharply.

“Robbie wishes he’d discovered Hans himself,” Edna told Richter. “I’m afraid we dealers can be rather competitive.”

Rowland smiled. “Yes, that’s it.”

“Well, he is a very affable young man,” Richter said. “Although I do think you’d be more suited to someone a little more cheerful, my dear.”

Clyde laughed. “Gotta admit, he’s a bit melancholy, Millie.”

“He’s a serious artist,” Edna said loftily.

“Very serious,” Rowland added, winking at Clyde.

Richter chuckled, tickling Stasi, who it appeared was not in the
least ticklish. “Stop with your teasing, young men,” he admonished. “I will not have you bully my Millie.”

Edna smiled warmly at the tailor. “You are gallant, Mr. Richter.” She glanced at her watch. “I might just duck out before lunch, if nobody minds. I won’t be long.”

“Where are you going, my dear?” Richter asked. “Shall I ring for the driver to take you?”

“No, please don’t bother,” Edna said standing and adjusting her hat. “I’m just going to walk down to Hoffman’s studio with some film for Eva to develop.” She turned to Rowland, the excitement plain in her face. “I’ve started shooting a series of artists with their work. I’m anxious to see how the pictures come out.”

A thought occurred to Rowland. “I’ll come with you, if you like.”

“Yes, that is a good idea,” Richter approved. “A young lady should not step out without an escort. After all, this is not Berlin.”

Rowland waited until they were well outside the gates of Richter’s mansion. “Look Ed, I don’t think you should leave your film with Eva.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because it may be the last you see of it.” Quickly Rowland told the sculptress of the task they’d been set. Edna looked up at him in shock.

“We should be prepared for the possibility that we may have to leave in rather a hurry,” he warned.

“Oh, Rowly,” she whispered. “How on earth are we going to stop Colonel Campbell giving a speech?”

Rowland shook his head. “I’m not sure, Ed.”

“He’s reading a speech in German?”

“I expect it will be something simple … along the lines of ‘
Herr Hitler ist unsere Freund’
. Blanshard’s worried that if he does well tonight, Nazi doors might open.”

“But Campbell knows both you and me, and he might recognise Clyde as well.”

Rowland removed his hat to push back his hair. Edna was right. She had masqueraded as his fiancée when he’d infiltrated the New Guard the previous year, and hers was not a face a man would forget. Clyde had come to Campbell’s house to drag Rowland out after Edna had shot him. It was indeed likely that the Colonel would remember him as well. Only Milton remained relatively unrecognisable. It all seemed impossible.

“Perhaps you should just tell Mr. Blanshard that we can’t do it, Rowly.”

This Rowland resisted though he wasn’t sure why he railed so against the idea of failing Blanshard. Perhaps he was becoming increasingly worried about what Campbell might bring back to Sydney, or perhaps it was simply Blanshard’s repeated expectation that he was not up to the job.

“Herr Negus! Millicent!” Eva stuck her head out of Hoffman’s shop as they approached. “
Grüss Gott
! How fine to see you … I was afraid you’d forgotten me.”

“Not at all, Fräulein,” Rowland said after he’d translated for Edna.

“Of course we wouldn’t forget you,” Edna said, taking Eva’s hand warmly.

“Do you have more film you’d like me to develop?” Eva asked, clearly eager to do Edna a kindness.

“No, not yet,” Rowland replied immediately. It occurred to him then that they did need some sort of reason for calling upon her, aside from Edna’s negatives. “I was going to work on your painting this evening. I was hoping you might sit for me for an hour or two, if it’s convenient.”

Eva smiled. “I would love to, Herr Negus. You are staying on
Schellingstrasse, are you not? Perhaps I could walk up after work? I finish at four today.”

“That would do very well, I think,” Rowland replied, pulling his notebook from his jacket and jotting down the address, which he tore out for Eva. “I would like to finish it for you.”

Eva clapped her hands excitedly. “I cannot wait to see it finished … and it will be so nice to spend time with my Australian friends again.”

With apologies, they took their leave of her to catch a motor cab into the centre of Munich. There they stopped at the Deutsche Bank and Rowland used the letter that Wilfred had given him before they left Sydney to extract a large amount of German currency, as well as pounds sterling. If they needed to leave in a hurry, they would also no longer be able to rely on the line of credit established for their aliases. He didn’t expect they’d have time to stop at the bank, either.

“What are we going to tell Alois, if we have to go?” Edna asked quietly, staring at the small fortune stuffed into her handbag, which luckily was, by the dictates of fashion, large. It all seemed a little alarming now.

“This is only a precaution, Ed,” Rowland replied. “Hopefully we won’t need to use it. I’m sorry about Richter … he has been rather sporting. We’ll leave him a note that we’ve been called away, and write once we’re out of the country.”

Edna sighed. “At least you’ll be able to finish Eva’s portrait.”

Rowland nodded. As trivial as it seemed, he did want to finish the portrait. He had promised Eva that he would. “Just hope she isn’t silly enough to give it to this Wolf chap.”

“Don’t make her too recognisable, in case she does,” Edna advised. “You don’t want poor Mrs. Wolf to walk into Hoffman’s one day and recognise the naked girl on her bedroom wall.”

19

NAZIS PUNISHED FOR VISITING LONDON

Strict disciplinary action has been taken against the two German Nazis who recently visited London in uniform, and who returned to Berlin by air, says a London newspaper.