The Seventh Secret (21 page)

They wheeled slowly through the gate, past the sentry box, from which two German soldiers saluted Professor Blaubach.

They drove inside the enclosed Security Zone, over a narrow dirt road running along a chain-link fence set in concrete posts and at intervals bearing ominous signs. CRENZGEBIET (Frontier Zone) was also spelled out in English, French, Russian. Below that, on the same sign, was PASSAGE IS FORBIDDEN printed in four languages.

As they wended their way along the dirt road, passing spiked paths, tank obstacles, a manned watchtower, Emily could see that- were moving closer and closer to the large dirt mound rising above the field not far from the inner wall. Unaccountably, she shivered. Soon they were parallel to the mound, and the jeep turned sharply left, leaving the road and bumping slowly across thirty feet of grassy, rock-strewn, weed-covered meadow toward the looming mound. Emily was too spellbound by the sight to speak. The oblong hump of earth, mixed with rubble and pieces of rock, rose fifteen to twenty feet above the jeep.

Abruptly, the jeep came to a halt. Blaubach beckoned for them to dismount, and they all stepped out and tramped in the sun to the base of the mound.

"Here it is," announced Blaubach, "the grave of the Führer bunker." To which he added disdainfully, "Hitler's catacomb." He faced Vogel. "So, you recognize it?" he asked somewhat mockingly.

Vogel stood uneasily, peering about the area as he adjusted his hearing aid.

Emily watched Vogel with a worried expression. "Does it make any sense, Herr Vogel? I must know exactly where the
Führerbunker
is under the heap of dirt, and I must know the location of the trench where Hitler and Eva were buried and cremated, and the bomb crater where they were reburied and where their remains were found by the Soviet investigators."

Ernst Vogel had put on a pair of tinted glasses, and now he was tugging a folded sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket. He unfolded the sheet, which Emily could see was a meticulous diagram of the bunker and a map of the surrounding area. Vogel was studying it. He looked up, scrutinized the area once more, and stared fixedly straight ahead. Suddenly, his face brightened.

He pointed away from the mound, toward the south.

"I am sure that is where the New Reich Chancellery stretched for four-tenths of a kilometer—a fourth of a mile—along Voss Strasse," he said. He sought confirmation from Blaubach. "Am I not correct?"

Blaubach gave a short nod. "Yes, that is where it was situated."

"Then the rest is simple," said Vogel with growing confidence. "The Old Chancellery was right next door to us. Therefore—" He started around the dirt mound. "Come, follow me. I will show you exactly how the
Führerbunker
was situated underneath the mound. Please, follow."

Beyond the mound, Vogel stopped, waited for the other two to reach him.

For a moment, Vogel's good spirits vanished. He seemed transported in time. At last, he gestured. "You are now in the New Chancellery, in the ceremonial hall. You have an appointment to see Hitler, so you take a long tunnel to the Old Chancellery near us, walk into the Kannenberg Alley—the butler's pantry named after Hitler's fat butler Arthur Kannenberg—and you go down a circular staircase to the three steel-reinforced doors, the third one guarded by two SS soldiers. This leads into the top level of the
Führerbunker
—"

Vogel brought himself back into the present and started away from a portion of street curb, pacing the distance to a point just before the dirt mound.

"—right here," said Vogel, drawing a line in the grass with the toe of his shoe.

Emily moved beside Vogel. "When was the
Führerbunker
ready for use?" she wanted to know.

"The upper level or
Vorbunker
was excavated and built under the Old Reich Chancellery and its garden in 1936. At that time it was only thirty feet deep. After two years, Hitler decided that it was not large enough. In 1938, he ordered it made larger, which was done. Then in 1943, when things were starting to go badly in the war, Hitler had the bunker reinforced by the Hochtief Construction Company, and late in 1944 he ordered a much deeper second bunker built beneath the Vorbunker, the regular upper one. So, you see, there are two floors or levels to the
Führerbunker
. The lower level, used by Hitler and Eva Braun, was fifty-five feet below the ground."

"Where was the bunker entrance?" Emily wanted to know.

Vogel stepped over the line he had drawn with his shoe. "Right here down a short flight of concrete steps into the upper level of the bunker. There were thirteen small rooms on this top level, no decorations, unfinished plaster. Six rooms on one side, six on the other, and the general dining room in the rear. The rooms on this upper level were used for servants quarters, storage for lumber, storage space for food, a wine cellar, an office for the official Nazi news agency,
Deutsches
Nachrichtenbüro
, a wireless that brought in BBC re-ports, a
Diätküche
or vegetarian kitchen, and the dining room or mess hall with an oak table for everyone to eat from. Once Hitler himself had moved into the
Führerbunker
, he lived below on the lower level, and rarely ever came up to the top floor."

"How did one get down to see Hitler?" asked Emily.

Vogel scrambled up the end of the dirt mound. "Here there was a concrete staircase with twelve steps that curved quite steeply down to the lower level. Then you were way down below ground where the main activity was."

Emily had climbed up the dirt mound to join Vogel, while Professor Blaubach remained on the field.

"Herr Vogel," Emily said, "can you explain to me the layout at the bottom level?"

Vogel opened the diagram in his hand once more. He bobbed his head. "I'll try. Follow me." He started going slowly along the right side of the dirt mound, describing what had been far below. "There were around eighteen cramped rooms on the bottom level, most of them painted gray, with a corridor forty-five feet in length and maybe nine feet wide dividing the rooms. The corridor had wooden paneling and some small Italian paintings hung on the walls. Hitler chose them himself. So as we walk here on the right side of the mound try to make-believe what you would see far below."

Progressing slowly, with Emily at his heels, Ernst Vogel said, "Here the boiler room. Next, Martin Bormann's office, and behind it the telephone exchange or switchboard. Next, Josef Goebbels's office, and be-hind this a cubicle for the duty officer. Next Goebbels's bedroom, and behind it the tiny surgery room and bedroom for Hitler's personal physicians. Now, the most important part, the left side of the corridor. I will show you."

Vogel retraced his steps on the mound and paced over to the left. Emily caught up with him, and together they began moving ahead once more.

"Beneath us are the general bathrooms and three toilets, and the dog-kennel room," said Vogel. "Next, Eva Braun's dressing room, bedroom, and a bathroom she shared with Hitler." A few more strides, and Vogel halted. "Also, far below, was Hitler's own private four-room suite. About here, his living room where he and Eva died, and then an anteroom or waiting room between it and the corridor. Beside Hitler's living room was his private bedroom. Next, a small map room, and across the corridor his conference room where he met with his generals to direct the last defense of Berlin."

"What was in Hitler's living room?" Emily asked.

Vogel reflected on this, then rattled off a description of the furnishings. "In the narrow room, a sofa for two, a desk holding a framed photograph of his mother, and above the desk in a circular gilt frame the painting of Frederick the Great done by Anton Graff. Also, there were three valuable chairs from the Chancellery. The walls were paneled, and the floor carpeted, but still a cold room I was told."

"All right, Herr Vogel," said Emily, "you've stated that after Hitler and Eva committed suicide, the corpses were carried into the corridor and up some stairs to the garden. Do you want to point the stairwell out?"

"I can try to do so," Vogel told her. He walked to the front of the mound and veered off to one side. "Here, across from the conference room, were four flights of concrete steps that led from the bottom of the bunker to the very top inside the bunker, to a special emergency exit. You had to pass through a kind of outdoor rectangular blockhouse or vestibule leading into the Chancellery garden. After they carried Hitler out the exit—come, I'll show you . . ."

Vogel cautiously descended the dirt mound to a stretch of grassy field on one side. He waited for Emily to join him. Vogel consulted his diagram once more and carefully backed up a few steps.

"The emergency exit was close to this spot," he said. "Almost exactly between the exit and a round watchtower—about a meter from where you stand—there was a small moat, actually a shallow trench. That is where the two corpses were put down and buried."

"And when the bodies were reburied?"

"Turn a bit to your right—now count off three meters." Emily pointed ahead. "There?" she asked.

"Yes, there was the crater with the bodies."

"Thank you, Herr Vogel." Emily realized that Professor Otto Blaubach was standing beside her. She met his eyes. "You heard all that? You'd know if it was reasonably accurate."

"To my knowledge, your friend is totally accurate," said Blaubach. "Apparently, his memory is unimpaired."

"It was an unforgettable experience for me," Vogel replied.

"And a happy time for the rest of the world," Blaubach added wryly. He drew Emily aside. "So now you know where you wish to excavate?"

Emily gave an assured nod. "Three exact spots. The trench and crater sites in this garden area. As for the Führer bunker, I don't need to uncover the whole thing, of course. Just one portion of the mound. I want to get down into Hitler's suite."

Blaubach was pleased. "Limiting your excavation of the mound enhances your chances for permission from the council. How much time will you need?"

"I have an experienced crew on call. I think three days should do it."

"Considering the time you'll want for searching, I imagine five or six days would be more realistic. I'll ask the council to allow you and your crew a week. How's that?"

"I'd be very grateful, Professor Blaubach."

"If you get permission, accept one piece of advice."

"Yes."

"Keep the purpose of your activity secret, absolutely secret. I think that is best for your success and well-being."

W
erner Demke, the young pimpled junior reporter on
BZ
, the widely circulated Axel Springer tabloid, came routinely to his brief stopover at the Potsdamer Platz observation platform late every afternoon on his way back to the office. One of his assignments was to get a list of foreign celebrities who visited Berlin weekly. Usually the police department and a half dozen of the better hotels were his most productive sources. The observation platform at the Wall was a less productive source, but occasionally some politician or cinema star was brought here to clamber up to the platform and gaze over the Wall into the East German no-man's-land. As a cub reporter, Demke felt that he must ignore no possibility for an item or story.

Parking his Volkswagen, he strode over to the novelty shop and ducked into the doorway. He called to the proprietress, "Any high and mighty ones in the vicinity this afternoon?"

"None, Herr Demke. Sony. Just a small British tour group from Manchester. They're probably up on the platform right now."

"Not exactly a hot story. Many thanks."

Demke turned away from the shop and started for his car dejectedly. It had been a barren day. Ascher, the city editor, wouldn't be too happy.

He heard a loud joyous squeal and glanced over his shoulder at the observation platform. There were two plump middle-aged women on top, at the platform railing, holding binoculars to their eyes angled down into the East German Security Zone. One of the women was squealing excitedly again. Then Demke saw the third member of the group, an older man, rush to the railing beside them, focus his camera on something in the Frontier Zone and begin shooting.

Werner Demke wondered what had drawn the attention of the tourists, and on a hunch he detoured from his car and strolled toward the platform steps.

By the time Demke reached the foot of the wooden staircase, the three tourists on the platform had finished and were coming jubilantly down the steps. They were chattering in English, and Demke was sure that these were the British tourists the proprietress had spoken about.