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Bauer left the same way he entered. As he walked out into the courtyard, closing the heavy door behind him, he felt the chill of the wind in a way he hadn’t earlier.
9
Berchtesgaden, the Berghof
Bavarian Alps
ADOLF HITLER, STANDING IN the living room in the retreat, still dressed in his robe, spread out the newspapers before him. He’d spent the last two hours clipping out passages and headlines from the tabloids and newspapers reporting over the last two days.
The Münchener Post:
A MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR: HITLER’S NIECE COMMITS SUICIDE
The Fränkische Tagespost:
MYSTERIOUS DARKNESS SURROUNDS SUICIDE OF HITLER’S NIECE
Die Fanfare:
HITLER’S LOVE COMMITS SUICIDE
Der Illustrierte Sonntag, written by Fritz Gerlich:
HITLER’S NIECE DIES VIOLENT, MYSTERIOUS DEATH
“My lover. My lover, it says.” He pushed his hair off his face. “The Post says we had a ‘violent quarrel’—a violent quarrel the night before she was found dead. They say we were arguing over her leaving for Vienna. They cite ‘informed sources.’ Who are these sources spreading such nonsense?”
Around him, some of his men—Rudolf Hess, Joseph Goebbels, and Martin Bormann—stood silently.
“And Fritz Gerlich—oh, how he must relish taking his revenge on me. Ever since the putsch, that man has had it out for me.”
Goebbels, hands clasped behind his back, cleared his throat. “It is good that they are focusing on the suicide, mein Führer. That is the first step in the process—”
“But they’re blaming me,” Hitler hissed. “Listen to this.” He picked up another scrap of paper. “They’re saying my private life with Geli ‘took on forms that obviously the young woman was unable to bear.’ And this one here, from the Echo, did you read this? It says we had a physical relationship that was ‘beyond her strength’ to endure.” He threw down the paper. “Did you not read this, Joseph?”
“Of course, mein Führer. And we will counter it.”
“How? How will we counter this?”
“Methodically, mein Führer. We have already firmly established suicide. Nearly all the periodicals are adopting it. That is the most important thing.”
Hitler released a harsh breath, waved his hand, and sat on the couch. “Go on.”
“Once we have removed any hint of criminal culpability on your part—”
“Of which I have none.”
“Of course not, mein Führer. But once we have eliminated any criminal culpability, then all that is left is moral culpability. And really, who is to say what drives a young woman to take her life? It is a question that can never be satisfactorily answered. There will be competing theories that ultimately will cancel each other out.”
Hitler moaned, running his fingers through his hair. Goebbels had seen the Führer in casual attire before, but never disheveled like this.
Still, he saw something else this morning, for the first time since Geli’s death—a hint of the Führer’s former self returning, if fleetingly.
“Yes, perhaps,” said Hitler. “Perhaps you are right. But Gerlich is like a dog with a bone. The truth will not matter to him.”
“Fritz Gerlich, mein Führer, has been a sworn and very public enemy of NSDAP for nearly a decade.”
“Exactly my point, Joseph. How do we attack his story?”
