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“Yes. That was one of the nicknames Geli used for him, too.”

Bauer shook his head as he read through the article. “Hitler once got syphilis from a Jewish prostitute in Vienna?”

“Indeed. So his anti-Semitism is a bit selective, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re publishing this tomorrow. Your publisher’s okay with that?”

Gerlich removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. “I’m following the principle that I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission.”

“I thought you told me you had to run everything by him.”

“I did. But I’m publishing this article. This may be our last chance, Bauer.” Gerlich paced the small room. “Von Hindenburg is an old, sick man,” he said, referring to the current Reich president, Paul von Hindenburg. “He doesn’t even want to run again. But who else could beat Hitler? And even if von Hindenburg manages to win, the Nazis have too many seats in the Reichstag. They’ll demand Hitler be appointed chancellor. Can you imagine? Hitler in the number two position in government, with an ill, frail octogenarian in the top spot? It will just be a matter of time. Hitler’s too smart. Too strategic. And once he gets power, he will hold on to it like a dog to a bone. He’ll never give it up.”

“And you’re hoping this article opens people’s eyes.”

Gerlich thought about that, then allowed a small chuckle. “It should,” he said. “But do I think it really will? Honestly, Bauer, I have my doubts. Hitler has people under a spell. People are despondent. The economy is the worst it’s ever been. Inflation, unemployment, homelessness are at all-time highs. We’re still paying taxes for reparations from the war. Hitler’s giving them scapegoats—the Jews, primarily, and the Communists. He knows exactly what buttons to push, how to appeal to prejudices and fears and anger and make people believe that there is a better tomorrow for Germany with him. I’m not sure anything I say is going to make people change their minds at this point. They won’t listen.”

“They don’t want to listen,” said Bauer.

“Exactly. They don’t want to hear anything that snaps them out of their spell. Even if I produced a photograph of him shooting Geli in cold blood, most of his supporters probably wouldn’t care.”

Bauer stood up. “Then why write this article and put yourself at risk?”

Gerlich shrugged. “The same reason you’re investigating Geli’s death. Because we have to try, no? Because we won’t forgive ourselves if we don’t.”

Bauer went quiet, studying Gerlich. “You seem like a guy who fights fair,” he said.

“Fights fair? Well, yes, I suppose I do. I fight for the truth.”

Bauer sighed. “All right, Gerlich. All right.” He left the room and returned with the six-shooter Gerlich had left in the hallway.

“What are you doing?” Gerlich asked, alarmed.

“I’m going to show you how to use this thing,” he said. “Because I have a feeling, one day soon, you might need more than the truth.”

23

September 26, 1931

Gerlich residence

Haidhausen

“I CAN EAT NO more.” Fritz Gerlich pushed away his plate and patted his stomach. “As always, my dearest, you spoil me.”

Sophie had prepared his favorite, schweinebraten und kohl—braised pork roast with cabbage—as a celebratory dinner now that his article had been published. She clinked her glass of wine to her husband’s glass of apple juice.

The wind-up phonograph on a small table in the corner played Gerlich’s favorite, Bruckner’s Symphony No. 8 conducted by Otto Klemperer. He swayed side to side and air-conducted the furious strings of the third movement. The phonograph, housed in a brown leather case with a sterling silver stylus, was a birthday gift from his wife.

“Now, perhaps,” said Sophie, “we could go at least twenty-four hours without mentioning his name? Maybe some articles on economic liberalism or the renegotiation of reparations payments?”

Gerlich, smiling, promised. “I will do my best to control myself.”

“No easy chore, that.” She glanced over at her husband’s article in Der Illustrierte Sonntag published today, the headline blaring FÜHRER ODER BETRÜGER? ANFÜHRER ODER MÖRDER?

Leader or Fraud? Leader or Murderer?

“Subtlety was never my strong suit,” Gerlich admitted. He unwound his bow tie and unbuttoned the collar. “Right now, honestly, all I can think of is getting into my dressing gown and sleeping. But first, let me help you with the dishes.”