Munich Signature Read Online Free Page B

heard the soft voice of Frau Marta as she stood gazing after them. “ Grüss Gott! May our Lord go with you, little lambs!”
    After a long time, Marta wiped her eyes and turned to look up at the crucifix that hung above the door of the house. She made the sign of the cross and entered. There were others still to care for. The rest was in God’s hands.

 
    2
     
    Fire and Water
     
    The expression on the face of Ernst vom Rath was grim and worried. He did not act the part of a young, carefree German diplomat out to see the sights of Paris. A strong spring wind whistled through the steel skeleton of the Eiffel Tower as he followed Thomas von Kleistmann up the steep metal steps of the structure.
    Thomas glanced over his shoulder as if to encourage Ernst in the arduous climb. Ernst held up the small box camera in response as the tower elevator whirred quickly by them. The lift was crammed with tourists peeking out through the iron grid. As the eyes of strangers peered down on Ernst and Thomas, the two men paused on a landing. Ernst snapped a picture of Thomas with Paris in the background. Then Thomas took the camera from him and vom Rath posed, but he did not smile. He had not smiled since Le Morthomme, known as the Dead Man, had been shot dead in the bookstall. An absolute silence had fallen. No word of instruction from Berlin. No attempt at contact from agents of Britain or even of the French government.
    Thomas leaned against the rail and gazed pensively over the city. “Well, what do you suggest we do now, Ernst?” The wind tugged at his overcoat and mussed his thick black hair.
    Ernst looked through the viewfinder and snapped another photo. “The consummate tourists, eh?” he said solemnly. “Followed by the Gestapo, we wander through Paris. Visit the cabarets and cafés and hope for some encouraging word.”
    “And if we are contacted?” Thomas looked at the empty steps above and below as if he were examining the structure. Satisfied that they had not been followed this time, he sighed with relief. “How can we know that the contact is not one of Himmler’s men? Gestapo in sheep’s clothing?”
    The frown on vom Rath’s brow deepened. “Just so. How can we know?” He met von Kleistmann’s gaze. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”
    “Much too late to wonder that now.” Thomas changed the topic with a wave of his hand. “They say the Führer is furious at the accusation that he might have had an eye on invading Czechoslovakia.” He smiled. “Goebbels is very adept at propaganda, is he not? Creating the image of innocent Hitler, slandered and indignant before the world?”
    “That is what worries me.” Ernst buttoned his coat against the wind. “Perhaps the British do not believe—”
    “And if they do not believe?”
    “They will not attempt to reestablish a link with the German High Command.”
    Thomas clapped him on the back. “If that is the case, then we will no longer be conspirators against the Reich.”
    “Then there will be war.”
    “That may be so anyway. We have done what we could to stop it.”
    Ernst looked angry. “You sound relieved that it might be over.”
    “I am only saying that there is nothing we can do.”
    “You might return to speak with Churchill,” Ernst argued.
    “What is there left to tell him?” Thomas said logically. “What? He announced our rearmament figures in Parliament. ‘Yes, quite. The Reich is jolly well working toward building an air force that can decimate Europe?’ This is not news. The American flyer, Charles Lindbergh, has already told the world that the German Luftwaffe is unbeatable.”
    Thomas gazed up through the metal at a crisp blue sky as though he could already see German airplanes there. “I am afraid, Ernst, that all the facts and figures we have passed along at risk to our lives have only caused the English government to cower in fear and beg for peace. Perhaps they have come to doubt that my warnings are truly from the German