suited them to be able to use people who were outside the party system.”
“So you admit you allowed yourself to be used,” said Earp.
“I’m alive, aren’t I?” I shrugged. “I guess that speaks for itself.”
“The question is how much you allowed yourself to be used,” said Silverman.
“It’s been bothering me, too,” I said.
He was clever, but he couldn’t ever have played poker; his face was much too expressive. When he thought I was lying, his mouth hung open and he shifted his lower jaw around like a cow chewing tobacco; and when he was satisfied with an answer, he looked away or made a sad sound like he was disappointed.
“Maybe you’d like to get something off your chest,” said Earp.
“Seriously,” I said. “You don’t want me.”
“That’s for us to decide, Herr Gunther.”
“Maybe you could beat it out of me, like your friends in the Navy and the FBI.”
“It seems like everyone wants to hit you,” said Earp.
“I’m just wondering when you two are going to figure that it’s your turn.”
“We’re not like that in the Chief Counsel’s Office.” Silverman sounded so smooth I almost believed him.
“Well, why didn’t you say so before? Now I feel completely reassured.”
“Most of the people in here have talked to us because they wanted to talk,” said Earp.
“And the rest?”
“Sometimes it’s hard to say nothing when all your friends have ratted on you,” said Silverman.
“That’s okay, then. I don’t have any friends. And very definitely none in this place. So anyone who rats on me is probably a bigger rat himself.”
Silverman stood up and took off his jacket. “Mind if I open a window?” he said.
The politeness was instinctive and he started to open it anyway. Not that I could ever have jumped out; the window was barred, just like the one in my cell. Silverman stood there looking out with his arms folded thoughtfully, and for a moment I remembered a newspaper photograph of Hitler, in a similar attitude, on a visit to Landsberg after he’d become Reich Chancellor. After a moment or two he said,
“Did you ever meet a man called Otto Ohlendorf? He was a Gruppenführer—a general—in the Reich Main Security Office.” Silverman came back to the table and sat down.
“Yes. I met him a couple of times. He was head of Department Three, I think. Domestic Intelligence.”
“And what was your impression of him?”
“Intense. A dedicated Nazi.”
“He was also head of an SS task group that operated in the southern Ukraine and the Crimea,” said Silverman. “That same task group murdered ninety thousand people before Ohlendorf returned to his desk in Berlin. As you say, he was a dedicated Nazi. But when the British captured him, in 1945, he sang like a canary. For them and for us. Actually, we couldn’t shut him up. No one could figure it. There was no duress, no deal, no offer of immunity. It seems he just wanted to talk about it. Maybe you should think about doing that. Get it off your chest, as he did. Ohlendorf sat in that very chair you’re sitting in now and talked his damn head off for forty-two days in succession. He was very matter-of-fact about it, too. You might even say normal. He didn’t cry or offer an apology, but I guess there must have been something in his soul that just bothered him.”
“Some of the guys here quite liked him,” said Earp. “Up until the moment when we hanged him.”
I shook my head. “With all due respect, you’re not selling this idea of unburdening myself very well if the only reward is the one in heaven. And I thought Americans were supposed to be good salesmen.”
“Ohlendorf was one of Heydrich’s protégés, too,” said Silverman.
“Meaning you think I was?”
“You said yourself it was Heydrich who brought you back to Kripo in 1938. I don’t know what else that makes you, Gunther.”
“He needed a proper homicide detective. Not some Nazi with an anti-Semitic ax to grind. When I came
“So you admit you allowed yourself to be used,” said Earp.
“I’m alive, aren’t I?” I shrugged. “I guess that speaks for itself.”
“The question is how much you allowed yourself to be used,” said Silverman.
“It’s been bothering me, too,” I said.
He was clever, but he couldn’t ever have played poker; his face was much too expressive. When he thought I was lying, his mouth hung open and he shifted his lower jaw around like a cow chewing tobacco; and when he was satisfied with an answer, he looked away or made a sad sound like he was disappointed.
“Maybe you’d like to get something off your chest,” said Earp.
“Seriously,” I said. “You don’t want me.”
“That’s for us to decide, Herr Gunther.”
“Maybe you could beat it out of me, like your friends in the Navy and the FBI.”
“It seems like everyone wants to hit you,” said Earp.
“I’m just wondering when you two are going to figure that it’s your turn.”
“We’re not like that in the Chief Counsel’s Office.” Silverman sounded so smooth I almost believed him.
“Well, why didn’t you say so before? Now I feel completely reassured.”
“Most of the people in here have talked to us because they wanted to talk,” said Earp.
“And the rest?”
“Sometimes it’s hard to say nothing when all your friends have ratted on you,” said Silverman.
“That’s okay, then. I don’t have any friends. And very definitely none in this place. So anyone who rats on me is probably a bigger rat himself.”
Silverman stood up and took off his jacket. “Mind if I open a window?” he said.
The politeness was instinctive and he started to open it anyway. Not that I could ever have jumped out; the window was barred, just like the one in my cell. Silverman stood there looking out with his arms folded thoughtfully, and for a moment I remembered a newspaper photograph of Hitler, in a similar attitude, on a visit to Landsberg after he’d become Reich Chancellor. After a moment or two he said,
“Did you ever meet a man called Otto Ohlendorf? He was a Gruppenführer—a general—in the Reich Main Security Office.” Silverman came back to the table and sat down.
“Yes. I met him a couple of times. He was head of Department Three, I think. Domestic Intelligence.”
“And what was your impression of him?”
“Intense. A dedicated Nazi.”
“He was also head of an SS task group that operated in the southern Ukraine and the Crimea,” said Silverman. “That same task group murdered ninety thousand people before Ohlendorf returned to his desk in Berlin. As you say, he was a dedicated Nazi. But when the British captured him, in 1945, he sang like a canary. For them and for us. Actually, we couldn’t shut him up. No one could figure it. There was no duress, no deal, no offer of immunity. It seems he just wanted to talk about it. Maybe you should think about doing that. Get it off your chest, as he did. Ohlendorf sat in that very chair you’re sitting in now and talked his damn head off for forty-two days in succession. He was very matter-of-fact about it, too. You might even say normal. He didn’t cry or offer an apology, but I guess there must have been something in his soul that just bothered him.”
“Some of the guys here quite liked him,” said Earp. “Up until the moment when we hanged him.”
I shook my head. “With all due respect, you’re not selling this idea of unburdening myself very well if the only reward is the one in heaven. And I thought Americans were supposed to be good salesmen.”
“Ohlendorf was one of Heydrich’s protégés, too,” said Silverman.
“Meaning you think I was?”
“You said yourself it was Heydrich who brought you back to Kripo in 1938. I don’t know what else that makes you, Gunther.”
“He needed a proper homicide detective. Not some Nazi with an anti-Semitic ax to grind. When I came
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