44
THE MEN PACKED UP the contents of Hitler’s safe, returned the documents to their respective envelopes, and placed them inside Thomas Bauer’s tattered leather bag.
“Tonight,” said Fritz Gerlich. “We publish it to all of Munich, to all of Germany. We force the justice minister and your Chief Müller to properly investigate. We turn the tide of sentiment against the National Socialists before it’s too late.”
“Can we go to the printing press right now?” Bauer asked.
Gerlich shook his head. “I need technical assistance. I do a lot of things at my newspaper, but not that. At least, not by myself. And I need to write at least a short article introducing all of this. Readers will need context.”
“Okay, so what do we do with these papers right now?” Bauer thought for a moment.
“We have to assume that Hitler has discovered his safe is empty. And it will take him no time at all to figure out that the radiator repairman he spoke to in his office wasn’t a radiator repairman.
I’m the last person who should hold these papers. ”
Peter Helldorff took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll take them home.”
Bauer gave him a look. Despite Helldorff’s insistence on participating, Bauer could not help but see him as a kid in over his head. He felt responsible for the eighteen-year-old’s safety. “No,” he said. “Too dangerous.”
“We’ve been over this, Bauer. I’m not a child. I’m in this as much as you are.”
“I’ll take them,” said Gerlich.
“No.” Bauer paced the room. “You’re one of the first people they’ll suspect of being a part of this, Fritz. From their perspective, as far as journalists go, you’re enemy number one. For all we know, they’re raiding your office right now. If not your home.”
Gerlich blinked hard at that last sentence. So did Bauer. Their homes. Bauer’s wife and kids. Gerlich’s wife. What if the Nazis showed up there tonight?
“We need to get home right now,” said Gerlich.
“Right.” Bauer grabbed the bag. “None of us should have this in our possession. Let’s—why don’t we leave it here? Nobody knows about this place, do they, Fritz?”
“Nobody,” he said. “My friend’s the landlord. Nobody would think to look here. It’s brilliant, actually.”
Bauer closed the bag. “Any loose floorboards we can hide it under, by chance?”
“None that I know of.”
Using his flashlight, Bauer followed his illuminated path into the kitchen. A few cabinets and a sink, an oven—
“There,” said Bauer, shining his light on the gas oven. He opened the door and threw the bag in. He looked at the men. “Write whatever article you need to write, Fritz. And tonight, publish all of this. Before anyone has a chance to filter it.”
“Will do.” Gerlich rubbed his hands together, in anticipation if not warmth.
“I’ll report to headquarters and then come to you. I’ll be there in case there’s any trouble.”
“Me, too,” said Helldorff.
Gerlich breathed a heavy sigh. “Godspeed until then, gentlemen. Godspeed.”