47
Munich Police Department
“IT’S OVER, BAUER,” SAID Fritz Gerlich, once the guards had left them alone in the cell.
“No. Don’t say that. It’s never over. You still have a story. You read those letters. You can still write about it.”
“Even if I’m ever given the opportunity to print it, it will be dismissed as lies,” said Gerlich.
“I no longer have the documents. Joseph Goebbels will turn any story I write into a rallying piece against the Jewish sympathizers. We have no proof.” He turned.
“They followed you to the flat? Is that how they caught us?”
Bauer shrugged. “I was careful. I’ve done plenty of surveillance in my day to know whether someone was following me.”
“But I don’t have that experience. They probably followed me, Bauer.”
Bauer loosened his tie, unbuttoned his collar, and leaned against the cell wall. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “They have the information. We have to come up with something else.”
“Did you tell them anything, Bauer?”
“Of course not. You?”
“Nothing. Maybe they don’t suspect Peter. Maybe he can still help us. Unless he’s the next one to be thrown in here.”
As if on cue, they heard the entrance to the holding cells clang open, then the sound of light footsteps. Soon enough, Peter Helldorff approached. He was alone, and uncuffed. “Are you guys all right?” he whispered.
“Hardly.” Gerlich walked over to the bars of the cell. “They found our bag at the flat.”
“They did?” Helldorff drew back. “But… how?”
“I must have been followed,” said Gerlich.
“You weren’t followed.” Bauer pushed himself off the bench and joined Gerlich at the bars. “I know how they did it.” Bauer waved Helldorff closer.
Helldorff leaned in. Bauer shot his hands through the cell bars and gripped his shirt, the boy’s face slamming against the bars. “I think you know, too, Peter.”
“Let go of me!” he cried.
“Bauer, what are you doing?” Gerlich tried to intervene, but Bauer wouldn’t budge.
“What did they promise you?” Bauer hissed. “A promotion? Money?”
“You’ve got this all wrong!” Gerlich shouted.
“Are you even Jewish, Helldorff? Or was that a lie, too?”
Bauer released the kriminalassistent with a shove. Helldorff stood for a moment, stunned, then straightened his shirt, fixed his hair, touched his nose, and checked his finger for blood. He wouldn’t make eye contact with either Bauer or Gerlich. The silence hung heavy between them.
Finally, Helldorff’s chin dropped. “That’s the first time you ever called me by my real name,” he said quietly.
“Peter, tell Bauer he’s wrong,” said Gerlich, his anxiety clearly growing.
But Helldorff remained silent. A sheen appeared in his eyes, his face reddening.
He cleared his throat, readying to speak, but kept his eyes down.
“It wasn’t what they promised me if I cooperated but…
what would happen if I didn’t. I’ve just become a cop.
It’s all I ever wanted to be. I didn’t want it to end before it even began—”
“You have no idea what you’ve done, kid. You have no idea how you’ve hurt your country. Get out of my sight.” Bauer turned his back on Helldorff. Fritz Gerlich was still too stunned to speak. Bauer walked to the back of the cell and placed his head against the wall.
“Maybe you’re right, Fritz,” he said. “Maybe it is over.”