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“That certainly played a part, but I think it’s also likely that a substantial portion of German Aryans decided, ‘Well, those sort of people are corrupting German purity, such as my own, and deserve what they’re getting.’”

“That’s a hell of an accusation,” Cronley said.

“Unfortunately, it’s fair,” Cohen replied. “I’ve come to the conclusion that Himmler saw in the acceptance of what he had done that he could do even more. And even more than he had been doing if he could give the German people, the Aryans, a moral justification for exterminating people. And the way to do that was to give them a new religion. Or at least one that had risen, phoenixlike, from long-forgotten German history.”

“And you think that’s happened?” Cronley asked softly.

“I think we’re further down that road than most people understand. That’s why what Jackson is doing is so important. Showing the German people what the extermination of inferior people was really like. Putting the movies of those stacks of dead bodies—only a little more than half of which were Jews—into evidence and showing that Göring and Kaltenbrunner, et al, were responsible.”

“Do you think he’s going to be able to do that?” Ziegler asked.

“The court is going to find them guilty, there’s little doubt about that. What I want to see is for the German people to see—to understand—that the swine hanging from the gallows were criminals, not disciples in a new religion that would have turned Germany into a Germanic Utopia had the evil Americans, French, English, and Russians not interfered.”

“And how are you going to do that, Colonel?” Janice asked.

She didn’t call him “Morty” or something else clever, Cronley thought. He’s gotten to her with this.

Hell, he’s gotten to me with this.

“I intend, Janice, to give you everything you need for your story. The more people who know about this, the better.”

“Including a tour of this Nazi Vatican?”

“Yes. As soon as that can be arranged.”

“That’s all?” Cronley asked.

“And, with your assistance, Captain Cronley—or my assistance to you—I intend to witness Odessa being not only brought down, but brought to floodlights before the German people.”

Boy, is he serious about that!

Cohen’s tone was changed when he went on.

“Not only have I given everyone something to think about, I hope—the lecture is over for the time being—but my stomach tells me it’s time to eat.”

He stood up as Ziegler distributed more beers.

“I thought you wanted to see the SIGABA device,” Cronley said.

“I guess that means my stomach will have to wait,” Cohen said. “Duty once again keeps me from what I’d rather do.”

VI

[ONE]

The Press Club Restaurant

Farber Palast

Stein, near Nuremberg

American Zone of Occupation, Germany

1825 21 February 1946

It took two white-jacketed waiters about five minutes to locate two oblong—as opposed to round—tables and then move them to a suitable area, join them, and then lay a tablecloth and other accoutrements on it.

Finally, everyone sat down. The waiters presented menus.