Chapter 31

I landed in Munich as the sun set. Frick met me at the airport. I gave him specific instructions of what I wanted him to do after he left me in front of Maurice’s building. Before entering, I counted the floors until I located Emil’s windows. The lights were out. I took the steps, two at a time, and was huffing by the time I knocked on his apartment door. Nothing stirred. I knocked again. This time I heard scuffling feet.

I moved back certain Emil would crack open the door with a gun in hand. I called out. “It’s me, Emil.”

“Friedrich?”

“Open the door.” The lock snicked and the door edged open enough for me to see a gun and the face of a haggard man with bloodshot eyes.

“Go away. If you’re here to talk me into dropping the suit, you’re too late. We go before the judge tomorrow and then everyone will know the truth.”

He moved to close the door; my foot blocked it. “Emil, let me in. We can’t talk standing in the hall.”

“Shit we can’t! I’ve got nothing to say to you.” But he opened the door anyway. I ignored the gun and stepped inside. I knew every stitch of his three-bedroom apartment from past adventures. We sat at the kitchen table.

“First off, Emil,” I pointed to a wooden chest, “put the gun in the cabinet.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’m going to shove it up your ass and pull the trigger.”

The clicking of a clock grew louder. It was tense until he gave a familiar laugh, stashed the gun, and returned with a bottle. We each gulped down a shot. He refilled our glasses before either of us spoke. “You wasted your time coming here. I’m not going to change my mind.”

“You have every right to sue Wolf. In fact, I don’t blame you. As a matter of fact, I would’ve done the same thing.”

He tipped his glass. “No one has been on my side since this started.”

I shifted. The chair groaned from my weight. “I said I don’t blame you. I didn’t say it’s the right thing to do. As a matter of fact, it is as far from the right thing to do as you can get.”

“Wolf didn’t give me a choice, Friedrich. He forbade me to see Geli. No one has the right to get in the way of our love.”

“The deal was for you to be engaged and get married in two years. After that, you could fuck all you want.”

Emil fingered the glass rim, making it squeal. “You don’t get it, Friedrich. No one does.”

“Then enlighten me. I need to understand why you broke the deal knowing it would hurt him and kill the party.”

“A deal to keep us out of bed for two years? That was bullshit. Wolf set me up to fail by making the terms impossible. It was just a matter of time before I caved. When that happened, I was out and he had Geli all for himself.”

I emptied my glass. “You tickle me. When did you ever love a woman, Emil? As for getting laid, that was never a problem for you. You were the shill who got girls for all of us.”

“You’ve been gone a long time, Friedrich. I’ve changed. I love Geli.”

“You can’t convince me of that, Emil. You wanted Geli because you could . . . and show Wolf up at the same time.”

“You don’t believe me? Wait here. You need to read the letter Hitler forced Geli to write me, so you can see how ridiculous this is.”

Emil bolted out of his chair and went to his bedroom. I could hear him rummage through a drawer. As I waited, I noticed a picture on a side table of Emil and Geli skiing.

He stomped back and shoved a letter written on blue stationery in my hand. “Read this.”

I scanned to the bottom; it was from Geli.

24 December 1927

My Dear Emil!

The postman has already brought me three letters from you, but never have I been so happy as I was over the last. Perhaps there is a reason for all the suffering we have endured in the last few days . . . Uncle Adolf is insisting that we should wait two years. Think of it, Emil, two whole years of only being able to kiss each other now and then and always having Uncle Adolf in charge. I can only give you my love and be unconditionally faithful to you. I love you so infinitely much. Uncle Adolf insists that I should go on with my studies . . . Uncle A is now very nice. I would like to give him great pleasure, but do not know with what . . . But Uncle A says our love must be kept a complete secret . . . we will see each other often, and be alone, too. Uncle A has promised me. He is so sweet . . .

“Emil, how is this unreasonable? It says as plain as day, wait two years and Geli is yours.”

“It was an impossible challenge, and you know it. So I said the hell with that. She loves me with all of her heart, Friedrich. Read the rest of her letter.”

You must work to make a living for both of us and we can only see each other in the presence of others, and besides . . . I will give you my love and be faithful to you unconditionally . . . I love you so much!

Geli

“You would’ve done the same thing, so how can you blame me? A month after this letter, he tossed me out.”

“What’s so difficult to understand? He’s the protective uncle looking after his niece.”

“You’re talking to me, Friedrich. Not some goat herder. There is a reason good old Uncle Alf is called Wolf. We both know he wants her for himself.”

The whiskey was dulling my resolve. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

“What do you mean? I go to court, explain my case to the judge, tell him how I was fired in a fit of jealousy . . . and see how much money I’m awarded. The party owes me three thousand Reichsmarks.”

“Do you really want to do this?”

“Wolf is a bully. He needs to know that he can’t get away with this. Besides, I need the money.”

“And you think that you—Emil Maurice—are the one to teach Adolf Hitler that lesson? More than sully him, you could bring down the whole party. Do you really want that? Destroy our ten years of struggle?”

Emil shrugged.

I took a last stab. “You should know that I’m the one who convinced Wolf to let you and Geli get engaged. Walter Buch had to be stopped from sniffing around Wolf’s sex life. Even Hans Frank couldn’t sway him. Your engagement was needed to prove that Wolf wasn’t doing his niece so Buch would close the case.”

“I’m not stupid, Friedrich. I understand the logic behind this. To the outside world, our engagement portrayed Wolf as the kindly, caring uncle. The reality, however, is that it handed Geli to Wolf while it froze me out.”

I squared to face him, forcing him to focus. “Listen carefully, Emil. I can’t let you go into that courtroom tomorrow and make a mockery of Wolf and the party.” When I was certain I had his attention, I asked, “What will it take to get you to back off?”

“We’re beyond deal making, Friedrich. This is a matter of principle.”

I tapped the table twice with my knuckles. “Principle has a price tag. What’s yours?”

He downed his glass and refilled it again. He studied me over the rim as he took another sip. “Are you authorized to negotiate with me?”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Twenty thousand Reichsmarks.”

“First offers are never the final offer. I expect you can go higher.”

“That’s the only offer.”

“If I don’t take it?”

I pointed to the window. “Take a look.”

Emil staggered to the window, brushed back the curtain, and leaned against the frame. Below were three cars, each surrounded by five Brownshirts. Frick had carried out my instructions to a T. Emil let the curtain fall. “Why bother offering any money? There are enough men there to convince me to drop the case.”

“We both know Wolf takes care of his Alte Kämpfer. The three of us go back a long way.”

“The Boss will never forgive me for taking up with Geli.” Emil was no longer steady. He wobbled to the chair. His voice became a whisper. “What do you want me to do tomorrow?”

I remained standing, peering down at him. “Go to the courthouse. Say as little as possible. I will have Hans Frank take care of everything. Leave after the verdict is rendered, and don’t speak to anyone.”

He looked up at me. “For twenty thousand Reichsmarks? That will not be a problem. I assume I also get to keep what the court gives?”

Good old Emil.

I knelt down until we were eye-to-eye. “But you can never see Geli again.”

“Even if I agreed to that,” Emil gave a sly smile, “I can’t be faulted if she shows up at my door one night. She does that now, you know.”

I seized his arm; he winced in pain. “If that ever happens, your next visitor will be me.”

He struggled to free his arm. “Okay. Okay. It won’t happen.”

I squeezed harder before I released it. “I’m glad you came to your senses. I will be there tomorrow as a reminder.”

He tried to stand but fell back into his chair. I helped him up. We embraced. I held him a beat longer, uncertain when—or if—I would see him again after tomorrow.

We broke without another word. I made my way to the elevator, when Emil called out. “Just so you know, everyone thinks he broke off from Maria Reiter because of the blackmail letters. Everyone has overlooked that Wolf was two-timing Maria with his niece.”

I stopped short and spun around. “You’re telling me that Wolf was fucking Geli at the same time he was doing Reiter?”

“Geli was living with him, wasn’t she?”

Emil gave a big grin as he held onto the door for support. Even in his stupor, he planted a seed of doubt to the point that I didn’t know what to believe.

“Emil,” I said, holding out my hand, “let me have the Geli letter . . . I will make a copy, and you’ll get it back after tomorrow.”

Back on the street, I ordered the men into the cars. Before we pulled away, I looked up; Emil was at his window. I waved. Emil waved back. Who would have thought—ten years ago—that we three comrades would come to this!

The driver dropped me off in front of Thierschstrasse 41. Before tackling the stairs to see Wolf, I considered the building next to his—Thierschstrasse 43—where Frick said Wolf rented a more spacious and suitable apartment for Geli.

During the ride, I reflected on what to say and how best to say it. I knocked and was surprised that he opened the door without asking who it was. When he saw it was me, he gave a broad smile and welcomed me inside. We took our usual places: me on his lone chair, he at the edge of his bed. Hitler made it easy by starting with small talk.

“Friedrichen . . . how is Berlin these days?”

“I have a job scoring movies and am living with a wonderful woman.” Wolf loved movies. It was a surefire way to engage him rather than start with Emil and Geli. Of course, knowing his far reach—and in particular his love of films—I was sure he knew about Lilian and me. His next comment proved me correct.

“Fräulein Harvey is a wonderful actress. Too thin for my taste. I read that soon all pictures in the United States will be talkies. When will our German studios embrace this new technology?” Before I could answer, he continued. “I spoke to Goebbels about making talking movies for us. We will use Fräulein Harvey to explain why the NSDAP is so special.” Then he waved a finger. “Be careful of Goebbels. He can’t keep his hands off the women who work for him.”

I mumbled something about how she would be honored to help . . . knowing it would never happen. Then I asked, “How much longer do you plan to stay in this apartment? Years ago we discussed you moving to a nicer place.”

Wolf was enthused. “I have finally acquiesced. Next year I move to a luxury, nine room apartment. Number sixteen Prinzegentenplatz.” Then he turned serious. “But you’re not here to discuss my living conditions.”

“I have just come from Emil.”

“Frick mentioned something about that.” Typical Wolf. Asking questions when he already knew the answers. I was in no mood to make this easy. I said nothing, forcing him to ask. “What was his response?”

“Emil agreed to take money and not make waves in court. He does not want to hurt you or the party.”

“He already has. That cannot be undone.”

“On the contrary, after tomorrow it will all disappear. When historians write our story, the episode of him suing you will barely rate a footnote.”

“Frick, Amann, and Frank have each advised me to avoid bad publicity at any cost. When I told Goebbels what they said, he said . . . ”

“I know. Goebbels believes that all publicity is good publicity. Wolf, that doesn’t apply to you. In this case, Frick, Amann, and Frank are all correct. Bad publicity is bad publicity. Take comfort knowing that Emil will no longer make trouble for you.”

“How much did he agree to take to make this go away?”

“Twenty thousand RM plus whatever the judge awards him tomorrow. It will be enough for Emil to open the watch shop he always wanted.”

“And Geli?”

“He promised to leave her alone forever.”

Wolf was more interested in this last condition of the deal. “Why should I believe him, Friedrich? He promised to refrain from physical contact last time, and broke that within weeks. Maybe even days. What’s different this time?”

“Emil has had time to reflect on what he’s done to you. He could not be sorrier. What touched him was when I reminded him of the old days, when the three of us spent time together. I am certain he will adhere to all conditions, including never seeing Geli again.” My statement about Emil’s remorse was bullshit, but it satisfied him.

“If you’re satisfied, Friedrich, then I am, too. Party Treasurer Schwarz will deliver the funds to Frick. Wilhelm will pay Emil once he signs the proper papers.”

*

The court appearance was pro forma. In addition to the twenty thousand RM from the party, the judge awarded Emil five hundred RM. Emil added one condition: he demanded a letter of recommendation from Hitler. He needed this safeguard should he ever seek new employment. Hitler agreed to write one.

This scandal was now behind us . . . or so I thought. And I never expected to see my old comrade again. But, once again, I proved to be a poor soothsayer.

*

It was twilight when I returned to Berlin. Lilian was preparing for the next day’s shoot. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“I told you I would return as soon as possible. Only away one night.”

“How did it feel sleeping alone?” she asked.

“I hated every minute away from you.”

“Me, too.” Lilian grabbed my hand and helped me undress. When we slipped into bed, she asked, “Did you accomplish everything you set out to do? I am not prepared to spare you anytime soon . . . no matter what the issue.”

“It was a small matter between party members. They were two children fighting over the same toy. It’s settled now.”

*

I completed the score for Homecoming by early May. As we approached a national election, Goebbels asked if I could get one of the film company’s artists to make posters for the party. After being rejected a number of times, I found one artist who would create a series of posters for twenty-five RM. No matter. The elections of 1928 recorded that the NSDAP was trounced, relegated to the fringes of politics where nuisance parties dwell in near-oblivion.

The morning after the election, Lilian and I read the papers over coffee when she said, “I guess this is the end of your little party.”

By any measure, this election should have signaled the death knell for any party with such a poor showing. Out of 491 Reichstag seats, the Nazis garnered twelve, a drop from the thirty-two seats we won four years earlier.

We just lost two-thirds of our strength. Feder, Goebbels, Frick, and Gregor Strasser were elected as deputies to the Reichstag. One name I did not expect to see among the winners was Hermann Göring’s. Like a phoenix, Göring rose from the ashes of an insane asylum in Sweden to win a seat in the Reichstag. All things considered, Lilian was right: the future of our party was bleak at best.

I lowered my newspaper. “I told you months ago that if Germany continued to prosper, right wing parties would become less relevant.”

Her smile turned to a frown. “What concerns me is that no party in the Reichstag has a clear majority. Until one does, even a minor party like the NSDAP could linger on. Still . . .” she could not help but gloat, “your party’s prospects do look dismal.”

“It does appear that way, doesn’t it? But Wolf is no quitter. I know the man. The bigger the challenge, the more resilient he becomes.”