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44 |Central Records Berlin, Nazi Germany
Hoffman entered the main lobby of Central Records, tucking his hat under his arm as he strode toward reception, his crisp black uniform sending any civilians in his path scurrying out of his way, sending a surge of energy through his system.
He loved the fear in their eyes.
It meant power.
And power was intoxicating. Addicting. And every chance he had to exercise it, it left him craving more. With each promotion, with each rung of the ladder he managed to climb, he gained more of what he sought, and realized why those in command had created the system they had.
They were drunk on the power.
And he wanted in.
Someday, he would be a colonel like Konrad, perhaps even a general like Graf. Dare he dream of being a Reichsführer like Himmler himself?
The power would be godlike. Men like the Führer, like Himmler, like Göring, like Goebbels. They were demigods that walked the face of the earth, the power they wielded unlike anything before seen by mankind.
It had to go to one’s head.
Every morning when he put on his uniform and stared at himself in the mirror, he felt the adrenaline rush, he felt the pride surge. He could accomplish anything with this uniform, with the SS emblazoned on his collar, a symbol so misunderstood by so many, for they weren’t the letter S at all, but Armanen Runes, the single lightning bolt representing the letter S in the 18 character alphabet handed down by the Norse God Odin, and the symbol for Victory. Their use now was so tied to the SS, so ingrained in German society, that even modern typewriters had been modified to add a key for the double lightning bolts so the proper honor could be afforded them, rather than the incorrect letter S being typed twice.
He loved his life.
He loved his Reich.
And he loved to serve.
Loyalty was everything, whether to the Party, the SS, the Reich, or to his commanding officer. Colonel Konrad was a fine commander, and he would do his utmost to serve him and serve him well.
That was why he was here, now, wasting his time picking up something that should be delivered, for he didn’t trust anyone here to treat the matter with the attention it was due.
“Can I help you, Captain?”
“Hoffman. Here to see Zimmer.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“He better be.”
The woman blanched slightly. “One moment, please.” She picked up her phone and after a few moments of whispering, she hung up. She pointed to a set of stairs to her left. “Top of the stairs, your first left. Room two-oh-four.”
He bowed his head crisply and snapped his heels together, then headed up the stairs. He found 204 and opened the door without knocking, startling the man inside, his eyes widening with fear at the sight of the Hugo Boss produced uniform.
“Are you Zimmer?”
“Y-yes. You must be Captain Hoffman.” The portly, sweaty man rose, wiping his brow with his hand then extending it for a handshake. Hoffman eyed it with disdain, the hand slowly retreating for a wipe against a pantleg. “I’m sorry.” He grabbed two files from his desk. “I had copies made for you.” He handed them over. “These are the two individuals in question. We’re still trying to figure out what’s going on.”
Hoffman flipped through the pages of both files. “It would appear one was identified through fingerprints provided by a medical examiner, and the other by identity papers found on the body of a victim from the air raid last night?”
“Yes.”
“Then isn’t it obvious which one is the real Corporal Griese?”
Zimmer’s eyes widened. “Oh, of course! It’s obviously the one with the matching fingerprints.”
“Then why the delay in officially notifying his commanding officer?”
Zimmer paled. “I’m sorry about that. Policy states situations like this must be resolved before any notification is made.”
Hoffman frowned. “Then your policy is flawed.”
“Of-of course it is.” Zimmer paused. “Umm, will you be notifying his commanding officer, or should we?”
Hoffman shook his head in disgust. “I will be notifying Colonel Konrad, however you must properly notify the chain of command immediately that Corporal Griese is deceased. As to the other man, I couldn’t care less about him.”
“V-very well.”
Hoffman headed for the door when Zimmer cleared his throat. “You said Colonel Konrad was his commanding officer?”
“Yes.”
“It-it could be just a coincidence, but we had a request come in just a short while ago from the Kripo.”
Hoffman turned. “What sort of request?”
“They wanted us to run the names Frida Konrad and Frida Baum.”
“Baum?”
“Apparently Colonel Konrad’s wife’s maiden name.”
Hoffman kept his expression emotionless. “And the Kripo requested this?”
“Yes. Urgently.”
“Have you found anything yet?”
“No, but we’re working on it.”
“Keep me informed.” He stared at Zimmer. “And tell no one that you told me.”
“Y-yes, sir.”