The Twisted Patriot Read online

  “I’m serious, Eric. Things such as the imminence of war make people do crazy things, like the pilots in the First World War were renowned for marrying even though their chances of coming back were low. At least they reasoned there is something worth returning to and so it will be this time round . . . mind you, those marriages of the pilots who survived didn’t last too long once the war was over,” she retorted.

  “Quite. That says it all but I’ll grant you this, you would be worth thinking about, were I to be standing on some foreign field surveying death and destruction,” he grinned and winked at her.

  She blushed and felt herself going to jelly, glad that she was sitting down because now she realized that the game was on and very soon she would be able to relay some good news to her parents.

  Goebbels could go to hell because there would be nothing he could do to stop them from marrying with Goering and von Ribbentrop blessing their union and that would be some form of revenge and protection for her and in this cursed state that was as much as one could hope for.

  “Let there be joy before the horror, eh!” said Eric as he held out his hand and she took it stroking it gently.

  *

  “Dry martini, please, Kessler, stirred not shaken,” Sebastian said.

  Kessler strutted off to find some minion to bring the drink to the Englishman, whose overbearing attitude to him was stretching his patience to the limit.

  Sebastian was waiting for Eric but his tardiness had become commonplace in the past three weeks as he tried to share his time as evenly as possible between him, Henrietta and of course his army duties which had to take priority, given that a rare burst of optimism about there being no war had fast faded and more and more units were being sent away from Berlin to conduct warlike manoeuvres, although von Preetz would never speak about them, his patriotism taking priority over his friendship with Sebastian.

  However, it was Henrietta who had taken up most of his spare time, although the club was the only sanctuary where Sebastian could be alone with von Preetz as she refused to put her nose inside the place any more – she got her catch that night so she has no need of it again, mused Sebastian to himself.

  As he sipped the dry Martini he reflected on where exactly he was heading to as with war almost guaranteed it was not too bright a future for an Englishman in Berlin and while he enjoyed working in the bank and his trysts with Victoria, though she was beginning to really drive him crazy with her Nazi drivel, it was important to get back to England and join up because he wanted to be part of the action once it started.

  “Ah, there you are, Sebastian, dreaming as ever and caressing a cocktail, which I must say if you ever did that as often with women would never see you out of the bedroom!” came von Preetz’s voice from behind him, followed by his deep laughter which was normal for him as he always laughed at his own jokes.

  Von Preetz sat and beckoned Kessler over and ordered a bottle of champagne.

  “No Henrietta as usual, Eric?” enquired Sebastian.

  “Yes, I am afraid she has no inclination to come here ever since the night we met her. Strange, but she says it is more to do with Kessler than the place itself.”

  “That’s not so strange, given he is a most repugnant fellow, but at least it gives us a chance to see each other unencumbered by other company,” Sebastian replied.

  “Yes, quite. Anyway there is a matter I wanted to discuss with you on your own so it is just as well she is not here,” von Preetz said and raised his eyebrows.

  Sebastian gulped as he thought his affair with Victoria might have been uncovered which would place him in a tricky position.

  “Oh yes and what is that?” he smiled, although he couldn’t suppress his anxiety at being exposed.

  “Here, take a glass of champagne and let’s toast my impending marriage to Henrietta von Rieckenbach,” said von Preetz and raised his crystal flute.

  Sebastian felt elated, though it had little to do with his friend’s good news; he had little time for Henrietta whom he found to be pretty insipid company, but at not being uncovered as the man who had cuckolded Baron von Preetz.

  “Congratulations, old chap, that is fantastic news. Though don’t you think it is a bit quick?”

  “Well, our view is that with things so unpredictable at the moment why waste the opportunity. We share the same feelings on many subjects and should war come upon us soon, will I ever really have the time or the chance to enjoy what I am profiting from at the moment . . . why, I might be killed on the first day and what will I leave behind except a pair of grieving parents and some happy memories. No, I think, and Henrietta agrees, that we seize the moment so the marriage is to be in August and I would like you to be my best man, even if you are an Englishman!” he guffawed and drank his champagne in one go.

  “Well, I’m touched that you should ask me but I don’t think I can accept,” responded Stuart.

  “Really, why?” asked Eric who looked puzzled at his offer being declined.

  “Well, look at how it would appear that the son and daughter of two high-ranking Nazi officials ask an Englishman to be their best man when the two countries are likely to go to war at any moment. Either their fathers would be suspected of consorting with the enemy or I would be cast in the role of traitor back in England for agreeing to witness such a union.”

  Von Preetz grimaced on hearing the argument for the prosecution shrugged his shoulders and took a sharp intake of breath while running his fingers round the rim of his glass.

  “That is not why I asked you, Sebastian, and you bloody well know that. I asked you because I value your friendship and it will also send a message to those who are bent on draining Europe of its youth for the second time in twenty-odd years that friendship can stretch across borders, so please reconsider.”

  Sebastian thought, well, maybe he has a point and he was being neurotic about it.

  “Listen, Eric, I will think about it and give you a final answer soon.”

  “Good, that is better. However, as the wedding is to be in August I need one like tomorrow or the next day as Victoria needs help with the organizing and so long as you can put up with her mood swings it should work out fine.”

  Working alongside Victoria sounded a definite benefit, though not quite in the manner Eric thought, and how ironic that his stepmother and her lover should be linking up to organize his wedding with most of the arrangements being addressed from beneath his sheets – maybe, Sebastian surmised, we could christen their wedding-night sheets so there are no first night nerves from the devoted couple.

  Yes, he would accept, but he would keep von Preetz waiting for another day; it would serve him well, particularly with what awaited him when the war began.

  Von Preetz ordered another bottle and raised his glass in another toast.

  “Here’s to the soon to be disbanded Anglo-Germanic bachelors’ club,” he intoned with appropriate gravity.

  “Ah, Mr Stuart is leaving us?” asked Kessler who was still standing by their table.

  “No, Karl, though I dare say, given your patriotic nature it would not displease you if it was the case, but I am marrying Miss von Rieckenbach,” he replied.

  Kessler thought how appropriate the young pup should be panting after a woman of such dubious morals and if he only knew how she had behaved with the Reichsminister the first night they met he wouldn’t be so keen on marrying her but he decided let him find out for himself.

  “Congratulations, sir, that is wonderful news and hopefully this will mean your wife will return more often to the club.”

  “We shall see, Karl, but I have my doubts, as whatever happened that night has stopped her from ever coming here but you being the soul of discretion are not about to tell me and therefore we will leave the subject alone. Now please leave us as we have many matters to discuss and I am sure you have many guests who need your full attention,” and with that von Preetz dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

  No matter, Kessler thought as he we
nded his way through the tables to greet some new arrival, all they say will be digested later when he hands the daily tapes over to the Gestapo as he did every evening for he owed allegiance to no client except the glorious regime that had brought Germany back to its senses and would eventually reap its vengeance on snobs like von Preetz.

  *

  “Sebastian, let me introduce you to Count von Helldorf,” Victoria purred as the reception got into full swing following the seemingly interminable wedding service.

  Sebastian had to admit that Henrietta had been quite resplendent in her flowing white wedding dress topped off with a garland of red roses on her blonde-tressed hair while Eric had been a bag of nerves before she arrived with the sweat pouring off his lacquered blond hair onto the white collar of his shirt.

  Once into the service, though, he had visibly relaxed and when the three readings and the sermon delivered by Dahlem’s Lutheran pastor Dr Christoph von Bruggenheim had been got over with he had led his bride down the aisle with the broadest of smiles nodding to the 400 assembled guests with great ease.

  Sebastian had been awoken from his reverie where he had been recalling the glorious night of sex he had had with Victoria when she had dressed up in full SS Brigadeführer uniform – a present from a former lover she had told him – and he had been forced to allow her to manacle him to the bed while she then whipped him and then they made love with him still attached to the brass tops of the four poster bed.

  This had all come about as even on the eve of his only son’s wedding the Baron had been detained in all night session of a less physical nature with von Ribbentrop and, it was believed, Hitler himself.

  However, now that the first glass of champagne was downed – probably something recommended by the champagne salesman turned Germany’s foreign policy vendor –he could relax and survey the faces of what passed for the good and the great of the Reich, and Victoria was evidently intent on being his chaperone.

  He had heard a lot about von Helldorf, not least because he was one of the first of the old aristocracy to join Hitler and had been rewarded with the prize of becoming chief of Berlin’s police and instigators of several acts of violence against Jews, homosexuals and others cast in the role of enemies of the state.

  Sebastian had to admit that von Helldorf was an impressive looking man, thick salt and pepper hair slicked back over a large skull, striking black eyes, an aquiline nose and a full mouth with a strong chin.

  “Pleased to meet you, Count von Helldorf, I have heard a lot about you,” Sebastian smiled.

  “The pleasure is also mine, Herr Stuart. I, too, have heard a lot about the young English aristocrat living in Berlin,” replied von Helldorf, whose response, given his position, carried a more menacing tone to it than taken on face value.

  Sebastian swallowed and found his nerves were starting to rattle, leaving him with a dry throat at quite what this imposing and dangerous man in front of him had heard or perhaps even listened to. God, I would like a glass of champagne, he thought.

  “It was a lovely service, Count, wasn’t it? I thought the rendition by the choir of Kristallnacht was beautiful,” he said in the way of small talk before realizing he had made the most appalling gaffe.

  Von Helldorf stared at him with his black eyes gone cold as ice before correcting him.

  “I don’t think you meant Kristallnacht, Herr Stuart, surely you mean Stille Nacht,” he said coldly.

  “Er yes, how stupid of me. Sorry, I meant no offence,” replied Sebastian, who knew the state-organized mob violence on Jews and their property last November had been only able to pass because the Berlin police had stood idly by under orders not to interfere and which left them with 90 Jews’ blood on their hands.

  “Forgotten, Herr Stuart, though some indiscretion in this orderly world we live in is quite refreshing,” smiled von Helldorf, revealing almost impossibly perfect polished dentures.

  “Tell me, Stuart, I was wondering whether with your high standing in social circles in England if you have ever come across some friends of mine such as Lord and Lady Mustoe – whom I stayed with on a hunting trip to England – and the Amerys, whose son John is living here and appears to be a firm believer in our principles and cause?”

  Sebastian groaned to himself thinking even the well-born Nazis are obsessed with this idea they are well connected with the British aristocracy though the Mustoes were well known for their mediocrity and the husband was also linked to a certain strata who were supporters of Oswald Mosley leader of the Black Shirts known sympathizers of Hitler’s.

  As for John Amery, well Sebastian, had met him on several occasions since his arrival in Berlin and while friendship with Leo, his father, would have been something as he was one of Winston Churchill’s confidants and one of the most influential Conservative politicians, his son was quite another matter.

  Whenever Sebastian saw him he was usually drunk, sitting on his own at a table for around six people with just his teddy bear for company and having a conversation with him – normally when one could have a chat with Amery he resorted to even more vitriolic statements about the Jews than the Nazis.

  For Sebastian and Eric, he was one to be avoided or handled with great care as he had the tendency also to lash out when drunk and pressured into debating some of his odious views by someone – one night he had broken a bottle and slashed the face of a Wehrmacht colonel, who had objected to him declaring that all Jews should be castrated or sterilised at birth so as to save the world the trouble of dealing with them from now on.

  Amery faced no charges while the colonel, Claus Tritton, was deemed to have insulted a foreign guest of the country and was stripped of his rank and demoted to private.

  However, Sebastian erred on the side of caution following his unbelievable slip earlier and opted to maintain the delusion of the high-ranking Nazis that Amery junior could play an important role in their efforts at diplomacy between the two countries – not even the pacifistic Neville Chamberlain would be prepared to listen to the ramblings of an alcoholic who held conversations with his tatty teddy bear.

  “Yes, John, an amusing cove, don’t you think? Shame he couldn’t be here as he would have definitely ensured the drink flowed,” he commented.

  Von Helldorf laughed, though it sounded more like a bear growling.

  “So, Stuart, will you be staying on like John, or will it be adieu soon?” asked von Helldorf, though the emphasis placed on soon did not escape Sebastian.

  “No, I won’t be staying but it will be au revoir rather than adieu,” grinned Sebastian, impressed with his play on the two French terms for bidding goodbye – au revoir meaning they would be seeing each other again.

  “Ah, English humour so dry!” said von Helldorf, tipping his head back in another bearlike growl.

  “No doubt ‘Queen’ Victoria would like you to remain so you can fulfil being her Prince Consort, a changing of roles – last century she was English and her husband was German and now the roles are reversed – let’s hope if it should come to war then the result will be the opposite too,” he smiled though there was no warmth in the stare Sebastian received.

  Sebastian was under no illusions as to what this rather clumsy historical analogy was all about and wondered whether there was a personal element involved here rather than simple animosity between the English and the Germans – however he was on his own as Victoria was engaged with other guests so he could not count on her giving an appropriately tart response.

  “If I were you, Stuart, I would not waste your time hanging around here too much longer because there are people who might wish you harm and there are things going on outside the privileged surroundings you are living in that would not be to your taste,” von Helldorf said and as he finished his sentence he moved towards Stuart, closing out the bright sunshine blazing into the marquee leaving Sebastian with an even more isolated feeling.

  So close was he that Sebastian could smell his pleasant if over-ripe aftershave but he decided that he
would not be overwhelmed by this overbearing and threatening bully and stared him down.

  “The fact I am an Englishman and sleeping with someone else’s wife do not make them hanging offences, Count von Helldorf. We may be at war soon but for the moment I am a guest of your country, enjoying my time between school and university, and to threaten me in such a way is at best inhospitable and at worst the perfect image of the Nazi bully which a man of your upbringing should not have to resort to.”

  Von Helldorf nodded but inched closer and whispered in Sebastian’s ear. “If you want, I will show you what happens to those who raise their voices against the Reich and it will not be a return ticket.”

  With that, von Helldorf slapped him on the back, laughed and walked back to the throng of the good and the great.

  Sighting Victoria nowhere and cursing her for abandoning him with the thuggish Count, Sebastian retired to the bathroom in a cold sweat where he threw up what remained of his breakfast and sat on the floor realizing that departing for England could not be put off.

  He even considered skipping the speech and commandeering Jürgen, the von Preetzs’ chauffeur, to drive him to his apartment where he could pack and clear off on the evening train to Hamburg and thence by boat to England.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Sorry, I won’t be a minute,” he stammered.

  “Don’t worry, darling, it’s only me. I don’t need the bathroom; all I want is for you to let me in, as I am feeling ravenous like a wolverine,” came Victoria’s catlike voice from the other side.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea, Victoria, as your presence will surely be missed?” he replied, paranoid that von Helldorf would follow her and report back to her husband.

  “Don’t worry, darling, my husband is heavily engaged with some Foreign Ministry lackey and such are my needs I require instant gratification. I promise you will feel in heaven and it will relax you for your speech, call it my type of speech therapy!” she giggled.