Free The German Suitcase by Greg Dinallo Page B

fireplace, contemplating his father’s words; then flicked his cigarette into the flames. “Eva’s beautiful and smart. Every guy in school’s interested in her. But would Jake sacrifice himself and Eva too? Does that make sense? He’s got more personal integrity than anyone I know. It had to be someone else, someone at school, someone who saw us in a cafe, someone in Eva’s building.”
    “Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” Konrad Kleist conceded, softly. “Someone who was in trouble with the SS; who traded you for themselves or a family member. The problem is, our support for the resistance has been possible only because it’s been anonymous. We survived the White Rose tragedy, and so far so good with Red Orchestra; but this…” he paused, taking a moment to assess the consequences.
    Red Orchestra was a network of anti-Nazi citizens from across Germany’s social, political and religious spectrum who helped to rescue Jews and others marked for death; and sought ways to turn the depressed German populace against the Führer whose raging propaganda speeches had restored their self-esteem and convinced them Germany had reclaimed its rightful place in the hierarchy of nations.
    “…but this—” the elder Kleist resumed, deciding brutal honesty would serve him best, “—this endangers everything!”
    Max was visibly stung. “I’m sorry. As I said, I did everything possible to protect you, and this family; and I’ll continue to do so.”
    “It’s not that simple, Max. You see, I’m not one person. I’m three,” his father said enigmatically. “Yes, there are three Konrad Kleists: A German patriot who was horrified when this evil fanatic came to power; a traitor who is doing all he can to destroy him; and a war profiteer whose company the Führer holds in high regard.” He gestured to a wall of framed photographs. Among them were: Konrad Kleist with German business executives and industrialists. Kleist with European political leaders. The Kleists and their two young children at the Vatican with Pius XI and Munich’s Cardinal von Faulhaber an ardent supporter of the Führer. The Pontiff—who abhorred the Nazis but thought Communism to be a greater evil—was presenting the Kleists with medals commemorating the martyrdom of St. Thomas More, the English statesman and humanist whom he had canonized four centuries after his beheading in 1535 by order of Henry VIII.
    The photograph Max was staring at, now, was of two men shaking hands in front of a blast furnace from which molten steel was pouring. One of them was his father. The other was Adolph Hitler. “I’ve always been proud of you, Dad,” Max said with an impish grin. “Almost every last one of you.”
    Konrad Kleist raised an amused brow. “You’d be wise to keep your pride in check. Though your ancestors began as humble blacksmiths, the company they founded manufactures armor plate, weapons-grade bar stock, and steel sheeting able to withstand crushing ocean depths, not to mention the finest barbed-wire made in Germany. You see the dichotomy here?”
    Max nodded grimly, then broke into an amused smile. “Though I do vaguely recall rumors that the armor plate seems a little less impenetrable as of late; the bar stock not quite weapons grade; the steel sheeting not up to crush depth specifications…”
    A Cheshire grin tugged at the corners of Konrad Kleist’s mouth. “Really? And lo and behold the war will soon be lost; after which, all three of me plan to live a long and happy life with your mother, your sister and you…and your families, of course.”
    “I’ve no doubt of it,” his wife said with heartfelt conviction. “Germany will once again become a humane and civilized nation where science, music, literature and art flourish.” She stood and touched her son’s cheek, tenderly. “You’re in love with this girl, Eva?”
    “Yes, Mother, I am. Deeply. She’s a very special person, not to mention a bright and caring