Winter of the World by Ken Follett Read Free Book Online Page A

force. Macke thought that was a good idea.
    Meanwhile, he failed to find Robert von Ulrich in any of the regular files. Perhaps that was not merely a sign of inefficiency. The man might be blameless. As an Austrian count, he was unlikely
to be a Communist or a Jew. It seemed the worst that could be said of him was that his cousin Walter was a Social Democrat. That was not a crime – not yet.
    Macke now realized that he should have done this research before approaching the man. But he had gone ahead without full information. He might have known that was a mistake. In consequence, he
had been forced to submit to condescension and sarcasm. He had felt humiliated. But he would get his own back.
    He began to go through miscellaneous papers in a dusty cupboard at the back of the room.
    The name of von Ulrich did not appear here either, but there was one document missing.
    According to the list pinned to the inside of the cupboard door, there should have been a file of 117 pages entitled ‘Vice Establishments’. It sounded like a survey of Berlin’s
nightclubs. Macke could guess why it was not here. It must have been in use recently: all the more decadent night spots had been closed down when Hitler became chancellor.
    Macke went back upstairs. Kringelein was briefing uniformed police who were to raid the updated addresses Macke had provided of Communists and their allies.
    Macke did not hesitate to interrupt his boss. Kringelein was not a Nazi, and would therefore be afraid to reprimand a Storm trooper. Macke said: ‘I’m looking for the Vice
Establishments file.’
    Kringelein looked annoyed but made no protest. ‘On the side table,’ he said. ‘Help yourself.’
    Macke took the file and returned to his own room.
    The survey was five years old. It detailed the clubs then in existence and stated what activities went on in them: gambling, indecent displays, prostitution, sale of drugs, homosexuality and
other depravities. The file named owners and investors, club members and employees. Macke patiently read each entry: perhaps Robert von Ulrich was a drug addict or a user of whores.
    Berlin was famous for its homosexual clubs. Macke ploughed through the dreary entry on the Pink Slipper, where men danced with men and the floor show featured transvestite singers. Sometimes, he
thought, his work was disgusting.
    He ran his finger down the list of members, and found Robert von Ulrich.
    He gave a sigh of satisfaction.
    Looking farther down, he saw the name of Jörg Schleicher.
    ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘Let’s see how sarcastic you are now.’
    (iv)
    The next time Lloyd saw Walter and Maud he found them angrier – and more scared.
    It was the following Saturday, 4 March, the day before the election. Lloyd and Ethel were planning to attend a Social Democratic Party rally organized by Walter, and they went to the von
Ulrichs’ home in Mitte for lunch beforehand.
    It was a nineteenth-century house with spacious rooms and large windows, though much of the furniture was worn. The lunch was plain, pork chops with potatoes and cabbage, but there was good wine
with it. Walter and Maud talked as if they were poor, and no doubt they were living more simply than their parents had but, all the same, they were not going hungry.
    However they were frightened.
    But had persuaded Germany’s aging President, Paul von Hindenburg, to approve the Reichstag Fire Decree, which gave the Nazis authority for what they were already doing, beating and
torturing their political opponents. ‘Twenty thousand people have been arrested since Monday night!’ Walter said, his voice shaking. ‘Not just Communists, but people the Nazis
call “Communist sympathizers”.’
    ‘Which means anyone they dislike,’ said Maud.
    Ethel said: ‘How can there be a democratic election now?’
    ‘We must do our best,’ Walter said. ‘If we don’t campaign, it will only help the Nazis.’
    Lloyd said impatiently: ‘When will you stop accepting this