On the morning of the twentieth, when his secretary Fraulein Ingebord Schermann came into his office, his desk was piled high with dossiers Kborrowed” from the French Deuxieme Bureau (analogous to the FBI).
These were to assist him in preparing his report to the Fuhrer on French perfidy.
What he was actually doing was reading a novel by the Viennese novelist Franz Schiller about a romance between an Austrian nobleman and a tubercular widow.
Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz’s secretary made him uncomfortable.
She was intense. Worse, fanatical.
Ingebord Schermann’s blond hair was parted in the middle, brushed tight against her skull, and then brought together in a tight bun at the base of her neck. What few words she uttered were delivered like orders, in a Hessian dialect even harsher than Obersturmbannfuhrer SS-SD Johann Muller’s.
Von Heurten-Mitnitz regarded Muller as the archetypal Hessian peasant, blunt, phlegmatic, practical, and dull. Like most Northern and Eastern Germans von Heurten-Mitnitz was convinced he spoke German, and that Middue–Hesse and the Ruhr–and Southern (Bavarian and Swabian) Germans spoke a vulgar patois only loosely based on that language.
Fraulein Schermann was a not unattractive woman of, he guessed, thirty or thirty-two. Her calves and ankles were a little thick–another Hessian peasant characteristic, von Heurten-Mitnitz thought–but she was not fat and really didn’t need the “foundation garment” that encased her body from just above her knees to just below her neck.
It was difficult for von Heurten-Mitnitz to imagine Fraulein Schermann in the throes of carnal passion, although he had caught himself more than once thinking about her breasts. As a young man, he had once had a fling with a peasant girl, a Silesian, whose breasts had been nearly as firm as her tail.
He suspected that in the unlikely event some young man got his hands on Fraulein Schermann’s breasts, he would find much the same thing.
Von Heurten-Mitnitz had not chosen Fraulein Schermann, she was thrust upon him.
“And I have just the girl for you, Helmut,” the Chief of the Foreign Responsibilities Division had told him. “Very efficient. Very dedicated.” There were three reasons why Fraulein Schermann was assigned to von Heurten-Mitnitz The first was innocent coincidence, She was available for assignment when his need came up. Second, Fraulein Schermann’s dedication translated to mean she was an informer for the Gestapo or the SD.
There was no reason he should be under suspicion, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t being watched on general panciples. Third, Fraulein Schermann had made someone else in the Foreign Ministry as uncomfortable as she made him, and she had been gotten Ad of as tactfusy as possible.
Von Heurten-Mitnitz looked up from his carefully hidden behind paperwork novel while Fraulein Schermann delivered in the tones of a Feldwebel (Sergeant) with two long service medals the announcement that’obersturmbannfuhrer SS-SD Johann Muller wishes to see the Herr Minister.”
“Would you ask the Obersturmbannfuhrer to come in, please, Fraulein Schermann?” Fraulein Schermann nodded her head, just once, an almost mechanical movement.
“Jawohl, Herr Minister,” she said.
Muller marched into the office. He was wearing a black overcoat that reached almost to his ankles. There was a leather belt around the coat, from which hung a closed pistol holster.
KHEIL Hitler!” Muller barked and gave the straight-armed salute.
KHEIL Hitler!” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “I’m pleased that you could fit me into your schedule, Obersturmbannfuhrer.” KIT is my honor, Herr Minister,” Muller said.
“I have taken the liberty of reserving a table at the Adlon,” von Heurtenmitnitz said. “Is that all right with you?”
“The Herr Minister is most kind,” Muller said.
“It was good of you to give me a ride,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
“Just let me get my coat and hat.” He had not quite reached the bentwood coat rack when Fraulein Schermann appeared, snatched the coat from the hook, and held it out for him.
As he was shrugging into it, she handed him his hat.
“Obersturmbannfuhrer Muller and I will be taking lunch at the Adllon, Fraulein Schermann,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “If there are any important calls for the Obersturmbannfuhrer or myself, please be good enough to transfer them.”
“Jawohl, Herr Minister.” Muller’s car, an unmarked Opel Kapitan, was parked in front of the Foreign Ministry.