The Soldier Spies (Men at War 3)

“I think if it was stolen, Josef,” the security officer said sarcastically,“they probably would have said something. Müller is with the Führer at Wolf’s Lair. Nobody takes a personal car there. So maybe he loaned it to von Heurten-Mitnitz. ”

“Have you seen this von Heurten-Mitnitz? What’s he look like?”

“Tall, thin, sharp-featured. Classy dresser. If you’re thinking, Josef, of asking von Heurten-Mitnitz what he’s doing with Müller’s car, I wouldn’t.”

“I’m thinking of finding the new First Secretary when he comes back and telling him that if he will be so good, when he leaves his car at the station, as to tell us, we will do our very best to make sure some Hungarian doesn’t piss on his engine or write a dirty word on the hood with a pocket-knife. ”

The security officer chuckled. “You’re learning, Josef,” he said, and then hung up.

Josef Hamm and two of his men were waiting at the end of the platform when the train from Vienna pulled in. The two men positioned themselves at opposite ends of the three first-class cars, and, when one of them spotted a “tall, sharp-featured, classy dresser” getting off, he signaled to Josef Hamm by taking off his hat and waving it over his head, as if waving at someone who had come to meet him at the train.

Hamm saw that Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz was indeed a classy dresser. He wore a gray homburg and an overcoat with a fur collar. With him were three people, an Obersturmführer-SS and a man and woman who looked like father and daughter.

When they had almost reached the police checkpoint at the end of the platform, Hamm walked around it and up to von Heurten-Mitnitz.

“Heil Hitler!” Hamm said, giving a quick, straight-armed salute. Von Heurten-Mitnitz made a casual wave in return.

“Herr Brigadeführer von Heurten

-Mitnitz?” Hamm asked.

“Yes,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said, but he did not smile.

“Josef Hamm at your service, Herr Brigadeführer,” he said. “I have the honor to command the Railway Detachment, Gestapo District Budapest. ”

“What can I do for you, Herr Hamm?” von Heurten-Mitnitz asked, obviously annoyed to be detained.

“First, let me get you past the checkpoint,” Hamm said.

“This officer and these people are with me,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

The young SS officer raised his hand in a sloppy salute.

“Make way for the Brigadeführer and his party!” Hamm called out as he led them to and past the checkpoint.

“Very kind of you,” von Heurten-Mitnitz mumbled. “Now, what’s on your mind?”

“Herr Brigadeführer,” Hamm began,“If you would be so kind as to notify one of my men whenever you park your car here at the station—”

“Why would I want to do that?” von Heurten-Mitnitz interrupted.

“—I can make sure that no one bothers it while you are gone.”

Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz looked at Hamm without speaking, but a raised eyebrow asked, What the hell are you talking about?

“There have been unfortunate incidents, Herr Brigadeführer,” Hamm explained, “where cars have been… defiled… by unsavory elements among the Budapest population. Paint scratched. Worse.”

Von Heurten-Mitnitz seemed to consider this a moment, and then he smiled.

“I believe I am beginning to understand,” he said. “You saw my car parked, and took the trouble to find out whose it was, and then to meet me. How very obliging of you, Herr Hamm! I am most grateful.”

“It was my pleasure, Herr Brigadeführer,” Hamm said.

“You can do me one other courtesy,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “Please do not use my SS rank when addressing me. The less well known it is in Budapest the better, if you take my meaning. I also hold the rank of Minister.”

“That was thoughtless of me, Herr Minister,” Hamm said. “I beg the Herr Minister’s pardon.”

“Don’t be silly, my dear Hamm,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “How could you have known?”