Kappler gestured toward the other seat at the wrought-iron table and said, “Please join me. Coffee? A pastry perhaps? Being so close to the office, I do happen to come here regularly. It is most excellent.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine,” Beck said.
Kappler sipped at his coffee as he let his eyes wander across the piazza. He then found another two young women, well built and in tight clothing, and watched as they approached then passed the café.
Picking up on what Kappler was following, Beck offered, “You know, you’d have far more luck with the locals if you lost that SS uniform.”
Kappler’s eyes darted back to Beck, who he saw was smiling.
Am I being tested?
“You would think for all we’re doing for them,” Kappler said, “they could be more appreciative of a man in uniform. They should be grateful. Throwing themselves at us would be a nice start.”
Beck met his eyes, and with dripping sarcasm said, “And by that you would mean showering them with the fine ideals of Der Führer and the Thousand-Year Reich? Surely they must be giddy with anticipation to die for a lost cause.”
He believes as I do!
Or . . . is that part of the test?
“That is quite a bold statement to make to an officer of the SS,” Kappler said evenly.
Beck shrugged. “Not just any SS officer.”
What does he mean by that?
Beck looked at Kappler for a long moment and said, “I appreciate you taking time to meet with me.”
Kappler glanced across the busy Piazza Salvatore. It was two blocks up from the port and offered a stunning view of the Mediterrean Sea. Café Alessandro was one of four restaurants on the piazza. And around the corner was the Schutzstaffel Provisional Headquarters.
Kappler then said: “You chose a rather conspicuous place to meet, wouldn’t you say? My office is a block away.”
Even the Gestapo’s thugs could stumble across us here—and probably have.
“Yes,” Beck said, “I would agree that it is quite conspicuous.”
“And you’re not worried what someone might think? Or say?”
“Someone?”
Kappler smiled. He grabbed both lapels of his tunic and tugged at them in an exaggerated fashion.
“Of all people,” he said, “I would expect that someone in your line of work would have noticed there are quite a number more of these around town.”
“Ah, yes. And I have. But if we have nothing to hide, why should we hide? Should anyone ask, I can say that I’m making a simple professional courtesy call as the new head of the Trade Ministry.”
Kappler grunted.
But we are hiding something . . . perhaps our allegiance?
And here is my test, Herr Beck.
He said, “While that of course is a quite logical line of thought, I’m afraid to say that it cannot be applied to the SS. They can be irrational, and they project the same on others.”
“‘They’?” Beck repeated.
“They,” Kappler confirmed.
“So, then everyone is an enemy of the Reich until proven otherwise?”