“What’s happened?” Hitler called.
Ernst replied, “This man is an American diplomat. He tells me there’s a Russian out there with a rifle. In one of the supply sheds south of the stadium.”
Himmler nodded to a guard. “Get some men in here now! And assemble a detachment downstairs.”
“Yes, my Police Chief.”
Ernst explained about Taggert, and the German leader approached the American, who was nearly breathless with excitement to be in Hitler’s presence. The man was short, about the same height as Taggert, but broader of body and with thicker features. A stern frown filled his wan face and he examined the American’s papers carefully. The eyes of the dictator of Germany were surrounded by drooping lids above and bags below but they themselves were every bit the pale but piercing blue that he’d heard of. This man could mesmerize anyone, Taggert thought, feeling this force himself.
“Please, my Leader, may I see?” Himmler asked. Hitler handed him the documents. The man looked them over and asked, “You speak German?”
“Yes, I do.”
“With all respect, sir, are you armed?”
“I am,” Taggert said.
“With the Leader and the others here, I will take possession of your weapon until we learn what this matter is about.”
“Of course.” Taggert lifted his jacket and allowed one of the SS men to take the pistol from him. He’d expected this. Himmler was, after all, head of the SS, whose primary purpose was guarding Hitler and the government leaders.
Himmler told another SS trooper to take a look at the sheds and see if he could observe the purported assassin. “Hurry.”
“Yes, my Police Chief.”
As he left the pressroom, a dozen armed SS guards filed into the room and spread out, protecting the assembly. Taggert turned to Hitler and nodded respectfully. “State Chancellor-President, several days ago we learned of a potential plot by the Russians.”
Nodding, Himmler said, “The intelligence we received Friday from Hamburg – about the Russian doing some ‘damage.’”
Hitler waved him silent and nodded for Taggert to continue.
“We thought nothing particular of this information. We hear it all the time from the damn Russians. But then we learned some specifics a few hours ago: that his target was Colonel Ernst and that he might be here at the stadium this afternoon. I assumed he was examining the stadium with an eye toward shooting the colonel during the Games themselves. I came here to see for myself and noticed a man slip into a shed south of the stadium. And then I learned to my shock that the colonel and the rest of you were here.”
“How did he get on the grounds?” Hitler raged.
“An SS uniform and false identity papers, we believe,” Taggert explained.
“I was about to step outside,” Ernst said. “This man saved my life.”
“What about Krupp? The phone call?” Göring asked.
“Krupp has nothing to do with this, I’m sure,” Taggert said. “The call was undoubtedly from a confederate to lure the colonel outside.”
Himmler nodded to Heydrich, who strode to the phone, dialed a number and spoke for several moments. He looked up. “No, it was not Krupp who called. Unless he now makes his calls from the Potsdam Plaza post office.”
Hitler muttered ominously to Himmler, “Why did we not know about this?”
Taggert knew that conspiracy paranoia danced constantly in Hitler’s head. He came to Himmler’s defense, saying, “They were very clever, the Russians. We only learned about it from our sources in Moscow, by happenstance… But, please, sir, we must move quickly. If he realizes we’re onto him he’ll escape and try again.”
“Why Ernst?” Göring asked.
Meaning, Taggert supposed, why not me?
Taggert directed his response to Hitler, “State Leader, we understand that Colonel Ernst is involved in rearmament. We are not troubled with that – in America we consider Germany our greatest European ally and we want you to be militarily strong.”
“Your countrymen feel this way?” Hitler asked. It was well known in diplomatic circles that he was very troubled by the anti-Nazi sentiment in America.
Now able to discard the placid demeanor of Reggie Morgan, Taggert spoke with an edge to his voice. “You don’t always get the full story. Jews talk loudly – in your country and in mine – and the leftist element are forever whining, the press, the Communists, the Socialists. But they’re a small fraction of the population. No, our government and the majority of Americans are firmly committed to being your ally and seeing you get out from under the yoke of the Versailles. It’s the Russians who are concerned about your rearming. However, please, sir, we have only minutes. The assassin.”
The SS guard returned just then. “It’s as he said, sir. There are some sheds beside the parking plaza. The door to one is open and, yes, there’s a rifle barrel protruding, scanning for a target at the stadium here.”
Several of the men in the room gasped and muttered indignation. Joseph Goebbels picked at his ear nervously. Göring had unholstered his Luger and was waving it around comically like a child with a wooden pistol.
Hitler’s voice shook and his hands quivered in rage. “Communist Jew animals! They come to my country and do this to me! Backstabbers… And with our Olympics about to start! They…” He was unable to continue his diatribe, he was so furious.
To Himmler, Taggert said, “I speak Russian. Surround the shed and let me try to convince him to surrender. I’m sure the Gestapo or the SS can persuade him to tell us who and where the other conspirators are.”
Himmler nodded then turned to Hitler. “My Leader, it is important that you and the others leave at once. By the underground route. Perhaps there is only the one assassin but perhaps too there are others that this American doesn’t know about.”
Like everyone who’d read the intelligence reports on Himmler, Taggert considered the former fertilizer salesman half insane and an incurable sycophant. But the American’s role here was clear and he said submissively, “Police Chief Himmler is correct. I’m not sure how complete our information is. Go to safety. I will help your troops capture the man.”
Ernst shook Taggert’s hand. “My thanks to you.”
Taggert nodded. He watched Ernst collect his grandson from the corridor and then join the others, who took an internal stairway down to the underground driveway, surrounded by a squad of guards.
Only when Hitler and the others were gone did Himmler return Taggert’s pistol. The police chief then called to the SS officer who had arranged the detachment downstairs, “Where are your men?”
The guard explained that two dozen were deployed to the east, out of view of the shed.
Himmler said, “SD Leader Heydrich and I will remain here and call a general alert for the area. Bring us that Russian.”
“Hail Hitler.” The guard turned on his heels and hurried down the staircase, Taggert behind him. They jogged to the east side of the stadium, joined the troops there and, in a wide arc to the south, approached the shed.
The men ran quickly, surrounded by the emotionless SS troops, amid the sound of gun bolts and toggles, snapping bullets into place. But despite the apparent tension and drama, Robert Taggert was at ease for the first time in days. Like the man he’d killed in Dresden Alley – Reggie Morgan – Taggert was one of those people who exist in the shadows of government and diplomacy and business, doing the bidding for their principals in ways sometimes legal and often not. One of the few truthful things he’d told Schumann was his passion for a diplomatic posting either in Germany or elsewhere (Spain would indeed be nice). But such plums were not easy to come by and had to be earned, often in mad and risky situations. Such as the plan involving the poor sap Paul Schumann.
His instructions from the United States had been simple: Reggie Morgan would have to be sacrificed. Taggert would kill him and take over his identity. He would help Paul Schumann plan Reinhard Ernst’s death and then, at the last moment, Taggert would dramatically “rescue” the German colonel, proof of how firmly the U.S. supported the National Socialists. Word of the rescue and Taggert’s comments about that support would trickle up to Hitler. But as it turned out, the results were far, far better: Taggert had actually performed his routine for Hitler and Göring themselves.