Garden of Beasts

I’m rarely up at this hour. But neither are the dung-shirts so we can meet without much concern. You are Mr. John Dillinger’s associate?”
    “Dillinger?” Morgan asked.
    “I am Otto Webber.” He shook Morgan’s hand vigorously. “You are?”
    “I’ll keep my name to myself if you don’t mind.”
    “Ach, me, yes, that’s fine.” Webber examined Morganclosely. “Say, I have some nice trousers, several pair. I can sell them to you cheap. Yes, yes, very cheap. The best quality. From England. I can have one of my girls alter them to fit you perfectly. Ingrid is available. And very talented. Quite pretty too. A real pearl.”
    Morgan glanced down at his gray flannel slacks. “No. I don’t need any clothes.”
    “Champagne? Stockings?”
    “Otto,” Paul said. “I think the only transaction we’re interested in involves what we were talking about yesterday.”
    “Ach, yes, Mr. John Dillinger. Except I have some news you may not like. All of my contacts report that a veil of silence has descended on Wilhelm Street. Something has made them cautious. Security has become higher than ever. And all this in the last day. There is no information anyone has about this person you were mentioning.”
    Paul’s face twisted in disappointment.
    Morgan muttered, “I spent half of last night coming up with the money.”
    “Good,” Webber said brightly. “Dollars, correct?”
    “My friend,” the slim American added caustically, “you don’t get paid if we don’t get results.”
    “But the situation is not hopeless. I can still be of some assistance.”
    “Go on,” Morgan said impatiently. He looked down again at his slacks, brushing at a smudge.
    The German continued. “I can’t tell you where the chicken is but what would you say if I can get you into the henhouse and you could find out for yourself?”
    “The—”
    He lowered his voice. “I can get you into the Chancellory. Ernst is the envy of all the ministers. Everyonetries to snuggle close to the Little Man and get offices in the building but the best that most of them can do is to find space nearby. That Ernst abides there is a source of anguish to many.”
    Paul scoffed. “I looked it over last night. There’re guards everywhere. You couldn’t get me in there.”
    “Ah, but I am of a different opinion, my friend.”
    “How the hell can you do it?” Paul had lapsed into English. He repeated the question in German.
    “We have the Little Man to thank. He is obsessed with architecture. He has been renovating the Chancellory since he came to power. Laborers are there seven days a week. I will provide a workman’s outfit, a forged identification card and the two passes that will get you into the building. One of my contacts is doing the plastering there and he has access to all the documentation.”
    Morgan considered this and nodded, now less cynical about the idea.
    “My friend tells me that Hitler wishes rugs in all the offices on the important floors. That will include Ernst’s. The carpet suppliers are measuring the offices. Some have been measured, some have not. We will hope Ernst’s has not. In the event it has been, you can make some excuse about having to measure again. The pass I will give you is from a company that is known for, among other things, its fine carpeting. I will also provide a meter stick and a notebook.”
    “How do you know you can trust this man?” Paul asked.
    “Because he’s been using cheap plaster and pocketing the difference between its cost and what the state is paying him. That’s a death offense when you’re building Hitler’s seat of power. So I have some leverage with him; he wouldn’t lie to me. Besides, he thinks only that we’re runningsome scam to undercut the price of carpets. Of course, I did promise him a bit of egg.”
    “Egg?” Morgan asked.
    It was for Paul to interpret. “Money.”
    Whose bread I eat is whose song I sing. . . . 
    “Take it out of the thousand dollars.”
    “I wish to point out that I don’t have the thousand dollars.”
    Morgan shook his head, reached into his pocket and counted out a hundred.
    “That’s fine. See, I’m not greedy.”
    Morgan rolled his eyes at Paul. “Not greedy? Why, he’s like Göring.”
    “Ach, I take that as a compliment, sir. Our air minister is a very resourceful businessman.” Webber turned to Paul. “Now, there will be some officials in the building, even on Sunday. But my man tells me they will be senior people and