Garden of Beasts

Taggert’s tackle had stunned him and knocked the wind from his lungs.
    Responding to Ernst’s question, Taggert said, “I’m with the American diplomatic staff in Washington, D.C.” He proffered his papers: a government identification card and an authentic American passport issued in his real name, not the forgery in the name of Reginald Morgan—the Office of Naval Intelligence agent he’d shot to death in front of Paul Schumann in Dresden Alley yesterday and had been impersonating ever since.
    Taggert said, “I’ve come here to warn you about a plot against your life. An assassin is outside now.”
    “But Krupp . . . Is Baron von Bohlen involved?”
    “Krupp?” Taggert feigned surprise and listened as Ernst explained about the phone call.
    “No, that must have been one of the conspirators, who called to lure you out.” He gestured out the door. “The killer is in one of the supply sheds south of the stadium. We’ve heard he’s a Russian but dressed in an SS uniform.”
    “A Russian? Yes, yes, there was a security alert about such a man.”
    In fact, there would have been no danger had Ernst stayed at the window or stepped out onto the porch. The rifle that Schumann now held was the same one he’d tested at November 1923 Square yesterday but last night Taggert had plugged the barrel of the gun with lead so that if Schumann had fired, the bullet never would have left the muzzle. Yet had that happened, the American gangster would have known he’d been set up and might have escaped, even if he’d been injured by the exploding rifle.
    “Our Leader could be in danger!”
    “No,” Taggert said. “It’s only you he’s after.”
    “Me? . . .” Then Ernst’s head swiveled. “My grandson!” He rose abruptly. “My grandson is here. He could be at risk too.”
    “We have to tell everyone to stay away from the windows,” Taggert said, “and to evacuate the area.” The two men hurried down the hallway. “Is Hitler in the pressroom?” Taggert asked.
    “He was a few minutes ago.”
    Oh, this was far better than Taggert could have hoped for. When Schumann had reported, back in the boardinghouse,that Hitler and the other leaders would be assembled here, he’d been ecstatic, though he’d obscured this reaction, of course. He now said, “I need to tell him what we’ve learned. We have to act fast before the assassin escapes.”
    They walked into the pressroom. The American blinked, stunned to find himself among the most powerful men in Germany, their heads turning to look at him in curiosity. The only ones in the room who ignored Taggert were two cheerful German shepherd dogs and a cute little boy of about six or seven.
    Adolf Hitler noticed Ernst, still holding the back of his head, the paint and plaster on his suit. Alarmed, he asked, “Reinhard, you are hurt?”
    “Opa!” The boy ran forward.
    Ernst first put his arms around the child and ushered him quickly to the center of the room away from the doors and windows. “It’s all right, Rudy. I just took a spill. . . . Everyone, keep back from the windows!” He gestured to an SS guard. “Take my grandson into the hallway. Stay with him.”
    “Yes, sir.” The man did as ordered.
    “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 andhe 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