Kappler nodded.
“Yes,” he said, “although sometimes not even then. I did say they can be irrational.”
Beck smiled. “That you did.”
Okay, let’s cut the bullshit.
“And may I ask what it is that we are not hiding here in this conspicuous place?” He sipped his coffee. “What is it that I can do for the German Trade Ministry that, as you said on the telephone, ‘is a matter of most urgency’?”
“Nothing,” Beck said. “But I appreciate your kind offer, Herr Kappler. I suspect that at some point I will take you up on it.”
“Then this urgent matter . . . ?”
Beck reached inside his suit coat, into the left pocket that was behind the flower.
“Curiosity overwhelms,” Kappler said. “Why the white rose?”
Beck glanced at it, then said, “The white rose stands for many things. For some, it is purity and innocence. In our line of work, it’s silence and secrecy.” He paused, then grinned and added, “That, and the pretty ladies really like it. Perhaps for all those meanings.”
Beck produced an envelope.
“This came in very early this morning.”
He handed it to Kappler.
There was a folded typewritten sheet inside. Kappler opened it, and as he began to read, he inhaled deeply.
Ach du lieber Gott!
“Karlchen”?
He warned me that he very well one day might have to use it!
Kappler looked back at Beck and tried to gauge if his shocked reaction was as obvious as it felt. Kappler then made a thin smile, and feebly said, “It is from my father.”
Beck, stone-faced, nodded.
Trying not to appear anxious, Kappler turned his attention back to the page:
* * *
HIGHEST SECRECY
TO—
SS-OBERSTURMBANNFUHRER OSKAR KAPPLER
SS PROVISIONAL HEADQUARTERS SICILY
THROUGH—
HERR ERNST BECK, DIRECTOR
GERMAN TRADE MINISTRY, MESSINA, SICILY
BEGIN MESSAGE
MIDNIGHT, MAY 27TH,IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD, 1943