The Scarletti Inheritance - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,97
among other places. Does it have any special meaning for you?'
'Munich?'
'I suppose so.'
'Hotbed of radicalism. Breeding ground of malcontents.'
'Malcontents?... Communists?'
'Hardly. They'd shoot a Red on sight. Or a Jew. Call themselves Schutzstaffel. Go around clubbing people. Consider themselves a race apart from the rest of the world.'
A race apart.
Oh, God!
Elizabeth looked at the dossier in her hands. Slowly she replaced it in the manila envelope and stood up. Without saying a word to the Englishman, she crossed to her bedroom door and let herself in. She closed the door behind her.
James Derek remained in the center of the room. He didn't understand.
Inside her bedroom Elizabeth went to her writing desk where papers were scattered across the top. She sorted them out until she found the Zurich list.
She read each name carefully.
AVERY LANDOR, U.S.A. - Oil.
Louis GIBSON, USA. - Oil.
THOMAS RAWLINS, U.S.A. - Securities.
HOWARD THORNTON, U.S.A. - Industrial Construction.
SYDNEY MASTERSON, GREAT BRITAIN - Imports.
DAVID INNES-BOWEN, GREAT BRITAIN - Textiles.
HAROLD LEACOCK, GREAT BRITAIN - Securities.
Louis FRANCOIS D'ALMEIDA, FRANCE - Railroads.
PIERRE DAUDET, FRANCE - Ship lines.
INGMAR MYRDAL, SWEDEN - Securities.
CHRISTIAN OLAFFSEN, SWEDEN - Steel.
OTTO VON SCHNITZLER, GERMANY - I.G. Farben.
FRITZ THYSSEN, GERMANY - Steel.
ERICH KINDORF, GERMANY - Coal.
One might say that the Zurich list was a cross-section of the most powerful men in the Western hemisphere.
Elizabeth put the list down and reached for a leather-bound notebook in which she kept telephone numbers and addresses. She thumbed to the letter O.
Ogilvie and Storm, Ltd., Publishers, Bays-water Road, London.
She would phone Thomas Ogilvie and have him send her whatever information he could unearth on the Schutzstaffel.
She knew something about it already. She remembered reading its political name was the National Socialists and they were led by a man named Adolf Hitler.
Chapter Thirty-three
The man's name was Basil Hawkwood, and Canfield quickly pictured the trademark hawkwood small letter h - as it appeared on a variety of leather goods. Hawkwood Leather was one of the largest firms in England, only a short distance behind Mark Cross.
The nervous Basil led Canfield into the huge reading room of his club. Knights. They chose two chairs by the Knightsbridge window, where there were no other members within earshot.
Basil's fear caused him to stutter, and when his words came, the phrases tumbled over one another. He assumed, because he wanted to assume, that the young man facing him would help him.
Canfield sat back in the comfortable chair and listened with incredulity to Hawkwood's story.
The chairman of Hawkwood Leather had been sending shipment after shipment of 'damaged' leather goods to a little-known firm in Munich. For over a year the directors of Hawkwood accepted the losses on the basis of the 'damaged' classification. Now, however, they had ordered a complete report on the excess malfunctions of the plants. The Hawkwood heir was trapped. There could be no more shipments for an indeterminate time.
He pleaded with Matthew Canfield to understand. He begged the young man to report and confirm his loyalty, but the boots, the belts, the holsters would have to come from someone else.
'Why do you wear the cuff links?' asked Canfield.
'I wore them today to remind Bertholde of my contribution.
He presented them to me himself - You're not wearing yours.'
'My contribution doesn't call for them.'
'Well, damn it, mine does! I haven't stinted in the past and I won't in the future!' Hawkwood leaned forward in his chair. 'The present circumstances don't change my feelings! You can report that. God damn Jews! Radicals! Bolsheviks! All over Europe! A conspiracy to destroy every decent principle good Christian men have lived by for centuries! They'll murder us in our beds! Rape our daughters! Pollute the races! I've never doubted it! I'll help again. You have my word! Soon there'll be millions at our disposal!'
Matthew Canfield suddenly felt sick. What in God's name had he done? He got out of the chair and his legs felt weak.
'I'll report what you said, Mr. Hawkwood.'
'Good fellow. Knew you'd understand.'
'I'm beginning to.' He walked rapidly away from the Englishman toward the arch to the outer hallway.
As he stood on the curb under the Knights' canopy waiting for a taxi, Canfield was numb with fear. He was no longer dealing with a world he understood. He was dealing with giants, with concepts, with commitments beyond his comprehension.
Chapter Thirty-four
Elizabeth had the newspaper and magazine articles spread over the couch. Ogilvie and Storm, publishers, had done an excellent job. There was more material here than Elizabeth or Canfield could digest in a week.
The National Socialist German Workers party emerged as ragtail