"Fifteen, sir," Adler said modestly.

"Hmm. Are any of the Jews in your community aware that you are doing this work?"

"No, no, Professor," Adler said with a look of alarm, "nobody would speak to me."

"Of course."

"That is why I come at night to make my reports."

Vierhaus peered intently at Adler again. He was fifty-four years old, a short man, chunky although not fat, with dimpled hands and soft eyes. His graying black hair was receding and his face was lined and chalky. He was wearing a blue serge suit worn shiny at the elbows and his shirt collar was frayed. A thin line of sweat glistened on his upper lip. Neat but tawdry, thought Vierhaus. Grateful-no, indebted-for the smallest favors.

"I am curious about something, Herman. Does it bother you? Turning up other Jews this way?"

Adler did not have to think, he shook his head immediately.

"It's the law," he said. "I think I am lucky to have the opportunity."

For an instant, Vierhaus's eyes glittered and his eyebrows rose with surprise. "I must say, that is a most practical point of view," he said slowly. He looked back at the papers. "You are a jeweler by trade, yes?"

"Yes. I had my own shop."

"Was it nationalized?"

"Yes."

"And your home?"

"Yes."

"You live at 65 Konigsplatz now. Is that a flat?"

"Yes, Herr Professor. One room and a small kitchen."

"No family, I see."

"My son was killed on the Western Front in 1916. My wife died three years ago."

"Yes, a heart attack, I see."

"Ja. She never really got over our son Ira's death."

"And you also have a heart problem?"

"Minor. I had a small attack a year or so ago. I have my pills just in case. I am quite fit."

"Good. We wouldn't want to lose you. You understand, Herman, there are people in the party who disagree with this department's mixed-blood policy. They feel only full-blooded Jews should be involved in repatriation and emigration. Bureaucrats, mostly. They are slow to come around, bureaucrats thrive on the status quo. That will change with time, of course. In the meantime, the Fhrer has given me the responsibility of starting this experiment. But you do understand the confidential nature of this work, don't you, Adler? You don't even discuss it with other SS personnel."

"I understand, Herr Professor."

"Personally I think four generations is far enough to go back. Eventually the numbers will be overwhelming. So, Adler, there will always be plenty of work for you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Perhaps I might even have you elevated to Aryan status. It is done, you know, in cases of special merit. You cannot vote or marry an Aryan woman, but those are minor things. If your success keeps up we can make arrangements for you to move to something a little bigger, more comfortable, maybe get you another shop, eh, even throw a little party business your way?"

Adler closed his eyes. He had heard that the Germans sometimes destigmatized Jews but this was the first official confirmation that it was possible. My God, he thought, to have my own shop again, a decent house, to have the 'J' removed from my ID. To have a sense of freedom again. It was too much to hope for.

"That would be most generous, Herr Professor," Adler said, his voice trembling. His heart began beating faster.

"I offer you another challenge, Herman," Vierhaus said, standing and walking around the desk. "Herr Himmler would like to bring back some rather influential Jews who have . . . left Germany. These are people who, for many reasons, we would like to have back here. Traitors. Troublemakers in other countries. They are scattered everywhere."

He waved his hand flamboyantly.

"Italy, France, Egypt, Greece, America. Any leads you might get for us would be an even bigger feather in your cap. You would not only earn my gratitude, but Reichsfhrer Himmler's as well. I can provide you with a list of names. You keep your ears open, hmm?"

"I will get on it right away, Herr Professor."

Vierhaus patted the Jew on the shoulder.

"Would you like a cigarette?" He took out the package and shook a cigarette loose. "They are French. Gauloises."

"Oh, thank you, sir," Adler said, taking it with a shaky hand. When it was lit, Adler opened the briefcase and took out a sheaf of documents.

"I have something here, I think you will be very excited by this . . ."

He laid them very precisely on the desk in front of him. Almost as an afterthought, he then put the case on the floor beside the chair.

"These are family records," Adler said. "Birth certificates, some interviews with family members, friends. This man Oskar Braun has a bank near Coburg. Very successful." He shuffled through the papers and stopped at a chart. "I tracked back four generations, four, Herr Professor," Adler said proudly, holding up four fingers. "His maternal grandfather was a Jew. Joshua Feldstein. He was a cantor in the synagogue and he actually started the bank. I have a list of all the descendants, including nephews and cousins. Forty-six in all."

"Yes, yes, that's quite ingenious. The Schutzstaffel will take care of Herr Braun. But," Vierhaus said, picking a note from the folder, "it says you have information for my ears alone. What is that about?"

"Yes, Herr Professor. It is regarding the memorandum you sent around about a month ago."

"Adler, I write a dozen memoranda a day."

"This one concerned the Black Lily."

Vierhaus looked up sharply.

"You have information about the Black Lily?" he said, making no attempt to conceal his sudden interest.

Adler nodded.

"Well . . . ?" Vierhaus wiggled his fingers toward Adler as if to coax the information out of him.

Adler shuffled through more papers. "Ah," he said. "Here we are. Uh, you know about the connection with Reinhardt and . . ."

"Yes, yes, we know all that," Vierhaus said slowly, taking off his glasses and placing them on the desk. His eyes narrowed to luminous slits, but his voice never changed. If anything, it became more controlled. He ground his cigarette out in the ashtray. "We arrested Reinhardt, that is past history. I need names, jeweler, names!"

"I have names for you, sir," Adler stammered fearfully. "And charts."

He fumbled nervously through his papers and as he did, Vierhaus suddenly and radically changed his mood. This was what he called a "neutral interrogation." Nonadversarial. But he used the same methods he would have used in less friendly encounters, employing subtle changes in temperament combined with equal doses of cruelty and generosity, designed to keep his prey off balance and intimidated. Methods he had learned from the master of the technique, Adolf Hitler. The difference was that Vierhaus, unlike his volatile and psychotic boss, was a study in serpentine control.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" he asked abruptly, with a smile. "It is imported from South America, an excellent brew."

"Oh, that would be very kind," Adler said, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his face. He had been reduced to ersatz coffee months ago. He couldn't specifically remember the last time he had a cup of real coffee.

Vierhaus got up and went to a corner of the room and turned on a floor lamp. A pot of coffee simmered on a hot plate.

"Cream?" he asked.

"Yes sir." Cream. Real cream.

Adler sipped the coffee with his eyes closed, savoring every drop.

"Now, tell me what you know about the Black Lily."

"Herr Reinhardt was a frequent visitor at the home of a Jewish teacher named Isaac Sternfeld. Sternfeld taught political science at the university here until he was sent to Dachau."

"Is he a Communist?"

"Nein, a Social Democrat radically opposed to the Fhrer and the Nazi party. Before the Fhrer became chancellor, a group of students who were also frequent guests at Sternfeld's started a pamphlet called Die Fackel. It was aimed mainly at students, a kind of college humor . . . uh, satire thing with a bit of a sting to it. Then after Herr Hitler . . ."

"The Fhrer," Vierhaus corrected.

"Yes, the Fhrer, after the Fhrer became chancellor it became more pointed. That is when Reinhardt became involved, writing occasionally for it and editing it. Sternfeld was the advisor and it was printed by Oscar Probst."

"The Berlin Conscience, " Vierhaus said.

"Ja. When the . . . uh . . ."

"Repatriation?"

"Ja . . . repatriation . . . of the Jews began the students formed the Black Lily to help get Jews out of Germany."

"Where did they get that name?" Vierhaus asked out of curiosity.

"There is no such thing as a black lily, Herr Professor. They meant it to be a phantom organization, just like the flower."

"Schoolboy antics," Vierhaus said, waving him off. "What else?"

"They moved money into Swiss banks, arranged forged passports, transportation, everything."

"Students?" Vierhaus said with astonishment.

Adler nodded.

"Students are doing this?!" Vierhaus said, shaking his head. He could imagine Hitler's reaction to that bit of news.

"But very dedicated students," said Adler.

"Politicized by Reinhardt and this Sternfeld person, hmm?"

Adler continued to nod.

"The editor of Die Fackel was a Jewish boy named Avrum Wolffson. He is now twenty-five years old. His best friends are Werner Gebhart and Joachim Weber. It is my understanding that Wolffson is the head of the Black Lily. Gebhart handles the movement of Jews out of the country, and Weber handles money, the paperwork, passports, false ID's, such things."

Vierhaus stroked his chin as he listened to Adler. Other things were becoming clear to him.

"So, now I think I know what happened to Otto Schiff and Tol Nathan. These students probably ran them out of the country. And they probably forced Simon Kefar to hang himself."

"Simon Kefar worked for you, too?"

"You didn't know that? Schiff, Nathan, Kefar, all very effective Judenhascher like yourself. You knew them?"

"I knew Kefar casually. The others only by name."

Vierhaus stroked his chin for a moment or two longer.

"How do they finance all this?" he asked finally.

"With contributions from rich Jews and sympathizers here and abroad."

"This Wolffson and a couple of students created all this intrigue?" Vierhaus said, still unable to accept Adler's theory.

"Actually I think it was Sternfeld who organized it anticipating the . . . repatriation. But Wolffson was a brilliant student, very pragmatic the way I understand it."

"How do you know all this?"

Adler stared at him for several seconds. "Joachim Weber is my nephew," he said. "The boy and I have never been close but I talk to my sister-his mother-frequently."

"How many people are involved with this bunch?"

Adler shook his head. "Dozens, I assume. In Berlin, Munich, Linz, Paris, Zurich."

"All Jews?"

"No. They are both Jews and Gentiles."

"How did this get so far out of hand!" Vierhaus said almost to himself. The Fhrer would be outraged. "And where do we find this Wolffson?"

"That is the problem, Herr Professor, nobody knows. There are no lists of the members, it is not a military-type organization. It is like the flower, it seems not to exist. It is like a train that runs whenever necessary. Nobody has seen Wolffson in months. But I believe he must be in Berlin. And I have this."

He handed Vierhaus a sheet of typing paper. There were two columns of names and addresses on it.

"These are forty-eight people who are related to Wolffson. That includes three generations up to fourth cousins and nephews. I have similar lists on Weber and Gebhart in the folder."

Vierhaus was impressed. "That is a remarkable report, Adler." He turned back to the list of names and ran his forefinger down each one. "You did this in a month?"