Out of the Smoke

  This is a work of fiction. Characters and events in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously.

  © 2018 GNL Enterprises, LP

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, ­Deseret Book Company, at ­permissions@deseretbook

  .com or PO Box 30178, Salt Lake City, Utah 84130. This work is not an official publication of The ­Church of ­Jesus ­Christ of ­Latter-day Saints. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Church or of ­Deseret Book Company.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  (CIP data on file)

  ISBN 978-1-62972-479-9

  Printed in the United States of America

  Lake Book Manufacturing, Inc., Melrose Park, IL

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Book design © Deseret Book Company

  Art direction by Richard Erickson

  Jacket design by Sheryl Dickert Smith

  Flames: © kzww/Shutterstock.com

  Marienplatz, Munich, Germany: © Wondervisuals/Shutterstock.com

  Distressed texture: © Nik Merkulov/Shutterstock.com

  Decorative pattern: © leaks/Shutterstock.com

  And there came out of the smoke

  locusts upon the earth:

  and unto them was given power,

  as the scorpions of the earth have power.

  —Revelation 9:3

  Prologue

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Part II

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Part III

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Part IV

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Bibliography

  About the author

  June 17, 1930, 8:53 p.m.—

  Eckhardt Residence, Wellensteinstrasse 271, Milbertshofen District, Munich, Germany

  Emilee Eckhardt watched the dark eyes of her youngest offspring droop and then, after a moment, close completely. She waited a few moments before trying to ease the bottle out of his grip. Instantly his fingers tightened, even though his eyes didn’t open. Emilee chuckled softly. “Little piglet,” she crooned. “You can’t still be hungry.” But after another minute passed, his grip gradually relaxed again and she was able to remove the bottle.

  Alisa, who was seated on the rug in front of her, had been waiting for this moment. She jumped to her feet. “Can I burp him, Mutti?” she whispered. “Then I’ll put him to bed.”

  “Ja, ja,” Emilee said. “But be careful that you don’t wake him.”

  Across the room, Hans looked up. He was on the sofa reading “The Bremen Town Musicians” from Grimms’ Fairy Tales to their other children. His eyes softened as he watched Lisa take their youngest into her arms, swaying gently back and forth. The image of her on the day she was born flashed into his mind, and he remembered how a rush of love for this tiny infant had nearly overwhelmed him. Now she was a young woman, showing the first signs of womanhood as she approached her eleventh birthday. Now, once again, Hans felt overwhelmed, for she was so like her mother in so many ways.

  But as Lisa turned and moved toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms, a buzzer sounded. Everyone started. “Who could that be?” Emilee asked, glancing at the clock.

  Hans shrugged and got to his feet. He disappeared into the entry hallway, turning on the light there as the children craned their necks to see. Emilee stepped closer to hear better. What happened next stunned her.

  Hans’s voice was shocked. “Adolf? Oh my goodness!”

  Emilee stiffened but then sprang into action. “Jo,” she cried in a low whisper, “pick up the blocks. Quickly! Hans Otto, put the book back on the shelf. Hurry!”

  “Who is it?” Jolanda asked, not moving.

  “It’s the Führer, Dummkopf!” Lisa hissed.

  Emilee shot her oldest daughter a withering look and frantically waved for her to stay where she was. Fortunately, Hans was greeting Adolf with great excitement, and she was pretty sure they hadn’t heard any of the commotion. She rushed over to where blocks were scattered on the rug. “Jo! Quickly!” Together they started scooping up the blocks and putting them into the apple box that served as their toy bin. They finished and Emilee put the box next to the bookshelf just as Hans stepped into the living room with Adolf Hitler right behind him. “Emilee, look who’s here.”

  Emilee went over to them, extending her hand as she did a little curtsy. “Guten Abend, mein Führer. What a delightful surprise.”

  Hitler gripped her hand with both of his, his face wreathed in a broad smile. “And guten Abend to you, Frau Eckhardt. How nice to see you again.”

  Emilee cocked her head, and her smile teased him a little. “Has it been so long, mein Führer? I thought we agreed many years ago that calling me Frau Eckhardt makes me feel very old.”

  “Of course, Emilee,” he chuckled. “I will drop the Frau, if you will drop mein Führer. It is Adolf to my close friends. Agreed?”

  Her smile broadened. “Of course, mein Führer.”

  Laughing, Adolf sat down in the chair Hans had pulled out for him. He turned to Hans. “I apologize for calling upon you so late without warning, but as we approached Munich, my driver reminded me that you lived here in the north part of the city. So I decided to come see you rather than call you in the morning.” He then turned to the children. “My goodness, Hans. How your family has grown since I saw them last.”

  Hans smiled and motioned for his children to gather around him. “Come, children. Come meet a dear friend, and one of the most important men in all the Fatherland, Herr Adolf Hitler.”

  As they lined up, Emilee went over and took the baby from Alisa. She then stood beside Hans as he laid a hand on Lisa’s shoulder. “This is our firstborn. Her name is Alisa Maria, but we all call her Lisa. She will turn eleven in November.”

  “Ah, so you’re ten?” Adolf smiled broadly. “Then you’ll be enrolled in the Jungmädel camp this summer, no?”

  Lisa looked nervously up at her parents. Hans colored slightly. “Not this year,” Emilee explained. “She had some really bad allergies this last spring, and the doctor was concerned about her being outside too much.”

  “He thinks it will go away as she enters puberty,” Hans came in smoothly. “So next summer she will go for sure.”

  Lisa tried not to look surprised. The doctor had diagnosed her allergies as typical spring fever and offered to give her some medicine if it got too bad. He had s
aid nothing about puberty or staying in the house. Had her father just told a lie?

  But fortunately, Hitler seemed satisfied with that. He took in Lisa’s long, blonde hair, her wide-set, sky blue eyes, and flawless, fair skin. “Ah, Hans, she is the perfect example of the beauty and perfection of the Aryan race.”

  Lisa blushed to the roots of her hair. “Danke schön, mein Führer.”

  Adolf nodded and looked to the left. “And this lovely young woman?”

  “This is Jolanda,” Hans continued, clearly relieved to move on to another topic. “We call her Jo. She turned eight in February.”

  Nodding, Adolf gave Jolanda the same once over he had given Lisa and then spoke to Hans. “Sometimes people think that to be a true Aryan, you have to have blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. But right here before us is proof that such is not the case. Look at the fineness of her features, which are set off perfectly by her deep brown eyes and dark hair.” Now it was Jolanda who went a deep scarlet as she did a little curtsy.

  Hans Otto had watched all of this with growing impatience. He stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “I am Hans Otto, Herr Hitler. I am four years old. I am much happy to meet you.”

  Hitler took his hand, smiling. “You are a strong and handsome lad,” he said.

  “He is named for his father,” Emilee said.

  “A proud name,” Adolf said gravely. “Don’t be ashamed to use your full name all of your life, Hans Otto. Otto von Bismarck was one of the greatest men in German history.”

  Young Hans looked confused, but, seeing his father’s look, he nodded.

  Hans stepped behind their youngest daughter and laid a hand on her shoulder. “And this is our little kewpie doll. This is Enrika, and she is three now. We call her Rikki.”

  Adolf leaned in to examine her more closely, and seeing that, Rikki turned and buried her face against her father’s trousers.

  “Darling girl,” Adolf laughed, turning to the baby in Emilee’s arms. She pulled the blanket away from his face. “Ah, yes,” he exclaimed softly. “And this is the one you named after me, no?”

  “That’s right,” Hans said proudly. “Nikolaus Adolf Eckhardt. Our Little Niko.”

  Adolf leaned over and brushed a fingertip across one cheek. His voice was suddenly husky. “What a beautiful family you have, Hans.” He turned to Emilee. “Would that every German woman realized, as you do, Emilee, that one of the most important things a woman can do with her life is to raise healthy, beautiful children as her gift to the Fatherland.”

  His frankness took Emilee aback for a moment, but she sensed he was waiting for some kind of reply. “It is my belief that next to God and Jesus,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “our families are the greatest blessing we have in this life.”

  Adolf clapped his hands together. “Ja, ja! Bravo, Emilee! Would that every woman in the Fatherland shared such views.”

  Then just that quickly, he was done with the family. He turned to Hans. “Do you have a few moments for us to talk, Hans? I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

  Surprised, Hans turned to Emilee, but she was already in motion. She reached down with her free hand and laid it on Hans Otto’s shoulder. “If you will excuse us, Adolf, we were just getting ready to put the children to bed.” She looked at Hans. “You can use the living room, but it might be a little more pleasant out on the front porch. It’s still a bit stuffy inside.”

  “Excellent idea,” Hitler boomed. He stood up, clicked his heels, and inclined his head. “A pleasure, as always, Emilee.”

  9:05 p.m.—Front Porch, Eckhardt Residence

  Hans sat down on the small bench on the front porch, but as was typical, Adolf was too agitated to sit still and began to pace back and forth as he spoke. “Hans, do you remember our New Year’s Eve party a few months ago?”

  “Of course. I remember it very well. You said that the most important thing that we learned from the Beer Hall Putsch was that we cannot seize political power by force. We have to do it at the polls, through the ballot box.”

  “Exactly! Through constitutional means.”

  “And we have been moving in that direction ever since. I think we have made significant progress in that regard, Adolf. We now have slightly over a million registered members in the party.”

  “Ja, ja. Thanks to the effort of you and your department.” His brow wrinkled. “But while we have steadily increased our numbers, we haven’t increased our political power dramatically. In the last election, we got . . . what?”

  “About eight hundred and ten thousand votes, which won us twelve seats in Parliament.”

  Hitler huffed softly in disgust. “Ja. Twelve seats out of nearly six hundred in the Reichstag. That’s not enough to win us so much as a polite nod when our delegates enter the chamber.”

  Hans just nodded. It was clear that Adolf was not looking for a response yet.

  “That night I also said that the economic depression in America was just what we needed to achieve that political power. And now we are deep into it. Did you see that they are predicting five and a half million unemployed by the end of this year?”

  “I did,” Hans said.

  Hitler turned to face him, his eyes glittering with excitement. “Have you been following what’s been happening in Berlin these past few weeks?”

  “Uh . . . somewhat. I know we got a new chancellor, Hermann Mueller, the leader of the Social Democratic Party. But he resigned a short time later over some squabble in the government and President Hindenburg appointed our current chancellor, right?”

  “Yes. Heinrich Bruening, leader of the Catholic Center Party. He was chosen because his party holds the second largest block of seats in Parliament. But no party holds enough for a clear majority, so the Reichstag is paralyzed. Nothing is happening to resolve the crisis.”

  Hans said nothing. Hitler had something on his mind and he wasn’t expecting dialogue here. Hans had been eased out of the Führer’s inner circle in the last couple of years, so he was no longer privy to what was going on as he had been before. Though that hurt a little, overall it was a relief for him. The Big Five, as people referred to them now, were all dedicated Nazis. They were also a bunch of back-stabbing, conniving, treacherous, highly ambitious and, therefore, highly dangerous men, and Hans wanted no part of them.

  Adolf was staring out into the night, lost in his thoughts. Hans waited. Adolf’s mind was mercurial and never at rest. Hans had not the slightest idea why he had come here, but he would get to it sooner or later. Finally, after a full minute or two had passed, he looked back at Hans.

  “Bruening is a babe, when it comes to politics,” Adolf said in disgust. “Care to guess what his brilliant solution to the current crisis is?”

  Hans shook his head. “I. . . . I have no idea.”

  “It hasn’t been publicly announced,” Adolf said, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “We learned this just this morning. We have a source in Bruening’s cabinet. That’s why we’ve rushed back to Munich. President Hindenburg and Chancellor Bruening have decided to dissolve Parliament and call another election to help resolve the political stalemate.”

  Hans jerked forward. This was electrifying news. “An election? How soon?”

  “September fourteenth! Just three months from now.”

  It was like a smack in the mouth. “Three months!”

  “Yes, my friend, and that’s why I am here. We cannot waste a moment. Tomorrow we are forming a new campaign committee. I have asked Hermann Goering to chair it.”

  “Gut, gut,” Hans said. Hermann Goering was not only the most famous member of the Nazi Party after Hitler, but he was even more popular with the people than Hitler himself, according to some sources. And he was totally loyal to his Führer.

  “I want you and Rudolf to be cochairs under Hermann’s direction. Rudolf will be responsible fo
r the overall campaign strategy and funding. You will be the campaign manager, responsible for laying out our campaign strategy and setting schedules—where to go, what venues to use, who is to be invited, how to get the local party leadership involved.”

  “Me?” Hans was stunned. “But. . . .”

  “You are a natural, my friend. In your capacity as party enrollment officer, you’ve been out across the country drumming up memberships. You know most of the local leaders. You know how to bring out the crowds.” Adolf grinned. “I know this will get me in big trouble with your wife, because she’s not going to be seeing much of you in the next three months.”

  Any trace of the weariness of moments before was gone. Hitler’s dark eyes were alight with excitement. “But perhaps a five hundred-marks-per-month raise of your salary will help her cope with the loss.”

  “Five hundred!”

  This reaction delighted Adolf even more. “And if you do what I am about to ask of you, there will be a generous bonus for you come election day. We are having our first meeting at seven in the morning at headquarters.” He dropped down beside Hans on the bench and clapped him on the shoulder. “Hans, old friend. We have to significantly increase the number of seats we hold in the Reichstag. We hold twelve now. A pittance! I want us to quadruple that in this election.”

  Hans gulped. “But that would be almost fifty seats!”

  “Ja, ja! Fifty is the bare minimum required if we are going to be in a position to make political alliances with the other parties. So there is your target, Hans. Fifty seats. Nothing less. Can you do it?”

  Hans was still reeling and merely gaped at his friend.

  Adolf leaned forward with a jaunty grin and punched Hans on the shoulder, but his eyes were like black fire. “Will you do it, Hans? Fifty seats? Will you do that for me?”

  Hans took a deep breath, then another, and then nodded. “I will, mein Führer.”

  Adolf reached out and gripped Hans’s hand so hard it made him wince. “Wunderbar, Hans! I expected nothing less.” His eyes suddenly hardened. “And I will accept nothing less. Verstehen, mein Freund? Do I make myself clear?”

  Hans swallowed hard as a chill ran through him, but then he nodded soberly. “Ja, mein Führer. Perfectly clear.”