Part Four: War of Attrition — Chapter 1 - The Barman of the Ritz

PART FOUR: WAR OF ATTRITION

FEBRUARY 20, 1942

German U-boats are sinking oil tankers in the West Indies. Japan has invaded Singapore, threatening British interests; the United States has joined the war in the Pacific. “THIS IS NOW A WORLD WAR” reads this morning’s headline in Le Matin. In Paris, no one pays any heed; it is the dead of winter and they have more serious worries. Every night, it freezes hard enough to split the stones. Cats are gradually vanishing from the streets, but not because of the cold: because the people in Paris are starving. The newspapers do their best to warn of transmissible disease from the animals, but it makes no difference.

At the beggar’s banquet, we spread our bread with cat pâté.

While Paris sinks into cold and hunger, at the Ritz bar, business is booming. The hotel is sold out every night, or almost. People drink, laugh, toast, and twirl in the warmth. Süss, who makes no attempt now to hide his morbid irony when he joins Frank after closing time, calls the Ritz “the glamour bunker.”

While Frank is still supplying Süss with forged papers, it is becoming impossible to hide the disappearance of the vintage wines he has been giving to Fersen, so the diplomat has asked for some spiritual nourishment instead: Zweig, Freud, Kessel… the list of banned authors has been growing, and Fersen is an avid reader. Together, they have already helped some thirty Jews escape. For Frank, it means there is money coming in. Standing in front of the mirror in the morning, he sometimes wonders if that makes him a profiteer. He is not always sure of the answer.

Georges Scheuer is unaware of what is going on behind the bar. Georges has adopted the Nazis’ obsession with bodybuilding and regularly goes to a gym. The Widow approves; Frank simply sighs.

Tonight, the bar is packed and Frank is busily slicing lemons and decanting maraschino cherries.

“Monsieur? General von Stülpnagel is coming,” says Luciano.

Back in December, the general would come down several times a week—like a predator at a watering hole, he came to quench his thirst for gossip and kill the day’s fatigue. Now, he comes less frequently. This is his first appearance in more than ten days.

Frank abandons the lemons and the cherries and rushes out from behind the bar to show the general to his favorite table.

“Guten Abend, Herr Meier. Could I have a Royal Highball, please, and… perhaps a glass of champagne for yourself, if you’d care to join me for a moment,” says Stülpnagel, taking his seat. Seeing the wary look on Frank’s face, he continues: “I shall be leaving Paris the day after tomorrow, so I’ve come to say goodbye, and to thank you. I have asked to be relieved of my duties.”

“Why is that, General?”

“There are decisions that have become too difficult for me to make. I would rather give the responsibility to a younger general officer who is better equipped for such an onerous task. Actually, a cousin of mine will be taking over. Carl-Heinrich von Stülpnagel. And you should be happy—he is much more sociable than I am. A lively young man.”

“I’m flattered.” Frank raises his glass.

“What shall we say… to health and prosperity?”

“Thank you, Frank. To your good health, and may providence watch over you.”

Frank feels a pang of loss at the news and instantly regrets it. After all, this is a man who had a hundred Jews shot last Christmas.

Stülpnagel found some decisions too difficult to make? That didn’t stop him making them.

He goes back behind the bar and watches Speidel, who has joined Stülpnagel at his table. Relieved of duties? I bet! The evidence suggests the general has been forced out in a palace coup that revealed deep rifts in the Nazi High Command, which, as Stülpnagel so aptly described, is run by sadists. Frank feels a great weight settle on his shoulders. It has taken him so long to get his bearings in the regime, and now he will have to start afresh.

Do I even have the energy to try to win over this cousin of his?

Frank realizes that—in a rare lapse—he forgot to add an olive to the dry Martini he has just made.