Part Four: War of Attrition — Chapter 2 - The Barman of the Ritz

FEBRUARY 28, 1942

Luciano is sitting on a beer barrel in the cellar whittling corks with his Swiss Army knife when Frank asks him to go lend a hand in the restaurant.

Orders from Elmiger.

The boy cannot believe his eyes when he arrives in the kitchen to discover more than 100 pounds of frozen meat. Packed in zinc crates filled with ice, the pieces are hard as granite. German officers and a health inspector are supervising the chef, who has been ordered to cook the meat that evening. It takes a moment for Luciano to work out that the Wehrmacht is testing freezing techniques in order to supply the Eastern Front.

The bar is about to open when Süss enters. Frank notices that, like the meat, the deputy manager’s face is frozen and deathly pale. After making sure that Georges and Luciano are not there, he takes a seat at the bar. He looks very shaken. Frank thinks this may be due to Göring’s imminent return. Unless Süss has heard from the sleazy solicitor they cut out from their forged papers scheme? For the past eight months, Frank has worried that the former middleman will show up demanding his commission.

Süss orders a cognac.

“I’ve just come from Picasso’s studio,” he says.

Over the past week, Süss has barely been able to sleep, so frantically has he been rooting out works of art in advance of Göring’s return. He has already managed to get his hands on a Manet and a Velázquez, and, two days ago, in one of the galleries that still holds clandestine exhibitions, he confiscated an Utrillo canvas.

Picasso has hardly shown his face since the Germans marched into Paris, but a meeting was finally arranged through the good offices of Jean Cocteau. The maestro opened his door wearing a full-length beige sheepskin coat, Süss tells Frank. He did not respond to Süss’s greeting, but his wide eyes silently studied him. “He clearly enjoyed making me feel uncomfortable,” Süss observes. After a moment, Picasso ushered the man inside, saying he was honored to welcome “the emissary of the Great Huntsman” to his modest home. He knew precisely why Süss had come to visit his studio on the Rue des Grands-Augustins. “Make yourself at home,” said Picasso, stepping aside, “since it appears you make yourselves at home everywhere.”

“I wish I’d made some witty comeback,” says Süss, “if only to earn a little respect. But nothing occurred to me.”

Picasso and Cocteau immediately disappeared.

“I found myself alone, surrounded by his paintings, and—could you pour me another brandy, Frank? Just a little one. I still have a lot of work to do. Anyway, there I was, surrounded by these canvases, and, I tell you, it was a revelation. I don’t know whether I was amazed or disturbed by the power of his work. There were dozens and dozens of them, some hanging, others leaning against the wall, and it just exploded in my face. All the horrors of war were there. The twisted forms, the deconstructed faces, the brutal colors, it was unbearable. And suddenly it dawned on me why Göring loathes Picasso: the truth is that he fears him as though he were the devil himself.”

Süss picked out two canvases: a woman reclining on her sofa, a small painting that he hid in his apartments, and a larger one of a woman weeping that he sent to join the Reichsmarschall’s “hostages” in the gallery at the Jeu de Paume.

“It’s only fair that we make a little money while helping the devastated humanity I saw in those Picasso paintings, don’t you agree? So, anyway, I—Oh, good evening, Georges.”

“Good evening, sir.” Georges nods at Süss and slips in behind the bar.

Süss drains his glass and leaves the two men to open up. As Frank prepares to silently welcome a host of other eminent collaborators, he thinks about what he has just heard.

Who would have thought that even Süss could have doubts about this war?

If this cold-blooded animal has decided to take a more moral approach to their clandestine business, it might alleviate Frank’s nagging toothache. But his intuition tells him that he is not yet done grinding his teeth in his sleep.