Read Online Secret of the White Rose by Stefanie Pintoff - Free Book Online Page B

but asked only, “How many men are we looking for?”
    The General drew his hands together. “Gentlemen, I believe we’re on the trail of the largest anarchist conspiracy this city has seen. We will start at the top, with Wesson and Strupp—and work our way down, till we’ve caught all the minions who were helping them.”
    I cleared my throat. That was when the enormity of what the General had in mind hit me. This was to be a witch hunt focused on two men, and driven by a belief in guilt by association. He was prepared to arrest numerous men—and to mistreat a family who had already suffered enough—in the name of targeting two men against whom there was absolutely no hard evidence.
    “Sir, I grew up among many men who now call themselves anarchists,” I said. “Most of them are all talk and no action.”
    “In the beginning, perhaps, Detective,” the General said, fixing me with a stern look. “But Oliver mentioned the magazine Mother Earth . It reminds us these vile acts start somewhere. I believe they start with ideas and idle talk.”
    “Even if you believe that, General, these men’s families are not at fault—”
    He cut me off abruptly. “I don’t care. I’ll use whatever means are at my disposal to apprehend those responsible.” He pounded his fist on the table again, this time leaning in so his wheelchair did not move. “These are not men that we seek. They are scum—vermin of the earth who pollute everything good with their vile words. Then they kill good men—children even—in the name of their godforsaken cause.” He caught his breath, and the words that followed were barely audible. “Men like Drayson don’t deserve the protection this fine nation’s laws would give them.”
    “Of course, General,” I said, with as much politeness as I could muster. “But do you have proof—by which I mean hard evidence—that Jeremy Wesson and Jonathan Strupp are actually involved?”
    He grew red in the face, and I knew I was walking a fine line between my duty to this investigation and outright insubordination. “I’ve got all the proof I need,” he roared. “These anarchist scum draw support from their own communities—from ordinary citizens in the beer halls and saloons, their libraries and even their churches. They’re all to blame,” he said, pounding his fist, “every last one of them. That’s why I’ve sent spies like Oliver to go undercover into places like Justin Schwab’s Beer Hall and Fritz Bachmann’s Teutonia Hall. A boy like him keeps his ears open.” He gave me a hard look. “I don’t care what connections you have, Detective Ziele. I’ll not have you tell me how to do my job. My leg is lame,” he said, tapping his wheelchair, “but my mind is sharp. I’m in charge of this city for a reason.”
    I stiffened. “I mean no disrespect, General. I only want to emphasize that as we search for the anarchists responsible, we shouldn’t ignore standard investigation protocol. After all, it is possible that Judge Jackson has been killed for reasons other than a top-level anarchist conspiracy.” I took a deep breath, and when he did not interrupt me, I continued. “At the crime scene last night, there were indications that the judge’s killer may have had a unique motive.”
    “Are you suggesting it wasn’t an anarchist?” Bill Hodges sputtered, aghast. “Drayson’s trial is the biggest thing this city has seen in years.”
    “No,” I replied evenly, “but we should consider the possibility that someone—very likely an anarchist, I agree—had a more personal motive for murdering the judge. Many anarchists may have wanted to free Al Drayson. But only one of them was motivated to kill the judge in this particular way.”
    I continued, emphasizing the bizarre elements that no doubt the official reports had glossed over. I’d spoken up out of concern for the Strupps, but now, I believed my own words.
    The General’s blue eyes were alert behind his wire-rimmed