“Of course,” replied Korsch curtly. “He is your only brother, I believe.”

“Yes. I do not often see… that is, as far as I know he is doing well,” said Otto.

“Of course, I’m sure he is,” Korsch said. “And you and he never communicate, nor have the slightest connection with one another, is that what you would have me believe?”

“Why, yes, that is exactly the case. Heinrich and I could not be more different—”

He was interrupted by the open hand of Emil Korsch slamming with force down on the front of the desk as he leapt from his chair. With a glare of menace, the Gestapo agent leaned across the desk and stared into Otto’s wide eyes.

“What kind of a fool do you take me for, Dortmann?” he asked, seething with anger. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you have no contact with your only brother? I have extensive files on you both. Don’t toy with me, Dortmann, or I will bring you down so fast it will make your head spin!”

“I’m sorry, Herr Korsch,” Otto said. “I only meant that we do not see one another regularly.”

“I know precisely what you meant, Otto,” sneered the Gestapo agent. “You meant to save your greasy fat skin! But relax,” he added, stepping back and resuming his seat. “I do not intend to ruin you—just yet, at least… so long as you prove willing to assist… to cooperate with the Reich.”

He smiled again, enjoying watching the banker’s fleshy cheeks and forehead break out in beads of perspiration at his veiled threats. He had this coward exactly where he wanted him!

Several long seconds of heavy silence ensued.

“A party, a social gathering of some prestige, is being planned next month,” said Korsch at length, in a calm and informational tone. “You have no doubt been made aware of the Führer’s order that Berlin have a gala time of it this summer, that social and diplomatic circles make merry with gaiety.”

The banker nodded. “I have heard it, yes,” he said nervously.

“The leaders of the world must see that all is well, that the Reich is prospering and its people happy, and that its friends and foes alike have nothing to fear.”

“I understand, Herr Korsch.”

“You would, of course, be more than willing to assist the Reich toward this end, I am certain, would you not, Herr von Dortmann?”

“Of course. Whatever I can do.”

“As I said, one such gathering is being planned,” said Korsch in a tone of heightened innocence, “in which I am most interested. As it turns out—remarkable coincidence!—the party will be held at the villa of one of our party loyalists out in the country, not far, if I understand it correctly, from where you grew up yourself, Herr von Dortmann.”