“Perhaps you are right,” consented Gustav. “In any event, information indicates that the underground Christian organization is not shut down at all.”

“What! And you said nothing to me?”

“I have only just learned these things,” said Gustav. “I came directly to you the moment I was sure.”

“Go on.”

“Bonhoeffer and the baron had dealings together. The baron was a frequent visitor, as you yourself told me, at the seminary nearby. He admitted to you at my own party that he and the pastor had an ongoing relationship. When the one seminary was closed down, other illegal training centers opened not far away. But Bonhoeffer scarcely had to do with them. He was never there. You were unable to lay a hand on him. Someone had to be in charge of their operation. Bonhoeffer disappeared completely, left the country, and for more than a year has been in prison. But the underground Christian activity has not stopped in that time.”

Gustav paused for effect.

“It is my conviction, Herr Korsch,” he went on slowly, “that Baron von Dortmann took Bonhoeffer’s place as the leader of the subversive Christian network and has been acting in that capacity all this time.”

By now Emil Korsch was listening intently. He said nothing about Gustav’s revelation, trying to absorb the enormous implications. In another moment Gustav went on.

“What if the baron’s estate, right there in front of us, has been a center for illegal Christian activity, replacing the seminary at Finkenwalde and deepening the cloak of secrecy even further than Bonhoeffer did? I believe such is exactly the case. Under the guise of his farming, he is bringing in Christians from all over the Reich—training them also in the subversion for which their kind are noted.

“I tell you, Herr Korsch, Baron von Dortmann is a traitor, the very kingpin of this Christian resistance movement. There is no doubt in my mind that he is still in touch somehow with Bonhoeffer and is involved in the wider underground movement.”

Again Gustav paused, allowing his superior time to take in this rapid flow of information.

Korsch continued to conceal his reaction. His mind was moving rapidly now, in many directions involving money and Swiss bank accounts and a rekindling of his hatred of Christians and their scheming ways.

He recalled his conversation with the baron at the Schmundt villa. Dortmann was a strange one, he had known that immediately, with such odd and outspokenly treasonous notions about loyalty. Yes, everything the count’s son said fit perfectly together.

“In short, Herr Korsch,” said Gustav, “I believe Baron Heinrich von Dortmann is a spy, working for the resistance, and as such might well have been part of the recent plot to assassinate the Führer.”

The twisted and greedy mind of Emil Korsch was reeling, thinking what a vast wealth this information could bring to his Swiss account.