05x07 - Episode 7

[bunniefuu]

*pattering rain*

*mysterious piano music*

[Albrecht]
For one square meter, you need

about 20 milliliters
of carbon disulfide solution.

You can order it
at any pharmacy.

Impossible to trace
who bought what, or where.

And then, this.

One centimeter is enough.

Looks like amber,
but it's white phosphorus.

Warmed up a bit,
and it dissolves right into it.

Then poured in here.

Light bulb glass,
it shatters easiest.

Besides, these things
fit nicely in the hand.

At first, nothing happens.

But once the carbon disulfide
evaporates,

the white phosphorus ignites
upon contact with the air.

Could you demonstrate that?

Of course.

When you use it indoors,

all you need
is a steady draft.

Opening a door
is usually enough.

For Göring's operation,
we'll need large quantities of this...

tincture.

As you can see, we've prepared.

And when does the spectacle begin?

Just you wait.

*eerie music*

*rhythmic music*

*flapping wings, cooing*

*somber string music*

*music swells*

An assassination attempt
on the Chancellor?

You can't...

We can't just m*rder
a politician!

A human being!

Yes, we can.

Probably many people.

That's m*rder.

I won't take part in this.

You don't have to.

I'm not a m*rder*r. / I know.

I... / But you'll become a m*rder*r

if you do this.

*he breathes shakily*

That's why I didn't tell you.

Charlotte. / Don't you dare!

Farewell.

*music grows more dramatic*

*melancholy brass music*

*dramatic string music begins*

*string music swells slowly*

*ominously trembling music*

*music continues*

*music continues*

*music becomes more ominous*

*high-pitched, sustained tone*

*tone swells*

*tone cuts off*

*music fades*

They haven't published anything.

Not Le Monde, not Paris-soir,
none of the French newspapers.

Why?

*dark whooshing*

We will draw
our conclusions from that.

Tonight.

Where?

The Nyssen family estate.
Schloss Liebenberg.

Tonight, the most important leaders

of industry and high finance
are meeting there,

the highest-ranking National Socialists,
the Reich Chancellor.

An opportunity like this
won't come a second time.

Edgar.

It is what is called
an unofficial dinner,

taking place tonight at 7:30 PM
in the grand ballroom.

*somber music*

[Edgar] The hosts are
Alfred and Helga Nyssen,

who, together with 12
industrial magnates and bankers,

are receiving a portion
of the NSDAP leadership.

The Reich Chancellor
is also announced.

For our operation to succeed,

it is vital that the number
of persons

who know every detail of the plan
remains small.

In short, we are all
gathered here in this room.

Herr Wegener has hired
a catering firm run by me.

I selected the staff.
They follow only my orders.

The two of us will be on site
and supervise preparations.

You are our outpost.

According to protocol,
Hitler is scheduled to arrive last.

At 8:00 PM at the latest.

His seat in the hall

is directly across
from the host, Alfred Nyssen.

Between the two, there is
a recess in the parquet floor.

That is our cache for the b*mb.

Shortly before the guests arrive,

I will make sure
the hall is cleared.

Then we must place the dynamite
very quickly and precisely.

There are
two ways to detonate it.

A timer placed directly
on the expl*sive.

When time runs out,
this device triggers the expl*si*n.

The advantage: we can
get ourselves to safety.

[Wegener] And the disadvantage?

We commit ourselves
to an exact moment.

A wired detonator is
much harder to install.

The cable has to run through a hole
in the floor into the basement,

and from there through a window
to the outside.

You then pull the cable
to your position in the park,

connect it to the detonator there,
and at the agreed time,

you fire it.

Target time is 9:00 PM.

So be it.

After the successful assassination,
you fire a signal flare,

so the Doctor,
who is at the Reichstag,

receives the signal
to enter the plenary hall.

In the plenary hall,
there is a microphone

connected around the clock
to the Broadcasting House.

From there, his speech
can be broadcast without delay

to every radio receiver
in the Reich.

Our contact at the radio station
will also wait for the flare signal,

and switch on the dedicated line
to the Reichstag after ten minutes.

And all of Germany will listen,

when you announce the death
of Hitler and his henchmen.

[Helga] It's only natural, Alfred.

The host takes one side,

and the guest of honor
sits across from him.

But why aren't you sitting next to me?

I have another spot,
right close to our guests.

You must be at my side.

The Führer isn't bringing a lady either.

To your left is Göring,
and to your right, von Papen.

*he snorts with a chuckle*

Papen is taking your place.

I'm tending the field
from the proper side,

Alfred, please don't worry.

This humiliation never ends.

[laughing] And your pride
is that of a wimp.

I hold all the cards in my hand,
every single one.

Hitler's predecessor visited me
the other day, Kurt von Schleicher.

He wants me to back him,
and that's exactly what I'll do,

if this Austrian
doesn't toe the line.

Of course, Alfred, I know that.

Where does she want to sit,
my dear wife?

Look, this is where I sit.

[Annemarie] And what do you think?
Who's sitting next to her?

I'll take care
of the Reichstag President,

while you deal
with Herr Hitler.

[Annemarie] There you have it, son.

Alfred, aren't you well?

She isn't listening to me.

*doorbell rings*

Well? / Good news.

You're not being sought.
At least not officially.

Are you sure? / Yes.

After court, I went
to police headquarters.

They assured me
there is nothing against you.

Good, very good.

Still, I would recommend... / No.

Take off your coat and come in.
You're needed.

Herr Litten.
Good to have you here.

Good morning, Frau Behnke.

Would you be so kind as to help
Herr Heymann

beat the carpet out in the courtyard?

Then I can mop in here.

*clock ticking*

*Litten and Heymann huffing*

Herr Heymann.

Ah. Thank you.

*door opens*

*door shuts*

You can't go to the editorial office.

Someone has to report on

what's currently happening
in this election campaign.

I will contribute a first-hand report,

straight from inside the new
National Socialist reality.

Maybe that will wake
some people up,

so that in two weeks,
they cast their vote in the right place.

Only under public pressure

will they prosecute
Katelbach's m*rder.

At least as manslaughter.

*water drains*

*indistinct dialogue*

And I will convince the judiciary
of the illegality of these camps,

what was it you called them again?

Concentration camps.

I will take legal action
against these ill*gal prisons.

The law is still on our side.

*mysterious music*

*carpet beating*

[Wels] Thälmann
just wants to make a fool of me.

He won't budge an inch toward us.

Otto, we must act!

This is a one-time affair.

Once the elections are over,
we go our separate ways again.

Let's take the chance.

Just one meeting,
Comrade Chairman.

Now, don't get so formal
all of a sudden, young lady.

*he sighs*

All right, then.

If you insist.

It won't fail on my account.

*she sighs with relief* / *door closes*

[Thälmann] When did you say? / As soon as possible.

*tense music*

All right, then tomorrow morning
at ten sharp.

[Albrecht] They're getting ahead of us.

The meeting point is already set.

When and where?

Tomorrow morning at ten
at the Reichstag.

KPD and SPD. Together?

Looks like it.

[Wendt] What?

This meeting
must not take place under any circumstances.

How are we supposed
to prevent it now?

[Wendt] We could arrest Thälmann and Wels
under some pretext.

That's too transparent.

That's how you make martyrs.

If we do it, it must be an end
once and for all

to this red scum.

We're moving up our operation.

I don't know if that's feasible. / It is.

With the help of the SA.

The decrees are drawn up
and ready in my drawer.

Good. / I'll take care of it.

And the lists
of those to be arrested as well.

I'll have them duplicated
and distributed.

*restless clamor of voices*

All right, lucky day, ladies.

I need everyone today
for Political.

Please head upstairs.

Orderly, if you please!

One after the other!

*music continues*

Stay ready. From now on,
we need to know where you are at all times.

And now, hear the beautiful old German
folk song 'In einem kühlen Grunde'.

Performed by Emil Engels
and Robert Faustmann.

Accompanied by Ludwig Nelsen
and Frederik Baumgarten.

*solemn piano music*

*birds chirping*

# Down in a cool valley #

# A mill wheel turns around #

# My sweetheart has vanished #

# Who made that place her home #

# My sweetheart has vanished #

# Who made that place her home #

# When I hear the mill wheel turning #

# I know not what I yearn #

# I'd rather die right now #

# Then all would be at peace #

# I'd rather die right now #

# Then all would be at peace #

*ship's horn*

*loud typewriter clacking*

*tense, pulsating music*

*music builds*

[Böhm] What is this? / [typist] Arrest warrants.

[Böhm, softly] Rath. Ritter.

Who are you doing this for?

Political.

Regierungsrat Wendt
is not available.

What kind of operation is this, Sebald?

I have no knowledge of it whatsoever,
Senior Detective.

Oh, cut it out!

Wait!

*music turns darker*

What are the people on these lists
accused of?

High treason.

We have clear evidence that communists

and Social Democrats
are planning a coup.

It is an extensive network

running through all strata
of society.

Deep into our own ranks.

Hm?

*music grows uneasy*

Fine, thank you very much. Goodbye.

*telephone rings*

Herr Gräf. / Herr Böhm.

[clerk]
Homicide Division, good day.

[whispers] I must speak with Fräulein Ritter.
Immediately.

Do you know where I can find her?

You mean because of the lists? / Mhm.

I've been phoning everywhere.

[Gennat]
Senior Detective, Herr Gräf,

please, come along.

*restless music continues louder*

*music fades*

Dr. Dresse?

*man shouts indistinctly*

What can you tell me
about Hitler's medical file?

Not so loud.

Who has the file, and what's in it?

Well?

I don't have the file.

Not surprising.
That would be your death warrant.

For me or for you,
it would be a death warrant.

But for others, that file
is a life insurance policy,

if you know what I mean.

Who are you talking about?

*ship's horn*

*ship's horn drowns out dialogue*

*peculiar, tense music*

*indistinct shouting*

It worked.

They'll let you through with that.
Tonight.

An SA ID?

*he laughs out loud*

*music fades*

What are you doing here?

The Chief Inspector
informed me of your whereabouts.

Gennat?

Come with me,
I have something to tell you.

*pattering rain*

Do not go to your apartment.
Under no circumstances.

Your name is on a list.
Inspector Rath's as well.

Both of your lives
are in grave danger.

You must leave the city,
you must leave the country.

As quickly as possible.

I do have one question, though,
Fräulein Ritter.

What did Rath intend to do
with the cognac?

Rath wants to blow up Hitler.

When?

I don't know,
I haven't been let in on it.

The whole thing has to be called off.
Wendt knows something.

It's going to go wrong.
You must warn Rath.

How do you know about Wendt?

Like it or not, I'm working
for Regierungsrat Wendt now.

He gave me no choice,
Fräulein Ritter.

He wants the file, not for Hitler,
but for himself.

And he needs me for that.

At least that's what he thinks.

I know where the medical file is.

I didn't hear that.

*keys jingle*

What's this? / From colleague Gräf.

The keys to his apartment.

Charlotte, you must find Rath.

Warn him.

And get out of the city,
both of you.

Inspector Rath doesn't want
any help.

But he has no choice.

[Heymann] Dear colleagues,

because my presence
in our newsroom

could become rather uncomfortable,

I've asked you here today

to discuss the future course
of our paper.

Elections are on March 5th.

Hundreds of opposition members are in custody,
thousands more will follow.

The situation forces us

to abandon our journalistic restraint.

We must now become
campaigners ourselves,

or else we will perish.

Down to daily business.

This obituary for our...

colleague Samuel Katelbach

will be today's front-page story.

In it, we still name names.

Starting today, on page two,

we will print the names of the disappeared
and the m*rder*d.

We will keep updating this list,

in every edition until the election.

It is likely
that this will have consequences.

I have experienced it
firsthand.

I wouldn't wish the same
on any of you.

You are, of course, free to leave.

I cannot blame you,

after all, I hired reporters,
not martyrs.

The decision is yours.

Only, you must make it soon.

No.

Right now.

*Heymann clears his throat*

I have a family.

I'm sorry.

*door opens*

Good.

To work.

"Dear Herr Heymann,
dear Herr Litten,

now that Herr Katelbach
is no longer with me,

I have decided

to undertake alone a venture

that the two of us had planned.

You will not find me here

when you return
to this apartment.

I therefore take the liberty

of including a few practical
and necessary explanations,

adherence to which should make
your stay on Bayreuther Strasse

as pleasant as possible.

First, the rent.

It is payable in the amount
of 88 Reichsmarks

to Ministerial Director [ret.]
Gustav Roma,

who expects payment promptly
by the fourth of every month.

*gentle piano music*

*typewriter clatters*

A daily two-minute blast of fresh air

prevents mildew from forming
in the rooms,

and otherwise ensures
a pleasant indoor climate.

Should you wish to sublet my room,

it is advisable to divide the costs

according to size.

Quiet and tidy tenants
are to be preferred.

I leave my hometown

with one suitcase
and a modest nest egg,

which, thanks to a certain frugality,

I was even able to grow
over many years.

I will travel for a while
and attempt,

with a watchful eye and keen mind,
to report on it.

To both of you, I wish the very best,

strength and good fortune
in all your endeavors.

Warmest regards to you both,
your friend Elisabeth Behnke."

*somber string music*

*traffic noise*

*announcements, hubbub of voices*

*conductor blows whistle*

*solemn piano music*

[Katelbach] "Elisabeth, one can only write
about Vienna without pathos,

with a smile and a grumble.

Yet in that very manner,

one can be enchanted by a city

and fall in love with it.

And perhaps it isn't
the worst way at all.

Those who truly love
don't sing love songs."

Herr Heymann, one more question.
Do you know where Inspector Rath is?

Rath? No.

I haven't seen him
since our escape.

Thank you.

And not a word about Dresse.

Of course, Frau Ritter.
Keep it strictly confidential.

Thank you. Goodbye.

Potocznik, you won't believe this.

I'll bet anything
you can't guess

who requested the medical file
most recently.

Who?

Ten to one
you're wrong.

Um...

Hindenburg?

Not bad.
Try again, one floor down.

*tense, pulsating music*

[Heymann] Herr Reichskanzler,
forgive the late disturbance.

[Schleicher] What is it?

Out with it. I have
no secrets from my wife.

I am looking for
Adolf Hitler's medical file.

It was drawn up in 1918

during his stay
at the Pasewalk military hospital.

And I know from a reliable source,
that is, first-hand,

that it is in your possession.

What do you want with that document?

To publish it.

If it says what I think it says,

the public needs to know.

It belongs in public view, Kurt.

Yes.

Yet I say no.

Why?

This medical evaluation
of my successor,

I will use it to protect the Reich,

should that gentleman ever dare
to harm our country.

He's already doing that.

In a very substantial way,
I would say.

I myself was interned
in one of those ill*gal camps.

One of my editors sacrificed his life
in our escape.

Thousands of innocent people
are being arrested across Germany right now.

He's right, Kurt.

You must play this card
before the election.

Now.

No.

Not yet.

[Frau Schleicher] Come along.

*ominously pulsing music*

*festive string music*

*loud knocking*

*music abruptly stops*

Brunner, NSDAP.

Security inspection.
Where is the dining hall?

Right this way.

Everyone out.

Out. Security inspection.

*occasional patting down*

You, maître d'!

Come here, I have
something to discuss with you.

For me, observing
the specific etiquette

this evening
is of paramount importance.

Food and drinks are to be served
first to the hosts,

to you and your wife,

only after that
will the guests of honor be served.

Yes, certainly, but...

You know what?

My wife isn't sitting
next to me at all.

Mmm.

Come, I'll show you.

*peculiar music*

She's sitting over here.

Therefore, I am the only one
to receive preferential service.

First me, and then everyone else.

All at the same time.
My wife included.

Wegener speaks very highly
of your catering expertise.

Do not disappoint me.

What's that?

Those are ventilation grates.

Check them.

*tense music*

Clean.

Everything inspected? / Yes, Herr Obersturmbannführer.

Fall out!

*music grows more dramatic*

Come along.

*faint rumbling*

[Wegener] Rath?

[Helga] Please let me in.
Please let me in!

Alfred!

What on earth is going on here?

Frau Nyssen.

Wegener, why are all the people
standing around outside?

[Edgar] Security inspection,
Frau Nyssen.

They were all just here a moment ago.

[sighs] We also have to check
the entire room

for possible expl*sive caches.

Oh, I see. Of course.

My goodness.

*she hesitates*

In the floor under the table,
the air grates.

Did you see them? / Just checked them, everything in order.

Thank you.

That's what we're here for. / Good.

Where is my husband?

In the private quarters,
ma'am.

*she sighs irritably*

*suspenseful music*

*music builds dramatically*

Well then...

*hissing*

*music intensifies dramatically*

*music fades*

*gentle swing music*

*peals of laughter, applause*

It'll be fine. Ah!

[giggles] Oh.

*cheering*

Now, my dear
and naughty boys and girls,

she's finally back with us
after a long stay abroad.

The one and only,
divine Habanera!

*cheering*

*"It's All the Jews' Fault"
by Friedrich Hollaender*

# Whether it rains, whether it hails,
whether it snows or lightning flashes #

# Whether it's dusk, whether it thunders,
whether you freeze or whether you sweat #

# Whether it's fair, whether it's overcast,
whether it thaws or whether it pours #

# Whether it trickles, whether it drizzles,
whether you cough, whether you sneeze #

# The Jews are to blame for everything #

# The Jews are to blame for it all #

# Why so, why are they to blame? #

# Child, you don't understand,
they're to blame #

# And screw you too!
They're to blame #

# The Jews are
and are and are to blame #

# And if you don't believe it,
they're to blame #

# For everything, everything,
the Jews are to blame #

[all] Oh, I see!

*cheerful laughter*

# Whether the line is busy,
whether the bathtub leaks #

# Whether your taxes
are assessed wrong #

# Whether the sausage tastes like soap #

# Whether on Sunday the baker is shut,
whether the Prince of Wales is g*y #

# Whether at night the furniture creaks,
whether your dog has hard stool #

*music cuts off*

*restless murmuring*

What's the matter?
The boys are with me.

Play!

*kiss sound, giggling*

Go on, play! Keep playing, girls!

# That the snow
is so terribly white #

# And what's more, so they say, cold #

# That fire, by contrast, is hot
And that trees stand in the woods #

# That a rose isn't an onion
and that tartare is ground #

# That Heine isn't half bad
and that Einstein is quite gifted #

[Blank, bellowing]
# The Jews are to blame for everything #

*SA men chime in*
# The Jews are to blame for everything #

# The Jews are to blame for everything #

# The Jews are
and are to blame for everything #

# The Jews are to blame for everything #

# The Jews are to blame for everything #

# The Jews are to blame for everything #

# The Jews are
and are to blame for everything #

# The Jews are to blame for everything #

# The Jews are
and are to blame for everything #

# The Jews are to blame for... #

*somber tones drown out singing*

*heartbeat sound begins*

*cheerful background conversation,
laughter*

*hubbub of voices*

Charlotte? / Reinhold.

How are you? / Fine.

I was worried.
Worried doesn't begin to describe it.

Thank you for the key, too.

Have you seen Gereon?

No. / [Jacoby] Rath?

Yes. / I saw him.

He was at my place
in the broadcasting house this afternoon.

This afternoon? And what did he want?

He asked me to return to the studio,
tonight at 9:00 PM.

Exactly ten minutes after the signal,
you switch on the live line.

*sinister music*

*door shuts*

Reichstag, you say? / Yes.

Change your clothes immediately.

Don't forget your badge.
I'll call a cab.

Now? / Yes, right away!

I'll wait outside for you.

*whistle*

*tense music*

Good evening,
Herr Reichstag President.

Maître d', one last minor detail
has occurred to me.

We are changing the seating arrangement.

I...

will sit here.

Him...

we place over here.

In your seat, Mother.

*music grows more energetic*

[whispering] What do we do now?