Original subtitles

*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 murder a politician!

A human being!

Yes, we can.

Probably many people.

That's murder.

I won't take part in this.

You don't have to.

I'm not a murderer. / I know.

I... / But you'll become a murderer

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 bomb.

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 explosive.

When time runs out, this device triggers the explosion.

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 murder.

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 illegal 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 murdered.

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 illegal 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 explosive 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 gay #

# 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?

*