revealed the profile behind the mask to be unmistakably Jewish. Those Der Sturmercartoonists love to draw a big nose, and this one was a real pelican's beak. A strange thing to find in a respectable businessman's office, I thought. The anaemic young man emerging from the other office provided the simple explanation.
'He won't keep you very long,' he said, adding, 'He buys that to impress the kikes.'
'I'm afraid I don't follow.'
'We get a lot of Jewish custom in here,' he explained. 'Of course, they only want to sell, never to buy. Herr Jeschonnek thinks that if they see that he subscribes to Der Stnrmer, it will help him to drive a harder bargain.'
'Very shrewd of him,' I said. 'Does it work?'
'I guess so. You'd better ask him.'
'Maybe I will at that.'
There wasn't much to see in the boss's office. Across a couple of acres of carpet was a grey steel safe that had once been a small battleship, and a Panzer-sized desk with a dark leather top. The desk had very little on it except a square of felt, on which lay a ruby that was big enough to decorate a Maharajah's favourite elephant, and Jeschonnek's feet, wearing immaculate white spats, and these swung under the table as I came through the door.
Gert Jeschonnek was a burly hog of a man, with small piggy eyes and a brown beard cropped close to his sunburned face. He wore a light-grey double-breasted suit that was ten years too young for him, and in the lapel was a Scary Badge.
He had March Violet plastered all over him like insect repellent.
'Herr Gunther,' he said brightly, and for a moment he was almost standing at attention. Then he crossed the floor to greet me. A purplish butcher's hand pumped mine own, which showed patches of white when I let it go. He must have had blood like treacle. He smiled a sweet smile and then looked across my shoulder to his anaemic secretary who was about to close the door on us.
Jeschonnek said:
'Helmut. A pot of your best strong coffee please. Two cups, and no delays.' He spoke quickly and precisely, beating time with his hand like a teacher of elocution. He led me over to the desk, and the ruby, which I figured was there to impress me, in the same way as the copies of Der Sturmerwere there to impress his Jewih custom. I pretended to ignore it, but Jeschonnek was not to be denied his little performance. He held the ruby up to the light in his fat fingers, and grinned obscenely.
'An extremely fine cabochon ruby,' he said. 'Like it?'
'Red isn't my colour,' I said. 'It doesn't go with my hair.' He laughed and replaced the ruby on the velvet, which he folded up and returned to his safe. I sat down on a big armchair in front of his desk.
'I'm looking for a diamond necklace,' I said. He sat down opposite me.
'Well, Herr Gunther, I'm the acknowledged expert on diamonds.' His head gave a proud little flourish, like a racehorse, and I caught a powerful whiff of cologne.
'Is that so?' I said.
'I doubt if there's a man in Berlin who knows as much about diamonds as I do.'
He thrust his stubbly chin at me, as if challenging me to contradict him. I almost threw up.
'I'm glad to hear it,' I said. The coffee arrived and Jeschonnek glanced uncomfortably after his secretary as he minced out of the room.
'I cannot get used to having a male secretary,' he said. 'Of course, I can see that the proper place for a woman is in the home, bringing up a family, but I have a great fondness for women, Herr Gunther.'
'I'd take a partner before I'd take on a male secretary,' I said. He smiled politely.
'Now then, I believe you're in the market for a diamond.'
'Diamonds,' I said, correcting him.
'I see. On their own, or in a setting?'
'Actually I'm trying to trace a particular piece which has been stolen from my client,' I explained, and handed him my card. He stared at it impassively. 'A necklace, to be precise. I have a photograph of it here.' I produced another photograph and handed it to him.
'Magnificent,' he said.
'Each one of the baguettes is one carat,' I told him.
'Quite,' he said. 'But I don't see how I can help you, Herr Gunther.'
'If the thief should try and offer it to you, I'd be grateful if you would contact me. Naturally, there is a substantial reward. I have been authorized by my client to offer twenty-five per cent of the insured value for recovery, no questions asked.'
'May one know the name of your client, Herr Gunther?'
I hesitated. 'Well,' I said. 'Ordinarily, a client's identity is confidential.
But I can see that you are the kind of man who is used to respecting confidentiality.'
'You're much too kind,' he said.
'The necklace is Indian, and belongs to a princess who is in Berlin for the Olympiad, as the guest of the Government.' Jeschonnek began to frown as he listened to my lies. 'I have not met the princess myself, but I am told that she is the most beautiful creature that Berlin has ever seen. She is staying at the Adlon Hotel, from where the necklace was stolen several nights ago.'
'Stolen from an Indian princess, eh?' he said, adding a smile to his features.
'Well, I mean, why was there nothing in the newspapers about this? And why are the police not involved?' I drank some of my coffee to prolong a dramatic pause.
'The management of the Adlon is anxious to avoid a scandal,' I said. 'It's not so very long ago that the Adlon suffered a series of unfortunate robberies committed there by the celebrated jewel-thief Faulhaber.'
'Yes, I remember reading about that.'
'It goes without question that the necklace is insured, but where the reputation of the Adlon is concerned, that is hardly the point, as I am sure you will understand.'
'Well, sir, I shall certainly contact you immediately if I come across any information that may help you,' said Jeschonnek, producing a gold watch from his pocket. He glanced at it deliberately. 'And now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be getting on.' He stood up and held out his pudgy hand.
'Thanks for your time,' I said. 'I'll see myself out.'
'Perhaps you'd be kind enough to ask that boy to step in here when you go out,' he said.
'Sure.'
He gave me the Hitler Salute. 'Heil Hitler,' I repeated dumbly.
In the outside office the anaemic boy was reading a magazine. My eyes caught sight of the keys before I'd finished telling him that his boss required his presence: they were lying on the desk next to the telephone. He grunted and wrenched himself out of his seat. I hesitated at the door.
'Oh, do you have a piece of paper?'
He pointed to the pad on which the keys were lying. 'Help yourself,' he said, and went into Jeschonnek's office.
'Thanks, I will.' The key-ring was labelled 'Office'. I took a cigarette case out of my pocket and opened it. In the smooth surface of the modelling clay I made three impressions two sides and a vertical of both keys. I suppose that you could say I did it on impulse. I 'd hardly had time to digest everything that Jeschonnek had said; or rather, what he hadn't said. But then I always carry that piece of clay, and it seems a shame not to use it when the opportunity presents itself. You would be surprised how often a key that I've had made with that mould comes in useful.
Outside, I found a public telephone and called the Adlon. I still remembered lots of good times at the Adlon, and lots of friends, too.
'Hello, Hermine,' I said, 'it's Bernie.' Hermine was one of the girls on the Adlon's switchboard.
'You stranger,' she said. 'We haven't seen you in ages.'
'I've been a bit busy,' I said.
'So's the Fuhrer, but he still manages to get around and wave to us.'
'Maybe I should buy myself an open-top Mercedes and a couple of outriders.' I lit a cigarette. 'I need a small favour, Hermine.'
