my sense of public order. It offends me as a policeman. When we do decide to clear out the Jews it will be in a proper way, not with a rabble to do it. There are the commercial implications too. A couple of weeks ago some idiots in Nuremberg decided to tear down a synagogue. One that just happened to be well-insured with a German insurance company. It cost them thousands of marks to settle the claim. So you see, race riots are very bad for business.'
'So why tell me?'
'I want this lunatic caught, and caught soon, Gunther.' He looked drily at Nebe.
'In the best traditions of Kripo a man, a Jew, has already confessed to the murders. However, since he was almost certainly in custody at the time of the last murder, it seems that he might actually be innocent, and that an over-zealous element in Nebe's beloved police force may quite simply have framed this man.
'But you, Gunther, you have no racial or political axe to grind. And what is more you have considerable experience in this field of criminal investigation.
After all it was you, was it not, who apprehended Gormann, the strangler? That may have been ten years ago, but everyone still remembers the case.' He paused and looked me straight in the eye an uncomfortable sensation. 'In other words, I want you back, Gunther. Back in Kripo, and tracking down this madman before he kills again.'
I flicked my cigarette-butt into the bushes and stood up. Arthur Nebe stared at me dispassionately, almost as if he disagreed with Heydrich's wish to have me back on the force and leading the investigation in preference to any of his own men. I lit another cigarette and thought for a moment.
'Hell, there must be other bulls,' I said. 'What about the one who caught Knrten, the Beast of Dnsseldorf. Why not get him?'
'We've already checked up on him,' said Nebe. 'It would seem that Peter Knrten just gave himself up. Prior to that it was hardly the most efficient investigation.'
'Isn't there anyone else?'
Nebe shook his head.
'You see, Gunther,' said Heydrich, 'we come back to you again. Quite frankly I doubt that there is a better detective in the whole of Germany.'
I laughed and shook my head. 'You're good. Very good. That was a nice speech you made about children and the family, General, but of course we both know that the real reason you're keeping the lid on this thing is because it makes your modern police force look like a bunch of incompetents. Bad for them, bad for you. And the real reason you want me back is not because I'm such a good detective, but because the rest are so bad. The only sort of crimes that today's Kripo is capable of solving are things like race-defilement, or telling a joke about the Fnhrer.'
Heydrich smiled like a guilty dog, his eyes narrowing. 'Are you refusing me, Herr Gunther?' he said evenly.
'I'd like to help, really I would. But your timing is poor. You see, I've only just found out that my partner was murdered last night. You can call me old-fashioned, but I'd like to find out who killed him. Ordinarily I'd leave it to the boys in the Murder Commission, but given what you've just told me it doesn't sound too promising, does it? They've all but accused me of killing him, so who knows, maybe they'll force me to sign a confession, in which case I'll have to work for you in order to escape the guillotine.'
'Naturally I'd heard about Herr Stahlecker's unfortunate death,' he said, standing up again. 'And of course you'll want to make some inquiries. If my men can be of any assistance, no matter how incompetent, then please don't hesitate.
However, assuming for a moment that this obstacle were removed, what would be your answer?'
I shrugged. 'Assuming that if I refused I would lose my private investigator's licence '
'Naturally '
'- gun permit, driving licence '
'No doubt we'd find some excuse '
'- then probably I would be forced to accept.'
'Excellent.'
'On one condition.'
'Name it.'
'That for the duration of the investigation, I be given the rank of Kriminalkommissar and that I be allowed to run the investigation any way I want.'
'Now wait a minute,' said Nebe. 'What's wrong with your old rank of inspector?'
'Quite apart from the salary,' said Heydrich, 'Gunther is no doubt keen that he should be as free as possible from the interference of senior officers. He's quite right of course. He'll need that kind of rank in order to overcome the prejudices that will undoubtedly accompany his return to Kripo. I should have thought of it myself. It is agreed.'
We walked back to the Palais. Inside the door an SD officer handed Heydrich a note. He read it and then smiled.
'Isn't that a coincidence?' he smiled. 'It would seem that my incompetent police force has found the man who murdered your partner, Herr Gunther. I wonder, does the name Klaus Hering mean anything to you?'
'Stahlecker was keeping a watch on his apartment when he was killed.'
'That is good news. The only sand in the oil is that this Hering fellow would appear to have committed suicide.' He looked at Nebe and smiled. 'Well, we had better go and take a look, don't you think, Arthur? Otherwise Herr Gunther here will think that we have made it up.'
It is difficult to form any clear impression of a man who has been hanged that is not grotesque. The tongue, turgid and protruding like a third lip, the eyes as prominent as a racing dog's balls these things tend to colour your thoughts a little. So apart from the feeling that he wouldn't be winning the local debating-society prize, there wasn't much to say about Klaus Hering except that he was about thirty years old, slimly built, fair-haired and, thanks in part to his necktie, getting on for tall.
The thing looked clear-cut enough. In my experience hanging is almost always suicide: there are easier ways to kill a man. I have seen a few exceptions, but these were all accidental cases, where the victim had encountered the mishap of vagal inhibition while going about some sado-masochistic perversion. These sexual nonconformists were usually found naked or clothed in female underwear with a spread of pornographic literature to sticky hand, and were always men.
In Hering's case there was no such evidence of death by sexual misadventure. His clothes were such as might have been chosen by his mother; and his hands, which were loose at his sides, were unfettered eloquence to the effect that his homicide had been self-inflicted.
Inspector Strunck, the bull who had interrogated me back at the Alex, explained the matter to Heydrich and Nebe.
'We found this man's name and address in Stahlecker's pocket,' he said. 'There's a bayonet wrapped in newspaper in the kitchen. It's covered in blood, and from the look of it I'd say it was the knife that killed him. There's also a bloodstained shirt that Hering was probably wearing at the time.'
'Anything else?' said Nebe.
'Stahlecker's shoulder-holster was empty, General,' said Strunck. 'Perhaps Gunther might like to tell us if this was his gun or not. We found it in a paper bag with the shirt.'
He handed me a Walther PPK. I put the muzzle to my nose and sniffed the gun-oil.
Then I worked the slide and saw that there wasn't even a bullet in the barrel, although the magazine was full. Next I pulled down the trigger-guard. Bruno's initials were scratched neatly on the black metal.
'It's Bruno's gun, all right,' I said. 'It doesn't look like he even got his hand on it. I'd like to see that shirt please.'
Strunck glanced at his Reichskriminaldirektor for approval.
'Let him see it, Inspector,' said Nebe.
The shirt was from C & A, and heavily bloodstained around the stomach area and the right cuff, which seemed to confirm the general set-up.
'It does look as though this was the man who murdered your partner, Herr Gunther,' said Heydrich. 'He came back here and, having changed his clothes, had a chance to reflect upon what he'd done. In a fit of remorse he
