to me that there was an even chance it would kill me, and, wishing to make my peace with the back of my mind, I had sought out the only churchman among my fellow prisoners, a Polish priest. I had been brought up as a Lutheran, but religious denomination seemed like a matter of small account in that dreadful place.
Becoming a Catholic in the full expectation of death only made me more tenacious of life, and after I'd escaped and returned to Berlin I continued to attend mass and to celebrate the faith that had apparently delivered me.
My newfound Church did not have a good record in its relation to the Nazis, and had now also distanced itself from any imputation of guilt. It followed that if the Catholic Church was not guilty, nor were its members. There was, it seemed, some theological basis for a rejection of German collective guilt. Guilt, said the priests, was really something personal between a man and his God, and its attribution to one nation by another was blasphemy, for this could only be a matter of divine prerogative. After that, all that there remained to do was pray for the dead, for those who had done wrong, and for the whole dreadful and embarrassing epoch to be forgotten as quickly as possible.
There were many who remained uneasy at the way the moral dirt was swept under the carpet. But it is certain that a nation cannot feel collective guilt, that each man must encounter it personally. Only now did I realize the nature of my own guilt and perhaps it was really not much different from that of many others: it was that I had not said anything, that I had not lifted my hand against the Nazis. I also realized that I had a personal sense of grievance against Heinrich Mnller, for as chief of the Gestapo he had done more than any other man to achieve the corruption of the police force of which I had once been a proud member. From that had flowed wholesale terror.
Now it seemed it was not too late to do something after all. It was just possible that, by seeking out Mnller, the symbol not just of my own corruption but Becker's too, and bringing him to justice, I might help to clear my own guilt for what had happened.
Belinsky rang early, almost as if he had already guessed my decision, and I told him that I would help him to find Gestapo Mnller not for Crowcass, nor for the United States Army, but for Germany. But mostly, I told him, I would help him to get Mnller for myself.
Chapter 29
First thing that morning, after telephoning K/nig and arranging a meeting to hand over Belinsky's ostensibly secret material, I went to Liebl's office in Judengasse in order that he might arrange for me to see Becker at the police prison.
'I want to show him a photograph,' I explained.
'A photograph?' Liebl sounded hopeful. 'Is this a photograph that might become an item of evidence?'
I shrugged. 'That depends on Becker.'
Liebl made a couple of swift telephone calls, trading on the death of Becker's fiancTe, the possibility of new evidence and the proximity of the trial, which gained us almost immediate access to the prison. It was a fine day and we made our way there by foot, with Liebl walking his umbrella like a colour sergeant in an imperial regiment of guards.
'Did you tell him about Traudl?' I asked.
'Last night.'
'How did he take it?'
The grey brow on the old lawyer's head shifted uncertainly. 'Surprisingly well, Herr Gunther. Like you, I had supposed our client would be devastated by the news.' The brow shifted again, more in consternation this time. 'But he was not.
No, it was his own unfortunate situation that seemed to preoccupy him. As well as your progress, or lack of it. Herr Becker does seem to have an extraordinary amount of faith in your powers of detection. Powers for which, if I may be frank with you, sir, I have seen little or no evidence.'
'You're entitled to your opinion, Dr Liebl. I guess you're like most lawyers I've met: if your own sister sent you an invitation to her wedding you'd be happy only if it was signed under seal and in the presence of two witnesses.
Perhaps if our client had been a little more forthcoming 'You suspect he's been holding something back? Yes, I remember you said as much on the telephone yesterday. Without knowing quite what you were talking about I did not feel able to take advantage of Herr Becker's ' he hesitated for a second while he debated whether or not he could reasonably use the word, and then decided that he could ' grief, to make such an allegation.'
'Very sensitive of you, I'm sure. But perhaps this photograph will jog his memory.'
'I do hope so. And perhaps his bereavement will have sunk in, and he will make a better show of his grief.'
It seemed like a very Viennese sort of sentiment.
But when we saw Becker he appeared hardly affected. After a packet of cigarettes had persuaded the guard to leave the three of us alone in the interview room I tried to find out why.
'I'm sorry about Traudl,' I said. 'She was a really lovely girl.'
He nodded expressionlessly, as if he had been listening to some boring point of legal procedure as explained by Liebl.
'I must say you don't seem very upset by it,' I remarked.
'I'm dealing with it in the best way I know how,' he said quietly. 'There's not a lot I can do here. Chances are they won't even let me attend the funeral. How do you think I feel?'
I turned to Liebl and asked him if he wouldn't mind leaving the room for a minute. 'There's something I wish to say to Herr Becker in private.'
Liebl glanced at Becker, who nodded curtly back at him. Neither of us spoke until the heavy door had closed behind the lawyer.
'Spit it out, Bernie,' Becker said, half-yawning at the same time. 'What's on your mind?'
'It was your friends in the Org who killed your girl,' I said, watching his long thin face closely for some sign of emotion. I wasn't sure if this was true or not, but I was keen to see what it might make him reveal. But there was nothing.
They actually asked me to kill her.'
'So,' he said, with his eyes narrowing, 'you're in the Org.' His tone was cautious. 'When did this happen?'
'Your friend K/nig recruited me.'
His face seemed to relax a little. 'Well, I guessed it was only a matter of time. To be honest, I wasn't at all sure whether or not you were in the Org when you first came to Vienna. With your background you're the kind of man they're quick to recruit. If you're in now, you have been busy. I'm impressed. Did K/nig say why he wanted you to kill Traudl?'
'He told me she was an MVD spy. He showed me a photograph of her talking to Colonel Poroshin.'
Becker smiled sadly. 'She was no spy,' he said, shaking his head, 'and she was not my girlfriend. She was Poroshin's girl. Originally she posed as my fiancTe so that I could stay in contact with Poroshin while I was in prison. Liebl knew nothing about it. Poroshin said that you hadn't been all that keen to come to Vienna. Said you didn't seem to have a very good opinion of me. He wondered if you would stay very long when you did come. So he thought it would be a good idea if Traudl worked on you a little and persuaded you that there was someone who loved me on the outside, someone who needed me. He's a shrewd judge of character, Bernie. Go on, admit it, she's half the reason why you've stuck to my case. Because you thought that mother and baby deserved the benefit of the doubt, even if I didn't.'
It was Becker who was watching me now, looking for some reaction. Oddly enough, I found I wasn't angry at all. I was used to discovering that at any one time I only ever had half the truth.
'So I don't suppose she was a nurse at all.'
'Oh, she was a nurse all right. She used to steal penicillin for me to sell on the black market. It was me who introduced her to Poroshin.' He shrugged. 'I didn't know about the two of them for a while. But I wasn't surprised. Traudl liked a good time, like most of the women in this city. She and I were even lovers for a brief while, but nothing like that lasts for very long in Vienna.'
'Your wife said that you got Poroshin some penicillin for a dose of drip? Was that true?'
