Naturally he kept up his old black-market contacts and by this time he had become known to us in the Org as someone sympathetic to our cause. We contacted him in Berlin and offered him a sum of money to perform a small service, on an occasional basis.
'You remember I told you about how a number of us faked our deaths? Gave ourselves new identities? Well, that was Albers the Max Abs you were interested in. His idea. But of course the fundamental weakness of any new identity, especially when it has to be done so quickly, is that one lacks a past. Think of it, Bernie: world war, every able-bodied German between the ages of twelve and sixty-five under arms, and no service record for me, Alfred Nolde.
Where was I? What was I doing? We thought we were very clever in killing off our real identities, letting the records fall into the hands of the Amis, but instead it merely created new questions. We had no idea that the Documents Centre would prove to be quite so comprehensive. Its effect has been to make it possible to check every answer on a man's denazification questionnaire.
'Many of us were working for the Americans by this stage. Naturally it suits them now to turn a blind eye to the pasts of our Org members. But what about tomorrow? Politicians have a habit of changing policy. Right now we're friends in the fight against Communism. But will the same hold true in five or ten years' time?
'So Albers came up with a new scheme. He created old documentation for our more senior personnel in their new identities, himself included. We were all of us given smaller, less culpable roles in the SS and Abwehr than were possessed by our real selves. As Alfred Nolde I was a sergeant in the SS Personnel Section.
My file contains all my personal details: even dental records. I led a quiet, fairly blameless kind of war. It's true I was a Nazi, but never a war-criminal.
That was somebody else. The fact that I happen to resemble someone called Arthur Nebe is neither here nor there.
'Security at the Centre is tight, however. It's impossible to take files out.
But it is comparatively easy to take files in. Nobody is searched when they go into the Centre, only when they leave. This was Linden's job. Once a month Becker would deliver new files, forged by Albers, to Berlin. And Linden would file them in the archive. Naturally this was before we found out about Becker's Russian friends.'
'Why were the forgeries done here and not in Berlin?' I asked. 'That way you could have cut out the need for a courier.'
'Because Albers refused to go anywhere near Berlin. He liked it here in Vienna, not least because Austria is the first step on the rat-line. It's easy to get across the border into Italy, and then the Middle East, South America. There were lots of us who came south. Like birds in winter, eh?'
'So what went wrong?'
'Linden got greedy, that's what went wrong. He knew the material he was getting was forged, but he couldn't understand what it amounted to. At first I think it was mere curiosity. He started photographing the stuff we were giving him. And then he enlisted the help of a couple of Jewish lawyers Nazi-hunters to try and establish the nature of the new files, who these men were.'
'The Drexlers.'
'They were working with the Joint Army Group on war crimes. Probably the Drexlers had no idea that Linden's motives for seeking their help were purely personal and for profit. And why should they have done? His credentials were unquestionable. Anyway, I think they noted something about all these new SS personnel and Party records: that we kept the same initials as our old identities; it's an old trick with building a new legend. Makes you feel more comfortable with your new name. Something as instinctive as initialling a contract becomes safe. I think Drexler must have compared these new names with the names of comrades who were missing or presumed dead and suggested that Linden might like to compare the details of a file held on Alfred Nolde with the file on Arthur Nebe, Heinrich Mnller with Heinrich Moltke, Max Abs with Martin Albers etc.'
'So that's why you had the Drexlers killed.'
'Exactly. That was after Linden turned up here in Vienna, looking for more money. Money to keep his mouth shut. It was Mnller who met him and who killed him. We knew that Linden had already made contact with Becker, for the very simple reason that Linden told us. So we decided to kill two flies with one swat. First we left several cases of cigarettes around the warehouse where Linden was killed in order to incriminate Becker. Then K/nig went to see Becker and told him that Linden was missing. The idea was that Becker would start going round asking questions about Linden, looking for him at his hotel and generally getting himself noticed. At the same time K/nig switched Mnller's gun for Becker's. Then we informed the police that Becker had shot and killed Linden. It was an unlooked-for bonus that Becker already knew where Linden's body was, and that he should return to the scene of the crime with the aim of taking away the cigarettes. Of course the Amis were waiting for him and caught him red- handed.
The case was watertight. All the same, if the Amis had been even half efficient they would have discovered the link between Becker and Linden in Berlin. But I don't think they even bothered to take the investigation outside of Vienna.
They're happy with what they've got. Or at least we thought they were until now.'
'With what Linden knew, why didn't he take the precaution of leaving a letter with someone? Informing the police of what had happened in the event of his death.'
'Oh, but he did,' said Nebe. 'Only the particular lawyer he chose in Berlin was also a member of the Org. On Linden's death he read the letter and passed it across to the head of the Berlin section.' Nebe stared levelly at me, and nodded seriously. 'That's it, Bernie. That's what Mnller wants to find out if you know or not. Well, now that you do know, you can tell him, and save yourself from being tortured. Naturally, I would prefer it if this conversation remained a secret.'
'As long as I live, Arthur, you can depend on it. And thanks.' I felt my voice crack a little. 'I appreciate it.'
Nebe nodded in acknowledgement and stared around him uncomfortably. Then his gaze fell upon the uneaten slice of strudel.
'You weren't hungry?'
'I've not got much of an appetite,' I said. 'One or two things on my mind, I guess. Give it to Rainis.' I lit a third cigarette.
Was I wrong, or had he really licked his lips? That would have been too much to hope for. But it was surely worth a try.
'Or help yourself if you're feeling hungry.'
Nebe really did lick his lips now.
'May I?' he asked politely.
I nodded negligently.
'Well, if you're sure,' he said, picking the plate up off the tray on the floor.
'My housekeeper made it. She used to work for Demel. The best strudel you ever tasted in your life. It would be a pity to waste it, eh?' He took a big bite.
'I never had much of a sweet tooth myself,' I lied.
'That's nothing short of tragic in Vienna, Bernie. You are in the greatest city in the world for cake. You should have come here before the war: Gerstner's, Lehmann's, Heiner's, Aida, Haag, Sluka's, Bredendick's pastrycooks like you never tasted before.' He took another large mouthful. 'To come to Vienna without a sweet tooth? Why, that's like a blind man taking a trip on the Big Wheel in the Prater. You don't know what you're missing. Why don't you try a little?'
I shook my head firmly. My heart was beating so quickly that I thought he must hear it. Suppose he didn't finish it?
'I really couldn't eat anything.'
Nebe shook his head pityingly, and bit once more. The teeth could not be real, I thought, surveying their white evenness. Nebe's own teeth had been much more stained.
'Anyway,' I said, nonchalantly, 'I'm supposed to be watching my weight. I've put on several kilos since coming to Vienna.'
'Me too,' he said. 'You know, you should really '
He never finished the sentence. He coughed and choked all in one jerk of his head. Stiffening suddenly, he made a dreadful blowing noise through his lips as if he had been trying to play a tuba, and fragments of half-chewed
