was in. Maybe it was dark and he didn’t see the gun. Maybe he was shot outside and because he was drugged he didn’t realize the severity of his injury. So he comes back in the house, goes back to his room, locks the door, lies down, and dies. Maybe.’
I shook my head. ‘You’ve got more maybes there than Fritz bloody Lang.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Frankly, I wouldn’t know where to start with this one, sir. However, I’m keen to learn from someone who does, such as you. That is, if General Heydrich is to be believed. Anyway, you have my full cooperation, sir. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, with no questions asked.’
‘Questions are good, Kurt. It’s obedience I have a problem with. In particular, my own.’
Kahlo grinned. ‘Then I think yours should be an interesting career, sir.’
I opened Kuttner’s SD file and glanced over the details of the dead man’s short life.
‘Albert Kuttner was from Halle-an-der-Saale. Interesting.’
‘Is it? I can’t say I know the place.’
‘What I mean is, Halle is where Heydrich is from.’
‘So he could be taking this personally.’
‘Yes. True. Kuttner was born in 1911. That makes him seven years younger than Heydrich. His father was a Protestant pastor at a local church. But instead of pursuing a career in the Church, or in the Navy — like his boss-’
‘Heydrich was in the Navy? I didn’t know that.’
‘It’s said he got kicked out of it for conduct unbecoming when he knocked up some admiral’s daughter. But don’t tell anyone I said so.’
‘This admiral’s daughter. Is that the present Frau Heydrich?’
‘No. It’s not.’
‘So he is human, after all.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far.’
‘Kuttner studied law at the Martin Luther University of Halle-Wittenberg and the Humboldt University of Berlin, where it seems he was a brilliant student. He received his doctor of laws in 1935 and worked for the ministries of justice and the interior before joining the SD.’
‘So far, so predictable.’
‘Hmm. Near the top of his class in officer school. Highly praised by everyone who assessed him; he was being groomed for one of the top jobs in Berlin. In May this year he was transferred to the Einsatzgruppen and ordered to Pretzsch, where he was assigned to Group A and sent east. Nothing unusual about that. Lots of decent men have been sent east. Decent men and some lawyers. On June 23rd he and the group were ordered to proceed to Riga, in Latvia, to help with “the resettlement of the indigenous Jewish population”.’
‘Resettlement. Yes, I know what that entails.’
‘Good. It will save me having to explain the distinction between “resettlement” and “mass murder”.’
‘Am I to assume that your appreciation of the distinction is based on personal experience, sir?’
‘You are. But please don’t assume that I did a good job. There are no good jobs out east. Albert Kuttner didn’t take to his work any more than I did. Which is why he felt guilty. Like me. And why he wasn’t sleeping.’
‘Thus the Veronal in his room.’
I turned the page in Kuttner’s file and read on a little before speaking again.
‘That guilt appears to have manifested itself for the first time just three weeks into his tour of Latvia when he put in for a transfer to the Army. But the request was refused by his commander, Major Rudolf Lange. Well, that hardly surprises me. I knew Rudolf Lange when he was with the Berlin police. The cat never stops catching mice. He was a bastard then and he’s a bastard now. Reason given for refusal of request for transfer: personnel shortages. But a week later he puts in for another transfer. This time he’s given an official reprimand. For conduct likely to damage morale.’
‘It’s a dirty job so someone has to do it, right?’
‘Something like that, I suppose.’
I turned another page in Kuttner’s file.
‘By August however, Albert is back in Berlin facing a disciplinary inquiry. It seems he threatened a superior officer with a pistol — it doesn’t say who, but I hope it was Lange, I’ve often wanted to stick a gun in that fat fucker’s face. Kuttner’s placed under close arrest, but not close enough because he then attempts suicide. No details on that either. But he’s sent back to Berlin for that disciplinary inquiry. A so-called SS court of honour. Only the disciplinary inquiry is suspended. No reason given.’
‘Do you think Heydrich might have pulled some strings?’
‘That’s what it looks like, because the next thing is that Albert is on the General’s staff in Berlin. Lighting his cigarettes, booking seats at the opera, and fetching coffee.’
‘Now that is a good job,’ said Kahlo.
‘You don’t strike me as an opera fan.’
‘Not the opera. The cigarettes.’ His eyes were on my cigarette. ‘The tobacco ration being what it is.’
‘Sorry.’ I opened my cigarette case. ‘Help yourself.’
Kahlo took one, lit up and then puffed with obvious satisfaction. Holding the cigarette in front of his eyes, like a rare diamond, he grinned happily.
‘I’d forgotten how good a cigarette can taste,’ he said.
‘There’s a page missing from this file,’ I said. ‘In my own SD file there’s a page headed “Personal Remarks”. I’ve only ever seen it upside down but it’s full of things my superiors have said about me like “insubordinate” and “politically unreliable”.’
‘You read good upside down.’ Kahlo grinned. ‘I’m a bit of a beefsteak Nazi myself, sir. Brown on the outside but red in the middle. Although I’m not as rare as my old dad. Being a car-worker he was red all the way.’
‘Mm hmmm.’
I handed Kahlo the file.
‘It’s not much to go on,’ he said, flicking through it.
‘Let’s see what we can find out for ourselves.’
I picked up the telephone and asked the Lower Castle switchboard to connect me with the Alex in Berlin. A few minutes later I was able to speak with the Records Division. I asked them if they had a file on Albert Kuttner. They didn’t. So I had them run a check on his address, which was always something you could do in Berlin because it wasn’t just individuals who generated records in Prussia, it was places, too. The Prussian State Police were nothing if not thorough. And a few minutes later Records called back to tell me that Flat 3, 4 Pestalozzi Strasse, in Charlottenburg was home to another man besides Albert Kuttner.
And when I had the Records people check him out, I started to believe I had something.
‘Lothar Ott,’ I said, reading aloud my notes of these several telephone conversations. ‘Born Berlin February 21st 1901. Two convictions for male prostitution, one 1930, the other 1932. Not only that but his previous address was number one Friedrichsgracht, near Berlin’s Spittelmarkt. That won’t mean much to a cop from Mannheim but to a bull from Berlin it means a lot. Until 1932, number one Friedrichsgracht was a notorious homosexual club called the Burger Casino. Either the late Captain Kuttner was very tolerant of homosexuals or-’
‘Or he was maybe a bit warm himself.’ Kahlo nodded. ‘I mean, you wouldn’t live with someone like that unless you were, would you?’
‘What do you think? You met him.’
‘You’re asking if Kuttner struck me as the type? I dunno. A lot of officers strike me that way. It’s possible, I suppose. He could have been the type. You know, a bit fastidious. A bit too careful about his appearance. A bit too much Cologne on his hair. The way he walked. Now I come to think of it, yes, I can see it. When he shrugged it looked just like my brother’s daughter.’
‘I agree.’
‘Someone ought to give this other fellow, Ott, a knock and see how he takes the news that Kuttner’s dead.’
‘That’s an idea.’
So I telephoned the Alex again and explained Kahlo’s idea to an old friend in Kripo called Trott, who promised to go and see Lothar Ott and give him the bad news in person and then report back on the show.
As soon as I replaced the receiver, the telephone rang. Kahlo answered it.
