spy.
Was it possible that Gustav and Heydrich’s traitor X were one and the same person?
Arianne struck me as an unlikely sort of spy. After all, hadn’t she confessed to being Gustav’s unwitting courier before I had told her that I was a cop? And, having told her I was a Commissar from the Alex, what kind of spy was it who, instead of disappearing the very next day, chose to begin a relationship with someone who very probably ought to have seen it as his duty to inform the Gestapo about her? What kind of spy was it who was prepared to risk so much for so little? After all, I was privy to no secret information she could have passed to anyone. Surely she was just what she seemed to be: a good-time girl with a dead husband and a brother who was a kennel hound with the Field Military Police. I’d checked him out, too. What else did she want but a chance to see a bit of what life had to offer before the Nazis turned her into yet another dutiful little German wife producing children for her first-class rabbit medal — the Honour Cross for the German Mother?
All the same, now that I knew about the local SD’s VXG, it had become very obvious that bringing Arianne along to Prague for my own pleasure had helped put her in considerable danger; and it seemed imperative that she return to Berlin as soon as possible.
It was while I was deciding to send Arianne back to Berlin that I remembered Major Ploetz had given me a letter forwarded from the Alex. Sitting in the Morning Room with a coffee and a cigarette awaiting the next senior officer on my list, I read it.
The letter was from a girl I knew in Paris; her name was Bettina and she worked at the Lutetia Hotel. I’d stayed there during my posting to the French capital. I had fixed her up with a better job at the Adlon and she was writing to thank me and to tell me that she would be coming to Berlin before Christmas. She hoped to see me then. She wrote a lot of other things besides, and since I didn’t get many letters, least of all from attractive girls, I read it again. I even passed it under my nose a couple of times, as it seemed to be scented — then again, that might have been my own imagination.
I was reading the letter a third time when Kahlo ushered General Henlein into the Morning Room.
Henlein wore round metallic-framed glasses that flashed in the firelight like newly minted coins. His hair was dark and wavy but the wave was on the ebb-flow. His mouth was sulky, and facially he was not unlike Doctor Jury. It was hard to connect this 43-year-old from Maffesdorf and the leader of the Sudeten German Movement with the vigorous gymnastics teacher described by Arianne’s girl friend at the Imperial.
Kahlo handed me the plan of the house that Kritzinger had given him, and while Henlein made himself comfortable I glanced over it briefly and, for the moment, noted only that Henlein had occupied the room immediately next to Captain Kuttner’s.
Kahlo sat down on the piano stool. Henlein, seated on the sofa opposite me, picked some fluff off his breeches, checked the cutlery on his tunic lapel — another War Merit Cross with swords — and smiled nervously several times. He had good teeth, I’ll say that for him; they were the only vigorous-looking thing about him.
‘Let me say something before we go any further.’ He spoke quietly, as if he was used to being listened to. ‘It’s no secret that I was blue last night. I think we all were, after the Leader’s speech and the good news about the Three Kings.’
He paused for a moment, as if waiting for me to agree with him; but I didn’t say anything. I just lit another cigarette and let him hang there.
Momentarily discomfited, he swallowed noticeably and then continued:
‘Toward the end of the evening I believe I may have made certain remarks to the unfortunate Captain Kuttner that I now regret. They were spoken in the heat of the moment and under the influence of alcohol. I have never been much of a drinker. Alcohol does not agree with my constitution. I try to keep myself fit, you understand, as all of us should who are in the SS. It is an elite, after all, and a higher standard is expected of us. Not just physically, but in matters of behaviour, too. Consequently, it seems to me that my own behaviour was not all that it could have been. And in retrospect the poor Captain was quite right to remonstrate with me. Indeed, it is very much to that officer’s credit that he did so.
‘Of course when I heard what had happened I was shocked and saddened. I deeply regret this brave young officer’s passing and also the fact that I was unable to apologize to him in person. In my own defence I should like to reiterate that it is quite out of character for me to behave in such an inappropriate fashion. But the circumstances of his death being what they are, I feel it is incumbent on me to state, upon my word as a German officer, that I did not shoot Captain Kuttner. Nor do I have any knowledge of his death. After returning to my own room at around two o’clock this morning, I have very little knowledge of anything except that I went to bed and awoke with a filthy hangover. It was after nine when Major Ploetz informed me of what had happened and explained that you were handling the official inquiry at the request of General Heydrich. And let me assure you, Commissar Gunther, that I will cooperate with your investigation in any way I can. I’m sure that this can’t be easy for you.’
‘I appreciate your candour.’
Almost to my amusement, Henlein got up to leave. I let him get as far as the door before throwing a grappling hook after him.
‘However, there are a few questions I should like to ask you.’
Henlein smiled again. This time the smile was sarcastic.
‘Do I take it that you intend to cross-examine me?’
You would have thought he was Hitler himself the way Henlein pronounced that personal pronoun.
I shrugged. ‘If that’s what you want to call it. But look here, I’m only taking you at your word. You just offered to cooperate with my investigation in any way you can. Or am I mistaken?’
‘I know what I said, Commissar Gunther,’ he said, crisply, his glasses flashing angrily as his head moved with jerky indignation. ‘I assumed that my word as a German officer — and not just any German officer — would suffice.’
He straightened a little and put his fists on his hipbones as if challenging me to knock him over. I wouldn’t have minded punching him on the nose at that, if only to find out for myself how vigorous he really was.
‘You’re quite right, sir.’ I paused to achieve the full amount of mockery that was implied in my next remark. ‘That was an assumption, I’m afraid. And it isn’t correct. As you also said yourself, General Heydrich has authorized me to handle an official inquiry, and that does necessitate my asking a lot of questions, some of which might very well sound impertinent to a man of your high standing. But I’m afraid that can’t be helped. So, perhaps you’d like to sit down again. I’ll try not to keep you too long.’
Henlein sat down and regarded me with some disfavour.
‘According to a plan I have here of all the officer accommodations in the Lower Castle, which has been prepared by Herr Kritzinger, you were in the room right next door to Captain Kuttner.’
‘What of it?’
I smiled, patiently. ‘Whenever a man is murdered I usually go and speak to his neighbours to ask if they heard or saw anything suspicious, that’s what of it.’
Henlein sighed and then leaned back against the cushion and made a little steeple out of his fingers, which he tapped together with a pedant’s impatience.
‘Weren’t you listening? I already said. I went to bed, drunk. I saw nothing and heard nothing.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
Henlein tutted loudly. ‘Really, this is too much. I had assumed Heydrich had chosen you because you were a detective. Now I find you’re nothing but a stupid policeman.’
I was getting tired of all this. I was tired of a lot of things, but being made to feel I was lucky to breathe the same air as the regional governor of the Sudetenland was close to the top of the whole tiresome heap. I decided to take Heydrich at his word and dispense with good manners; for me this was never particularly difficult, but when I let go I took even myself by surprise.
I sprang to my feet and coming around the back of the sofa Henlein was sitting on I pushed my jaw into his face.
‘Listen, you pompous shit-curl, a man was murdered in that room. And in case you’d forgotten while you were sitting behind your nice desk on that lazy fat arse of yours, guns make loud noises when you pull the trigger.’ I clapped my hands hard in front of his nose. ‘They go “bang” and “bang” and “bang”, and other people are supposed to do something about that noise when they hear it.’
Henlein was colouring now, lip quivering in anger.
