‘I’d rather not, sir.’
‘It said “Lick my arse, General Heydrich”. It’s even written in German and Czech, as the law says it ought to be, which is an especially insolent touch, don’t you think? “Lick my arse, General Heydrich”. It would seem that I’m an even bigger prick than you are, Fleischer. You’re already a laughing stock after that incident in the Prikopy Bar.’
‘On that particular occasion you mention, sir, the man was wearing a Party badge in the lapel of his jacket.’
‘And that makes all of the difference, does it? I wish I had ten marks for every bastard wearing a Party badge I’ve had to shoot since 1933.'
‘Someone tipped him off, sir. Moravek must have been told we were coming.’
‘That much is obvious, my dear Commissioner. What isn’t fucking obvious is what we’re doing about finding the traitor who might have told him. Major Ploetz?’
‘Sir?’
‘Who is liaising with the special SD squad that I ordered to be set up? The VXG.’
‘It was Captain Kuttner, sir.’
‘I know who it was, Achim. I’m asking who it is now.’
‘Well, sir, you haven’t said.’
‘Do I have to think of everything? Apart from my children, who incidentally will be arriving here in less than forty-eight hours, nothing, I repeat nothing, is more important than finding the man behind the OTA transmissions; traitor X, or whatever you want to call him. Nothing. These are the Reichsfuhrer’s own orders to me. Not even Vaclav Moravek and the Three Kings and the UVOD Home Resistance network are as important as that, do you hear?’
Another voice spoke up, but it was one I didn’t recognize.
‘Frankly, sir, I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but Captain Kuttner was not a good liaison officer.’
‘Who’s that speaking?’ I asked Kahlo.
He shook his head. ‘Don’t know.’
‘The fact is, Kuttner was arrogant and rude, and often quite unpredictable; and he managed to piss off the local Kripo and Gestapo in double-quick time while he was here.’
‘Like I said,’ murmured Kahlo. ‘He was a prick.’
‘He did not serve you well, General,’ continued the same voice. ‘And now that he’s gone, might I suggest, sir, that I handle the liaison with the VXG. I can promise you I’ll make a better job of it than he did.’
‘Very well, Captain Kluckholn,’ said Heydrich. ‘If Captain Kuttner was as bad as you say he was-’
‘He was,’ insisted another voice. ‘Sir.’
‘Then,’ said Heydrich, ‘you had better get yourself over to Pecek Palace and then Kripo and try to smooth over any ruffled feathers and make sure they know what they’re supposed to be doing. Clear?’
‘Yes sir.’
I heard a chair move, and then someone — Kluckholn, I imagined — clicked his heels and left the room.
‘Talking of ruffled feathers, sir.’ This was Major Ploetz. ‘Your detective, Gunther, has already managed to upset the whole chicken coop. I’ve already had several complaints about his manner, which leaves a great deal to be desired.’
I nodded at Kahlo. ‘True,’ I said. ‘Too true.’
‘I agree with Major Ploetz, sir.’ This was Colonel Bohme, again.
‘I suppose you think I should have picked you to handle this inquiry, Colonel Bohme.’
‘Well, I am a trained detective, sir.’
Heydrich laughed cruelly. ‘You mean you once went on the detective-lieutenant’s training course at the Police Institute, in Berlin-Charlottenburg, don’t you? Yes, I can easily see how that might make anyone think he was Hercule Poirot. My dear Bohme, let me tell you something. We don’t have any good detectives left in the SD or in the Gestapo. Within the kind of system that we operate we have all sorts of people; ambitious lawyers, sadistic policemen, brown-nosing civil servants, all, I dare say, good Party men, too; sometimes we even call them detectives or inspectors and ask them to investigate a case; but I tell you they can’t do it. To be a proper detective is beyond their competence. They can’t do it because they won’t stick their noses in where they’re not wanted. They can’t do it because they’re afraid of asking questions, they’re not supposed to ask. And even if they did ask those questions they’d get scared because they wouldn’t like the answers. It would offend their sense of Party loyalty. Yes, that’s the phrase they’d use to excuse their inability to do the job. Well, Gunther may be a lot of things but he has the Berlin nose for trouble. A real Schnauz. And that’s what I want.’
‘But surely Party loyalty has to count for something, sir,’ said Bohme. ‘What about that?’
‘What about it? A promising young SS officer is dead. Yes, that’s what he was, gentlemen, in spite of your own reservations. He was murdered and by someone in this house, I shouldn’t wonder. Oh, we can pretend that it might have been some poor Czecho who killed him, but we all of us know that it would take the Scarlet Pimpernel to get past all these guards and to walk into my house and shoot Captain Kuttner. Besides, I flatter myself that if a Czecho did take the trouble to penetrate our security, he would prefer to shoot me instead of my own adjutant. No, gentlemen, this was an inside job, I’m convinced of it and Gunther’s the right man — my man — to find out who did it.’ He paused for a moment. ‘And as for Party loyalty, that’s my job, not yours, Colonel Bohme. I’ll say who is loyal and who isn’t.’
I’d heard enough, for the moment. I stood up and closed the door to the Morning Room.
‘Hardly a ringing endorsement,’ said Kahlo. ‘Was it, sir?’
‘From Heydrich?’ I shrugged. ‘Don’t knock it. That’s as good as it gets.’
I sat down at the piano and fingered a few notes, experimentally. ‘All the same, I get the feeling I’m being played. And played well.’
‘We’re all being played,’ said Kahlo. ‘You, me, even Heydrich. There’s only one man in Europe who has his mitts on the keyboard. And that’s the GROFAZ.’
The GROFAZ was a derogatory name for Hitler.
‘Maybe. All right. Who’s next on our list? I have a sudden desire to ruffle some more feathers.’
‘General Frank, sir.’
‘He’s the one with the new wife, right? The wife who’s a Czech.’
‘That’s right, sir. And believe me, she’s tip-top. A real sweet-heart. Twenty-eight years old, tall, blond, and clever.’
‘Frank must have some hidden qualities.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Or better still some hidden vices. Let’s find out which it is.’
‘Did you know Captain Kuttner very well, General Frank?’
‘Not very well. But well enough. Ploetz, Pomme, and Kluckholn and Kuttner-’ Frank smiled. ‘It sounds like an old Berlin tailor’s shop. Well, they all sort of merge into one, really. That’s what you want from an adjutant, I suppose. Me, I wouldn’t know, I don’t have an adjutant myself. I seem to manage quite well without one, let alone four. But if I did have an adjutant I should want him to be as anonymous as those three are. They are efficient, of course. Heydrich can tolerate nothing less. And being efficient, they stay out of the limelight.
‘I knew Kuttner slightly before his Prague posting. When he was at the Ministry of the Interior. He helped me in some administrative way, for which I was grateful, so when he turned up here I tried to help him out. Consequently he shared a few confidences with me. Which is why I know what I’m talking about.
‘Kuttner was the latest addition to Heydrich’s stable of aides-de-camp. And that meant that he and Heydrich’s third adjutant, Kluckholn, were never likely to get on very well, since the first principle of doing the job well is, I imagine, to make your superior redundant. So Kluckholn resented Kuttner. And feared him, I shouldn’t wonder. Well, that’s understandable; Kuttner was a clever man. Much cleverer than Kluckholn. He was a brilliant lawyer before he went east in June. Kuttner, on the other hand, felt that Kluckholn tried to keep him in his place. Or even to put him down.’
For a moment I picture the two men arguing in the garden the previous evening. Was that what I had witnessed? Kluckholn trying to put Kuttner in his place? Kuttner resisting it? Or something more intimate perhaps.
‘Was Heydrich aware of this rivalry?’
