“Consider, Schmidt, these men,” — he indicated Wirth and Zupitza — “they are the cruellest sadists in all Europe. And do you know what they like most? You won’t find out if you answer my questions nicely.”
Mock signalled to Smolorz to remove the gag from Konrad’s mouth. The prisoner breathed heavily. Anwaldt asked the first question:
“What did you do to Friedlander during the interrogation that made him admit to killing Marietta von der Malten?”
“Nothing, he was simply afraid of us, that’s all. He said he killed her.”
Anwaldt gave the signal to the duo. Wirth yanked Konrad’s jaw down, Zupitza thrust an iron rod into his mouth. He squeezed the upper first tooth with a small pair of pliers and broke it in half. Konrad screamed for almost half a minute. Then Zupitza removed the rod. Anwaldt asked the question again.
“We tied the Jew’s daughter to the couch. Walter said we’d rape her if he didn’t admit to slashing up that one in the train.”
“Which Walter?”
“Piontek.”
“And then he confessed?”
“Yes. Why in the hell is he asking that?” Konrad turned to Mock. “For you, it’s …”
He did not manage to finish. Mock broke in:
“But you screwed that Jewish girl anyway, eh, Schmidt?”
“It goes without saying,” Konrad’s eyes hid in folds of skin.
“And now, tell us, who is this Turk with whom you tortured Anwaldt?”
“That I don’t know. The boss simply told me that with this one here we … both … well …” here he indicated the Assistant with his eyes.
Mock gave Zupitza the signal. The rod found itself in Konrad’s jaws again and Zupitza yanked the pliers down. What remained of the broken tooth crunched in its gum. At the next signal, Zupitza broke off a bit of the second upper first. Konrad choked on blood, wheezed and sobbed. After a minute, they removed the rod from his teeth. Unfortunately, Schmidt could not say anything because his jaw was dislocated. It took Smolorz a long time to put it back in place.
“I am asking you again. Who is that Turk? What is his name and what is he doing at the Gestapo?”
“I don’t know. I swear.”
This time Schmidt pressed his jaws together so tightly as to make it impossible for them to reintroduce the rod. Then Wirth took a hammer and positioned a huge nail on the hand of the bound man. He slammed at the hammer. Konrad screamed. Not for the first time that day, Zupitza demonstrated his reflexes. When the Gestapo- man’s jaws flew open, the rod quickly found itself between them.
“Are you going to talk or do you want to lose some more teeth?” asked Anwaldt. “Are you going to talk?”
The prisoner nodded. The rod was removed.
“Kemal Erkin. He came to the Gestapo in order to train. The boss holds him in high esteem. I don’t know any more.”
“Where does he live?”
“I don’t know.”
Mock was certain that Konrad had told them everything. Unfortunately — even too much. Because in the broken, stifled phrase “For you, it’s …” he had touched on the murky secret of Mock’s agreement with Piontek. Luckily, he had only brushed up against it. Mock did not know whether any of the men present could guess the rest of the sentence. He looked at the tired but clearly moved Anwaldt and at Smolorz, calm as usual.
“We won’t get any more out of him, gentlemen.” He got up close to Konrad and gagged him again. “Wirth, there’s to be no trace left of this man, understood? Apart from that, I advise you leave Germany. You were seen in that tavern butchering Schmidt. If you’d acted like professionals and waited for him to go outside, you could safely carry on with your business. But you got carried away. Did you have to deal with him in the tavern? I had no idea you got so violent when someone offers you vodka. Too bad. Tomorrow, when Konrad doesn’t turn up for work … the day after tomorrow at the latest, the entire Gestapo in Breslau will be looking for your distinctive mugs. In three days, they’re going to be looking for you all over Germany. I advise you to leave the country. Go somewhere far away … I consider your debt repaid.”
X
BRESLAU, MONDAY, JULY 16TH, 1934
NINE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING
Konrad Schmidt’s body had been lying at the bottom of the Oder beyond Hollandwiesen for ten hours already when Mock and Anwaldt lit up their choice Bairam cigars from Przedecki’s and were having their first sip of strong, Arabic coffee. Leo Hartner did not conceal his pleasure. He was sure he was going to surprise and interest his listeners. Pacing his office, he constructed in his mind a plan of how to present his report, appropriately distributing the turning-points, composing apt recapitulations. Seeing that his guests were growing impatient with the prevailing silence, he began his lecture with apparent retardation.
“My dear friends, in his
Mock and Anwaldt lived up to the lecturer’s hopes. The epic delay of the narration did not disconcert either of the would-be Classicists. Hartner was excited. He placed his slim hand on the pile of papers:
“My dear gentlemen, the dream of many an historian and Oriental specialist has been fulfilled. In front of me lies the lost work of Ibn Sahim. Who discovered it? Yes, yes — it was Georg Maass. True enough, I don’t know how he discovered that the manuscript was to be found in the University of Breslau’s library, whether he was the one who found a clue or whether someone gave it to him. And it is not easy to find a manuscript which — as this one is — has been bound with two other, lesser manuscripts. To put it briefly, this discovery will bring Maass world fame … The more so since, working on the piece, he is simultaneously translating it into German. And — this I do have to concede — he is translating faithfully and most beautifully. The photographic prints which you gave me are a literal translation of a very interesting fragment of that chronicle. It speaks of a macabre murder committed in the year 1205 by two men — a Turk and a Crusader — on the children of Al-Shausi, the leader of the Yesidi sect. Those who know the history of the Crusades will be surprised, for in 1205, during the fourth Crusade, the Crusaders did not go beyond Constantinople! But one cannot exclude single sallies of at least a few detachments even into the distant territories of Anatolia or, perhaps, Mesopotamia. These seekers of adventure and riches plundered what they could, sometimes in excellent mutual understanding with the Muslims. The Yesidis frequently became the target of their attacks …”
Anwaldt sat listening, all ears. Mock glanced at his watch and opened his mouth politely to ask Hartner to get to the point. The latter, fortunately, understood his intention:
“Yes, yes, your Excellency, I’m just going to explain who these Yesidis were. This rather secret sect, which came into being in the twelfth century and exists to this day, is commonly considered as being satanic. This is a great simplification. Indeed, the Yesidis do worship Satan, but a Satan that is already being punished for his sins. Despite the punishment, however, he is still omnipotent. They call this god of evil Malek Tau, represent him in the guise of a peacock, and believe that he rules the world with the help of six or seven angels, also represented as iron or bronze peacocks. To put it briefly, the Yesidi religion is a mixture of Islam, Christianity, Judaism and Mazdaism, that is, all the faiths whose representatives crossed the mountains in the centre of Mesopotamia, west of Mosul,
