‘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?’
‘Of course. There’s not much that Heydrich’s not aware of, I’ll say that for him. But he likes to encourage rivalry. Heydrich believes it persuades people to try harder. So it wouldn’t have bothered him in the least that these two were vying with each other for his favour. It’s a trick he’s learned from the Leader, no doubt.’
‘No doubt.’
General Karl Hermann Frank looked almost ten years older than his forty-three years. His face was lined and furrowed and there were bags under his eyes, as if he was another Nazi who didn’t sleep very well. He was a heavy smoker, with two of the fingers on the hand holding his cigarette looking like he’d dipped them in gravy, and teeth that resembled the ivory keys on an old piano. It was difficult to see what a beautiful 28-year-old woman saw in this thin, stiff-looking man. Power, perhaps? Hitler might have passed him over to succeed von Neurath but, as SS and Police Leader of Bohemia and Moravia, Frank was effectively the second most important man in the Protectorate. More interesting than that, perhaps, was why a beautiful Czech physician should have married a man who, by his own admission, hated Czechs so much. The hatred I’d heard him articulate about the Czechos the day before was still ringing in my ears. What, I wondered, did Mr and Mrs Frank talk about after dinner? The failure of the Czech banks? Czech-language sentences that didn’t use any vowels? UVOD? The Three Kings?
‘Sir, when you say there was no love lost between Captains Kluckholn and Kuttner, do you mean to say they hated each other?’
‘There was a certain amount of hatred, yes. That’s only natural. However, if you’re looking for a man who really hated Captain Kuttner – hated him enough to kill him, perhaps – then Obersturmbannfuhrer Walter Jacobi is your man.’
‘He’s the SD Colonel who’s interested in magic and the occult, isn’t he?’
‘That’s right. And in particular, Ariosophy. Don’t ask me to explain it in any detail. I believe it is some occult nonsense that’s to do with being German. For me, reading the Leader’s book is enough. But Jacobi wanted more. He was forever badgering me to become more interested in Ariosophy until I told him to fuck off. I wasn’t the only one who thought his interest in this stuff to be laughable. Kuttner, whose father was a Protestant pastor and no stranger to religious nonsense himself, thought that Ariosophy was complete rubbish, and said so.’
‘To Colonel Jacobi’s face?’
‘Most certainly to his face. That’s what made it so very entertaining for the rest of us. It happened when they were both at the SS officer school in Prague. That was last Sunday, the 29th of September. The day after Heydrich arrived here in Prague. The school asked him to come to a lunch in his honour and, naturally, his adjutants accompanied him. Someone, not Kuttner, had asked Colonel Jacobi about the death’s head ring he was wearing – a gift from Himmler, apparently. One thing led to another and before very long Jacobi was talking balls about Wotan and sun worship and the masons. In the middle of this, Captain Kuttner burst out laughing and said he thought all of that German folk stuff was “complete poppycock”. His exact words. For a moment or two there was an embarrassed silence and then Voss – he’s the officer in charge at Beneschau and one of the guests here at the Lower Castle, and, I might add, an idiot – Voss tried to change the subject. But Kuttner wasn’t having any of it and said some other stuff and that’s when Jacobi said it.’
Frank frowned for a moment.
‘Said what?’
‘I’m trying to think of his exact words. Yes. He said something like “If it wasn’t for the fact that you are wearing an SS uniform, Captain Kuttner, I would cheerfully kill you now, and in front of all these people.”’
‘You’re quite sure about that, sir?’
‘Oh, yes. Quite sure. I’m sure Voss will confirm it. Come to think of it, he didn’t say “kill”, he said “shoot”.’
‘What did Kuttner say to that?’
‘He laughed. Which didn’t exactly defuse the situation. And he made some other remark that I didn’t understand at the time but which relates to the fact that there was already some previous bad blood between them. Apparently they knew each other at university. And they were enemies.’
‘I thought Jacobi was from Munich, sir,’ said Kahlo.
‘He is.’
‘And that he studied law at Tubingen University,’ Kahlo added. ‘At least that’s what it said on his file.’
‘Oh, he did. But he also studied law at the Martin Luther University in Halle. The same as Kuttner. He might not look like it, but Jacobi is only a year or two older than Kuttner was. According to Heydrich, they even fought a duel. While they were students.’
‘A duel?’ Kahlo guffawed. ‘What, with swords?’
‘That’s right.’
‘About what, exactly?’ he asked.
‘They were in a duelling society. It doesn’t have to be about anything at all. That’s the whole point of being in a duelling society.’
‘So it might even have been Jacobi who put the Schmisse on Kuttner’s face?’
‘It’s possible. You should certainly ask him.’
‘Given that Jacobi was Kuttner’s superior,’ I said, ‘then surely Kuttner was being grossly insubordinate when he said what he said. Surely there would be repercussions of saying something like that. Why wasn’t Kuttner put on a charge?’
‘For one thing, this was the mess and it wasn’t a formal occasion. As you may know, there is supposed to be a certain amount of leeway in what officers can say to each other upon these occasions. Up to a point. But beyond that, well, that wasn’t a problem either because Kuttner had vitamin B, of course.’
‘You mean with Heydrich.’
‘Of course with Heydrich.’
Frank lit a cigarette with a handsome gold lighter before crossing his legs nonchalantly, affording us a fine view of his spurs. Maybe his Czech wife, Karola, liked the dashing cavalry-officer look. This was certainly better than Frank’s natural look, which was that of a man recently released from a prison. His bony head, drawn features, strong fingers, sad smile and chain smoking were straight out of a French novel.
‘What you also have to understand,’ said Frank, ‘is that after Kuttner’s breakdown in Latvia, and because it was Heydrich and von Eberstein who saved the young man from being cashiered, his brother officers were already cutting him quite a bit of slack. And for Jacobi to have pressed the matter through official channels would have meant taking on Heydrich. And since Heydrich is now the source of all advancement in Bohemia, you would only do that if you were prepared to park your career in the toilet. Jacobi might be a cunt and a complete waxed moustache but he’s not entirely stupid. No, not entirely.’
‘But is he a killer?’ I said. ‘To shoot a fellow officer in cold blood, that does seem stupid.’
Frank’s tired eyes tightened, and a few seconds after that a smile arrived on his lean face, like a winning card. ‘And I thought you were supposed to be a detective.’
‘It’s Jacobi who’s keen on the occult, sir, not me. And generally, I question witnesses because, more often than not, it turns out to be more reliable than a crystal ball, or a set of Tarot cards.’
Leaning forward in a way that made him seem almost simian, Frank played with a ring on his right hand for a moment and kept on smiling as he enjoyed the superiority of knowing something I didn’t, at least for a few seconds longer; it was obvious to both of us that he was going to tell me, eventually, exactly what this was.
‘Heydrich thinks highly of you, Gunther. But I’m not so sure.’
‘To some coppers that might seem like a crushing blow, sir, but I’m sure I’ll get over it, with a drink or two.’
‘I don’t mind if I do.’
Frank glanced at Kahlo, who went over to the drinks tray.
‘Yes sir? What’ll it be?’
‘Brandy.’
‘Me, too,’ I said. ‘And have one yourself, why don’t you?’
I waited until we were all holding a glass and then toasted the General.
‘Here’s to getting over our superiors not thinking as highly of us as we’d like.’
Frank knew that was meant for him – that of course he might have been the new Reichsprotector of Bohemia and not Heydrich if the Leader had thought more of him. To his credit Frank took the jab on his chin without blinking, but he took the drink even better, like he was swallowing a baby’s cordial. I’d seen men drink like that before and it helped explain how we were both the same sort of age but with different maps on our faces. Mine was all right, I guess, but his looked like the Ganges Delta.
‘I think we’d better have the decanter over here, Kurt,’ I said.
‘Good idea,’ said Frank.
When there was a fresh glassful in his fingers Frank studied it carefully for a moment and said, ‘Usually there’s a payoff for a good informer, isn’t there?’
‘Sometimes,’ I said. ‘But with all due respect, you don’t look like a man who’s going to be happy with five marks and a cigarette.’
‘A favour, Commissar. More than one favour perhaps.’
‘What kind of favour?’
‘Information. You see, since being passed over for the top job here in Bohemia – as you were kind enough to remind me – I don’t hear as well as I used to.’
‘And you’d like us to be your ear-trumpet, is that it?’
Frank looked critically at Kahlo. ‘I don’t know about him. But you’ll do for now.’
‘I see.’
‘I just want to be kept in the loop, that’s all. Right now I’m the last to know everything. It’s Heydrich’s little way of reminding me he’s in charge. You saw the way he dealt with von Neurath the other evening. Well, I get the same treatment.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s not like I’m asking very much, Commissar. After all-’ He poured the second brandy on top of the first and then licked his lips loudly. ‘It’s not like I’m a spy or anything.’
Kahlo and I exchanged a swift look.
Smiling, I poured myself another drink. ‘Are you sure about that, sir?’ I kept on smiling, to make him think I might be joking and to keep him listening without taking offence. ‘Let’s look at it logically. A man with an axe to grind like you. I think you’d make a pretty good spy.’
Frank ignored me. ‘Don’t change the subject. Not now when we’re making progress. Just tell me this: do we have a deal?’
‘To trade information now and in the future? Yes, I think so. I could use a few friends in Prague. Right now I don’t have any. Come to that, I don’t have any at home either.’
Frank nodded, his eyes glistening.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘You first. Some information. A sign of good faith.’
‘Yes. If you like.’
‘What’s the name of this bit of mouse that Henlein has got stashed in the Imperial Hotel? I hear you know all about her.’
‘Her name is Betty Kipsdorf.’
‘Is it now?’
‘Now tell me why you want to know.’
‘Maybe I just wanted to see if you were prepared to keep your end of the bargain before I told you about Lieutenant Colonel Jacobi’s interesting past.’
‘What, more interesting than fighting a duel with my murder victim? And threatening to shoot him?’
‘Oh this is very much more interesting than that, Commissar. That was merely an appetizer. Here is the main dish.
‘Jacobi joined the SA in 1930, while he was still a law student in Tubingen. Nothing unusual about that, of course, but I would suggest that there are not many law students who get themselves arrested for murder in the same week that they graduate.
‘Yes, I thought that would catch your breath. In 1932, Jacobi murdered someone in Stuttgart, which is only twenty kilometres from Tubingen. The victim was a KPD cadre, although it seems that might not be the real reason the boy was killed. There was it seems some suspicion he was queer and that this was the real motive for the murder. Now I don’t have to tell you of all people what things were like in 1932. In some ways von Papen’s government was every bit as right-wing as Hitler’s. The Stuttgart prosecutor’s office was rather slow in putting together a case against Walter Jacobi. So slow, in fact, that the case was never actually brought because, of course, in January 1933 the Nazis were elected and nobody was interested in bringing a case against a loyal Party member like Jacobi any more. All the same it’s no wonder he joined the SS and then the SD soon afterward; it was probably the best way of staying out of jail. And of course one of the very first things he did when he achieved a certain position of authority within the SS was to have the papers in the case destroyed. That almost got him kicked out of the SD, in 1937; but Himmler stepped in and pulled his nuts out of the nosebag.’
‘And you were thinking that a good detective might have found that out for himself, sir?’
‘Something like that.’
‘You overestimate me, General. Then again there’s only so much I can find out in less than twelve hours. That’s how long I’ve been on this case. And of course there’s a limit to how much I can ask my superior officers without bringing down a charge of gross insubordination on my head.’
Frank laughed. ‘We both know that’s not true.’
He laughed again in a way that made me think that there were probably a lot of things he found funny that I would have felt very differently about.
‘We both know that it suits General Heydrich to have you humiliate us all. Especially at this particular moment as he becomes Reichsprotector of Bohemia. It becomes an object lesson in power for us all. Perhaps to test our loyalty. Hitler admires Heydrich because he suspects everyone of everything. Me included. Me especially.’
‘And why would he suspect you, General?’
Frank looked at Kahlo almost as if he knew it had been Kahlo who told me about the VXG.
‘Don’t pretend to be naive. I’m married to a Czech woman, Commissar. Karola. My first wife, Anna, hates my guts and is married to a man who affects to look like the Leader and now makes it his business to tell lies about me and my new wife. Just because she’s German Czech. Between them they have already turned my two sons against me. And now they’re doing their best to allege that the only reason my wife married me was because she is a Czech spy and that when I go home at night she persuades me to part with state secrets. Well, it’s simply not true. And it’s why I didn’t think your joke was funny. I’m loyal to Germany and the Party, and one day I hope that I will have the opportunity to demonstrate to the whole world just how devoted to the Leader and the cause of National Socialism I really am. Until then I hope I can count on your help – yes, both of you – to put paid to this baseless innuendo.’
He stood up and I shook hands with him and, in my defence, so did Kurt Kahlo. It was Frank’s idea that we should, not mine, and at the time I thought nothing of it – a handshake seemed like a small price to pay for some important information about a potential new suspect. It was another eight or nine months before I realized I’d shaken hands with the man who had ordered the destruction of the small town of Lidice and the murder of everyone in it, in reprisal for the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich.
I glanced at my watch. It was seven o’clock.
‘If I wasn’t confused before,’ admitted Kurt Kahlo, ‘I’m certainly confused now. Every time we speak to someone we find out a little bit more. The only trouble is that it leaves me a little bit less enlightened. It’s curious, really. You might even call it a paradox. Even as I think I’m getting a proper grip on this case I find there’s something interrupting my thoughts, as though someone had built a wall between the two halves of my brain. Just as I find a big enough chair to stand on and look over at the other side, I forget what I’m supposed to be looking for anyway. And then, before you know it, I’ve even forgotten why I’m standing on the chair in the first place.’
Kahlo sighed and shook his head ruefully.
‘Sorry, sir, that’s not helping, I know.’
Even as Kahlo spoke I was trying to put up a fight against the rampaging contagion of his utter confusion. In my mind I seemed to hear a lost chord and see some words underneath the palimpsest. An elusive fragment of real insight flashed like a pan of magnesium powder inside the dark chamber that was my skull and then all was black again. For a brief moment everything was illuminated and I understood all and I was on the cusp of articulating exactly what the problem was and where the solution might lie and didn’t he, Kahlo, know that what he was describing was precisely the intellectual dilemma that afflicted every detective? But the very next moment a grey mist descended behind my eyes and, before I knew it, this same thought that looked like an answer was slowly suffocating like a fish landed by an angler on a riverbank, its mouth opening and shutting with no sound emerging.
I told him I needed to get away from the Lower Castle so that I might order my own thinking. That’s what I also told myself. I’d had enough of them all for one day and suddenly that included Kahlo, too. I decided that I wanted to go back to the hotel and devote my energies to Arianne for a while and that we could spend our last night together before I sent her home in the morning.
‘Ask Major Ploetz to find a car that will take me back into Prague,’ I said.
Kahlo looked sad for a moment, as if disappointed I was not ready to be honest with him about where I was going.
‘Yes sir.’
I did not have long to wait before a car became available but I was less than pleased to discover that I was to share a ride with Heydrich himself.
‘Now you can tell me what conclusions you’ve come to,’ he said as Klein steered us left out of the Lower Castle’s infernal gates and onto the picture-postcard country road.
‘I haven’t any, yet.’
‘I was rather hoping you would have everything wrapped up by this weekend. Before my wife, Lina, gets here.’
‘Yes. I know. You told me that before.’
‘And before my guests are obliged to leave. They do have duties to perform.’
‘Mmm-hmm.’
‘I must say I find it rather odd than you think you can just take the evening off while a murderer remains at liberty in my house. Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear this morning. It is urgent that this case is solved before news gets back to Berlin.’
‘No, you made that perfectly clear, sir.’
‘And yet you’re still going to see that whore of yours.’
I nodded. ‘Tell me something, sir. Do you play chess?’
‘Yes. But I don’t see what that has to do with this. Or your whore.’
‘Well then you might know that in major tournaments it isn’t uncommon for players to get up and leave the board between moves. Reading, sleeping, or indeed any pleasant distraction can refresh the human mind, enabling the player to perform at a higher intellectual level. Now, while I don’t expect to do any reading this evening, I do expect my lady friend will provide some very pleasant distractions, after which it’s perfectly possible that I may get some sleep. All of which is a long way of saying that I need some time away from you and your house in order to try to make sense of everything I’ve discovered today.’
‘Such as?’
Reaching the main road at last, Klein stepped hard on the accelerator leaving Jungfern-Breschan behind, and we sped toward Prague at almost eighty kilometres an hour, obliging me to raise my voice to answer the General.
‘I know of at least three people who are staying at the Lower Castle who hated Captain Kuttner. Henlein, Jacobi and Kluckholn. I can’t yet say if they hated him enough to kill him. They hated him for a variety of reasons that mostly come down to the fact that Kuttner was insubordinate and clever and perhaps a bit conceited and really not quite the senior officer’s toady that a good adjutant ought to be. But there were other reasons, too – probably more important reasons – that might have got him murdered. Principally the fact that he was your liaison officer for the SD’s Traitor X Group. If he’d found out something concerning the identity of the traitor, that would have been a pretty good reason for someone to kill him. You might have told me about that yourself, General.’
‘When?’
‘This morning. When we were in your office. When you handed me this case.’
‘I hardly wanted to broadcast the news about the existence of such a squad in front of my own butler. Besides, I had assumed your Criminal Assistant would inform you about that. Major Ploetz tells me Kahlo is part of the VXG.’
‘He assumed it was a secret. I’ve only just found out about it.’
‘Well, you know now.’
‘Is everyone who has been invited to your house under suspicion?’
‘Until the traitor is apprehended? Yes. Of course. What a ridiculous question. Oddly enough, Gunther, traitors have a habit of turning out to be the people we trusted most. It would be foolish to assume that there are some people who are simply above suspicion merely by virtue of a long acquaintance with the Leader or me, or their continuing demonstration of Party loyalty. A Czech spy would be no good if he was suspected of being a Czech spy, would he? However, I do agree that this might conceivably have been the reason why Kuttner was murdered. Which makes it all the more imperative that we catch the bastard as soon as possible, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘I have another reason why he might have been murdered.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Captain Kuttner was homosexual.’
‘Nonsense. Whatever gave you such a ridiculous idea? Let me tell you, I knew Kuttner for more than a decade. And I would have known. It’s impossible that I wouldn’t have known such a thing.’
‘Nevertheless it’s a fact.’
‘You’d better have some damned good evidence for an assertion like that, Gunther.’
‘I’ll spare you the details, sir, but you can take it from me that I would hardly have told you in front of your butler; and I wouldn’t mention it now, in front of your driver, unless I was damned sure about what I’m saying. Moreover I think we can agree that being homosexual, especially in the SS, is, in these enlightened times that we live in, more than enough reason to get you killed. I suspect any number of SS officers would feel entirely justified in shooting that kind of man. Equally, I suspect one or two would have felt quite justified in having Kuttner shot for – what shall we call it, sir? – his dereliction of duty with that Special Action Group in Latvia.’
‘That’s something you should know quite a bit about yourself, Gunther. Perhaps you have asked yourself why you were allowed to leave your own police battalion in Minsk so easily. If you have not done so already then perhaps you should.’
I nodded. ‘Arthur Nebe said something to me at the time, by way of an explanation.’
‘And Nebe takes his orders from me. Wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Yes sir.’
‘You remind me of someone, Gunther. A rather stubborn Belgian by the name of Paul Anspach. He used to be President of the International Fencing Association. After Belgium was defeated, in June 1940, Anspach, who had acted as a military judge advocate, was arrested for alleged war crimes and put in prison. After he was released I had him summoned to Berlin, where I ordered him to surrender the Presidency to me. He refused. I can’t tell you how irritating that was; however, I admired his courage and sent him home.’
‘Not even you can always get what you want, General.’
‘I can actually. With the help of the Italian President of Fencing, I managed to have him stripped of the International Presidency anyway. It’s pointless being stubborn with me, Gunther. I always get what I want in the end. You should know that by now. That it’s not wise to oppose me. In case you didn’t understand, that’s the point of the fucking story.’
‘I’ve never believed it was wise to oppose you,’ I said, ‘even when I was doing it. No more than I think it’s wise for you to drive without an escort in an open-top car. You are an invitation to any would-be Gavrilo Princip to have a go. In case you had forgotten, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria also travelled in an open car.’
Heydrich laughed, and although such a thing seemed almost impossible, I found I disliked him even more than before.
‘If I should ever gain the impression that my conduct in this respect was wise or ill-considered – if ever someone were to attack this car – I would not hesitate to respond with unheard-of violence. I suspect that the population of Prague is well aware of this fact. And while your concern is touching, Gunther, I think it unlikely that I will ever need to take your advice about this.’
‘Oh, I don’t mean to sound like I care what happens to you, sir. Any more than I mean to sound touching. What I mean to say is what your detective ought to say. Your bodyguard. Whatever it is you choose to call me. I don’t know a hell of a lot about fencing, but if it’s anything like boxing, then a fighter is told to protect himself at all times. That’s not weakness, General. Any more than it’s weakness to look out for a fellow officer from Halle-an-der-Saale who went to the same school with you.’
‘It’s clear to me by now that not everyone agreed with that.’
‘Tell me, sir, was Kuttner any good at his job?’
‘In so far as it went.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I have three other adjutants, all of whom are quite competent. I had thought that one more wouldn’t make any difference. One is enough for most people, of course. Of course I am not most people. However, the only reason I have four adjutants – correction, three adjutants – is to remind me to delegate more. I have a great problem trusting people to carry out my orders.
‘Ordinarily there’s nothing any of them do that I couldn’t do better myself. But seeing them at my every beck and call reminds me that there are other more important tasks that require my attention. Having three adjutants makes me more productive, more efficient. Frankly, however, I can’t stand the sight of any of them. Kuttner was at least someone I thought I liked. But adjutants are a necessary evil for a man in my position. Much like yourself.’
‘I’m flattered.’
‘That certainly was not my intention.’
‘Your father knew Kuttner’s father. Is that right?’
‘Yes. But, since you ask, what is more relevant, perhaps, is that my mother gave Albert Kuttner music lessons.’
‘Is that how you met?’
‘I think it must have been. I seem to recall seeing him when I was back on leave from the Reichsmarine. I couldn’t have been more than twenty at the time. Kuttner was much younger, of course. I may even have tried to talk Albert into joining the naval academy, just like me. After all, he went to the same school that I did. But his father was less of a nationalist than my own, which might be why he chose to pursue a legal career instead. Not that any of this is relevant.’
‘I disagree. Finding out everything there is to know about a man who has been murdered and a lot more besides is, in my opinion, always the best way to discover why he was murdered. And once I find out why, it’s often a very simple matter to discover who.’
Heydrich shrugged. ‘Well, it’s your business. You know best in these matters. You must do what you think fit, Gunther.’
About halfway between Jungfern-Breschan and Prague the road ran between recently ploughed fields. It was a desolate scene with little in the way of other traffic until, nearing Bulovka Hospital, we encountered an ambulance and, further on, a tram grinding up the hill that led to the city suburbs. Crossing Troja Bridge the car slowed and rounded a corner, and a man snatched off his cap and bowed as he caught sight of a German staff car.
It was easier to hear Heydrich now that we weren’t going quite so fast, and once again I tried to question him about Albert Kuttner.
‘Did you like Albert Kuttner?’
‘Is that your way of asking if I killed him?’
‘Did you?’
‘No. And to answer your other question, no, I didn’t like him. Not any more. Once I did. A while ago. But not lately. He was a disappointment to me. And to some extent he was becoming something of a liability. Since you mentioned Colonel Jacobi, I assume you know the details of what happened there. The quarrel they had. To be frank, Gunther, I am not at all sorry that Kuttner is dead. But my conscience is clear. I gave the man every opportunity to atone for his inadequacies. At the same time I can’t have people murdering my staff just because they don’t like them. Christ, if you and I were to murder all of the people back at the Lower Castle I didn’t like, then we should have hardly anyone left in the local SD: Jacobi, Fleischer, Geschke, von Neurath. I wouldn’t shed a tear if any of them caught a bullet.’
‘That’s straightforward enough, I suppose.’
‘Henlein and Jury are particularly awful, don’t you think? Cunts. The pair of them.’
‘When first we talked, sir. In the garden, yesterday. You mentioned an attempt on your own life. Do you think Kuttner’s murder might be related? A case of mistaken identity, perhaps? Kuttner was tall and blond, much like you. His voice and accent were not unlike yours either.’
‘You mean, high?’
‘Yes sir. In the dark, who knows? The killer might simply have shot the wrong person.’
‘The thought had occurred to me, of course.’
‘In which case I might very well be wasting my time looking for one of our colleagues with a good reason to murder Captain Kuttner, when my energies might be better spent looking for one of them who badly wants you dead.’
‘Interesting idea. And of my dear friends and esteemed colleagues back at my new home, which of them would you say has the best reason to want me dead?’
‘You mean, apart from me?’
‘You have an alibi, don’t you? You weren’t actually in the house at the time when Kuttner was murdered.’
‘Thoughtful of you to have provided me with one,’ I said.
‘Isn’t it?’
‘I should have thought that Frank or von Neurath have the best reasons, from a professional point of view. Von Neurath might like to be revenged on you for the sake of it. Although he doesn’t strike me as a murderer. But Frank does. With you dead, Frank probably gets your job.’
‘This is intriguing. Anyone else?’
‘Henlein and Jury probably hate you too, don’t you think?’
‘Almost certainly.’
‘And I wouldn’t trust Jacobi as far as I could kick him.’
‘He does make the flesh creep, does he not?’
‘Geschke and Fleischer are hardly my idea of good friends, either.’
‘Not friends, perhaps. But colleagues. And good Nazis. And since we are discussing those among my staff who might hate me, there’s Kritzinger, too. I’m not suggesting that he might kill me, but I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he hates me. He’s an Austrian, from Vienna, and before the war he worked for the Jew who used to run the estate.’
‘Ferdinand Bloch-Bauer. Kuttner told me.’
‘After the Anschluss he and his master fled here from Vienna hoping to escape the inevitable before Bloch-Bauer finally took off for Switzerland, in 1939.’
‘But Kritzinger is in the SS. Most of the staff are in the SS, aren’t they?’
‘Of course. But very few of them were in the SS until the Reich acquired the Lower Castle.’
‘I thought that’s why they were hired. Because you knew you could trust them.’
‘They are all in the SS because it means the Reichsprotector doesn’t have to pay them out of his own pocket, Gunther. Otherwise I should never be able to keep a house as big as that, not on my salary.’
That made me sit up a little: Heydrich had never struck me as mean with money; mean-spirited, yes, but not an embezzler. And to be so honest about it, too! Of course, I knew he’d never have told me if Himmler didn’t know about it and approve. Which meant that they were all in it. The whole rotten crew. Living high on the hog while the ordinary Fritz went without his beer and his sausage and his cigarettes.
‘Oh, I’m sure Kritzinger is a good German,’ continued Heydrich. ‘But it has to be faced, he was devoted to the Bloch-Bauers.’
‘Then why on earth do you keep him on?’
‘Because he’s an excellent butler, of course. Good butlers like him don’t grow on trees, you know. Especially now that we’re at war. I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand what that means, but Kritzinger puts his professional duties as a butler ahead of his own personal opinions, always. He sincerely believes that it is his duty to provide good service and concentrate only on that which lies within his realm, as a butler. If you were to question him he would probably tell you that he wouldn’t care to say, or something else that was courteously evasive.’
‘And yet you said that he might hate you.’
‘Of course. I have to recognize that it’s a possibility. It would be stupid not to consider it. Doing what I do, Gunther, it’s wise not to trust anyone. All I ask of people is that they do their duty, and in that respect at least, Kritzinger is beyond reproach.’ He looked impatient for a moment. ‘That may be too subtle a distinction for a man like you, but there it is. Such are the dilemmas that afflict everyone who finds himself in a position of great authority.’
‘All right, General. Whatever you say.’
‘Yes. It had better be.’
When we were still several blocks east of the Imperial Hotel, Klein drew up outside an apartment building with massive, fierce-looking atlantes, Jugendstil windows, and a roof like a Bavarian castle. The portal was covered in mosaic and topped with a decorative filigree balcony. The building looked as if it had been designed by someone whose architectural influences were Homer and the Brothers Grimm. But the address was chiefly remarkable for the absence of any SS or even regular Army sentries, and it was immediately clear to me that this was not an official building.
‘What’s this place?’ I asked.
‘The Pension Matzky. A brothel run by the Gestapo for the entertainment of important Czech citizens. It’s staffed by twenty of the most beautiful amateur courtesans in all of Bohemia and Moravia. You need a password just to get through the door.’
‘I bet that keeps the tone up.’
‘Occasionally I visit the place myself. Or when I wish to reward the men who work for me with something special. And everything at the Pension Matzky is special.’
As we were sitting there a furtive-looking man went through the front door; but he was not so furtive that I didn’t recognize him. It was Professor Hamperl, the man who had carried out the autopsy on Captain Kuttner.
‘Who’s he?’ I asked. ‘One of these important citizens of Prague?’
‘I really have no idea,’ said Heydrich. ‘But I expect so. Incidentally, the password is Rothenburg. Now ask me why I told you that, Gunther.’
‘Why did you tell me that?’
‘So that you’ll be thinking about what you’re missing when you see that whore you brought from Berlin. I ask you, Klein, with the thousands of very willing girls there are in this town, can you imagine such a thing?’
Klein grinned. ‘No sir.’
Heydrich shook his head. ‘That’s like taking an owl to Athens.’
‘Maybe I just like German owls.’
Heydrich smiled his wolf’s smile, stepped out of the car and went inside the Pension without another word.
‘Oh, good. You’re back. Now we can go out somewhere.’
It was seven-forty-five, but a short while later when I looked at my watch it seemed like it was nine o’clock. With her head in shadow, Arianne was just a naked torso lying on the bed like a piece of marble sculpture. Dominated by light and form, she herself was almost secondary and not a person at all, so that I was reminded, a little, of what I’d seen during my time at the Bulovka Hospital.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and laid my hand on the curving white ski-slope that was the summit of her behind, descending the broad field of her thigh to her near-invisible knee.
‘It’s not that I don’t want you here.’
‘I know you want me, all right,’ said a disembodied voice. ‘You’ve made that perfectly clear. All you do is fuck me.’
‘It’s no longer safe for you here in Prague. I told you. There’s a special group of SD that’s been set up to look for Gustav. If they had any idea you’d actually met him, no matter how innocently – well, you can’t imagine what would happen. At least, I hope you can’t imagine what would happen. You’re in danger, Arianne. Real danger. That’s why you urgently have to go back to Berlin. First thing tomorrow. For your own protection.’
‘And you. What will you be doing?’
‘I’ll be going back to Heydrich’s house in Jungfern-Breschan.’
‘Is that his car? The Mercedes you went away in yesterday morning?’ She paused. ‘I followed you downstairs to say goodbye and changed my mind when I saw those other men in the car.’
‘Yes. That’s his car. One of them anyway.’
‘What are you doing there, anyway? At Heydrich’s house. You don’t tell me anything.’
‘There’s nothing to tell. Not yet. I had a couple of rather boring meetings with some very boring generals.’
‘Including him.’
‘Heydrich is a lot of things but he’s never boring. Most of the time I’m much too afraid of him to be bored.’
Arianne sat up and put her arms about my neck.
‘You? Scared? I don’t believe it, Parsifal. You’re brave. I think you’re very brave.’
‘To be brave you first have to be scared. Take my word for it. Anything else is just foolhardy. And it’s not bravery that keeps people alive, angel. It’s fear.’
She started to cover my head and neck with kisses. ‘Not you,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘I’m afraid of him, yes. I’m afraid of all of them. Afraid of what they might do to me. Afraid of what they might do to Germany. But right now I’m afraid of what they might do to you. That’s why I went to the Masaryk Station before I came here and bought you a ticket back to Berlin.’
Arianne sighed and wiped a tear from her eye.
‘Will I see you again?’
‘Of course.’
‘When?’
‘Soon, I hope. But right now everything is confused. You’ve no idea how confused.’
‘And sending me back to Berlin makes things simpler?’
‘Yes. But I told you, that’s not the reason you have to go back home. All the same I’ll sleep a lot sounder knowing you’re all right.’
She stroked my head for a moment and then said: ‘On one condition.’
‘No conditions.’
‘That you tell me you love me, Parsifal.’
‘Oh, I love you all right. As a matter of fact I love you very much, Arianne. That’s why I have to send you away. It was a mistake bringing you here, I can see that now. It was selfish of me. Very selfish. I did it for me and now I have to do this for you, see? I don’t in the least want you to go home. But because I love you I really do have to send you away.’
Maybe I did love her at that. Only it didn’t matter very much one way or another. Not now that she was leaving Prague. And somewhere inside me I knew that I couldn’t ever see her again. So long as she knew me she would be in danger because of who and what I was. After she had gone home she would be safe because I was the only person who could connect her with Gustav and Franz Koci. I knew I was going to feel bad about losing her, but this was nothing to how I knew I would feel if ever being with me put her into Heydrich’s cold white hands. He’d gut her for information the way Hamperl had gutted poor Albert Kuttner on the slab at Bulovka..
‘I’ll always love you,’ I said, for effect.
‘And I love you, too.’
I nodded. ‘All right. Let’s go and find some dinner.’