A German Requiem

With horror I realized that the Latvian really did mean to kill me. And there I was trying to place his accent like some sort of philologist, and to recall the chemical formulas I had learned at school.

Then I got my first good look at him. He was big and as burly as a circus horse, but you hardly noticed that for looking at his face: its whole right side was crooked like he had a big chew of tobacco in his cheek; his right eye stared wide as if it had been made of glass. He could probably have kissed his own ear lobe. Starved of affection, as any man with such a face would have been, he probably had to.

'Kneel down by the side of the pit,' he snarled, sounding like a Neanderthal short of a couple of vital chromosomes.

'You're not going to kill an old comrade, are you?' I said desperately trying to remember Nebe's new name, or even one of the Latvian regiments. I considered shouting for help except that I knew he would have shot me without hesitation.

'You're an old comrade?' he sneered, without much apparent difficulty.

'OberSturmFnhrer with the First Latvian,' I said with a poor show of nonchalance.

The Latvian spat into the bushes and regarded me blankly with his pop eye. The gun, a big blue steel Colt automatic, remained pointed squarely at my chest.

'First Latvian, eh? You don't sound like a Lat.'

'I'm Prussian,' I said. 'Our family lived in Riga. My father was a shipworker from Danzig. He married a Russian.' I offered a few words of Russian by way of confirmation, although I could not remember if Riga was predominantly Russian or German-speaking.

His eyes narrowed, one rather more than the other. 'So what year was the First Latvian founded?'

I swallowed hard and racked my memory. The cat mewed encouragingly. Reasoning that the raising of a Latvian SS regiment would have to have followed Operation Barbarossa in 1941, I said, '1942.'

He grinned horribly, and shook his head with slow sadism. '1943,' he said, advancing a couple of paces. 'It was 1943. Now get down on your knees or I'll give it to you in the guts.'

Slowly I sank down on my knees on the edge of the pit, feeling the ground wet through the material of my trousers. I had seen more than enough of SS murder to know what he intended: a shot in the back of the neck, my body collapsing neatly into a ready-made grave, and a few spadefuls of quicklime on top. He came around behind me in a wide circle. The cat settled down to watch, its tail wrapping neatly around its behind as it sat. I closed my eyes and waited.

'Rainis,' said a voice, and several seconds passed. I hardly dared to look around and see if I had been saved.

'It's all right, Bernie. You can get up now.'

My breath came out in one huge burp of fright. Weakly, my knees knocking, I picked myself up from the edge of the pit and turned to see Arthur Nebe standing a few metres behind the Latvian ugly. To my annoyance he was grinning.

'I'm glad you find it so amusing, Dr Frankenstein,' I said. 'Your fucking monster nearly killed me.'

'What on earth were you thinking of, Bernie?' Nebe said. 'You should know better. Rainis here was only doing his job.'

The Latvian nodded sullenly and bolstered his Colt. 'He was snooping,' he said dully. 'I caught him.'

I shrugged. 'It's a nice morning. I thought I'd take a look at Grinzing. I was just admiring your estate when Lon Chancy here stuck a gun in my ear.'

The Latvian took my revolver out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Nebe. 'He was carrying a lighter, Herr Nolde.'

'Planning to shoot small game, is that it, Bernie?'

'You can't be too careful these days.'

'I'm glad you think so,' said Nebe. 'It saves me the trouble of apologizing.' He weighed my gun in his hand and then pocketed it. 'All the same, I'll hang on to this for now if you don't mind. Guns make some of our friends nervous. Remind me to return it to you before you leave.' He turned to the Latvian.

'All right, Rainis, that's all. You were only doing your job. I suggest that you go and get yourself some breakfast.'

The monster nodded and walked back towards the house, with the cat following him.

'I'll bet he can eat his weight in peanuts.'

Nebe smiled thinly. 'Some people keep savage dogs to protect them. I have Rainis.'

'Yes, well I hope he's house-trained.' I took off my hat and wiped my brow with my handkerchief. 'Me, I wouldn't let him past the front door. I'd keep him on a chain in the yard. Where does he think he is? Treblinka? The bastard couldn't wait to shoot me, Arthur.'

'Oh, I don't doubt it. He enjoys killing people.'

Nebe shook his head to my offer of a cigarette, but he had to help me light mine as my hand was shaking like it was talking to a deaf Apache.

'He's a Latvian,' Nebe explained. 'He was a corporal at the Riga concentration camp. When the Russians captured him they stamped on his head and broke his jaw with their boots.'

'Believe me, I know how they must have felt.'

'They paralysed half his face, and left him slightly soft in the head. He was always a brutal killer. But now he's more like an animal. And just as loyal as any dog.'

'Well, naturally I was thinking he'd have his good points too. Riga eh?' I jerked my head at the open pit and the incinerator. 'I bet that little waste-disposal set-up makes him feel quite at home.' I sucked gratefully at my cigarette and added, 'If it comes to that, I bet it makes you both feel at home.'

Nebe frowned. 'I think you need a drink,' he said quietly.

'I wouldn't be at all surprised. Just make sure it doesn't have any lime in it.

I think I lost my taste for lime, for ever.'

Chapter 34

I followed Nebe into the house and up to the library where we had talked the day before. He fetched me a brandy from the drinks-cabinet and set it down on the table in front of me.

'Forgive me for not joining you,' he said, watching me down it quickly.

'Normally I quite enjoy a cognac with my breakfast but this morning I must keep a clear head.' He smiled indulgently as I replaced the empty glass on the table.

'Better now?'

I nodded. 'Tell me, have you found your missing dentist yet? Dr Heim?' Now that I no longer had to worry about my own immediate prospects for survival, Veronika was once again at the front of my mind.

'He's dead, I'm afraid. That's bad enough, but it's not half as bad as not knowing what had happened to him was. At least we now know that the Russians haven't got him.'

'What did happen to him?'

'He had a heart attack.' Nebe uttered the familiar, dry little laugh I remembered from my days at the Alex, the headquarters of Berlin's criminal police. 'It seems that he was with a girl at the time. A chocolady.'

'You mean it was while they were ?'

'I mean precisely that. Still, I can think of worse ways to go, can't you?'

'After what I've just been through, that's not particularly difficult for me, Arthur.'

'Quite.' He smiled almost sheepishly.

I spent a moment searching for a frame of words that might enable me to innocently inquire as to Veronika's fate. 'So what did she do? The chocolady, I mean. Phone the police?' I frowned. 'No, I expect not.'

'Why do you say that?'

I shrugged at the apparent simplicity of my explanation. 'I can't imagine she'd have risked a run-in with the vice squad. No, I'll bet she tried to have him dumped somewhere. Got her garter-handler to do it.' I raised my eyebrows questioningly. 'Well? Am I right?'

'Yes, you're right.' He sounded almost as if he admired my thinking. 'As usual.'

Then he uttered a wistful sort of sigh. 'What a pity that we're no longer with Kripo. I can't tell you how much I miss it all.'

'Me too.'

'But you, you could rejoin. Surely you're not wanted for anything, Bernie?'

'And work for the Communists? No thanks.' I pursed my lips and tried to look rueful. 'Anyway, I'd rather stay out of Berlin for a while. A Russian soldier tried to rob me on a train. It was self-defence, but I'm afraid I killed him. I was seen leaving the scene of the crime covered in blood.'