‘Gunther, this is Military Court Official von Dohnanyi, formerly of the Reich Ministry of Justice and the Imperial Court, but these days he’s deputy head of the Abwehr’s central section.’
All of which meant of course that the special shoulder-boards and distinctive collar patches and civil servant titles were really quite unnecessary. Von Dohnanyi was a baron, and in the OKW this was the only kind of rank that ever really mattered.
‘Please to meet you, Gunther.’ Dohnanyi was softly spoken like a lot of Berlin lawyers, although perhaps not as slippery as some I’d known. I figured him for one of those lawyers who were more interested in making law than in using it to turn a quick mark.
‘Don’t be fooled by that witchcraft badge he’s wearing on his sleeve,’ added Goldsche. ‘Gunther was a loyal servant of the republic for many years. And a damn good policeman. For a while he was quite a thorn in the side of our new masters, weren’t you, Gunther?’
‘That’s not for me to say. But I’ll take the compliment.’ I glanced at the silver tray on the table between them. ‘And some of that coffee, perhaps.’
Goldsche grinned. ‘Of course. Please. Sit down.’
I sat down and Goldsche helped me to some coffee.
‘I don’t know where the Putzer got this,’ said Goldsche, ‘but it’s actually very good. As a lawyer I should probably have my suspicions about his being a blackie.’
‘Yes, you probably should,’ I remarked. The coffee was delicious. ‘At two hundred marks for a half-kilo that’s quite an orderly you have there. I’d hang on to him if I were you and learn to look the other way like everyone else does in this city.’
‘Oh dear.’ Von Dohnanyi smiled very faintly. ‘I suppose I should confess that the coffee came from me,’ he said. ‘My father gets it whenever he plays a concert in Budapest or Vienna. I was going to mention it before, but I hardly wanted to diminish your good opinion of the Putzer, Johannes. Now it seems I might get him into trouble. The coffee was a gift from me.’
‘My dear fellow, you’re too kind.’ Goldsche glanced my way. ‘Von Dohnanyi’s father is the great conductor and composer, Ernst von Dohnanyi.’ Goldsche was a tremendous snob about classical music.
‘Do you like music, Captain Gunther?’
Dohnanyi’s enquiry was scrupulously polite. Behind his round, frameless glasses the eyes didn’t care if I liked music or not; but then neither did I, and without the von in front of my name I certainly wasn’t nearly as scrupulous as he was about what I used to fill my ears.
‘I like a good melody if it’s sung by a pretty girl with a good pair of lungs, especially when the lyric is a vulgar one and the lungs are really noticeable. And I can’t tell an arpeggio from an archipelago. But life’s too short for Wagner, I do know that much.’
Goldsche grinned enthusiastically. He always seemed to take a vicarious delight in my capacity for blunt talking, which I enjoyed playing up to. ‘What else do you know?’ he enquired.
‘I whistle when I’m in the bath, which isn’t as often as I’d like,’ I added, lighting a cigarette. That was the other good thing about working for the OKW – there was always a plentiful supply of quite decent cigarettes. ‘Talking of which, it seems the Russians are here already.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked von Dohnanyi, momentarily alarmed.
‘Those fellows whistling in the corridor outside the door,’ I said. ‘The skilled German craftsmen from the local glazier’s guild who are repairing the flower-house windows. They’re Russians.’
‘Good Lord,’ said Goldsche. ‘Here? In the OKW? That hardly seems like a good idea. What about security?’
‘Someone’s got to repair the windows,’ I said. ‘It’s cold outside. There’s no secret about that. I just hope the glass is more durable than the Luftwaffe, because I’ve got the feeling the RAF is planning a return visit.’
Von Dohnanyi allowed himself a thin smile and then an even thinner puff of his cigarette. I’d seen children smoke with more gusto.
‘How are you feeling, anyway?’ Goldsche looked at the other lawyer and explained. ‘Gunther was in a house in Lutzow that was bombed while he was taking a deposition from a potential witness. He’s lucky to be here at all.’
‘That’s certainly the way I feel about it.’ I tapped my chest. ‘And I’m much better, thanks.’
‘Fit for work?’
‘Chest is still a bit tight, but otherwise I’m more or less back to normal.’
‘And the witness? Herr Meyer?’
‘He’s alive, but I’m afraid the only evidence he’s going to give any time soon is in the court of heaven.’
‘You’ve seen him?’ asked von Dohnanyi. ‘In the Jewish Hospital?’
‘Yes, poor fellow. A large part of his brain seems to have gone missing. Not that anyone notices that kind of thing very much nowadays. But he’s no use to us now, I’m afraid.’
‘Pity,’ said Goldsche. ‘He was going to be an important witness in a case we were preparing against the Royal Navy,’ he told Von Dohnanyi. ‘The British navy really does think it can get away with murder. Unlike the American navy, which recognizes all our hospital ships, the Royal Navy recognizes the larger-tonnage hospital ships but not the smaller ones.’
‘Because the smaller ones are picking up our unwounded air crews?’ asked Von Dohnanyi.
‘That’s right. It’s a great pity this case collapsed before it even got started. Then again, it does make life a little simpler for us. Not to mention more palatable. Goebbels was interested in putting Franz Meyer on the radio. That wouldn’t have done at all.’
‘It’s not just the ministry of propaganda who were interested in Franz Meyer,’ I said. ‘The Gestapo came to see me while I was in the state hospital, asking questions about Meyer.’
‘Did they?’ murmured Von Dohnanyi.
‘What sort of questions?’ asked Goldsche.
I shrugged. ‘Who his friends were, that kind of thing. They seemed to think Meyer might have been mixed up in some sort of currency-smuggling racket in order to help persuade the Swiss to offer asylum to a group of Jews.’
Goldsche looked puzzled.
‘Money for refugees,’ I added. ‘Well, you know how bighearted the Swiss are. They make all that lovely white chocolate just to help sugar the lie that they’re peace-loving and kind. Of course they’re not. Never were. Even the German army was in the habit of recruiting Swiss mercenaries. The Italians used to call it a bad war when Swiss pikemen were involved because their kind of fighting was so vicious.’
‘What did you tell them?’ asked Goldsche. ‘The Gestapo?’
‘I didn’t tell them anything.’ I shrugged. ‘I don’t know about a currency racket. The Gestapo mentioned a few names, but I certainly hadn’t heard of them. Anyway, the commissar who came to see me – I know him. He’s not bad as Gestapo officers go. Fellow by the name of Werner Sachse. I’m not sure if he’s a Party member but I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t.’
‘I don’t like the Gestapo involving themselves with our inquiries,’ said Goldsche. ‘I don’t like it at all. Our judicial independence is always under threat from Himmler and his thugs.’
I shook my head. ‘The Gestapo are like dogs. You have to let them lick the bone for a while or they become savage. Take my word for it. This was a routine inquiry. The commissar licked the bone, let me fold his ears and then he slunk away. Simple as that. And there’s no need for alarm. I don’t see anyone winding up this department because seven Jews went skiing in Switzerland without permission.’
Von Dohnanyi shrugged. ‘Captain Gunther is probably right,’ he said. ‘This commissar was just going through the motions, that’s all.’