Kohler had earned that gash down his face from the SS during a murder investigation near Vouvray in December, and understood the whip better than most yet had still chosen to remain defiant of authority. ‘The Untersturmführer is in charge of security. Colonel Kessler should by rights have left the entire matter in his capable hands.’
A second lieutenant in the SS and wouldn’t you know it! ‘Your predecessor, Colonel. . We understand that he availed himself of Madame Chevreul’s séances.’
‘You want them stopped?’
Must this one be suspicious of everything? ‘Not yet. Better to let them continue.’
Jundt tapped that Wehrmacht nose of his with a cautioning forefinger. ‘But you think they’re involved. I can tell.’
‘We just need a little time to sort things out, that’s all.’
Perhaps some reason for Kessler’s having attended the séances should be given. ‘Colonel Kessler’s wife of thirty-seven years was killed during the bombing of last September. The house was unfortunately flattened.’
And houses these days were important, considering what the RAF were doing at night and the USAF during the day, but best not to mention that, either. ‘Anything else?’
‘The Kesslers’ little maid, Kohler. A girl the couple had taken an interest in was also killed. I gather he was very close to both of them.’
And if that wasn’t a hint, what was? ‘Did the medium get through to them?’
Did they talk to each other from beyond the clouds? Such persistence could only mean Kohler thought he was on to something juicy. ‘Ach, I know nothing of such things. Colonel Kessler must have held this Chevreul woman of yours in high regard, for he specifically asked that if you thought it best, she be allowed to continue her valuable work. “It keeps them happy,” he said.’
And so much for who was going to be held responsible for letting the séances and all the rest of it continue but. . ‘Untersturmführer Weber told you this, did he?’
‘That is correct, since the outgoing Kommandant was no longer present to do so himself.’
‘Séances night after night?’
‘Sometimes two sessions if the sign of the Zodiac is in conjunction with atmospheric conditions, but no more than ten to fifteen in attendance at any one time. Otherwise, the spirits might become distracted.’
‘And ten times fifty American dollars. . ’
‘Profitable perhaps, but ach, there are others of them who do it. The circle, the holding of hands with the eyes closed and thoughts concentrated, the table that tilts when the fingertips are pressed to it as the questions are asked by the medium who strives to make contact with the deceased. The crystal ball, as well, and the Ouija board, the palm readings too, and tea leaves-they get tea in those parcels of theirs, Kohler. Tea when we have none!’
And so much for Jundt’s not knowing a damn thing about the spiritualistic goings-on around the camp. ‘But these other mediums aren’t as good as Madame Chevreul?’
‘I believe his very words were, “She is the only one who can do it.”’
According to Untersturmführer Weber. ‘Had the Colonel tried others?’
‘Several, I gather. Weber will know.’
‘And the name of the Colonel’s interpreter? Just for the record.’
Did Kohler already suspect there was a killer amongst those at that last Saturday evening’s séance? ‘Colonel Kessler spoke English, which he was perfecting, and perfect French. That was why he was chosen for this position.’
‘Then tell me, why was he recalled?’
Certainly Weber had let Berlin know how things were, Jundt felt, but the recall had come with such short notice that one had to wonder. Perhaps it would be best, though, to offer some other reason so as to distance oneself further. ‘The languages, mein Lieber. With so many Allied prisoners of war to be interrogated, the High Command have had to make choices. Now, is there anything else?’
The pork was even colder. ‘Just one thing, Colonel. Why on earth was that poor unfortunate girl’s body left at the bottom of that elevator shaft? Surely someone should have-’
‘Removed her? Is this what you mean?’
‘You know it is.’
‘Kohler, Kohler,’ he muttered, shaking his head in dismay at such insubordination. ‘Colonel Kessler had ordered that she not be touched until the two detectives from Paris had examined her. Need I remind you that you were to have been here late last Sunday or on Monday? An eight-hour trip becomes a delay of six days? The Untersturmführer had to have guards posted on every floor of that verdammt hotel to keep those bitches from trying to see her and destroying what might well have been valuable evidence. One can’t see her, by the way. Not from above. I made certain of that. The elevator shaft is far too dark.’
‘Did any of the doctors get to her?’
‘The Scotsman was awakened by one of those women who wore dark horn-rimmed glasses. A Sister Jane then asked that a priest be summoned and the last rites given.’
‘And were they?’
Another cigarette would be best, the offer of one expected but withheld. ‘The Untersturmführer, as was correct, told her that, like everyone else, God would have to wait for you. That third-storey gate should simply not have been open. When I first arrived here four days ago, the Untersturmführer and I made a thorough examination of every facet of the camp. I tell you Kohler, that padlock was on and secure last Saturday at seventeen hundred hours, as was its chain.’
Yet he’d not been here to see it himself. ‘And its key, Colonel, where might that have been kept?’
‘You think it was stolen, do you?’
‘I’m just asking.’
‘Then understand that it is and was exactly where it ought to have been-right with the others on the wall behind the Untersturmführer’s desk. As head of security, is that not where such keys should be kept?’
‘Only to then have another one borrowed, Colonel?’
‘Ach, what is this?’
‘The stable.’
‘You and Weber had best go over things in the morning. Breakfast is at 0600 hours.’
Berlin time, which, in winter, included an hour of daylight saving.
They were coal-black and there were at least twenty of them in the cellar under a distant forty-watt bulb. Some were still eating, others already in bed, the bunks in tiers against the far wall, but what one most noticed, thought Kohler, was how trapped they looked yet grins flashed big white teeth and whites of eyes that quickly darted away from him to politely seek something else.
Les vaches-‘the cops’-was written in every one of those grins, of course, but never mentioned. Instead, Louis sat as one in a circle of eight, and the feeling was that the centuries of colonial rule and two European wars these boys and their fathers had never wanted to join, had been set aside so as to return to their roots.
‘Ah, bon, Hermann. Salaam aleikum. That’s peace be with you.’
‘Aleikum asalaam,’ came the reply. And peace be with you, and then, wonder of wonders, Hermann shook hands with each of them, betraying a knowledge he’d not yet let his partner know of, and asked how things were with each, their answers being, Fine, and how are things with you?
A space was made on the carpeted floor of the circle. Rice, not seen anywhere in years, was in one tin bowl, nice and fluffy and piping hot; a paste in another, a sauce of what looked to be and smelled like mashed sardines, corned beef, potatoes, sow thistle, and kale with broken crackers, walnut pieces, chestnuts, and dried prunes they’d got from God knows where, the whole blended with the liquid remains of the Kommandant’s soup as a reminder.
‘And Libby’s beans, Hermann. Two tins. It’s curious, isn’t it, since these boys are no longer receiving their Red Cross parcels.’