‘By lying. I shall tell them that the mortuary needs the space, which is true; and also that it’s best Vranken’s remains are not cremated, in case we need to examine the body again, which is not. Something like that. I’m really quite a good liar when the occasion demands it.’
‘I don’t doubt it, Gunther. And the widow? Have you heard back from her?’
‘Not yet. And I probably won’t. Would you write to some Nazi bastard who was occupying your country?’
We were both silent for a while the way you are on a beach. On the blue water there were lots of little white boats that looked as if they were made of paper. We watched the boats and we watched children building sandcastles and some girls playing volleyball. The beach was crowded with people who, like us, figured it was maybe the last day of summer and who were worried we might be in for another hard winter, like the last one when the temperature fell as low as minus twenty-two degrees centigrade. This, of course, was just one of many things we Berliners had to worry about following the overthrow of Kiev. The German High Command had issued a victory communiqué announcing that the Army was now in charge of 665,000 Soviet prisoners. This seemed like a fantastic figure, and there were some who thought it meant that the war in the East was all but won; but there were many others, like myself, who thought that there were probably a lot more Soviet soldiers where those 665,000 men came from.
Eventually, Arianne said:
‘I’ve been thinking of going back to Dresden. To visit my mother.’
‘Good idea.’
‘You could come with me if you like. It’s only two hours on the train. I’ll probably stay there for a couple of weeks but you might like to stay for the weekend.’ She shrugged. ‘You’d enjoy Dresden. It’s not like Berlin where there’s no room. My mother has a huge apartment in Johann Georgen Allee, overlooking the park. And of course it’s much safer than Berlin. I don’t think there’s ever been an air raid.’
She was wearing a blue Lastex swimsuit that was like a dress and showed off her legs, which looked lovely to me. I was trying to keep my eyes on her face as she talked, but it was difficult when all I wanted to do was lay my muzzle on her lap and have her play with my ears and pull my tail.
‘I am supposed to be investigating a murder,’ I said, eventually. ‘Two murders, if you count Geert Vranken. However, neither one of them is paying out right now; and I am owed some leave. So, maybe, yes, I could use a holiday. Only I’m going to have to clear it with the Commissioner. He worries when I’m not around. I’m the last real cop in Berlin. When I go, it’s just the two sentries out front of the Alex and the cleaning lady. So I’ll let you know, angel. Tomorrow, probably.’
CHAPTER 9
‘I’m afraid that’s quite impossible, Bernie.’
I shifted uncomfortably in Lüdtke’s office. I felt about ten years old, a schoolboy again, in trouble with his headmaster.
‘Would you mind telling me why, sir?’
‘I was about to. I’ve just had a telephone call from an SS major called Doctor Achim Ploetz.’
‘Never heard of him.’
‘In Prague.’ Lüdtke grinned. ‘Yes, I thought that would shut you up. Major Ploetz is the Chief Adjutant to General Heydrich. It seems that your presence is required in Bohemia and Moravia. Or perhaps it’s just Bohemia. I’m not sure.’ He shrugged. ‘Whichever one Prague is in is where you are requested to go.’
I felt a sudden chill on the back of my neck as if I’d run my finger along the edge of the blade of the falling axe at Plotzensee. Heydrich had that effect on people, which was probably why he was nicknamed ‘the Hangman’.
‘Did Major Ploetz explain why I’m needed in Prague, sir?’
‘It seems that the General is planning some sort of weekend with friends, at his country house outside Prague. To celebrate his appointment as the new Reichsprotector of Bohemia. I had no idea that you and General Heydrich were on such cordial terms, Bernie.’
‘No sir. Nor had I.’
‘Oh, come now. You might not wear a scary badge on your lapel but everyone at the Alex knows you’ve got vitamin B. Even the footballs handle you with care.’
Many Gestapo officers were fond of wearing leather coats and hats; and since many of them were also better fed than the rest of us and hence fatter, too, they were known as ‘footballs’. But sadly, kicking one was not an option.
‘Perhaps I’ll have my own adjutant telephone the General’s adjutant and inform him that I will have to decline the invitation,’ I said.
‘You do that.’
‘What about the case I’m working on? This Czech spy who got himself killed.’
‘You told me it was a traffic accident, didn’t you? Happens every day. And spies are apparently no exception.’
‘Yes, but I’m pretty sure that he murdered that Dutch foreign worker, Geert Vranken. You remember. The fellow who got himself hit by a train after receiving multiple stab wounds.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be waiting for you when you get back from your weekend with the General.’
Lüdtke looked like he was enjoying my discomfort. He knew the truth about my dislike for the Nazis but it didn’t stop him from savouring my dilemma: for me not to be a Party member and yet still in such apparent high favour with Heydrich was amusing to him. It amused me, too, which is to say it stopped me from thinking about much else.
‘Doctor Ploetz, you say?’
‘Yes.’ Lüdtke leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head as if he was about to surrender. ‘I hear Prague’s very nice at this time of year. I’ve often fancied going there with the wife. She collects glass, you know. And there’s a lot of glass in Prague.’
‘That should keep the Nazis happy. They like smashing glass. Here, maybe you should go instead of me.’
‘Oh no.’ Lüdtke smiled. ‘I wouldn’t know what to say to a man as important as the Reichsprotector of Bohemia. My God, I should be surprised if he even knew I existed.’
‘Any man who can persuade Berlin detectives to wear women’s clothes in order to catch a murderer is certain to have been noticed upstairs.’
‘It’s kind of you to say so, Bernie. But of course I had lots of help. Remember Georg Heuser?’
‘Yes.’
‘Georg Heuser was one of my best detectives on the S-Bahn murder case. Good man, is Georg. Of course, he lacks your subtlety and experience, but he’s a promising young policeman. And of more use here than where he is now.’
‘And where is that?’
‘In a Special Action Group somewhere in the Ukraine.’
I didn’t reply. Suddenly going to Prague didn’t seem so bad after all. Not when they were still sending ‘good’ men to Special Action Groups in the Ukraine. Just thinking about Georg Heuser and what he was probably going through in Minsk, or Pinsk, or Dnipropetrovsk, or any one of a hundred Jew towns where innocent people were being murdered in their thousands, made me feel that I was much better off than I realized. And all talk of an S-Bahn murderer seemed laughable when one of our own investigating detectives now seemed likely to chalk up more victims in twenty-four hours than Paul Ogorzow had managed in one murderous year.
Lüdtke played with the rocker blotter on his desk for a moment as if trying to measure something.
‘You hear stories,’ he said, finally. ‘About what is happening out east. In Ukraine and Latvia, for example. The Police Battalions. Special Action Groups and what have you. You were there, Bernie. What is the truth about what’s happening? Is it true what they’re saying? That people are being murdered? Men, women and children. Because they’re Jews?’
I nodded.
‘My God,’ he said.
‘I think you once said that whenever I came in here it was like rain coming in at the eaves. Now you know why. Since I came home there hasn’t been a day when I didn’t feel ashamed. And the nights are worse.’