Authors: Philip Kerr
He was in his late forties. On his grey tunic was an Iron Cross first and second class, indicating he’d been given it twice, no small feat, even for an aristocrat. Still, there was a pious air about him – a bit like a hypocritical priest.
‘I like to think of him as my protégé. I’m certain he wouldn’t mind me saying that.’
The way he said this made me think that Heydrich just might mind him saying that.
‘How about Captain Kuttner?’ I asked. ‘He was from Halle, too. Did you know him well?’
‘Well enough. His father I know rather better. We were in the Army together. During the last war. Pastor Kuttner was our regimental chaplain. But for him I’m not sure I’d have
fared as well as I did. He was a tremendous comfort to us all.’
‘I’m sure.’
Von Eberstein shook his head. ‘It’s a great pity that this happened. A great pity.’
‘Yes. It is, sir.’
‘And you’re quite certain it was murder and not suicide?’
‘Of course we’ll have to wait for the autopsy this afternoon to be completely sure. But I’m more or less certain, yes.’
‘Well, you know your business, I suppose.’
‘Why do you mention suicide?’
‘Only because of what happened to Albert in Latvia. He tried to kill himself there. Or at least threatened to kill himself.’
‘Exactly what did happen? I’m still a little unclear about that.’
‘I believe he suffered a nervous breakdown brought on by the difficulty of his war assignments. I mean, of course, the evacuation of the Jews in the eastern territories. Not everyone is equal to the tasks that have been set before us as a people.’
‘I wonder if you might be a little more specific, sir. Under the circumstances I think I should know all there is to know.’
‘Yes, I agree with you, Commissar. Perhaps you should.’
Von Eberstein proceeded to explain, using words and phrases that made the whole filthy business of murdering thousands of people sound like an engineering job, or perhaps an exercise in crowd control after a large game of football. It was typical of the Nazis that they should call a spade an agrarian implement; and as I listened to one weasel word after another, I felt I wanted to slap him.
‘Responding to fundamental orders issued in Berlin, Lieutenant Kuttner was assigned the task of tactically coordinating
the activities of a special detachment of SS that was made up of units of Latvian auxiliary police. Throughout the summer this same detachment carried out many extensive special actions in and around the Riga area. Principally, Kuttner’s function was to perform a rudimentary census for the purpose of apprehending communists as well as identifying provincial Jews. After the census, Jews were ordered to assemble at a given location and from there they were evacuated. It was later found that some of these evacuations were carried out with unnecessary brutality, and this seems to have occasioned feelings of guilt and depression in poor Kuttner. He started drinking heavily, and following one protracted bout of drinking he threatened a superior officer with his pistol. Subsequent to that, he tried but was prevented from shooting himself. Because of these incidents he was sent home to face a court martial.’
‘Well, that’s clear enough,’ I said and watched Kahlo cover the smile on his face with a hand and its cigarette.
‘Yes, it was an unfortunate business and might have severely blighted what was a very promising career. Albert was a brilliant young lawyer. But the Reichsführer is not an insensitive man and fully understands the problems that are sometimes provoked by these special actions. I talked it over with him at some length—’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ I interrupted. ‘To clarify what you said just now. You mean you discussed Lieutenant Kuttner’s case with Reichsführer Himmler, on an individual basis?’
‘That’s right. He and I agreed that it should not be held against a man that he was too sensitive for such psychologically arduous duties. Given his legal talents it was a waste of a fine mind just to allow him to be cashiered without a second chance to redeem himself. Consequently, Heydrich
agreed to take Kuttner onto his personal staff; and if he had not, then I would certainly have done so. Captain Kuttner was far too able an officer to let go.’
‘You were referring to Lieutenant Kuttner, sir. This is only a few weeks ago and now he is a Captain. Am I to understand that not only was there no court martial, but that Lieutenant Kuttner was promoted Captain upon joining General Heydrich’s staff?’
‘For reasons of administrative efficiency it’s usually best if adjutants are all of an equal rank. It saves any petty bickering.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, but Kuttner was lucky to have that kind of vitamin B. I mean, to have two patrons who can count the Reichsführer-SS as a friend.’
‘Yes. Perhaps.’
‘How long have you and Reichsführer Himmler been friends, sir?’
‘Oh, let’s see now. I joined the Party in 1922. And the SS in 1925.’
‘That explains the gold Party badge,’ observed Kahlo. ‘It seems as if you’ve been part of the movement since the very beginning, sir. If I’d had the good sense you had then I might be something better than a Criminal Assistant now. No disrespect intended, sir.’
‘Oh, I wasn’t always so resolute in my devotion to the Party.’
‘Go on, sir.’ Kahlo grinned.
‘No, really. There was a time – after the failure of the Beer Hall putsch and despairing of our cause – when I even left the Party.’
Von Eberstein wagged a finger at Kahlo.
‘So, you see, we all make mistakes. For three years I was—’
He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment.
‘Well, I was doing other things.’
‘Like what, sir?’
‘It doesn’t matter now. What matters now is that we find the person who murdered Captain Kuttner. Is that not so, Commissar?’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Have you any ideas on that score?’
‘I’ve got plenty of ideas, sir. We Germans have never been short of those. But mostly what I know is limited by the terms in which the mind can think, which means it’s probably best I don’t try to explain what those ideas are. Not yet, anyway. What I can tell you is that not everyone liked the young Captain as much as you and General Heydrich. And I’m not talking about the Czechs, sir. I figure that given half a chance they’d shoot any one of us wearing a German uniform. No, I’m talking about—’
‘Yes, I know what you’re talking about.’ Von Eberstein sighed. ‘No doubt you’ve heard about that unfortunate incident in the library last night. When General Henlein spoke with unnecessary harshness to Captain Kuttner.’
‘I’m not saying it demonstrates a motive for murder, but when you’ve seen men murdered for no motive at all, as I have, it gives pause for thought. Henlein was drunk. He was armed. Clearly he didn’t like Kuttner. And he certainly had the opportunity.’
‘All of us had that, Commissar. You’ve a difficult job to do here and no mistake. But I’ve known Konrad Henlein ever since I was the Police President of Munich. And I can tell you this: he’s no murderer. Why, the man used to be a teacher in a school.’
‘What kind of teacher?’
‘A gymnastics teacher.’
‘So he’s the one,’ I said, thinking of the girl in the suite at the Imperial Hotel – the one Arianne had spoken to.
‘What?’
‘I was just thinking. The gym teacher at my school was a regular sadist. Now I come to think of it, I can’t imagine a man who was more likely to murder someone than him.’
Von Eberstein smiled. ‘I’m sure that Henlein isn’t like that. Indeed I’m confident that none of the senior ranks here in Heydrich’s own house could have committed such a heinous crime.’
But I didn’t share his confidence.
‘When this is all over, Commissar; when you have – as I’m sure you will – solved the crime, I believe we’ll find that the solution is much less remarkable than we might suppose right now. Isn’t that usually the case?’
‘I might agree with you, except for the very singular circumstances of this particular case. Most murders are simple, it’s true. Simple, sordid, violent crimes of passion, greed, or most likely alcohol. This isn’t anything like that. There appears to be no love interest here. Nothing was stolen. And if the murderer was drunk then he was an unusually thoughtful drunk who was very careful not to leave a trace of his presence in Captain Kuttner’s room. It’s only an opinion at this stage, however I have the feeling that someone is playing a game here. Possibly to embarrass General Heydrich.’
‘It’s true there are those who are jealous of Heydrich,’ admitted von Eberstein.
‘Possibly to embarrass all of you.’
‘In which case I wonder that you can write off the Czechs as possible culprits quite so quickly, Commissar. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how fond the Three Kings were of teasing
the local Gestapo. One of them even left a provocative and embarrassing message in poor Fleischer’s coat pocket. And it strikes me that this is just the sort of stunt they might pull. Especially now, when their organization is under threat. If I were you I’d be trying to examine the backgrounds of the house staff in closer detail. They may be in the SS but some of them have a German–Czech background. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that throws up something that wasn’t found when they were checked the first time.’
‘General von Eberstein’s got a point, sir,’ said Kahlo. ‘It could be them thumbing their noses at us. Just like before. And nothing would give those bastards more pleasure than to have us chasing our own tails.’
I grinned. ‘That’s what it feels like, doesn’t it?’
‘I don’t believe it,’ said Kahlo. ‘Krautwickel. I thought that was it after the potato soup. That had real bacon in it. And real potatoes, too. But this is even better. I haven’t had Krautwickel since the war started. If this keeps up, sir, I might just have to kill someone myself just so that we keep this investigation going for a good while longer.’
‘That’s as good a motive for murder as any I’ve heard today,’ I said. ‘I may even have to put you down on my list of suspects after that remark.’
We were in the Dining Room, but with Heydrich and Ploetz and some Gestapo officers away in pursuit of Vaclav Moravek, there were fewer of us for lunch at the Lower Castle than there had been for dinner. At my direction, Kahlo and I were seated at the opposite end of the table from everyone else; not because I disliked their company – which of course I did – but mostly because I wanted to avoid discussing the case with any of them. Besides, I hoped that our position at the
table would set us apart and help to remind the cauliflower that a murder investigation was being conducted. Doubtless that suited Doctor Jury very well, and probably General Hildebrandt too, who, following their interviews, now regarded me as they would have regarded a large and verminous dog.
Another reason I wanted to sit apart from the SS cauliflower was to give me a chance to get to know Kurt Kahlo, who to my surprise I liked more than I had ever expected to like anyone at Heydrich’s house.
‘Why do they call Mannheim the chequerboard?’
‘Because it’s the most regularly built city in Germany, that’s why. The city centre is divided into one hundred and thirty-six neat squares and the blocks of houses are only distinguished by letters and numerals. My dad used to live at K4. He was a factory foreman at Daimler but he got hit hard by the inflation. Me and my brother had to go to work to help supplement the family income and so that we could stay on at school, if that doesn’t sound like a contradiction.’
‘You married?’
‘Five years, to Eva. She works at a local hotel.’
‘Which one?’
‘The Park.’
‘Any good?’
‘Too pricey for me.’
‘I was in the hotel business for a while. I was the house bull at the Adlon.’
‘Nice.’
‘How does Eva like the hotel business?’
‘She likes it. The guests can be a bit much sometimes. Especially the English, at least when they were still coming to Germany. They used to try it on a bit, and give themselves airs, you know?’
‘Sounds a lot like this place.’
‘Yeah.’ Kahlo looked sideways at the cauliflower. ‘How’d you come to know General Heydrich?’
‘The way you know a dangerous dog. Most of the time I just cross the road or walk the other way when I see him coming. But sometimes he corners me and I have to humour him or end up badly bitten. Really, I’m like one of those four animals on his way to the town of Bremen. A donkey, probably. And like the donkey I’d just like to live without an owner and become a musician.’
‘What instrument do you play?’
‘Nothing, of course. Whoever heard of a donkey that could play a musical instrument? But I seem to be in the robbers’ house, all the same; just like in the story.’
Kahlo grinned. ‘It’s not what you’d call a relaxing place, is it? Some of these bastards would frighten Himmler himself.’ He shook his head. ‘I almost feel sorry for Captain Kuttner.’