The Serpent's Egg (25 page)

“Nothing, Erhart. It’s been busy, but it’s all trivial stuff.”

There was a bond between the two men. They were of similar age, and both had joined the police force at roughly the same time, 20 years earlier. It was nothing but the vagaries of Fate that had propelled Neumann to a position as a high ranked detective while his friend languished in obscurity at the desk.

Neumann ran his eyes over the book. There were several beatings in the streets, two missing dogs, a spate of burglaries, and a report from a woman who claimed someone stole her dead grandfather.

“What about this one? Give me the sheet.”

Neumann took the sheet to his desk and studied it. The woman’s name was Frau Glueck. Her grandfather, Bismarck Rachwalski, had been buried two days earlier. She claimed that his grave had been interfered with during the night. She was convinced her grandfather’s body had been spirited away by grave robbers.

Neumann showed it to his assistant. “What do you think of this, Fischer?”

Kriminal Oberassistent Fischer read the sheet. “It’s probably nothing, Boss. Maybe some wild animal looking for an easy meal.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that before. I thought that’s why they buried them deep and in wooden boxes.”

Fischer shrugged. “You don’t really think Herr Rachwalski has been dug up and taken away, do you?”

“No, but I think we should take a look. Grab your keys.”

#

In the cemetery behind Holy Cross Church a light mist clung to the ground between the ancient gray slabs. The grave of Bismarck Rachwalski was easy to spot, freshly dug with no gravestone, a dirty bunch of flowers on the soil. All around the grave, traces of scattered soil in the grass and waterlogged footprints suggested recent activity.

Neumann scratched his square chin. “What do you think, Fischer?”

“It looks untidy, but shouldn’t the mound be lower if the coffin has been removed?”

“We’re going to have to take a look. Wait here. I’ll talk to the pastor.”

Fischer pulled his coat tighter around his chest. “I’ll wait in the car, if you don’t mind, Boss. Graveyards give me the creeps.”

#

Neumann’s boss, Oberst Vogel was not convinced. “What are you expecting to find?”

“I don’t know, sir. Maybe nothing. I just have a strange feeling about the case.”

“Don’t you have a full caseload already?”

“Yes, sir, but my instinct tells me this one is special.”

Vogel gave the go-ahead. “Do it by the book. I don’t want any citizen’s complaints landing on my desk.”

The disinterment authority took a week to arrive. It took three days more to find two volunteers willing to dig up a fresh corpse.

They arrived at the cemetery early on a misty October morning. The two volunteers discarded their tunics, rolled up their sleeves and began to dig. Father Schmitt, the parish priest, stood nearby with Frau Glueck in case they were needed.

Fifteen minutes later they uncovered what looked like a rolled up carpet. They dug some more, uncovered the carpet and hauled it onto the grass. They unrolled it to reveal the body of a priest dressed in a cassock.

The parish priest crossed himself several times when he saw the body. “Saints preserve us!”

“One of yours, Father?” said Neumann.

“No, that’s Vigo. Father Salvatore Vigo.” He crossed himself again. “He’s from St. Angar’s Church on the far side of the city.”

The coffin lid was visible beneath where the body in the carpet had been. The digging party continued until they could unscrew the coffin lid.

Neumann called Frau Glueck over and asked her to identify the body in the coffin. Covering her mouth with her hand she looked down and confirmed that the body in the coffin was that of her grandfather. They replaced the coffin lid. A sobbing Frau Glueck retired to the church with the parish priest.

Fischer used the parish house telephone to ring for a police ambulance. The ambulance arrived within 15 minutes and took the body and the carpet to the city morgue. Then Neumann, Fischer and the digging party began a careful search of the cemetery.

Thirty minutes later, Fischer gave a loud cry. “Over here, sir.”

Neumann hurried across. “What have you found?”

Fischer pointed into the long grass close to the cemetery wall. “It looks like a cigarette lighter.”

Chapter 72

October 1939

Kriminal Kommissar Neumann walked into Oberst Vogel’s office.

Vogel was stuffing his pipe. “I hear you found a body in the cemetery.”

Neumann didn’t appreciate the obvious joke. “Yes, sir, the body of a priest from a parish on the other side of the city. He was rolled up in a carpet.”

“Probably the Brownshirts,” said Vogel. “You know how they feel about religious pastors.”

“I don’t think this was the Brownshirts, sir. They don’t usually go to the trouble of burying their victims. No, this is something else. I’d like to open a murder file.”

“Do you have any leads apart from the carpet?”

“Just one. We found a cigarette lighter with War markings on it.”

“Let me see it.”

“I’ve sent it to the laboratory for fingerprint investigation.”

“Very well, but don’t spend too much time on it. And keep me informed.”

#

The police photographer took a picture of the dead priest.

Neumann and Fischer set out for St. Angar’s Church. They found the parish priest, Father Zauffer, in the parish house. Concerned about how the old priest might react to the bad news, Neumann asked if they could all sit down before Fischer showed him the photograph.

As soon as Father Zauffer saw the picture, he covered his mouth and scuttled from the room. When he returned, he took the picture from Fischer. “That’s Salvatore Vigo. What on earth happened to him?”

“He was one of your priests?”

“He was a priest of this parish, yes. He has been missing for several weeks.”

“When did you last see him?”

Father Zauffer checked the calendar on the wall. “He conducted a Baptism on September 14. That was the last time I saw him. What happened to him?”

“He was killed and buried in a graveyard on the far side of the city. Holy Cross Church cemetery, do you know it?”

“I know it, yes. That’s Father Schmitt’s parish.”

Neumann signaled to Fischer to retrieve the photograph. It was buckling in Father Zauffer’s fierce grip. Fischer eased the picture from the old priest’s hand.

Neumann said, “Did you report his disappearance?”

“No, he leaves me from time to time. He has – had – interests outside parish affairs.”

“What sort of interests?”

“I don’t know. He never told me, and I didn’t like to ask.”

Fischer and Neumann exchanged a glance.

“Did he have any enemies?”

Father Zauffer had regained some of his composure. He shrugged. “No more than any other priest in the Third Reich.”

“And why do you think he was at the Holy Cross Church?”

“I have no idea.”

#

Neumann took the car keys from his assistant and got behind the wheel. Driving the powerful car gave him the sensation that he was taking charge and doing something to solve the case. “Why would anyone want to kill a priest?”

The question was rhetorical, but, like a good
Kriminal Oberassistent
, Fischer tried to answer it. “The Communists hate the Romans, the Jews hate the Romans, the Nazis don’t get on with anyone. And there’s the Calvinists, the Lutherans…”

“Yes, yes, but we’re talking about murder.” Neumann chewed his lip. “We’ll talk to Otto.” Narrowly avoiding a group of schoolgirls on bicycles, he executed a crude U-turn and headed back toward the city center.

#

They found Doctor Otto Schranck, the Medical Examiner, in his laboratory, peering into a microscope.

“Take a seat Kommissar. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Kriminal Kommissar Neumann peered at Vigo’s naked corpse laid out on a bench, his head at a strange angle to his body. The priest looked resigned to his fate.

Fischer said, “He looks peaceful.”

“He does. He would have known what was coming. He would have prepared his soul to meet his God.”

“Unless he was wearing a blindfold when they killed him.” Doctor Schranck stood between and behind them. For one horrible moment, Neumann thought the Medical Examiner was going to put his arms around their shoulders, like pals at a football match.

Neumann stepped away. “Was he shot?”

“Not at all. His neck was snapped.” He clicked his fingers. “Like a dry twig. Death would have been instantaneous. Was he wearing a blindfold at the time? Who can say?”

“When was he killed?”

“Ten days, maximum. It’s difficult to be more precise than that.”

Neumann thought that was remarkably precise. Herr Rachwalski had been buried on October 6. That gave them a 2-day period for the killing, October 7 - 8. “Was he killed in the cemetery or elsewhere?”

“He was almost certainly killed somewhere else. People don’t usually keep carpets in cemeteries. Wherever the carpet came from, that’s probably where he was killed.”

“That’s very helpful, Herr Doctor. Is there anything else you can tell us? Was he beaten or tortured in any way?”

“No, I don’t believe he was, but there is evidence that he was subjected to a severe beating some months ago. I can’t be sure when exactly, but I would guess four to six months before the shooting. The abrasions on his face are not recent.”

#

Back at the police station on Storkowerstrasss, the desk sergeant told Neumann that the technical team had recovered a good set of fingerprints from the cigarette lighter. They had already started to search their criminal records.

Neumann drove a fist into his palm. “Well done, Rainer. Let me know the minute they find a match.”

Chapter 73

November 1939

The Joint Forces Contingency Committee was preparing for a session in Whitehall, Air Commodore Frank Scott in the chair. The members were unusually subdued as they all eyed the two interlopers in their midst.

“Gentlemen, take your seats,” said the Air Commodore. “I’d like to introduce General Marchand of the French Army. The General is here representing the combined armed forces of the Republic of France. You all know my aide. I have asked him to act as translator. I met with the general in September when he suggested a bold approach to the problems posed by the non-aggression treaty between Hitler and Stalin. I’ve discussed the basic idea of a pre-emptive strike with each of you privately, so we don’t need to dwell on the ethics of the thing. Our allies in Paris have now taken the basic idea and added flesh to the bones. The general will now outline the detailed plan.”

General Marchand got to his feet and delivered his proposal through his translator.

“The puzzle that we must solve, gentlemen, is how to strike a decisive blow against the enormous combined force of Germany and the Soviet Union. I have no wish to overstate the peril that we face, but the combined force of the Wehrmacht and the Red Army could easily amount to 20 million men. 100,000 tanks and 150,000 combat aircraft. If unleashed against us, a force that large would certainly obliterate both of our nations and could quickly sweep the world. Since my encounter in September with your Air Commodore, the best available minds in the joint armed forces of the Republic of France have been applied to find a solution to this puzzle, and they have determined that there is one weakness, one glaring vulnerability that both our enemies share. And that is?” He paused for effect. No one responded. “The oilfields in the Caucasian region of the USSR. This is the one vulnerable asset that both our adversaries depend on. The oil that is produced and refined there is used to power both the Red Army and Hitler’s Wehrmacht. My plan, which we are calling ‘Operation Folie,’ is to execute an airstrike against these assets before it is too late.”

The general paused. Ten seconds of silence followed, and then the room erupted. Air Commodore Scott applied the bowl of his pipe to the table. When he had restored a measure of order, he gave the floor to the Royal Navy’s senior representative.

“That area is bordered by the Black Sea to the west and the Caspian Sea to the east. The Navy has no access to the Caspian Sea. Passage to the Black Sea is possible with the agreement of the Turkish government, but I doubt whether it would be either desirable or wise to position any navy vessels in such a restricted area. I can’t see the Admiral of the Fleet sanctioning Royal Navy participation in such a plan.”