Max Collins - The Hindenburg Murders
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- Название:The Hindenburg Murders
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“It’s the tip of Mr. Knoecher’s tie,” the author said.
“Are you certain?” Lehmann asked.
“Certain enough. I don’t remember anyone else wearing an orange silk necktie yesterday. It’s not exactly the rage, is it?”
“It does appear to be the tip of a tie,” Pruss said quietly.
“You can keep that,” Charteris said. “I don’t really have any use for an inch of neckwear.”
Lehmann said, “Are you suggesting he jumped?”
“Hell, no! That manipulative, arrogant son of a bitch was anything but despondent. I do think someone may have done the world the favor of pushing him out a window.”
“Good God,” Pruss said, whitening. He dropped the fragment of necktie onto Lehmann’s desk, as if the fabric had turned suddenly hot.
Lehmann didn’t whiten: it was more a greening.
“It’s possible he was killed on board, then disposed of,” Charteris continued cheerily, as if describing the plot of a Noel Coward play, “but my money would be on a scuffle that got out of hand. In the middle of the night, in the early morning hours, those observation promenades are no doubt deserted.”
“That’s true,” Lehmann admitted.
“No witnesses, no problem. A quick shove, and slam shut the window-muffling any scream, but unfortunately catching the tip of the tie… The drop itself would’ve killed him, don’t you think? If not, he’d have certainly drowned in the Channel, or maybe frozen to death. I say, are there sharks in those waters?”
“You don’t seem terribly upset at the prospect of Eric Knoecher’s murder,” Lehmann said dryly.
“I believe Western civilization will survive the loss-though the sharks are probably in for some nasty indigestion. Still, I felt a responsibility to let you know. Besides which, however deserving a victim Knoecher may have been, this does mean we have a murderer aboard.”
Lehmann leaned against the bulkhead; he appeared woozy, a rare occurrence on a ship famed for not causing seasickness.
“And having a killer among us certainly could make for a less relaxing trip than advertised,” Charteris added.
“We don’t know that Mr. Knoecher has been murdered,” Lehmann said, rather numbly.
Pruss swallowed, nodded. “He may well still be on this ship.”
Charteris shrugged. “He might. So I would suggest your first course of action is a search.”
Lehmann sighed heavily, then straightened; his expression was businesslike but not unfriendly. “We will do just that. Mr. Charteris… Leslie… we… I… would ask a favor.”
“Certainly, Ernst.”
“I ask it as a friend… but also, as director of the Reederei, I can offer you free passage, every year hence, a lifetime ‘pass,’ so to speak… if you will cooperate.”
“Cooperate how?”
“Keep this to yourself. Share this information with no other passenger-until we indicate otherwise.”
Charteris smiled half a smile. “All right. I can understand that you don’t want to alarm your passengers.”
“Yes.”
“And I understand how damaging this could be to the reputation of the Zeppelin Company… not to mention how embarrassing to Nazi Germany.”
Lehmann said nothing; he was looking at the floor.
Pruss stood. “We will have to discreetly search the ship, beginning as soon as possible.” To Lehmann, the captain said, “We will instruct our stewards and our stewardesses, in their daily housekeeping duties, to check every cabin for this stray passenger.”
Lehmann nodded firmly. “And we’ll search the interior of the ship….” To Charteris, he added, “Which will not be as difficult as you might think. For all its size, the Hindenburg has scant hiding places.”
“Balloons tend to have relatively few nooks and crannies,” Charteris said. He slapped his thighs and rose. “Well, that’s all I have to report, gentlemen. Just one passenger mislaid; everything else would seem in place, as best I can tell.”
Pruss was frowning, a little. “No offense, Mr. Charteris-but your flippant attitude does seem inappropriate. A man, apparently, has died.”
“A man who was in the business of causing misery for others has died. Besides, Captain, it’s my general philosophy that in a world rife with absurdity and cruelty, an arched eyebrow and an ironic aside are sometimes the only defenses against going stark raving mad.”
Pruss considered that remark, for a moment, but chose not to comment on it, saying instead, “Should anyone inquire about your cabin mate’s whereabouts, please say that he is staying in his cabin, with a cold, and does not wish to be disturbed.”
“All right. But I would have preferred to make up my own lie-that’s what they pay me for, after all.”
Pruss ignored that, saying to Lehmann, “A moment with you?”
Lehmann nodded, then asked Charteris to step outside the cabin, which the author did, and perhaps a minute later, the two captains emerged. Pruss nodded to Charteris and walked to the aperture in the platform and the ladder to his control car.
Lehmann waited until Pruss was out of sight, then whispered to Charteris, in English, “Did you tell anyone what I told you? Did you warn anyone of who Knoecher really was?”
“Of course not,” Charteris lied. “Did you?”
“Of course not!”
The two men continued to speak in English, carrying their conversation onto the catwalk as they made their return trip to B deck.
Charteris, following Lehmann, said, “You watched, you heard, how that bastard Knoecher manipulated and charmed our friends at supper last night, backing them into politically damaging corners, wheedling virtual admissions of guilt out of them.”
Lehmann nodded back, glumly.
“Well,” Charteris said, “if I had told one of them, and right now I told you who-what good would it do?”
With another backward glance, Lehmann said, “If a murder has been committed on this ship, we’d have a suspect-we’d have a starting place.”
“I disagree. I think whoever I might have warned-whoever you might have warned-would most certainly have warned others. It would be the humane thing to do, wouldn’t it?”
Lehmann drew in a breath, nodding again, resignedly. Then he paused on the narrow catwalk, turning to touch Charteris’s arm, holding on to a cable with his other hand. His eyes were pleading. “Don’t betray us, Leslie. Help me contain this. The future of my company, the future of zeppelin travel, may well depend upon the outcome.”
“You have my word.”
“Good.”
They walked, the slightly springy catwalk beneath their feet reminding Charteris of an endless pirate’s plank they’d been forced to walk.
“Ernst-do you think this could be connected to that bomb scare?”
Without looking back, but shaking his head, Lehmann said, “I doubt it. There is no bomb on this ship-the search, the precautions, were too thorough. Besides, Knoecher wasn’t part of that effort.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Sabotage is Colonel Erdmann’s bailiwick. The S.D. officers who went over this ship, stem to stern, with the finest of fine-tooth combs, were especially trained for antisabotage duty. Knoecher is not in that field.”
“Ah. He was in the business of looking for traitors, not bombers.”
“Yes.”
“But, Ernst, those are hardly exclusive categories. Suppose your Mr. Knoecher discovered that there was indeed a bomb aboard this airship-and discovered, as well, who’d brought it aboard.”
Lehmann’s head tilted to one side as he walked along, considering that. “You have a point…. All the more reason to allow us to contain this volatile situation ourselves.”
“Fine. And, Ernst, should you need my help in the inquiry, say the word.”
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