Max Collins - The Hindenburg Murders

“Knowing our policy makers as I do,” Erdmann said, “I believe we would risk serious reprimand should we broadcast this situation. We must contain it ourselves.”

“Is that so,” Charteris remarked casually. “And you plan to start by arresting this buffoon Spah?”

“What is this?” Lehmann asked, glaring at Erdmann.

Charteris smiled to himself: he thought that might be what Erdmann hoped to conceal from Lehmann, executing the arrest before the Reederei director could do anything about it.

“I have just informed Mr. Charteris of the French train bombing,” Erdmann said coolly. “And Captain Pruss has recently shared with me a fact of which neither you nor Mr. Charteris is aware.”

Eyes now turned upon Captain Pruss, who sighed and said, “Chief Steward Kubis has informed me that Mr. Spah was found wandering through the body of the ship this afternoon, again to visit his animal, he says-again, unaccompanied, and without any permission.”

Erdmann’s jaw was set; he spoke through his teeth, “That’s the second time this ‘buffoon,’ as you call him, Mr. Charteris, has strayed into forbidden territory. This alone is enough to justify his immediate arrest.”

Lehmann, trembling, said in German, “We do not arrest passengers for disobeying ship’s guidelines.”

“Oh, they’re guidelines now?” Erdmann said testily, shifting into German as well. “And here I thought these were rules, even laws. Understand, sir, that I had strict, specific orders from Berlin to keep this Spah under watch. To protect your ship from a potentially dangerous spy. Those were my orders, sir-not guidelines.”

“May I remind you, Colonel, that you have no authority on this ship other than that which the Reederei, in a spirit of cooperation, grants you. This is a privately owned vessel and not under government control.”

“Everything in Germany,” Erdmann said, “is subject to government control.”

“Boys, boys,” Charteris said, pulling the conversation back into English, enjoying this. “Don’t squabble. Your uncle Adolf wouldn’t approve.”

Captain Pruss said, “I have ordered another bow-to-stern inspection. Within the hour, we’ll have a report. But I would vote for detaining Mr. Spah in his cabin, under house arrest. The manpower and work hours he continues to cost us, checking up after him, are inexcusable.”

“What is inexcusable, gentlemen,” Lehmann said, coldly angry, shifting back to German, “is that you would plan the arrest of this man without my knowledge.”

“The captain of this ship…” Erdmann began, with a nod toward Pruss.

“Reports to the director of the Reederei, ” Lehmann said. “Which happens to be me. All decisions related to this matter are henceforth to be screened and approved by me…. Understood, gentlemen?”

“Understood,” Pruss said sheepishly.

Erdmann only nodded.

Charteris’s mood had improved; this was vastly more entertaining than the sing-along in the lounge.

“When we arrive in New York,” Lehmann said, still in German though his voice had taken on his more usual, avuncular tone, “we face numerous responsibilities, both technical and diplomatic. Our corporation-with the government’s full backing-is attempting to form a transatlantic service in partnership with the Americans. This joint venture will not be jeopardized by our arrival in the States with an American in custody as an accused murderer/saboteur.”

“He’s not an American,” Erdmann said defensively. “He is a Strassburger, a German!”

“Technically, perhaps. But he carries a French passport and lives in America.”

Charteris asked, in English, “May I inject the foreign viewpoint, gentlemen?”

“By all means,” Lehmann said.

“Spah is one of the few names on the list of Eric Knoecher’s ‘subjects’ that I haven’t got round to interviewing yet. No one’s asked, but I can report with a clear mind and a cool head that those I’ve spoken to have given me no reason to suspect them of Knoecher’s murder.”

“Who have you spoken to?” Erdmann asked.

Charteris gave them a brief rundown.

“All of them have valid reasons for being on Knoecher’s list,” Charteris said, wrapping up, “but nothing worth killing him over. Not right here on the spot, anyway.”

“No one reacted to your lie about Knoecher being sick in bed in your cabin?” Erdmann asked. “Not a suspicious eye movement, or nervousness of speech, or-”

“Nothing. But I would suggest, before you arrest Spah, you allow me to continue my informal investigating. He’s a talkative little bastard-I’ll get something out of him.”

“You would talk to him this evening?” Erdmann asked.

“Yes. He was in the lounge, right in the swing of things. Decent voice; not off-key, anyway.”

Lehmann nodded. “Yes, he’s not setting any bombs at the moment, that’s for certain.”

Charteris gazed at Erdmann, keeping his expression soft but his eyes hard. “I believe our esteemed Captain Lehmann is correct in his assumption about the negative response to Spah’s arrest. This man is scheduled to appear at a very famous theater in New York City-his arrest would make front-page news all over America.”

“Yes, yes,” Lehmann said, nodding, nodding.

“And, as I’m sure you’ve all noticed, this is a little man with a very big mouth. He would spout off to the papers, the radio, the newsreels, getting himself all the ink, all the publicity, he could squeeze out. He’d seize upon it to make himself a martyr-a famous one.”

“Not if we keep him in custody,” Erdmann said, “and he never sets foot off the ship.”

“He’s in America, once we land,” Lehmann said. “Their laws pertain. We could not legally detain him on the ship-we would risk igniting an international incident of major proportions.”

“I’m not sure the Air Ministry would agree with your assessment,” Erdmann said.

“Perhaps not-but you agree with mine that discussing this over the airwaves is a far greater risk.”

Erdmann drew in a deep breath, let it out. “Then I suppose arresting this American ‘advertising executive,’ Edward Douglas, is out of the question.”

“Douglas?” Lehmann asked, frowning, puzzled.

“Why Douglas?” Charteris asked.

“You may recall I mentioned that the S.D. believed Douglas to be a spy.”

“But you didn’t say why.”

Erdmann hesitated, apparently deciding how much to reveal. Then he continued, saying, “Douglas works for General Motors, or at least he works for their advertising agency. General Motors owns Opel, makers of probably the most popular auto in Germany.”

When Erdmann didn’t continue, Charteris said, “So?”

“… So-the Opel company also manufactures many other engineering-related products in Germany, from spark plugs to aircraft engines. The S.D. believes Douglas has sent information on German steel production, aircraft assembly, ball-bearing plants, and much more to America.”

Charteris shook his head, not getting it. “If he works for General Motors, and General Motors owns the company, why wouldn’t he?”

Erdmann’s eyes tensed. “It’s believed he’s sharing this information with United States naval intelligence. He was attached to them during the war.”

“If you don’t want Americans to share your secrets, don’t go into business with them. This strikes me as rather thin.”

“No, Mr. Charteris, the evidence is quite fat. You see, I have one of my assistants, Lieutenant Hinkelbein, keeping his eye on all cablegrams that go through the ship’s radio room.”

Erdmann paused and withdrew from inside his suit coat pocket a folded slip of paper.