Michael Russell - The City of Shadows

‘Byrne was the only candidate. In your absence. And as her old man didn’t want her in a Danzig gaol for attempted murder, he paid me to bring her back before she got into trouble. I haven’t done very well so far.’

‘No, it’s a pity you didn’t get here earlier, Sergeant.’

Keller downed a schnapps.

‘What the hell did you set the Gestapo on her for?’ said Stefan.

‘I just wanted the police to put her on a train and get her out of Danzig.’ The abortionist’s lips tightened. Stefan sensed that it hadn’t worked out the way it was meant to. ‘She made trouble for me in Dublin. I wasn’t going to let her do it again. I didn’t know the Gestapo would get involved.’

‘Why not? I’m sure the Nazis are very particular about the reputations of Catholic priests, at least the ones they’re getting information out of.’

‘This isn’t the place to show how clever you are, Mr Gillespie. If you think you know what’s going on with Father Byrne, forget about it. You’d be better keeping your mouth shut. I am protecting you. Remember that.’

Stefan nodded; for whatever reason it was true.

‘I want to know where Hannah is. That’s why I’m here.’

‘They didn’t pick her up. They haven’t got her.’

‘And I suppose you’d know.’ He looked at Keller with distaste.

‘Yes, I’d know. I don’t know why she was using a false passport though. That’s why the Gestapo are looking for her. I gave the police one name, and when they went to the hotel the bitch was using another one.’

‘Does she know you’re blackmailing the priest?’

‘I don’t care what Hannah Rosen knows. I’ve got a job to do in Danzig. I can’t let anything get in the way. I didn’t ask to come here. They sent me. Because of the priest.’ The words were simple enough, but they sounded bleak.

‘The only thing that matters to me is Hannah.’

‘Look, I talked to the Schutzpolizei about her, that’s all. They don’t know anything about anything. All they had to do was deport her. But Kriminaloberassistent Rothe got hold of it, because of the passports. They found two fucking passports. Rothe’s the man I work for. The last thing I can afford is the priest going off the rails. Byrne’s not easy to control as it is. He’s a clever man, but underneath it he’s a coward. He’s weak. But he’s got a conscience and it’s not going to help me or him or anybody if he finds it. I can’t let that happen. I had to get Hannah Rosen away from him. He’s not far off a breakdown.’

Stefan didn’t say how much closer to a breakdown Francis Byrne was now. He didn’t care. Hugo Keller was saying more than he intended to. The schnapps helped, but it was his own anxiety that was making him talk. There was never anyone to talk to in the job he did. There were always too many lies to remember to make it safe.

‘Are you going to tell me what you know about Hannah?’

‘They went to the hotel to pick her up. She didn’t go back there. They couldn’t find her.’

‘And that’s it?’ Stefan watched Keller’s face.

‘That’s it. If I were you I’d be pleased that’s it.’

‘And they’re still looking for her?’

‘So she must have got out, right? Maybe somebody helped her.’

‘Like who?’ Stefan asked.

‘Look, Sergeant, I don’t why Hannah Rosen had a false passport, but I’ve been doing this for a very long time. Tourists don’t have two passports in different names, even tourists with dead friends. I don’t know who she is, or what she is, but someone does. In fact, you wouldn’t want the Gestapo to question you about that for real, would you? They’re not exactly the Garda Siochana.’

The Austrian was reminding him who was doing the favours.

‘All right. But where did she go? Could she have got out of Danzig?’

‘It’s not that hard if you know what to do. If they had her I would know. I’d know because they’d be questioning me too. They’d want to know what damage she’d done. It wouldn’t take much to send Klaus Rothe off the deep end. She’s made for it. You’ve got to understand these people believe all this stuff, about Jewish conspiracies and Jews trying to destroy Germany and take over the world. It’s not a game for them. One false passport and a Jewish woman from Palestine and there’s a Zionist spy. Not only that, she’s got some hold on a man who’s a valuable informant. It doesn’t have to make sense. When they doubt, they doubt everybody. And that means me too.’

As Keller spoke the last words there was real fear in his eyes again.

‘So all this is about Francis Byrne?’

‘There are two ways to stay safe, Sergeant. Either you’ve got to know everything or nothing at all. You’ve managed to persuade the Gestapo the only thing you were doing with Hannah Rosen was screwing her. That’s no mean achievement. Go back to your hotel. Get the train out in the morning.’

‘And Hannah?’

‘I give you my word, she wasn’t arrested.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Stefan laughed, ‘did you just give me your word?’

The Austrian smiled; he still had a sense of humour.

‘I’ve kept my mouth shut about who you are, and about the lies you’ve told the Gestapo. I might have my own reasons for that, but you need to know the shit you’d be in if I changed my mind. I don’t have to help you.’

‘Then why are you?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘No, I suppose not.’

Keller said nothing for a moment. He wasn’t looking at Stefan now. He was gazing into the mid distance, as if he was remembering something, or regretting something. The waiter brought another schnapps. He drank it.

‘I have a lot of friends in Ireland.’ He smiled, and very briefly he looked more like the man Stefan had seen at the house in Merrion Square.

‘Is friends the right word?’ said Stefan.

‘People I can rely on. I’d like to go back. I still think of it as home.’

‘And I thought you were home now.’

‘Germany? You’re joking!’

‘They must owe you a pension by now.’

The sarcasm washed over Hugo Keller; he was entirely serious.

‘I don’t want enemies in Ireland. I’ve done you a favour, Sergeant. I hope you’ll remember it when you get home.’

It was an uncomfortable feeling for Stefan Gillespie, but it was true.

‘Why would you worry about me, Hugo? Like you said, you’ve got friends. No one’s waiting to arrest you. Whatever happened in Merrion Square no one even wants to talk to you.’

That seemed to please Keller. For a moment he smiled; but he couldn’t keep the present at bay.

‘There’s nothing to stay here for. Not just Danzig, Germany, Austria.’

He lowered his voice, shaking his head as he spoke.

‘If you want to know what’s coming, Mr Gillespie, you only have to listen. But nobody is. Nobody wants to hear. You’re close enough to it in Danzig though. Use your ears. Walk through the streets and fucking listen.’

He drained his glass of beer and stood up. ‘If Miss Rosen isn’t here, be grateful for it. Just forget what you know and what you think you know and fuck off.’ He walked out.

When Stefan left the bar, the street outside was quiet. The water of the New Mottlau lapped gently against the barges moored on the Speicherinsel side. He didn’t know how much faith to put in anything Hugo Keller had said. What he did know, because it was in every line of the Austrian’s now thin and sallow face, was that fear was driving everything he did. Hannah was a part of that fear; anything that threatened him was a part of that fear. If the Gestapo had arrested her, Keller would have known. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He took his bearings, trying to work out where he was as he walked towards the Mattenbuden Bridge. It would take him over the canal to the Granary Island. The island was a maze of old, crumbling warehouses, but if he kept to the lane called Munchengasse it would bring him across the island to the Cow Bridge and the Mottlau River itself. Hundegasse would lead him to the other end of the old town, and back to the Danziger Hof.