Philip Kerr - The Lady from Zagreb

“Do shut up, Gunther,” said Schellenberg, “you’re in way over your head.”

“I’m used to that, oddly enough.”

“You haven’t the first idea of what we’re trying to accomplish here.”

“Of course they’re not for soldiers, Captain Meyer. They’re for Jewish slave labor. Jews and anyone else the Third Reich has deemed subhuman and therefore expendable. I should like to tell you more about those but I’m afraid I don’t know much about what happens in these places, though I can guess.”

“I see.” Meyer looked grimly at Schellenberg. “Did you know about this, Schelli?”

“If he didn’t know, he certainly suspected as much. And if a man as intelligent and well connected as the general here suspects something, then you can bet it isn’t very long before he makes it his business to know everything about it. That’s Schelli’s job, after all. To find out where others have hidden the truth.”

“Damn it all, Gunther, how dare you walk in here in your size forty-fives and trample all of the months of good work that Major Eggen and I have done.”

“But sometimes he also makes it his business not to know what he suspects,” I said. “Just as he’s managed very carefully to avoid the murderous work that most of his unfortunate subordinates have been obliged to carry out. Is that right, General? Your small white hands are quite clean, aren’t they?”

Schellenberg looked fit to burst with anger. Like a lot of small men, it turned out that he had quite a bark.

“Do you honestly think you’re any different?” he said through gritted teeth. “If I’ve avoided getting blood on my small white hands then that’s only because I’ve been hiding myself away in the same lavatory as you, Gunther. We’ve both been crouched in the end stall, living in fear that we’ll have to do something to stay alive that makes staying alive seem like a high price to pay for what we’ve had to do. Haven’t we? So what the hell gives you the right to judge me? Do you think that the captains are any less culpable than the generals, is that it? Or is it that you think that my soul has already paid a higher price by reason of who and what I am? Well, you’re wrong. If I’ve got where I am with a shred of self-respect left to me then that’s because I’m rather better at walking the high wire than you are. Did you ever consider that? And you can’t look inside my heart and know me any more than I can look inside yours. The way I see things, it’s my duty to try and save this country and, as a corollary, my country from total destruction. So let me explain it very simply in a way that even you can understand, Gunther. Only if Switzerland remains neutral will anywhere exist that Germany can conduct peace negotiations with the Allies. It’s as simple as that. The Americans are here. The English are here. Even the Russians are here. All we have to do is find somewhere quiet with a nice round table and then sit down and talk. It’s taken me months to persuade Reichsführer Himmler that this is the only way forward for Germany. Do you understand? It’s our duty to end this war. And to do that we need this country.”

“That’s a nice speech, General. If it wasn’t for all the other stupid generals who screw things up for the ordinary Fritz, I might start to think I’d misjudged you entirely. The generals at Verdun and Arras and Amiens. Not to mention all those incompetent generals who’ve tried and failed on many occasions to kill Adolf Hitler. You’ll pardon me if I don’t kiss you on the cheek and give you the Knight’s Cross with oak leaves.”

Despite what I said I was feeling a little sick that I’d perhaps set back important negotiations that might have put a swift end to the war.

“Is it true, Schelli?” asked Meyer. “Are these barracks we’re exporting to Germany being used to house Jewish slave labor?”

“Probably, yes. But that shouldn’t be your concern, Paul. I really thought it best you didn’t know on the principle that what you don’t know can’t hurt you. Look, everything you said remains fundamentally true. If Switzerland is going to survive as a neutral it needs German money to pay its way. Listen to me, Paul. There is a greater good here. That’s what you have to remember. Trust me. What we have planned can still be achieved.”

“After what Captain Gunther just told me, how can I go on trusting you now?” asked Meyer.

“Because I can prove my loyalty to you as a friend,” insisted Schellenberg, “and as a friend to this country. Hidden inside Gunther’s Mercedes is quite a lot of gold. As a sign of the Reichsführer’s good faith. And not only that. Inside the exhaust pipe is something that should put you in very good odor with General Masson — for that matter with everyone in the Swiss intelligence community. Even Reichsführer Himmler doesn’t know anything about this. I’ve brought you the crown jewels, so to speak, Paul. Or rather more accurately, Gunther has. That car he just drove here from the factory in Germany contains secret plans that were drawn up by the Army High Command on Hitler’s orders, for the possible invasion of Switzerland. I’ve betrayed my country, in order to save it. That’s what I’ve done, Gunther. Can you honestly say the same?”

I had to admit Schellenberg had me there. To the best of my knowledge I’d never committed treason. But there’s a first time for everything.

“For Germany and for you, General Schellenberg, I volunteer,” I said. “How can I help?”

“You can start by telling me what the fuck’s been going on?” He shook his neatly combed head with exasperation. “Clearly something’s been going on. Your attitude. That gun. Your cryptic remarks about the car. Tell me the gold is still there.”

“It’s still there. I told you. The car is fine.”

“But?”

Feeling slightly ashamed of having misjudged Schellenberg so profoundly, I told him everything while he and I and Meyer walked back to the car.

“Can’t be helped,” said Schellenberg. “Their three will cancel out our three. That’s the way these diplomatic things usually work. With any luck this whole thing will blow over and we can start the tricky business of negotiating the negotiations. The plans? They’re still there, too?”

“The Gestapo found the gold, but nothing else. But it’s all there. Everything. Don’t worry.”

“And you’re sure they didn’t have time to send a message to Berlin telling them what they’d found?”

“Quite sure.”

“Because that would be just the evidence Kaltenbrunner needs to bring down Himmler. And by extension, me. But he’d certainly settle for me if he couldn’t nail Himmler.”

“Somehow I just don’t see the Reichsführer as a peacemaker,” I said.

“Did you ever hear of an American gangster called Arnold Rothstein?” he asked.

“Vaguely, I think.”

“In 1919, Rothstein made a huge bet that the Chicago White Sox, who were the overwhelming favorites, would lose the World Series. And he won that bet because he’d bribed some White Sox players to lose. A couple of years later, Rothstein bet a huge sum on a well-fancied racehorse called Sporting Blood after he made sure that the other favorite was scratched from the race at the very last minute. What I’m saying is that there was nothing sporting about Mr. Rothstein. Like any high-stakes gambler, he much preferred a sure thing. Himmler’s no different. Only in this case he’s betting on both horses. If Hitler wins, Himmler wins. And if Hitler loses, Himmler wins again.” Schellenberg shrugged. “Of course, if Hitler does win then the Reichsführer will need to prove his loyalty to the leader. Which means I’m dead. You see? Not only am I a useful emissary in this whole affair, I’m a useful scapegoat if things go wrong. Me. Eggen. And you, Gunther, if we’re ever found out.”