Philip Kerr - Prague Fatale

‘Yes, I suppose that might help.’

‘Any suggestions of your own will be gratefully considered.’

‘Then a clairvoyant with a crystal ball couldn’t do any harm. Strikes me that’s the only way we’re going to find a murderer who walks through locked doors and shoots people without making a sound.’

‘You make me begin to wonder what I’m doing here, Kurt.’

‘By the way, sir, if you don’t mind me asking. What are you doing here? What I mean is: all this damned cauliflower. It’s like a market garden in this house.’

He was referring to the oak-leaf collar patches that distinguished SS generals, brigadiers, and colonels from lesser mortals.

‘What’s it all about? What’s the reason for it?’

‘You ask some pretty good questions for a man who promised to work for me, no questions asked.’

‘So what’s the answer?’

‘I believe General Heydrich wanted a quiet weekend with friends to celebrate his appointment as the new Reichsprotector of Bohemia.’

‘I see.’

‘You sound surprised. But not as surprised as I was to be asked along on this jaunt. The General and I, we’ve grown apart, you understand. Schiller once wrote a pretty good poem to his friends. When I was at school we were obliged to learn all five verses. I used to think he said all there was to say about what friendship means in Germany. Only I don’t remember a verse covering the kind of friend I have in General Heydrich. Goethe did it better, I think. You know? What happens when Mephistopheles invites you over for real coffee and American cigarettes.’

Even as I said it Arianne came into my mind; it was she who had made the comparison between Heydrich and Mephistopheles on the train from Berlin, and ever since then I’d been wondering just how long I had to work for Heydrich before my soul was forfeit.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Kahlo. ‘Temptation. And temptation like real coffee and American cigarettes. Well that’s very tempting.’

‘I figure that the alternative is worse. I can’t answer for why all the cauliflower is here, but that’s why I’m on board. Because the General asked me to dance. Because he doesn’t like it when you say no.’

‘All right. I’ll buy that.’

‘Good. Now let’s see what we can do about getting a bead on the invisible man.’

SS Obergruppenfuhrer Richard Hildebrandt was the Higher Police Leader in Danzig and commander of a large unit of SS that was stationed in West Prussia. In the event of the citizens of Berlin rising up against Hitler, Hildebrandt would be in charge of suppressing that particular revolution.

Born at Worms in 1897, he was an old friend of Heydrich’s. Smooth, neat, fastidious, and of only average height, he had the look and manner of a prosperous businessman. Certainly he had the best tailoring of any officer who was staying at the Lower Castle. On his left breast pocket he wore a Knight’s Cross of the War Merit Cross with Swords — a silver Nazi medal that had nothing to do with the proper Knight’s Cross, and everyone who’d seen proper combat thought of this decoration as a substitute Iron Cross; but I suppose a general has to have some kind of furniture on his tunic if ever people are going to listen to him. But the gold Party badge he wore next to the faux Knight’s Cross was the real hallmark of his sterling Nazi status and near-untouchability. That little gewgaw occupied pride of place on his uniform and was the cynosure of anyone who knew what was what in Nazi Germany.

He sat down on the sofa opposite me, lit a cigarette and crossed his legs. ‘Will this take long, Commissar?’

‘Not long, sir.’

‘Good. Because I have some important paperwork I need to get through.’

‘How well did you know Captain Kuttner?’

‘I didn’t know him at all. Until I arrived here the day before yesterday I had perhaps spoken to him twice, and only on the telephone.’

‘How did you find him?’

‘He struck me as efficient. Well educated. Diligent. As one might expect of an officer working for a man like General Heydrich.’

‘Did you like him?’

‘What kind of stupid question is that?’

‘A fairly easy one, I’d say. Did you like him?’

Hildebrandt shrugged. ‘I did not dislike him.’

‘Can you think of any reason why someone would want to kill him?’

‘No, and my own opinion is that a Czech must have committed the crime. There are Czechs working here, in the house and grounds. My advice, Commissar, would be to start by questioning them, not senior generals in the SS.’

‘My apologies, Herr General. I was led to believe by Major Ploetz that I should conduct these interviews in strict order of seniority, so as not to keep anyone important — such as yourself — hanging around.’

Hildebrandt shrugged. ‘I see. My apologies, Commissar.’

I shrugged back.

‘However, I still fail to see why senior ranks should be questioned at all. In my opinion my word should be good enough.’

‘And what word is that, sir?’

‘That I had nothing at all to do with this man’s death, of course.’

‘I don’t doubt it, sir. However, it is not the point of this interview to find out if you murdered Captain Kuttner. The immediate purpose of this inquiry is to build a detailed picture of the man’s last few hours. And having done so, to identify some genuine suspects. You do see the difference.’

‘Of course. Do you take me for an idiot?’

I didn’t answer that. ‘You were with us all, in the library, to listen to the Leader’s speech, were you not?’

‘Naturally.’

‘And then to hear Heydrich’s speech.’

Hildebrandt nodded, impatiently. He took a last puff of his cigarette and then extinguished it in a heavy glass ashtray that lay on the table between us.

‘Do you remember Captain Kuttner bringing in some champagne after that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you stay celebrating very long?’

‘Yes. I confess I drank rather too much, I think. Like everyone else I have a bit of a headache this morning.’

‘Yes sir. Only I have a bigger one. I have to solve this murder. That won’t be easy. You do see that, don’t you? At some stage it’s possible I’m going to have to accuse a brother officer of killing Kuttner. Perhaps even a senior officer. I think you might try to be a little more understanding of my position, sir.’

‘Don’t tell me my duty, Commissar Gunther.’

‘With the scary badge in your lapel? I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.’

Hildebrandt glanced down at his gold Party badge and smiled. ‘You mean this, don’t you? I’ve heard that’s what some people call it. Although I can’t imagine why anyone would be scared of this.’

‘It means that you joined the Party very early on, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes. In my case it was 1922. The following year I took part in the Munich putsch. I was right behind the Leader as we left the beer hall.’

‘You must have been very young, sir.’

‘I was twenty-six.’

‘If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to you, sir? After the putsch failed.’

His eyes misted over for a moment before he answered.

‘Things were difficult for a while. Very difficult. I don’t mind telling you. Apart from the harassment I received at the hands of the police, I was short of money and I had little choice but to go and work abroad.’

He seemed relieved to be talking about something that was nothing to do with Kuttner; relaxed even, which, momentarily, was my intention.

‘Where did you go?’

‘America. There I tried my hand at farming for a while. But after that failed I became a bookseller, in New York.’

‘That’s quite a switch, sir. Did you fail at being a bookseller, too?’