Philip Kerr - Prussian Blue

Schenk frowned for a moment but tried to contain his irritation, the way I’d just contained my own. I was being given the runaround and getting tired of it; there seemed little point in my murder investigation having the full backing of Martin Bormann if no one else around the Berghof seemed to appreciate this. It was beginning to look as if I would have to get tough with someone — tougher than I’d been with August Michahelles — if I were to make some progress before Bormann saw me. Bruno Schenk looked made for a little roughhousing. I always say if you’re going to get tough with someone, you might as well enjoy it.

“Then again,” I said, “I expect with all of the responsibilities resting on your shoulders, the work takes its toll on a man.”

“Yes it does. We’ve had to accomplish some massive tasks in less time than was needed. The Kehlstein tea house, for example. That particular feat of engineering gave Herr Bormann’s previous adjutant, Captain Sellmer, a heart attack. And as one thing ends another begins. The Platterhof-Resten Road has had to be entirely replanned, because a bridge has had to be built. And just consider this, Commissar — that all the work has to be achieved without damaging a single tree. The Leader is most insistent that trees are to be preserved at all costs.”

“Well, that’s reassuring anyway, about the trees. We certainly need lots of those in Germany. Exactly what is the Platterhof, sir?”

“A people’s hotel, formerly the Pension Moritz, that is being created using only the finest materials, to house the many eager visitors who come to see the Leader when he’s here. Currently it’s one of the largest projects in Obersalzberg. And when it’s complete it will be one of the finest hotels in Europe.”

I wondered just how many would come when the whole of Europe was at war. Perhaps some, looking for Hitler’s head on a stick, or perhaps none at all. Schenk looked at his watch, which reminded me that it was time for me to put him on the spot, or at least to try; he was slippery.

“Well, I won’t keep you, sir. I can see you’re a very busy man. I just wanted to ask you why you think that your assistant Karl Flex was one of the most hated men in the area. And if perhaps you might believe that someone local might have shot him out of revenge for being overzealous in carrying out your instructions. Such as serving a compulsory purchase order on the original owners of the Pension Moritz, perhaps. Or demanding more of your local workers than seemed at all reasonable. Men have been killed, I believe. Perhaps unnecessary risks were taken. That’s the kind of thing that can easily produce a motive for murder.”

“I really couldn’t speculate on such a distasteful thing. And I don’t mean to teach you your duties, Commissar, but you shouldn’t ask me to, either. You’re the detective, not me.”

“I’m glad you understand that, sir. And I’m under a certain amount of pressure, too. From the same man as you, I believe. So please don’t think I take my job any less seriously than you do yours. Or that it’s any less important. In fact, right now, I rather think that my job may be more important. You see, last night when I met Martin Bormann he told me two things. One was this — and I’m quoting him here: ‘When I talk it’s as if the Leader were here now, telling you what the fuck to do.’ And the other thing he told me was that I enjoyed his full authority to catch this man before the Leader’s own birthday. Which is in a week’s time, as I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, Dr. Schenk. His full authority. Isn’t that right, Hermann?”

“That’s right. Those were his exact words. His full authority.”

It was my turn to bang a tabletop, so I did and Schenk’s coffee cup bounced pleasingly on its saucer, so I banged the table a second time and stood up to make my point even more forcefully. I might even have smashed a cup or a saucer on the engineer’s carefully combed head but for the AH monogram on the pattern, which gave me a little pause for thought. The meth was coursing through me now and even Kaspel was looking surprised.

“His full authority,” I yelled. “You hear that? So think again and think fast, Dr. Schenk. I want some better answers than ‘Another time, today’s my birthday’ and ‘I really couldn’t speculate’ and ‘You’re the detective, not me.’ What are you wasting my time for? I’m a policeman, and a commissar to boot, not some fucking toothless peasant with a pickax in his hand and a dumb look on his gormless face. It’s a murder I’m trying to solve — a murder at the Leader’s house — it isn’t the crossword in today’s newspaper. If Adolf Hitler can’t come down here next week because I couldn’t catch this maniac then it won’t just be my guts hanging on the Leader’s perimeter fence, it’ll be yours and every other tongue-tied bastard who calls himself an engineer on this fucking mountain. And as the first administrator, you’d better make sure they know that. Do you hear?”

It was all an act, of course, but Schenk didn’t know that.

“I must say, you have a most violent temper,” said Schenk.

He flushed the same color as the chair he was on and stood up, only I put my hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down. I could be a bit of a bully myself, when I tried; only I never once thought I’d be trying to pull it off in Hitler’s own dining room. I was starting to like Dr. Temmler’s magic potion. Kaspel seemed to like it, too. At least, he was smiling as if he’d been wanting a chance to slap Schenk himself.

“Most violent and unpleasant.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet. And I’ll tell you when I’m through stiffening your ears, Dr. Schenk. I want a list of names. People you’ve upset and pissed off. Maybe one or two of them threatened you and your boy Flex. You and he have done a lot of that, haven’t you?”

Schenk swallowed uncomfortably and then raised his voice. “Anything I have done has been done with the full knowledge of the deputy chief of staff himself, with whom I shall certainly be lodging a formal complaint regarding your egregious conduct.”

“You do that, Bruno. Meanwhile, I shall certainly call General Heydrich in Berlin and have the Gestapo take you into custody, for your own protection, of course. Salzburg, isn’t it, Hermann? The nearest Gestapo HQ?”

“That’s right. In an old Franciscan monastery on Mozartplatz. And a horrible place it is, too, sir. Even the spirits of the saints walk carefully past that monastery. We can have him there in half an hour.”

“You hear that, Bruno? And after you’ve had a few days in a cold cell on bread and water, we’ll talk again and see how you feel then about my conduct.”

“But please, you’ve no idea how bad things had got here,” he bleated. “For example, on the southern side of the Haus Wachenfeld there was a path for cows, which local sightseers were starting to use to catch a glimpse of the Leader, even in bad weather. Local farmers were charging visitors, some of whom would even bring binoculars to get a better look at him. This situation had become unacceptable — the Leader’s security was becoming compromised — and in 1935, we began to purchase property around the house, piece by piece, lot by lot. But as, in the beginning, Hitler didn’t allow us to apply pressure on these property owners, we were obliged to pay some outrageous prices. Local farmers — many of whom had been heavily indebted before — were now making a fortune from selling their little gold mines. This had to stop, and in due course it did. In order to establish the transformation of the Obersalzberg the way the Leader wanted it, we’ve had to demolish over fifty houses, and yes, it’s true that some of these people were not happy with the price they received, in comparison with the price they were asking. Please, Commissar, there’s no need to involve Himmler and Heydrich, is there?”