Philip Kerr - Prussian Blue

“Just the one girl, actually. Renata Prodi.”

“I’d like to speak with her, if I can.”

“Well, you can’t. She’s gone. Sent home to Milan by the doctor. On account of the fact that Flex gave her gonorrhea. I’d catch a train home myself if I had enough money. But I don’t.”

“He gave it to her? Jelly?”

“Almost certainly.”

“When was this?”

“A few days ago. It almost closed us down. The doctor has got us all on silver proteinate.” She leaned forward and tugged open the bedside drawer to reveal the same Protargol that I’d seen before, on the list of Flex’s personal effects — the drug thoughtfully removed by Karl Brandt. “Not that there’s any real need. Renata was the only one affected. And she used Gummis with all her clients. All except Flex. He insisted on not wearing a raincoat. But you couldn’t argue with a man like that. He really was wicked, you know. Not like you.”

“I’m part of the same crummy football team.”

“But not in your heart. I can read men really quickly, you know, Commissar. There’s a kindness in your eyes, which is why you keep them narrowed and well-shaded by the brim of your hat, so that no one will notice that you’re not like the rest of the dwarves. No, you’re Humbert the Huntsman. I can tell. If the wicked queen told you to take Snow White into the woods and cut her heart out, you’d let her go and take a pig’s heart home with you in a nice box with a ribbon on it. Flex’s heart, probably. Assuming he had one.”

“Was it always Flex who came for the money?”

“No, once or twice it was another Fridolin. Fellow named Schenk. Cold bastard. Almost as bad as Flex. I expect he’ll be the one who we have to deal with now. Something else I’m not looking forward to.”

“Who gets the money from this little house of silk? Bormann, I suppose?”

“I imagine. There’s not much that happens around here his lordship doesn’t know about. Or from which he doesn’t take a nice fat cut. Based upon what the men who work building his hotels and his roads and his tunnels are telling me, he must be worth millions. But certainly he’s hated every bit as much as Flex was. Strikes me you’ve got your work cut out for you, Herr Gunther.”

“That’s what it feels like, for sure. I’d like to speak to your girls, if I could.”

“What? You think one of them might have shot him? That’s inspired.”

“No, but they might have screwed the man who did. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

“I promise you, you’d be wasting your time. For one thing, they’re not like me. Kids, mostly. And too afraid to say anything. Besides, there are only two girls who speak good German.”

“What? No German girls here at all?”

“No. Not one. There’s a Sudeten Czech and an Austrian girl. Maria. Hitler would go mad if he even knew about this place, that’s what I heard. But he’d be even angrier if any German women were ever found working here. It seems as if they’re something holy.”

“Haven’t you heard? Our women are supposed to be breeding a master race, not falling in love again, like Lola, or headlining the local cabaret in a top hat with stockings and garters.”

“So you did see the movie.”

“It’s a favorite of mine.”

Lola nodded. “Not that we haven’t had some local girls turning up here looking to make a little pocket money. But I had to send them packing. Flex might not have noticed a few extra girls. But Dr. Brandt would have. He’s the one who examines all the girls for jelly. Once a week, regular as a Swiss watch.”

This was a name I hadn’t expected to hear in the local brothel.

“Brandt? I thought it was some pill Jesus from Salzburg who looked after you all.”

“It was. But he decided this wasn’t his cup of tea and stopped coming. So Brandt took over. Dr. Infernal we call him. One time he came over and he was wearing the uniform under his white coat. Some of the girls found it quite sexy, I think.”

“Interesting.”

“Well, pin your ears back, Commissar, because he does a lot more than examine girls for a dose of jelly.”

“He likes a dish on the side, too?”

“No, not him. They’d probably kick him out of the SS for something human like that. No, what I mean is that he’s carried out at least three midnight abortions since I’ve known him. For money, of course. None of these men do anything for nothing. Knows what he’s about, though, I’ll say that much for him. The rumor is that before he came down here he used to perform scrapes on women who were mentally handicapped, or because they were Jewesses who’d got themselves in trouble with a nice German boy. They say he’s Hitler’s own doctor. But I wonder what Hitler would say if he knew about all this kind of thing.”

“I wonder.” I sighed, not wondering very much. “These abortions carried out by Dr. Brandt. Can you remember who had one?”

“Yes, but I don’t think I should tell you.”

“Was one of them Renata Prodi?”

“Now I come to think about it, yes, it was.”

“So it’s quite possible that Karl Flex was the father.”

“It’s possible, yes.”

I sighed, liking the case less and less. It’s common enough for a detective to hate an investigation he’s been tasked with, but it’s less often the case — at least for me — that I dislike myself so thoroughly for investigating it. It made me want to do something good.

“Where are you from, Lola?”

“Milan. Do you know Milan?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“It’s beautiful. Especially the cathedral. I miss that most of all.” She took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “I’d love to go back but I think I’m stuck in this misbegotten place, for the moment, anyway. All the money I’ve earned I sent home already. It’ll be at least a month before I can save enough to make the trip. I should have gone back at Christmas, when I had the chance, but La Befana didn’t come last year. She’s the Italian version of Santa Claus. Still, that’s hardly surprising in a place like this. We don’t even have a proper chimney. At least, not one that Befana could come down.”

I thought about this for a moment, and we were both silent while my thoughts buzzed around my head and then flew out to the rooftop. I was glad to see them go. I hadn’t been wasting my time as much as I’d feared. “What will happen to the other girls if you leave?”

“They’ll be all right. Aneta can take over. She’s Czech, but speaks excellent German and is very capable. At the beginning of the summer they’ll bring some new girls to replace the girls now working here. Besides, I’d like to leave before someone like Dr. Infernal finds out the truth about me.”

“Don’t tell me, Lola. Truth is not something to share with anyone in Germany these days. You wouldn’t know it now, I used to like talking. But lately I’ve been struck dumb, like the angel Gabriel told me I was about to father a son called John. Life’s safer that way.”

“I told you before. You have kind eyes. And don’t let those pictures of the saints fool them. They’re just for show. The fact is, I’m Jewish.”

“Then you should certainly leave while you can. How much would it take to get you home?”

“A hundred reichsmarks would probably cover it. Don’t worry about me. I’ll make it. I just hope I can do it before the war starts.”

“Pity” and all of its many soft synonyms was not a word in Reinhard Heydrich’s devilish dictionary. I already knew he thought I was a sentimental fool. Maybe I was. But there and then I decided to live up to the general’s low opinion of me and donate some of the money I’d persuaded him to let me have for information and bribes to Lola. And of course I was well aware that giving money to a Jewish whore was the absolute opposite of the way he would have preferred it spent. Which made what I was doing less an act of generosity and more a token act of resistance. Even as I handed her a hundred marks I was paying less attention to the real pleasure and relief that now crossed her clownish face and more to the look of outrage that I imagined would have been on Heydrich’s horse-like features had he witnessed this scene.