Philip Kerr - A Man Without Breath

‘Nor for long, old fellow. Not for long.’ He pointed at a chair. ‘May I sit down?’

‘My dear Wilhelm, of course. Although if you have just travelled all that way by road then perhaps it would be better to adjourn, so that you may refresh yourself, after which you and I can talk in private.’

‘No, no.’ Canaris removed his naval officer’s cap, sat down and lit a small, pungent cigar. ‘And with all due respect, it’s not you I came to see, nor Colonel von Gersdorff, nor indeed this impudent fellow.’ Canaris pointed at me. ‘About whom I have heard a great deal during my journey.’

Von Kluge shook his head, irritably. ‘He is more than impudent, sir. He is a bare-faced liar, an unmitigated scoundrel who stands accused of trying to murder an innocent man, and a disgrace to the uniform of a German officer.’

‘In which case he should certainly be severely punished,’ said Canaris. ‘And you should proceed with this trial immediately. So please don’t stop on my account.’

‘I’m glad you agree, Wilhelm,’ said Von Kluge, sitting down again. ‘Thank you.’ He glanced over at Von Schlabrendorff and nodded at him to carry on examining his witness, but it seemed that Canaris was not yet finished speaking. Indeed, he had hardly started.

‘But I should however like to know who it is that Captain Gunther tried to kill.’

‘My Russian Putzer , sir,’ said Von Kluge. ‘He is the man with his arm in a sling now giving evidence. His name is Alok Dyakov.’

Canaris shook his head. ‘No, sir. That man’s name is not Alok Dyakov. And he could never be described as an innocent man. Not in this life. Nor perhaps the next.’ He puffed his cigar patiently.

The Russian stood up and seemed about to do something until he saw that Von Gersdorff was now pointing a gun at him.

‘What on earth is going on here?’ spluttered Von Kluge. ‘Colonel von Gersdorff? Explain yourself.’

‘All in good time, sir.’

‘I think at this stage,’ said Canaris, ‘it might be better if we cleared the court of everyone who is not immediately germane to these legal proceedings. There are things I am going to say that perhaps not everyone needs to hear, old friend.’

Von Kluge nodded curtly and stood up. ‘These proceedings are suspended,’ he said. ‘While er … Admiral Canaris … and I …’

‘You and I can stay, naturally,’ Canaris told the field marshal as men started to troop out of the room. ‘Colonel von Gersdorff, Captain Gunther, Judge Conrad – you had better stay as well, since you are somewhat pivotal to this whole matter. And you of course, Herr Dyakov. Yes, I think you had better stay for now, don’t you? After all, you’re why I came here.’

When the court was empty of all who had not been named by the admiral, Von Kluge lit a cigarette and tried to look as if he was still in control of a court martial; but in truth, everyone now knew who had the whip hand. For a moment, Canaris played with the ear of one of the dachshunds before proceeding.

‘I think you should prepare yourself for a shock, Gunther,’ Canaris told Von Kluge. ‘You see, that man – the man you know as Alok Dyakov, your Putzer , is an NKVD officer, and I recognized him the moment I came into this court martial.’

‘What?’ said Von Kluge. ‘Nonsense. He used to be a schoolteacher.’

‘This man and I have met at least once before,’ said Canaris. ‘As you may know, during the Spanish Civil War I was in and out of Spain on several occasions, setting up a German intelligence network that survives to this day and continues to serve us very well. Occasionally it amused me to test myself and my fluency in Spanish by working among the Reds. And it was in Madrid that I met the man I now see in this court, although he might remember me rather better as Senor Guillermo, an Argentine businessman posing as a communist sympathizer. I went to the Soviet embassy in Madrid in January 1937 to have a meeting with him when he was Military Attache Mikhail Spiridonovich Krivyenko. He was in Spain to help set up the international brigades on the republican side, although it’s fair to say that, as a political commissar in Barcelona and Malaga, he succeeded in shooting as many of them as he did of the people on the side of the falangists. Isn’t that right, Mikhail? Anarchists. Trotskyites. The POUM. Anyone who wasn’t a Stalinist, really. You’ve killed all sorts.’

Krivyenko stayed silent.

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Von Kluge. ‘It’s fantastic.’

‘Oh, I can assure you it’s quite true,’ said Canaris. ‘The colonel has Krivyenko’s NKVD file to prove it. I imagine that’s why he tried to murder Captain Gunther. Because he realized that the captain was onto him. And he certainly murdered the unfortunate Dr Berruguete, because of what he’d learned about him while he’d been a commissar in Spain. I believe he may also have murdered several others as well since we Germans captured Smolensk. Isn’t that true, Mikhail?’

Now, Krivyenko’s eyes were on the exit. But Von Gersdorff’s Walther pistol was in his way.

‘And before these latest crimes, he and another man called Blokhin were often in Smolensk with a team of NKVD executioners, murdering the enemies of the revolution and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Including, I’ll hazard, several thousand Polish officers in the spring of 1940. That’s what Krivyenko is best at: murder. Always has been. Oh, he’s very clever. For one thing he’s an excellent linguist: speaks Russian, Spanish, German, even Catalan – that’s a very hard language for anyone to learn. I never did. But murder is Krivyenko’s speciality. You see, he failed in Spain, and failure is very hard to explain to a tyrant like Stalin – to all tyrants, really. Which explains why he’s just a major now when he was a colonel back in 1937. I expect he’s had to carry out an awful lot of murders to make up for his failings in Spain. Isn’t that right, Mikhail? You were almost shot upon your return to Russia, were you not?’

Krivyenko said nothing, but it was plain from his expression that he knew the game was up.

‘As soon as Colonel von Gersdorff told me about Krivyenko, I knew it had to be the same fellow. Which meant that I simply had to come down here to Smolensk and shall we say pay my respects? You see, what none of you can know is that Colonel Krivyenko was directly responsible for the death of one of my best agents in Spain – a man by the name of Eberhard Funk. Funk was shot, but not before he had been relentlessly and brutally tortured by this man before us. With a knife. That’s how he prefers to kill. Oh he’ll use a gun, if he has to. But Krivyenko likes to feel his victim’s last breath on his face.’ Canaris puffed his cigar again. ‘He was a good man, Funk. A distant relation of our Reich minister of economic affairs, you know. I honestly never thought that I’d be able to tell Walther Funk that the man who tortured and killed Eberhard had finally been caught.’

Von Kluge had turned a quiet shade of grey and his cigarette remained unsmoked in its ashtray. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and he looked like a schoolboy whose favourite toy had been confiscated.

‘The question, of course,’ said Canaris, ‘is what has Krivyenko been doing while he’s been here in Smolensk working for you, old fellow? What has he been up to while he’s been your Putzer ?’

‘We went hunting a lot,’ said Von Kluge, dully. ‘That’s all. Hunting.’

‘I’m sure you did. By Rudi’s account, Krivyenko organized a successful wild boar hunt for you. Yes, that must have been a lot of fun. No harm in that. But Rudi has some opinions about what else he’s been up to, don’t you Rudi?’