Philip Kerr - A Man Without Breath

‘And this was on the same roll of film as what? I mean what’s in these other pictures?’

‘Polish officers being shot by Blokhin and Rudakov. Piles of bodies. These three drinking. More buddy shots. The rest of the material – the pictures and the ledgers – are somewhere safe. When my daughter and I have travel documents to get us to Berlin I will give you everything. You have my word on it. You understand it’s Germans I don’t trust, Captain Gunther, not you.’

‘Kind of you to say so.’

‘I expect you will have to speak to your superiors about all of this,’ said Batov. He sat down on the bed and wiped his forehead with a loud sigh. ‘I’m really drunk.’

‘I doubt that.’ I grinned at him. ‘You were right what you said back in the marketplace when I was just a kraut buying brewski . For a clever man I’m also a stupid one. I rather imagine you planned this touching little scene, Doctor Batov. I might not have had my balls cut off by partisans, nonetheless you did a swell job of bringing me here to your parlour so you could put a tattoo on my chest like a drunken Cossack in one of your oversized novels. I don’t blame you. Really I don’t. Blame is for people with clearer consciences than mine. But don’t overplay your part, doctor. The audience doesn’t like it. That’s lesson one in the Stanislavski book of acting like someone who’s on the level.’

Batov grinned back at me. ‘You’re right, of course. I might not have been selling vodka or brewski but I’ve got something to sell just like anyone else who goes to the market. When you showed up here at the hospital the first time with that Polish intelligence report it was obvious to me where you must have got it from. I wanted to tell you about the lieutenant then, but I didn’t quite have the guts. Then you left and I figured my chance was gone. That is, until I spotted you in the market this afternoon. When I saw you it seemed too good to be true that you should be back here in Smolensk.’

‘I get a lot of that.’

‘So. Do we have a deal?’

‘I think so. Only it might take a little while. You’ll have to be patient.’

‘I’m Russian. Patience is something we’re born with.’

‘Sure, sure. That’s out of the same book as not putting any empties on the table. You don’t believe that shit any more than I do. But here’s something that you can believe. And this comes straight from the shoulder-holster. When you made that crack about not trusting Germans you implied you know what you’re doing, but I still wonder if you do. You tell me you’ve got evidence of what happened in Katyn Wood and I tell you I’m prepared to buy your story. But I’m not the one who owns the store. You’ll be making a deal with the devil here, not me. You appreciate that, don’t you? Once you’re out in the open with this I can’t protect you. Unlike me, you see, the Nazis are not the kind of people who can handle much disappointment. If they think for a minute you’re holding out on them in any way, they’re liable to reach for their pistols. The Gestapo is just as likely to put a bullet in your head as your own secret police. At that point I’ll be looking out for myself, see? Generally speaking it’s what I do best. I won’t have time or even the inclination to do any special pleading for you and your daughter’s ballet lessons.’

‘I know what I’m doing,’ he insisted. ‘I’ve thought about the risks. Really, I have. And I don’t think I have anything to lose.’

‘When people say that kind of thing, mostly I don’t believe them, or I think they haven’t thought things through. But I imagine you really do know what you’re doing. You’re right, I don’t think you have anything to lose. Just your life. And what’s that worth in the current market? In my case it’s not much and in yours it’s nothing at all. And in between there’s probably just a lot of misplaced optimism. Mine, mostly.’

Monday, March 29th 1943

‘How did Saturday’s execution go?’ asked Field Marshal von Kluge. ‘Did those two sergeants die well?’

‘Only one of them was a sergeant, sir. The other was a corporal.’

‘Yes, yes, of course. But the question still stands, Gunther.’

‘I’m not sure it’s even possible to die well when you’re struggling for breath on the end of a length of cord, sir.’

‘Do you take me for an idiot? What I mean is, did they die bravely? As bravely as any German soldier ought to die? After all, there’s always the chance that a condemned man will do or say something that reflects badly on the German army. Cowardice in the ranks is even more intolerable than wanton criminality. How did they acquit themselves?’

‘They died bravely, sir. I’m not sure I could have met the hangman with such apparent equanimity.’

‘Nonsense, captain. I don’t doubt your own courage for a moment. Any man with an Iron Cross like you knows what real bravery is. A German soldier should know how to die well. It’s expected.’

We were in the field marshal’s office at Krasny Bor. Von Kluge had made a start on a large cigar and, in spite of the subject matter, was about as relaxed as a man can look when he’s got a red stripe on his leg and a Knight’s Cross around his neck. Of his pet Russian, Dyakov, there was no sign, although there was a large dog occupying a space next to the heat vents in the brick wall that could easily have been mistaken for him. The dog was licking his balls, and as I envied his ability to do something like that I reflected that he was almost certainly the happiest creature in all of Smolensk.

‘And did they say anything? Any last words of contrition?’

‘No, and they didn’t say anything about the murders of those two NCOs either,’ I said. ‘Which was a pity.’

‘Leave this matter to the field police, Captain Gunther. That’s my advice. I’m sure they will apprehend the true culprit before very long. Do you want to know why I’m so confident about that? Because I have forty-two years’ experience in the military to draw upon. During that time I’ve learned that such incidents as these have a habit of repeating themselves. A man who has cut the throats of two men will before long cut the throats of some others. Almost certainly.’

‘That’s exactly what I was hoping to prevent. I’m a little sentimental that way.’

‘Yes, you must be. Not to mention symbiotic and coadjuvant. Military law is not collaborative, captain. We do not make deals with those who are beneath us. Our existence is based on unquestioning obedience and power, and we must always be merciless, so that we triumph even when it seems that we might be crushed. The command of power is justified only by itself. I’d rather two more men were sacrificed on the altar of expediency than our military authority should ever be compromised in the distasteful way you proposed. A deal you called it. Ghastly idea. We shall win this war if our men recognize that there is only one way to win it and that is to fight according to their duty, ruthlessly and without expectation of favour or mercy.’

It was a nice little speech, and while it might have been original, I thought it much more likely that Hitler had said something like that when he and the field marshal had been alone together in Von Kluge’s office at Krasny Bor. The bit about fighting ruthlessly and without expectation of favour or mercy had the leader’s rhetorical fingerprints all over it.

‘Oh, by the way, captain,’ said Von Kluge, changing the subject, ‘when I took the dog for a walk this morning, he could smell a change in the air. I know that because almost immediately we were outside he started to paw at a piece of ground. As if he was digging for rabbits. He hasn’t done that since the autumn of last year. I can’t say I noticed anything different myself, but then I’m not a dog. You can’t fool a dog about such things.’