Philip Kerr - A Man Without Breath

He paused for a moment and sucked on the cigar.

‘What I’m saying is that the ground in Smolensk is melting, Gunther. Spring is here and so is the thaw. If the dog can dig, then so can you.’

‘I’ll get right on it.’

‘Please do. I don’t mind telling you I dislike this whole affair. And I especially dislike the ministry of propaganda. It is my sincerest wish that we begin and conclude this investigation as quickly as possible – that we remove our morbid gaze from the unfortunate past of this benighted region and concentrate only upon the future and on how we are going to fight a war against a resurgent Red Army now, in 1943. I tell you frankly, captain, I am going to need all of my resources to win this war, and I cannot afford to spare any of my men and especially not my officers in an effort that can kill none of the enemy. Consequently, when your excavations start I should prefer it if the War Crimes Bureau uses only Russian POW labour. That seems only fitting. I think it would be demeaning for German soldiers to occupy themselves with digging up dead bodies left behind by the Bolsheviks. Von Schlabrendorff will help you there. And my man Dyakov, of course. He’s an expert on handling Hiwi Russian labour. We used a contingent of Ivan workers to rebuild a bridge across the Dnieper last spring, and Dyakov knows who the good workers are. Hopefully some of them are still alive. Perhaps you might mention this to Judge Conrad when next you see him.’

‘I’ll do that, sir.’

‘I doubt that the world really gives a damn about any of this. It’s my personal opinion that the minister is deluded if he thinks the Allies are going to fall out of love with each other just because the Russians might have murdered a few Poles.’

‘It’s probably more than a few, sir. My sources indicate to me that it could be as many as four thousand.’

‘And what about all of the ethnic Germans who were killed by Poles in 1939? In Posen, my own part of the world, the Poles – especially Polish soldiers – behaved like barbarians. Entire families of Germans were murdered. The women were raped and the men were frequently tortured before they were murdered. As many as two thousand Germans were murdered by the Poles in Posen alone. Two thousand. Some of my own family were obliged to flee for their lives. My house was ransacked. Read the white book that your own department prepared for the Foreign Office if you don’t believe me. No one in East Prussia is going to care what happened to some fucking Poles. I certainly don’t. I tell you they could find the whole Polish army buried in Katyn Wood and I wouldn’t give a damn.’

‘I didn’t know you were from Posen.’

‘Well, now you do.’ Von Kluge puffed at his cigar and waved at me. ‘Was there another matter you wanted to see me about?’

‘Yes sir, there was.’

I told Von Kluge about Doctor Batov and his offer to furnish us with the hard evidence that would prove that the Soviets had murdered thousands of Poles in Katyn Wood.

‘I believe he has a ledger with the names of all the dead, as well as some photographs of the crime in actual progress. The only trouble is, he’s scared that he and his daughter will be murdered if the NKVD retakes Smolensk.’

‘He’s not wrong about that. There will be a bloodbath in this city if ever the Reds are in charge again. It will make your Katyn Wood massacre look like the teddy bears’ picnic. I should think any right-minded Russian would be very anxious to prevent that from happening.’

‘Exactly. Doctor Batov would feel a lot safer if they could come and live in Berlin, sir.’

‘In Berlin?’ Von Kluge chuckled. ‘I don’t doubt it. I should like to be back in Berlin myself. Yes indeed. A stroll in the Tiergarten before champagne at the Adlon, then the opera followed by dinner at Horchers. Berlin is lovely at this time of year. The Adlon is lovely. Yes, I shouldn’t mind a bit of that myself.’

‘He’d simply like some assurances to that effect. Before he cooperates with Judge Conrad’s investigation. What he has could be really useful to us, sir. To Germany.’

‘And this doctor of yours can furnish you with evidence? To the bureau’s satisfaction?’

‘I do believe he can, sir.’

Von Kluge sighed a cloud of cigar smoke and shook his head, as if in pity of me and my tiresome conversation.

‘I wonder about you, Gunther, I really do. Prior to becoming a policeman, what were you? A car salesman? You keep bringing me deals you tell me I have to make. First it was those two NCOs, and now it’s this damned Russian doctor. Don’t you know anyone in this city who’s prepared to do something for nothing – because he thinks he has a simple patriotic duty to bring forward the truth?’

‘He’s not a German, sir. He’s a Russian. Duty doesn’t come into it, nor patriotism for that matter. He’s simply a man trying to save his own life and his daughter’s. Right now he’s attending injured German soldiers in the Smolensk State Medical Academy. If he was a patriot, he’d have cleared off like the rest of them and left us to heal our own sick and wounded. If ever he’s captured, that alone will earn him a death sentence. Surely we should be prepared to assist him simply for that service?’

‘If we were to offer every damned Ivan German citizenship because he has collaborated with us, we’d never hear the end of it. And where would the purity of the German race be then, eh? Eh? Not that I believe in that nonsense myself. But the leader does.’

‘Sir, he’s offering us a lot more than just collaboration. He’s willing to furnish us with the means of proving to the world what manner of opponent we’re fighting. Isn’t that worth some sort of reward? And surely that’s what we’re already offering any man who joins General Vlasov’s Russian Liberation Army. It’s written in this Smolensk Proclamation that our planes have been dropping on Soviet positions that if they come over to us we’ll put them in German uniforms and give them a better life.’

‘I tell you straight, Captain Gunther, the leader doesn’t like these Zeppelin volunteers. He doesn’t trust them. Doesn’t trust any damn Slavs. Take this General Vlasov – the leader doesn’t care for him at all. I tell you now his damned Russian Liberation Army is an idea that will never get off the ground. They can drop all the leaflets they like on Soviet positions but his Smolensk Proclamation is a dead goose. I happen to know that the leader believes he will need someone as strong and ruthless as Stalin to keep control of Greater Germany in the Urals. The last thing he wants is this Vlasov trying to overthrow him.’ Von Kluge shook his head. ‘They’re a shifty lot these Ivans, Gunther. You watch out for this doctor, that’s my advice.’

‘And what about you, sir?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Your man, Alok Dyakov. He’s a Slav. Do you trust him?’

‘Of course I trust him. And why not? I saved his life. The man is completely loyal to me. He’s proved that again and again.’

‘And what are you planning to do with him when all of this is over? Will you leave him here? Or take him with you?’

‘My affairs are none of your business, Gunther. Don’t be so damned impertinent.’

‘You’re absolutely right. I apologize. Your affairs are none of my business. But sir, if you’ll only think about this for a moment. From what he’s already told me, Doctor Batov has good reason to hate the Bolsheviks, and more especially the NKVD. They murdered his wife. Consequently I’m convinced that he’s every bit as keen to serve Germany as your man Dyakov. Or Peshkov.’

‘Who the hell is Peshkov?’

‘The group translator, sir. But Doctor Batov is every bit as keen on serving Germany as him or Alok Dyakov.’