Philip Kerr - A Man Without Breath

Von Tresckow ran his hand along the polished wooden surface of the case, admiringly. ‘Very nice,’ he said, and then lit a cigarette. ‘You see a beautiful German gun like this and you wonder how it is we can be losing the fucking war.’

‘Pity about that stock,’ complained Von Gersdorff.

‘I dare say it will turn up in the morning,’ I said.

‘You must tell me where the gun was found and I’ll go and look for it myself,’ said Von Gersdorff.

‘Can we forget about your gun for a moment, colonel?’

I felt myself becoming slightly exasperated with them both: Von Gersdorff seemed to care more about the loss of his rifle stock than the death of Dr Berruguete. Von Tresckow was already looking at his friend’s collection of classical records.

‘A man is dead. An important man. This could prove to be very awkward for us – for Germany. If the rest of these experts get wind of what’s happened they might all clear off and leave us needing some new laundry.’

‘It seems you need some new laundry yourself, Gunther,’ observed the general. ‘Where’s your shirt, for God’s sake?’

‘I lost it on a horse. Just forget about that. Look, gentlemen, it’s very simple, I need to put the brake on this, and quick. In the middle of a war it might sound ridiculous, but ordinarily I’d make a shot at catching the fellow who killed this Spaniard, only right now I figure it’s more important not to scare the suspects. By which of course I mean the assembled experts of the international commission.’

‘Are they suspects?’ asked the general.

‘We’re all suspects,’ said Von Gersdorff. ‘Isn’t that right, Gunther? Anyone could have helped himself to the Mauser in my car. Ergo, we’re all of us under suspicion.’

I didn’t contradict him.

General Von Tresckow grinned. ‘I’ll vouch for the colonel, Captain Gunther. He’s been here all night, with me.’

‘I’m afraid the captain knows that isn’t true, Henning,’ said Von Gersdorff. ‘He and I went for a walk in the forest earlier this evening. I suppose I could have done it after that. I’m a pretty good shot, too. At my military school in Breslau I was considered the best marksman in my year.’

*

‘In Breslau, you say?’ I said.

‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

‘Only that you seem to be one of several people here in Smolensk who have a Breslau connection. Professor Buhtz for one-’

‘And your friend, the beautiful Dr Kramsta, for another,’ added Von Gersdorff. ‘We mustn’t forget her. And yes, before you ask, I do know her – sort of. Or at least her family. She’s a von Kramsta from Muhrau. My late wife, Renata, was related to her, distantly.’

‘The von Schwartzenfeldts are related to the von Kramstas?’ said the general. ‘I didn’t know that.’

This was a lot more than I knew – about Ines, about everything. Sometimes I had the strange idea that I knew nothing and no one – certainly no one that the vons and the zus would have called anyone.

‘Yes,’ said Von Gersdorff. ‘I believe she and her brother Ulrich came to our wedding, in 1934. Her father was with the foreign office. A diplomat. But we lost touch soon after that and haven’t seen each other in years. Ulrich became very left-wing – to be honest, I think he was a communist – and regarded me as not much better than a Nazi. He was killed after fighting for the republicans in 1938; murdered by the fascists in some Spanish concentration camp.’

‘How awful,’ said the general.

‘There was something awful about it,’ admitted Von Gersdorff. ‘Something nasty. I remember that much.’

‘Sounds like a motive for murder right there,’ said the general, gallantly fingering Ines Kramsta. ‘But Captain Gunther is right, Rudi. We need to manage this situation before it gets out of hand.’ He allowed himself another wry smile. ‘By Christ, but Goebbels is going to go mad when he finds out about this.’

‘Yes he is,’ I said, realizing that I was probably the one who was going to have to tell him. He had only just recovered from being told about the murder of Dr Batov and the disappearance of the only documentary evidence of precisely what had happened at Katyn.

‘And about the only person who’s going to be pleased at this turn of events is the field marshal,’ he added. ‘He hates all this.’

‘And the murderer,’ I said. ‘We mustn’t forget him.’ I said ‘him’ very firmly for the general’s benefit. ‘I’m sure he’s pleased as a snowman with a new carrot.’

‘Take whatever measures you think are appropriate here, Gunther,’ said the general. ‘I’ll back you all the way. Speak to my adjutant and tell him you need to make this problem go away. I’ll speak to him for you if you like?’

‘Please do,’ I said.

‘And perhaps I could contact the Tirpitzufer,’ said Von Gersdorff, ‘to see if the Abwehr’s Spanish section can turn up anything on this dead doctor. What was his name again?’

I wrote it down on a piece of paper for him. ‘Doctor Agapito Girauta Ignacio Berruguete,’ I said. ‘From the University of Madrid.’

Von Tresckow yawned and picked up the field telephone. ‘This is General von Tresckow,’ he said to the operator. ‘Find Lieutenant von Schlabrendorff and send him to Colonel von Gersdorff’s quarters right away.’ He paused. ‘Is he? Well put him on.’ He covered the mouthpiece for a moment and turned to Von Gersdorff. ‘For some reason Fabian’s down the road, with those ghastly signals people at the castle.’

He waited for a moment, tapping his boot impatiently, while I wondered why he thought they were ghastly. Was it possible he knew about the call-girl service that had been available through the 537th switchboard? Or were they just ghastly because they weren’t barons and knights?

‘Fabian? What are you doing over there?’ he said eventually. ‘Oh, I see. Can you really handle that by yourself? – he’s a big man, you know. Did he? I see. Yes, you had no choice. All right. Look, come and see me in my quarters when you get back here. Look, don’t for Christ’s sake do anything foolhardy. I’ll see if I can send you some help.’

Von Tresckow replaced the phone and explained the situation. ‘Von Kluge’s Putzer is drunk. Some peasant girl who works at the castle has thrown him over and the ignorant Ivan bastard has been sitting all night beside grave number one with a bottle getting steadily pissed. Apparently he’s got a pistol in his lap and is threatening to shoot anyone who goes near him. Says he wants to kill himself.’

‘I can think of any number of people here who would like to do it for him,’ said Von Gersdorff. ‘Me included.’

Von Tresckow laughed. ‘Exactly. It seems that Colonel Ahrens telephoned the field marshal’s office, and Von Kluge asked poor Fabian to go over there and sort it out. Typical of Clever Hans – to get someone else to do his dirty work. Anyway, that’s what Fabian is still trying to do, but without success.’ He shook his head bitterly. ‘I really don’t know why Von Kluge keeps that man around. We’d all be a lot better off if he did shoot himself.’

‘I wouldn’t care to disarm Dyakov,’ observed Von Gersdorff. ‘Not if he’s drunk.’

‘That’s what I was thinking,’ said the general.

‘Do you think Fabian’s up to it? He’s a lawyer, not a soldier.’

Von Tresckow shrugged ‘I would have told Fabian to leave the Russian and come back here,’ he said, ‘because what’s happened here at Krasny Bor is obviously more important. But always supposing they don’t go straight home tomorrow morning, Gunther’s experts will want to see the valley of the Polacks before they see anything. Under the circumstances, the last thing they probably want to meet is a fucking tanked-up Russian with a pistol in his hand.’