A Man Without Breath (Bernie Gunther Mystery 9) (16 page)

‘I don’t think that’s the case,’ I said. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any sign of alarm on the part of the SS.’

‘Yes, you’re right.’ The judge shook his head. ‘Christ, the man’s luck is uncanny. Damn him, he seems to have an instinct for self-preservation.’

Von Gersdorff continued standing where he was, seemingly at a loss about what to do next, mouth wide open like the Engelberg Tunnel. Around him were several officers who clearly had no idea the colonel was carrying explosives that might go off at any moment.

‘I’m not so sure about your friend’s instinct for self-preservation,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘Colonel von Gersdorff. He’s still carrying a bomb, isn’t he?’

‘Oh God, yes. What’s he going to do?’

For another minute or so we watched, and gradually it became quite clear to us that Von Gersdorff wasn’t going to do anything. He kept looking around as if wondering why he was still there and had not yet been blown to smithereens. Suddenly it seemed I had to get him out of there: brave men of conscience were rather thin on the ground in Germany in 1943. I had the evidence of my own shaving mirror to remind me of that.

‘Wait here,’ I told the judge.

I walked quickly through the exhibition, pushing my way past the other officers toward the colonel. I stopped in front of him and bowed politely. He was about forty, dark and balding, and if I had doubted his courage, there was always the Iron Cross first class around his neck – not to mention what he had hidden in his greatcoat pocket – to remind me. I figured I had a less than even chance of being blown up. My heart was in my mouth and my knees were shaking so much
it was only my boots that were holding me up. It might have been Heroes Memorial Day but I wasn’t feeling in the least bit heroic.

‘You must come with me, colonel,’ I said, quietly. ‘Now, sir, if you don’t mind.’

Seeing me, and more importantly the little silver death’s head on my cap and the witchcraft badge on my sleeve, Von Gersdorff smiled a sad smile, as though he was being arrested, which was my intention – or at least to leave him with the impression that he was being arrested. His hands were shaking and he was as pale as a Prussian winter’s day, but still he remained rooted to the spot.

‘It would be best for everyone if you didn’t wait any longer, sir,’ I said firmly.

‘Yes,’ he said, with a quiet air of resignation. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘This way, please.’

I turned on my heel and walked out of the exhibition hall. I didn’t look around. I didn’t need to. I could hear Von Gersdorff’s boots on the wooden floor immediately behind me. But on our way out of the exhibition hall, an SD captain called Wetzel whom I knew from the Gestapo took my arm.

‘Is everything all right?’ he asked. ‘Why did the leader leave so abruptly?’

‘I don’t know why,’ I said, pulling my arm away from his grip. ‘But it seems something he said has left the colonel feeling a little upset, that’s all. So if you’ll excuse us.’

I looked around. By now I could see the fear in Von Gersdorff’s eyes, but was he afraid of me or – more likely – the bomb in his pocket?

‘This way, sir,’ I said and led him to a lavatory, where the colonel hesitated, so I was obliged to take him by the elbow and thrust him urgently inside. I checked the six cubicles to
see that there was no one else in there. We were in luck; we were alone.

‘I’ll keep watch,’ I said, ‘while you defuse the device. Quickly, please.’

‘You mean, you’re not arresting me?’

‘No,’ I said, positioning myself immediately behind the door. ‘Now disarm that fucking bomb before we both find out the true meaning of Heroes Memorial Day.’

Von Gersdorff nodded and walked over to a row of washhandbasins. ‘Actually, there are two bombs,’ he said, and from the pockets of his greatcoat he carefully withdrew two flat objects that were each about the size of a rifle magazine. ‘The explosives are British. Clam mines used for sabotage. Odd that the Tommy ordnance for this kind of work should be better than ours. But the fuses are German. Ten-minute mercury sticks.’

‘Well, it’s good that we can make something right,’ I said. ‘Makes me feel really proud.’

‘I’m not so sure about that,’ he said. ‘I can’t understand why they haven’t gone off yet.’

Someone pushed at the lavatory door and I opened it just a crack. It was Wetzel again, his long hooked nose and thin moustache looking very ratlike through the gap in the door.

‘Is everything all right, Captain Gunther?’ he asked.

‘Better find another one,’ I told him. ‘The colonel’s being sick, I’m afraid.’

‘Do you want me to have someone fetch a mop and a bucket?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘There’s no need for that. Look, it’s kind of you to offer your help but the colonel is a bit of a mess, so it might be best if you left us alone for a minute, all right?’

Wetzel glanced over my shoulder as if he didn’t quite believe my story.

‘Sure?’

‘Sure.’

He nodded and went away, and I looked anxiously around to see Von Gersdorff carefully withdrawing the fuses from one of the mines.

‘It’ll be me throwing up if you don’t hurry up and defuse those things,’ I said. ‘That fucking Gestapo captain is going to come back any minute. I just know he is.’

‘I still don’t understand why the leader left so quickly,’ said Von Gersdorff. ‘I was about to show him Napoleon’s hat. Left behind in his coach after Waterloo and recovered by Prussian soldiers.’

‘Napoleon was defeated. Perhaps he doesn’t like to be reminded of that. Especially now we’re doing so well in Russia.’

‘Yes, perhaps. Nor do I really understand why you’re helping me.’

‘Let’s just say I hate to see a brave man blow himself up just because he’s dumb enough to forget he’s got a bomb in his pocket. How’s it coming along?’

‘Are you nervous?’

‘Whatever gave you that idea? I always get a kick out of being near explosives that are about to go off. But next time I’ll be sure to wear some armour plating underneath my coat and some earplugs.’

‘I’m not that brave, you know,’ he said. ‘But since my wife died, last year—’

Von Gersdorff removed the second fuse and dropped the two mercury sticks into the lavatory.

‘Are they safe?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ he said, pocketing the two mines again. ‘And thank
you. I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I must have just frozen – like a rabbit caught in a car’s headlights.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘that’s certainly what it looked like.’

He came to attention immediately in front of me, clicked his heels and bowed his head.

‘Rudolf Christoph Freiherr von Gersdorff,’ he said. ‘At your service, captain. Whom do I have the honour of thanking?’

‘No.’ I smiled and shook my head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘I don’t understand. I should like to know your name, captain. And then I should like to take you to my club and buy us both a drink. To calm our nerves. It’s just around the corner.’

‘That’s kind of you, Colonel von Gersdorff. But perhaps it’s best you don’t know who I am. Just in case the Gestapo should ask you for a list of all the people who helped you organize this little disaster. Besides, it’s hardly the kind of name that someone like you would ever remember.’

Von Gersdorff straightened perceptibly, as if I had suggested he was a Bolshevik. ‘Are you suggesting that I would ever betray the names of brother officers? Of German patriots?’

‘Believe me, everyone has his limit where the Gestapo is concerned.’

‘That would not be the conduct of an officer and a gentleman.’

‘Of course it wouldn’t. And that’s why the Gestapo don’t employ officers and gentlemen. They employ sadistic thugs who can break a man as easily as one of those mercury sticks of yours.’

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘If that’s the way you want it.’

Von Gersdorff walked stiffly toward the lavatory door like a man – or more accurately an aristocrat – who had been grossly insulted by a common little captain.

‘Wait a minute, colonel,’ I said. ‘There’s a particularly nosy Gestapo officer outside that door who believes you came in here to throw up. At least, I hope he does. I’m afraid it was the only story I could think of in the circumstances.’ I ran the tap to fill one of the basins. ‘Like I say, he’s a suspicious bastard and he already smells a rat, so we’d better make my story look a little more convincing, don’t you think? Come here.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Save your life, I hope.’ I scooped some water into my hands and threw it into the front of his tunic. ‘And mine, perhaps. Here, hold still.’

‘Hang on. This is my dress uniform.’

‘I don’t for a minute doubt your courage, colonel, but I happen to know this is your second failure within as many weeks, so I am not confident that you or any of the people working with you really know what the hell you’re doing. You and your posh friends seem to lack all of the lethal qualities that are necessary to be assassins. Let’s just leave it there, shall we? No names, no thank yous, no explanations, just goodbye.’

I threw some more water onto the front of Von Gersdorff, and hearing the door open, I just had time to haul the towel off the roller and to start mopping down his front. I turned to see Wetzel standing in the room. The smile on his rodent’s face looked anything but friendly.

‘Is everything all right?’ he said.

‘I told you it was, didn’t I?’ I said, irritably. ‘Jesus Christ.’

‘Yes you did, but—’

‘I didn’t flush the lavatory,’ murmured Von Gersdorff. ‘Those sticks are still in there.’

‘Shut up and let me do the talking,’ I said.

Von Gersdorff nodded.

‘What’s got into you, Wetzel?’ I said. ‘Damn it all, can’t you take a fucking hint? I said I was handling it.’

‘I have the distinct impression that there’s something not quite right in here,’ said Wetzel.

‘I didn’t know you were a plumber. But go ahead. Be my guest. Now you’re here, see if you can unblock the toilet.’ I threw the towel aside, gave the colonel a quick up and down and then nodded. ‘There you go, sir. A little damp, perhaps, but you’ll do.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Von Gersdorff.

‘That’s all right. Could happen to anyone.’

Wetzel wasn’t the type to back away from an insult; he picked up a clothes-brush and tossed it to me. I caught it, too.

‘Why don’t you brush him down while you’re at it?’ said Wetzel. ‘A new career as a gentleman’s valet or a lavatory attendant would seem appropriate in the circumstances.’

‘Thanks.’ I fussed at the colonel’s shoulders for a few seconds and then put down the brush. It was probably a safer although rather less pleasurable option than trying to shove it up Wetzel’s rectum.

Wetzel sniffed the air, loudly. ‘It certainly doesn’t smell like someone has been ill in here,’ he said. ‘Why is that, I wonder?’

I laughed.

‘Did I say something funny, Captain Gunther?’

‘The things the Gestapo will try and pinch you for these days.’ I nodded at the six cubicles next to us. ‘Why don’t you check that the colonel here flushed the toilet while you’re at it, Wetzel?’

There was a bottle of lime water on the shelf behind the
basins. I picked it up, pulled out the cork, and splashed some on to the colonel’s hands. He rubbed them on his cheeks.

‘I’m all right now, Captain Gunther,’ he said. ‘Thank you for your assistance. It was most kind of you. I shan’t forget this. I really thought I was about to faint back there.’

Wetzel glanced behind the door of the first cubicle.

I laughed again. ‘Find anything, Wetzel? A Jew on the wing, perhaps?’

‘We have an old saying in the Gestapo, captain,’ said Wetzel. ‘A simple search is always better than suspicion.’

He stepped into the second cubicle.

‘It’s the last one,’ murmured Von Gersdorff.

I nodded.

‘The way you say that, Wetzel, it sounds homespun, almost friendly,’ I said.

‘The Gestapo is not unfriendly,’ said Wetzel. ‘So long as someone’s not an enemy of the state.’

He came out of the second cubicle and went into the third.

‘Well there are none of those in here,’ I said brightly. ‘In case you didn’t notice, the colonel was about to guide the leader around the exhibition. They don’t let just anyone do that, I expect.’

‘And how is it that you two are friends, captain?’

‘Not that it’s any of your damn business, but I’ve just got back from Army Group Centre in Smolensk,’ I said. ‘That’s where the colonel is stationed. We were on the same plane back to Berlin. Isn’t that right, colonel?’

‘Yes,’ said Von Gersdorff. ‘All of the exhibits for today’s display were collected by Army Group Centre. The enormous honour of being the leader’s guide this morning fell to me, I’m happy to say. However I think I must have picked up some
sort of bacillus while I was down there. I just hope that the leader doesn’t get it.’

‘Please God he doesn’t,’ I said.

Wetzel stepped into the fourth cubicle. I saw him glance into the toilet bowl. If he did the same in the sixth and last cubicle he would surely see the two mercury sticks and we would be arrested, and that would be the end of us. It was whispered around the Alex that Georg Elser – the Munich bomber of August 1939 – had been tortured by Heinrich Himmler, in person, following his unsuccessful attempt to assassinate the leader; the rumour was that Himmler had almost kicked the man to death. It was anyone’s guess what had happened to him since then, but the same rumour said he had been starved to death in Sachsenhausen. About assassins the Nazis were never anything less than vengeful and vindictive.

‘Is that why he left so abruptly, do you think?’ I asked. ‘Because he could see that you were ill and didn’t want to catch it himself?’

‘Perhaps.’ Von Gersdorff closed his eyes and nodded, catching on at last. ‘I think it might have been, yes.’

‘I can’t say I blame him,’ I said. ‘There was typhoid around Smolensk when we left. In Vitebsk, wasn’t it? Where all those Jews died?’

‘That’s what I told the leader,’ said Von Gersdorff. ‘When he visited our headquarters in Smolensk last weekend.’

‘Typhoid?’ Wetzel frowned.

‘I don’t think I have typhoid,’ said Von Gersdorff. ‘At least, I hope not.’ He clutched his stomach. ‘However. I do feel rather ill again. If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I’m afraid I am going to throw up once more.’