Prague Fatale (50 page)

Question: Was it Radek who came up with the plan to kill General Heydrich this morning?

Answer: No, it was someone else Radek introduced me to. I’d told them about Gunther and how he was working at the Lower Castle in Panenske-Brezany. How a car from Gestapo HQ with just a driver would come and pick him up and drive him there. A plan was quickly conceived – the opportunity appeared too good to miss. Two men from UVOD would hijack Gunther’s SS car and sit on the floor behind the seats so that they might get into the grounds of the castle, walk in and shoot everyone and anyone they could. Hopefully Heydrich would be one of these casualties
.

Question: By which time you would be safely on a train back to Berlin?

Answer: Yes. That was the plan
.

Question: And Gunther?

Answer: He was also to be shot by the two UVOD assassins. But the plan went up in smoke when Gunther’s car from Pecek Palace was cancelled and the poor fool had to walk to the Castle and requisition a car from there. After that, there seemed little or no choice but to get on the train as arranged. I’d done all I could. What will happen to me, please?

‘That’s a very good question,’ said Heydrich.

He turned to me.

‘And at the present moment in time, as you can see for yourself, things are not looking so good for your lady friend. But I think it answers your earlier remark, Gunther: that she hadn’t done anything. Now you know. She tried to murder
Himmler. She planned to murder me, and as many of my guests as possible. And she planned to murder you. That’s quite an achievement. It looks as if she played you for a fool, wouldn’t you say?’

I didn’t say anything.

‘It’s fortunate for you I’m still feeling grateful that you helped us catch Paul Thummel, otherwise you yourself might now be facing what undoubtedly lies ahead of this deeply misguided young woman.’

While the stenographer had been reading, Arianne had recovered consciousness and was at least alive; but she had fainted again and while I could see no way of saving her from execution, or at best a concentration camp, I did think there was a way of preserving her from further suffering on the water bascule. Much of what I’d heard made sense to me, but it was obvious that she was still concealing things from her torturers; and it was equally obvious that I was now in a position to tell Heydrich exactly what I knew and thus save Arianne from herself, even if that meant putting my own head in the Gestapo’s lunette.

It was clear that it was me who’d been betrayed by her; and yet, as I started speaking, it somehow felt as if it was Arianne who was being betrayed by me.

I guess it made it easier that I despised myself so much, not for what was said now but for what hadn’t been said before – in the Ukraine, and immediately afterward. I hardly counted the short lecture I had given Heydrich on my first day at the Lower Castle. I had tried to believe that in spite of all that I had seen and done in the East I was a person like her, with a sense of moral purpose and values. As a matter of fact I had no such qualities; and I didn’t blame her in the least for wanting to kill me. In Arianne’s eyes, I deserved to
be shot, like everyone wearing an SS or SD uniform, and I couldn’t argue with that. Whatever happened now or in the future, I had it coming to me. We all did. But if my plan was going to work – if I was to prevent her from further suffering – I had to make certain Heydrich understood what I said in the only way he could understand it: not out of pity for Arianne but out of loathing and contempt for her, and a desire for revenge. A sense of my true feelings for Arianne would only have caused her more harm. And for her sake I had to kill any love I had for her, and kill it quickly, too. I had to harden my heart until it was made of iron. Like a true Nazi.

I fished out my cigarettes and lit one to give myself some puff for what I was about to do. It wasn’t easy with my hands manacled to a chain. Nothing about what I was doing was easy. I blew some smoke at the ceiling for nonchalant effect and leaned back against the wall. How much Arianne heard of what I said next, I don’t know. None of it, I hope.

‘It looks like I’ve been had all right.’ I sighed. ‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first time a fellow like me got given the slow trot around the Tiergarten by a pretty girl. Only it’s been a while since I was dummied as well as she managed it. Christ, at my age I should know better, of course, but since I stopped believing in Santa Claus I don’t get many presents that are as nicely wrapped as this little half-silk.’ I shrugged. ‘I’m not making excuses, General. That’s just how it is for a man who likes to think he’s still in the game. And I don’t sleep so well on my own any more. The same as Captain Kuttner. She was my version of Veronal. A lot easier to swallow. But probably just as lethal.’

I allowed myself a wry smile.

‘So, she tried to send me upstairs, did she? Bitch. And after all I tried to do for her. That really sticks a hole in my sock. Go ahead and wash her hair again, Sergeant, why don’t you? I’m all through pulling my chain about it. Hell, now I can see why she was jumpy when she got out of bed this morning. I thought she was sad because she had to go back to Berlin. Because we were to be parted. What a chump I’ve been. She’s quite a liar, I’ll say that for her. It strikes me that you fellows have got your work cut out there, with or without the water board. You could send her to the guillotine and the head on that little cunt would still talk its way out of the basket. And, by the way, make sure you send me a ticket. That’s one party I wouldn’t want to miss. Who knows? Maybe I can help to put her there myself. Because you know, it strikes me that the ration is short on that story of hers, and that maybe I can make up the weight. In fact, it would be my pleasure.’

Heydrich gave me a narrow-eyed look as if he was trying to estimate the distance between what I was saying and what he believed. It was like facing a suspicious parent and, moreover, one who was such a practised liar himself that he knew precisely what to look for in establishing what was true and what was not. An art expert with a picture of uncertain provenance could not have been more thorough in the way he studied the brushwork and checked the signature on the contrary picture I had painted for him.

‘Such as?’ he said, coldly.

‘Such as Victor Keil’s real name was Franz Koci.’ I flicked my cigarette into the bathwater as if I hardly cared that Arianne’s head might yet be ducked in it. ‘I know that because I was the cop who investigated his death; and at the special invitation of your friend Colonel Schellenberg. He was found dead in Berlin’s Kleist Park. After the collision she mentioned,
with the taxi on Nollendorfplatz, he must have staggered down Massen Strasse. We found him under a big red rhododendron bush with the knife he’d used on the Dutchman, Geert Vranken, still in his possession.

‘I’ve been thinking about the letter I received from Vranken’s father, in the Netherlands. And how Paul Thummel was the character reference Geert gave the police when he was a potential suspect in the S-Bahn murders. Well, because Thummel had had some sort of relationship with Vranken’s sister, he must have found out from her, I suppose, that Vranken was working on Berlin’s railways. That must have been the reason the Abwehr asked to see the files on the S-Bahn murders; which they did; and in particular the interviews with all the foreign workers. The official excuse was that they were on the lookout for spies; but in reality, Thummel must have been on the lookout for Geert Vranken. He was the only person in Germany who could connect him with his Czech controller in The Hague. And when he saw Vranken’s statement, which mentions knowing a German officer who might vouch for him, Thummel must have panicked. Most likely Vranken was killed by Franz Koci at Paul Thummel’s specific request.’

Heydrich was nodding now. ‘Yes, that makes sense, I suppose.’

‘Either he radioed the request to UVOD here in Prague or, as seems more likely, he told Arianne. Probably she was the cut-out between Thummel and Franz Koci, who she knew better as Victor Keil.’

Heydrich continued nodding. This was a good sign. But an even better one was to come.

‘Horst.’ Heydrich waved at Colonel Bohme. ‘Release him.’

A little reluctantly – he still hadn’t forgiven me for being
a better detective than he was – Bohme produced a key from the pocket of his riding breeches and unlocked my manacles.

I rubbed my wrists and muttered a thank you. I didn’t say anything about Arianne, who remained strapped to the bascule balanced over the bath of water. It was crucial that Heydrich believe that his revelation about her part in the plot to kill me meant I was now indifferent to her immediate fate; and it was equally crucial that my story was both plausible and authoritative, even though a lot of it was based on sheer guesswork, so that it would seem there was little real point in torturing Arianne any more; at least for the present.

To my enormous relief he now came to this conclusion.

‘Take the woman back to her cell,’ he told Sergeant Soppa.

‘Yes sir.’

Soppa and the other man laid the bascule down on the wet floor and started to unstrap Arianne. She groaned slightly as the buckles were released, but it was hard to tell if her heavily bruised eyes were open, so I had no way of knowing if she saw me.

Either way, it was certainly the last time I ever saw her.

‘Let’s continue this conversation in your office upstairs, Horst,’ said Heydrich. ‘Gunther?’ Now he was ushering me out of the interrogation cell, ahead of him.

I walked toward the door. My heart was on the floor alongside Arianne’s bedraggled, half-drowned body, twisting over and over like a dying trout.

Heydrich held my arm for a moment and then smiled a sarcastic smile. ‘What? No fond goodbyes for your poor lover? No last words?’

I didn’t turn around to look back at her. If I had he’d have seen the truth in my face. Instead I met Heydrich’s chilly, wolf-blue eyes, turned a deep sigh into a wry laugh and shook my head silently.

‘To hell with her,’ I said.

It was, I thought, the only place Arianne and I were ever again likely to meet up with each other.

In a large office on an upper floor of the Pecek Palace, Heydrich told an orderly to bring us schnapps.

‘I think we all need one after that ordeal, don’t you, gentlemen?’

I couldn’t argue with this. I was desperate for a drink to put a little iron in my soul.

A bottle arrived. A proper one containing real liver glue but none of the deer or elk blood that Germans sometimes said it contained. That was just a story like the one I was getting ready to tell Heydrich and Bohme. I drank a glassful of the stuff. It was ice-cold, the way it’s supposed to be. But I was colder. Nothing’s been invented that’s as cold as how I felt at that moment.

I went and sat on the windowsill and looked out at the old medieval city of Prague. Somewhere, under one of those dark, ancient roofs, was a fatal creature of death and destruction that was exactly like my own twin brother. Indeed, if the Golem had looked in my eye at what was elusively called the soul, he might well have concluded that I was a man to be shunned, just as people in the street below avoided the Pecek Palace front door like it was a Jaffa pesthouse. Given the wicked, monstrous, inhuman events that I’d just witnessed in the basement, they weren’t so far wrong.

Unbidden, I fetched the bottle and poured another glass
of the embalming fluid that helps make Germans like me more German than before and I lit a cigarette half-hoping that it might set fire to my insides and turn me to ashes like everything else that was almost certain to be turned into ashes in due course.

‘I expect you’re wondering how we got onto her,’ said Heydrich.

‘No, but I would have got around to it before long.’

‘The list of Czechs working for the Gestapo here in Prague was hardly complete. One of the people Arianne Tauber approached in that other café she mentioned – I can’t remember what it was called – he was ours.’

‘The Ca d’Oro,’ said Bohme. ‘It was the Ca d’Oro, sir. The head waiter is a French fascist who’s been working for the Gestapo since the Spanish Civil War. As soon as he saw her sitting there with the flower inside the magazine he contacted us.’

‘After that,’ added Heydrich, ‘it was only a question of having her followed around the clock. She led us to Radek, about whom Bohme already had his suspicions, didn’t you, Horst?’

‘That’s right, sir.’

Bohme grinned and taking the bottle from my windowsill, he refilled my glass again and helped the General and then himself.

‘That’s why your car didn’t turn up this morning, Gunther. We arrested the two assassins around the corner from your hotel. And the girl when she arrived at the railway station a little later on. We had hoped there would be someone there from UVOD to see her off, but there wasn’t, so we picked her up and put her in the bag with the two killers.’ He shrugged. ‘Not that I think there was ever much danger of either one of
you being killed. It was a pretty desperate, spur-of-the-moment sort of plan. And the chances are they’d have been shot by the sentries at the Lower Castle before they got very far.’

‘All in all,’ said Heydrich, smugly, ‘it’s been an excellent day’s work. We have the traitor. We have some more terrorists. It can only be a matter of time before we catch up with Vaclav Moravek.’