“Yes or no?” Trepovitch demanded.
“Sir! Does His Majesty’s Government take that to be an ultimatum!”
The Russian continued with the business of preparing to walk out.
“I propose a ten-minute recess,” Jacques Belfort said.
It was stiffly agreed to by all parties.
When the session reconvened, T. E. Blatty made a final stubborn retreat. “Inasmuch as I am rotating the chairmanship to my French colleague tomorrow and inasmuch as Colonel Hazzard voices no objections, I will recognize a change in the agenda provided that Colonel Trepovitch places his proposition in the form of a request rather than a demand.”
Face had been saved.
“It is a request,” Trepovitch agreed. He replaced his glasses, sat, unloaded his briefcase.
“You heard the charges, Colonel Hazzard. Are you prepared to answer?”
Hazzard nodded, looked over his shoulder to Lieutenant Bolinski, who had the crash job of investigating the case and preparing the report overnight. Bo sat beside Hazzard and read slowly.
“Three soldiers of the Soviet occupation forces were intercepted in the act of committing armed robbery against a dozen German civilians at the Südende elevated station at approximately 1630 yesterday evening. An American peace officer arrived on the scene and attempted to dissuade the Soviet soldiers and to have them return to their sector. One of the Soviet soldiers fired several shots at the feet of the American peace officer from a submachine gun, and further menaced him to a point where the American peace officer had no choice but to disarm him and otherwise defend himself. The other two Soviet soldiers reached for their side arms against the advice of the American peace officer, and when they refused to comply were shot dead.”
“A fabric of lies!”
Bolinski placed a sheaf of papers on the desk. “These are the supporting statements of the twelve German civilians and a German police officer.”
“The Soviet Union will never accept the testimony of fascist liars. I demand to interrogate the aggressor you are hiding.”
“Colonel Trepovitch,” Hazzard said, “one of your people escaped. He should be easy enough to find. He’s most likely in the same unit as the two men who were killed. If you will produce him, we will produce our peace officer.”
Trepovitch changed the subject. “Do we kill your soldiers? Are they not all welcome in the Soviet Sector? What about your black marketeers with their cigarettes? Do we send them back in coffins?”
Hazzard knew now that Trepovitch really did not want an investigation but satisfaction. He answered deliberately. “According to rules adopted by this body we categorized major and minor crimes of our occupation forces. Petty black-marketeering and the breaking of nonfraternization are in a misdemeanor category. However, rape, murder, armed robbery, and assault are considered by this Kommandatura as major crimes.” He nodded to Bolinski, who was now proving to be a walking fact sheet.
“In the last sixty days,” Bolinski said, “we have arrested or apprehended six hundred Soviet soldiers in the American Sector. Over five hundred of these arrests resulted with us taking back your soldiers to your sector for drunk or disorderly conduct. However, we have made a hundred arrests in the major crime category and have, in addition, another hundred German complaints of unsolved cases. To date no American soldier has been arrested in the Russian Sector for rape, armed robbery, or murder.”
Trepovitch turned hot under the collar. “We’ve been damned patient,” Neal Hazzard said. “It is a miracle that more of your people haven’t been killed. This homicide was in self-defense and entirely justified. Your people are going to have to learn that six boroughs of Berlin are under protection of the American flag.”
The Frenchman sensed that Trepovitch had been paid back double. “I suggest that a neutral committee of ourselves and the British investigate the charges.”
“Neutral! You are both hirelings of the Americans!”
This brought the expected outburst from both Blatty and the Frenchman.
Hazzard knew the Russian was being pressed too far. The points had been won and a face-saving settlement was all that was needed. “Gentlemen,” he shouted over the oratory, “inasmuch as this matter concerns ourselves and the Soviet Union, I suggest that we be allowed to work it out ourselves.”
These were the right words at the right moment.
The Kommandatura returned to the business of Berlin’s missing dairy herd, and, after four hours of argument, ended in a deadlock.
Later that evening they all met with their staffs at the French Headquarters, the Napoleon Quarters, for the banquet traditionally given by the outgoing chairman. This month, however, the French were to take their first turn as chairman and Colonel Belfort was allowed the honors.
The Americans gave the most austere of the receptions, the Russians the most lavish. British liquor was excellent although the food poorly prepared.
Now, Jacques Belfort was determined to give Trepovitch a run for his money. The spread was lavish and flanked with the finest French wines and champagnes. All was harmony again. There were toasts to Allied unity and brotherhood.
Colonel Trepovitch, whose English had deserted him earlier, found it again. He cornered Neal Hazzard as the entertainment got under way.
“Confidentially,” the Russian said, “we are not so concerned with the shootings. There are some ruffled feathers in our command.”
Hazzard nodded. It was an opening gambit for some down to earth horse trading. A platter of paté de fois gras, France’s answer to Trepovitch’s pounds of caviar, passed between them.
The Russian continued. “A note from the Americans would smooth a lot of things out, particularly to the Germans.”
“A note might be possible.”
“In exchange for approval of the nomination of Hans Kronbach?” Trepovitch said.
“Quite likely.”
What Hazzard did not know was that a quick line was drawn on Kronbach by the Russians. Hirsch, Wöhlman, Eck, and Schatz all struck an attitude that anyone who was as anti-Nazi as Kronbach was automatically sympathetic to the Soviet Union. In their basic philosophy, the West and the Nazis were similar inasmuch as both were enemies of the Soviet Union. Kronbach was anti-Nazi and, therefore, pro-Soviet
Trepovitch passed on Hans Kronbach’s appointment to deputy police president. Neal Hazzard read a note regretting the death of the Russian soldiers.
A new attitude of respect was visible by the behavior of Russian soldiers visiting the American Sector. Russian crime halted.
The surprise at the next meeting of the Kommandatura was not the quick agreement, but that Nikolai Trepovitch returned promoted to the rank of brigadier general, a notch higher than his Western counterparts. The meaning was obvious.
Chapter Eleven
ON THE HIGHWAYS, THE RAIL lines, the canal ways into Berlin the warning was posted: keep OUT OF BERLIN! BERLIN IS FORBIDDEN!
The hundreds of thousands of refugees pouring east to west and west to east in search of homes and loved ones were steered wide of the prostrate city. It was said that a crow flying over Berlin would have to carry his own provisions.
Winter chilled the air. The cold brought new terrors as the great forests of the city dropped their leaves and the waters of her seventeen lakes danced under wind-whipped whitecaps. It was that time of year when heavy gray clouds looked eternal and sleet and snow poured from their misery.
Schools and factories closed, transportation froze to an agonized trickle. The old died in bed of freezing and the young lay under piles of rags and papers in numbed confusion.
Berlin was a spawning ground for those who lived best in slime and who moved best in shadows... . Hildegaard Falkenstein was drawn to them.