“Watch the mud there.”
Rossiter picked his way past the puddled water from a leaking hosepipe.
“So… what am I looking at here, Herr Kunze?”
There was nothing in the barn except empty shelving… rack after rack of wooden surfaces that bore no load.
Areas of the barn were separated off, mainly those that contained muddy footprints.
“This barn has been stripped of its contents, and it’s been done so very recently.”
“How do you know that?”
“Look at the shelves, Herr General.”
Rossiter did so, but didn’t understand the point.
“Staub… err… pieces…”
He looked at the French officer for help and the man searched his memory.
“He means dust, mon Général.”
Rossiter looked again and immediately saw the tell-tale dust marks on the leading edge and relatively dust-free shelf beyond.
They were all the same.
“What did they take?”
“That’s the really interesting bit, Herr General. Please follow me.”
They went off at a pace until they were back in the first floor kitchen, where a crestfallen and shocked looking Pfluggman was sat drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.
“Herr Pfluggman, our postingman.”
He motioned the two officers towards a pair of chairs and signalled one of his men to produce more coffee.
“Herr Pfluggman, please tell these men about the barn and what was kept inside of it.”
The postman took a deep swig of his water to steady his frayed nerves and spoke in a troubled voice.
“No one was supposed to know about the files.”
Rossiter’s senses lit off yet again.
“What files, Herr Pfluggman… tell the General.”
“Personnel files… details of German soldiers…”
Inspector Kunze understood the man’s reluctance, but pressed him hard, wishing Rossiter to hear it from the horse’s mouth.
“Tell him, Hans. Tell him what you know.”
“Herr General, one day Frau Hallman was out and I went looking for her… I could not help myself but take a look. I never told her… she never knew I’d seen what they were.”
Rossiter waited, holding his breath.
Kunze gripped Pfluggman’s shoulder to encourage him to continue.
“Herr General… there were thousands of them… many, many thousands… all that I saw had cloth fronts, but I looked at most of the bookcases and they all contained files on personnel… SS personnel.”
“What the… those shelves contained the personal files of SS personnel… thousands of SS personnel?”
“Jawohl, Herr General.”
‘What the fuck is going to be thrown up next?’
“Is there anything else you want to know, Herr General?”
Kunze posed the question purely because the American had dropped into stunned silence.
He rubbed his aching stomach to try and knock back the growing pain.
“Actually, yes, there is. Herr Pfluggman, I am hoping you recall delivering an unusual letter to Frau Hallmann. I am informed that it came to her via official channels?”
“A letter, you say?”
“Yes, possibly military by nature?”
“Ah, there was one thing. I remember it well. She had no idea who it was from, and certainly hadn’t been expecting it. It originated from the US Army.”
“How could you know that?”
Pfluggman shrugged the shrug of officials the world over.
“I give people letters, they open them, I then know where they come from… I’ve a memory for such things. It came from an APO address”
“Did she open the letter in front of you?”
“No, she didn’t and in any case, it wasn’t a letter.”
“Go on.”
“It was something like a briefcase.”
Rossiter understood that he was onto something he really didn’t understand and backtracked a little.
“So… you bring a briefcase to Frau Hallmann, sent from an American military postal address somewhere…”
“Eight-five-three.”
“I’m sorry?”
“A.P.O. Eight-five-three.”
“You sound very sure of that, Herr Pfluggman.”
“The number lives with me day in, day out, Herr General. My son died on U-853, sunk off the American coast by your warships at the end of the war. Eight-five-three is a number I don’t easily forget.”
“I understand… and I’m sorry that you lost a son, Herr…”
“Two. My youngest was killed in this latest madness, Herr General. I have two sons and two daughters still alive… all in uniform… all serving new masters.”
“Again, I’m very sorry to hear of your loss, Herr Pfluggman. I just need to understand this matter. Can you remember when it was that you delivered the briefcase to Frau Hallmann?”
Pfluggman smiled sadly.
“Yes… it would be…err… August 17th last year… I celebrated the birth of my twelfth grandchild, Annelise… my second granddaughter down in Blankenrath and the proceedings were a little boisterous. There was some damage… the Gendarmerie were called… misunderstanding… but some of us spent some time in the cells. Herr Inspektor Kunze’ll be able to confirm, but I tell you now, I gave her the briefcase on Saturday the 17th of August.”
“Thank you, Herr Pflugmman. Inspector Kunze, if you please?”
They walked out onto the landing.
“Inspector, I need to make a phone call straight away. I’ll need you and your men to place this whole site under guard until I can have some people out here to sort through everything. My suspicion is that this is a matter of huge significance. I can say no more. I hope you understand?”
“But of course, Herr General. I did some time in the 4th Panzer Division’s Feldgendarmerie and then the Abwehr before coming back to normal policing. I understand how things work.”
Rossiter felt a chill go down his spine but managed to not show any outward reaction.
‘A wolf in sheep’s clothing?’
“Thank you, Inspector. Now, if I might use the phone?”
“General Rossit…”
“It’s me, Jed. Just listen. I want a team in Haserich yesterday. There’s something going on here I don’t understand. Hallmann is dead… murdered.”
Rossiter checked that no one was within hearing distance, but still lowered his voice.
“The police officer here is ex-Abwehr. I’d rather we had someone from our service sitting on top of this one.”
Cortez understood that loud and clear.
“I need you to get APO list pronto, Jed.”
“Got it right here, General.”
Cortez leant back and plucked it off the shelf behind him.”
“Eight-five-three… where is it?”
The sound of rustling pages indicated Cortez’s search in progress.
“Err… Camp O’Reilly, Puerto Rico, General.”
“What? You gotta be kidding me, Jed?”
“No, Sir, that’s correc… wait… fuck… sorry, Sir… gimme a second…”
In about twenty, Cortez was back.
“There’s a new version out. I must have filed the old one back in the hole. One moment, General… here we are… eight-five-three, you say?”
“That’s the one, Jed.”
“Well I’m damned… Sir… O’Reilly closed down and the APO was reassigned to an outfit in Innsbruck… it’s a WAC unit… part of the AGC, General.”
‘Adjutant General’s Corps?’
“Not processing personnel, but belongings.”
‘Bingo!’
“OK, Jed. Get the cavalry organised. You know where I’m going. I’ll get in contact once I get there. Bye.”
Rossiter took his leave of Inspector Kunze, leaving the French Captain and two of his men on site with very specific orders.