I bent forward to the floor of the car, lit a cigarette and handed it back to him.
‘There was a time when I took pleasure in my work, too. When I was good at it. Those were the days when the Berlin Murder Squad was the best in the world. When I was a real detective. A professional. What I didn’t know about the science of murder wasn’t worth knowing. But now.’ I shook my head. ‘Now I’m just an amateur. A rather quaint and old-fashioned amateur.’
It was five-thirty in the afternoon, and back in the library at the Lower Castle irritation and disappointment hung in the air like mustard gas ready to contaminate the lungs of all who were unfortunate enough to breathe it in. SS and Gestapo officers shook their heads and smoked furiously and looked around for someone to blame. Opinions were offered and rejected angrily and offered again until voices were raised and accusations made. There appeared to be several of them in the library, and while ultimately there was only one man whose opinion counted there were others who were determined not to be held responsible for ‘the failure’.
Kahlo and I had crept into the Morning Room so as to avoid being drawn into these recriminations; but we left the door wide open so that we could hear and increase our strength, for a wise man is strong and a man who listens at doors increases his strength.
‘We let him slip through our fingers,’ raged Heydrich. ‘We have at our disposal the most powerful police force ever seen in this city and yet we don’t seem to be able to catch one man.’
‘It’s too early to give up hope, sir.’ This sounded like Horst Bohme, the head of the SD in Prague. His Berlin accent was instantly recognizable to me. ‘We’re continuing to conduct house-to-house searches for Moravek and even now I’m certain that something will turn up.’
‘We know his name,’ said Heydrich, ignoring him. ‘We know what he looks like. We even know he’s somewhere in the city and yet we can’t find him. It’s a total bloody failure. An embarrassment.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘An opportunity thrown away, gentlemen,’ stormed Heydrich. ‘However, I suppose I shouldn’t really be all that surprised, given what happened here in May. At the UVOD safe house in – what was the name of that dumb Czecho street, Fleischer?’
‘Pod Terebkov Street, sir,’ said Fleischer.
‘You had them all in your fucking hands,’ yelled Heydrich. ‘They were trapped in that damned apartment. And still you managed to let two of them escape. Jesus, I should have you shot for incompetence or for being complicit in their evading capture. Either way I should have you shot.’
‘Sir,’ protested Fleischer. ‘With all due respect they were thirty metres off the ground. They used a steel radio aerial to slide out of the window thirty metres down to that courtyard. It was covered in blood when we found it. A man’s fingers were on the ground.’
‘Why didn’t you have men in the courtyard? Is there a shortage of SS and Gestapo here in Prague? Well, Bohme? Is there?’
‘No sir.’
‘Fleischer?’
‘No, Herr General.’
‘So this time you would think we could get it right. This time we have a photograph of Vaclav Moravek. We know the safe house he’s been using for the last five months. And what do we find? A note, addressed to me. Remind me of what Moravek’s note said, Fleischer.’
‘I’d rather not, sir.’
‘It said “Lick my arse, General Heydrich”. It’s even written in German and Czech, as the law says it ought to be, which is an especially insolent touch, don’t you think? “Lick my arse, General Heydrich”. It would seem that I’m an even bigger prick than you are, Fleischer. You’re already a laughing stock after that incident in the Prikopy Bar.’
‘On that particular occasion you mention, sir, the man was wearing a Party badge in the lapel of his jacket.’
‘And that makes all of the difference, does it? I wish I had ten marks for every bastard wearing a Party badge I’ve had to shoot since 1933.’
‘Someone tipped him off, sir. Moravek must have been told we were coming.’
‘That much is obvious, my dear Commissioner. What isn’t fucking obvious is what we’re doing about finding the traitor who might have told him. Major Ploetz?’
‘Sir?’
‘Who is liaising with the special SD squad that I ordered to be set up? The VXG.’
‘It was Captain Kuttner, sir.’
‘I know who it was, Achim. I’m asking who it is now.’
‘Well, sir, you haven’t said.’
‘Do I have to think of everything? Apart from my children, who incidentally will be arriving here in less than forty-eight hours, nothing, I repeat nothing, is more important than finding the man behind the OTA transmissions; traitor X, or whatever you want to call him. Nothing. These are the Reichsführer’s own orders to me. Not even Vaclav Moravek and the Three Kings and the UVOD Home Resistance network are as important as that, do you hear?’
Another voice spoke up, but it was one I didn’t recognize.
‘Frankly, sir, I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but Captain Kuttner was not a good liaison officer.’
‘Who’s that speaking?’ I asked Kahlo.
He shook his head. ‘Don’t know.’
‘The fact is, Kuttner was arrogant and rude, and often quite unpredictable; and he managed to piss off the local Kripo and Gestapo in double-quick time while he was here.’
‘Like I said,’ murmured Kahlo. ‘He was a prick.’
‘He did not serve you well, General,’ continued the same voice. ‘And now that he’s gone, might I suggest, sir, that I handle the liaison with the VXG. I can promise you I’ll make a better job of it than he did.’
‘Very well, Captain Kluckholn,’ said Heydrich. ‘If Captain Kuttner was as bad as you say he was—’
‘He was,’ insisted another voice. ‘Sir.’
‘Then,’ said Heydrich, ‘you had better get yourself over to Pecek Palace and then Kripo and try to smooth over any ruffled feathers and make sure they know what they’re supposed to be doing. Clear?’
‘Yes sir.’
I heard a chair move, and then someone – Kluckholn, I imagined – clicked his heels and left the room.
‘Talking of ruffled feathers, sir.’ This was Major Ploetz. ‘Your detective, Gunther, has already managed to upset the whole chicken coop. I’ve already had several complaints about his manner, which leaves a great deal to be desired.’
I nodded at Kahlo. ‘True,’ I said. ‘Too true.’
‘I agree with Major Ploetz, sir.’ This was Colonel Bohme, again.
‘I suppose you think I should have picked you to handle this inquiry, Colonel Bohme.’
‘Well, I am a trained detective, sir.’
Heydrich laughed cruelly. ‘You mean you once went on the detective-lieutenant’s training course at the Police Institute, in Berlin-Charlottenburg, don’t you? Yes, I can easily see how that might make anyone think he was Hercule Poirot. My dear Bohme, let me tell you something. We don’t have any good detectives left in the SD or in the Gestapo. Within the kind of system that we operate we have all sorts of people; ambitious lawyers, sadistic policemen, brown-nosing civil servants, all, I dare say, good Party men, too; sometimes we even call them detectives or inspectors and ask them to investigate a case; but I tell you they can’t do it. To be a proper detective is beyond their competence. They can’t do it because they won’t stick their noses in where they’re not wanted. They can’t do it because they’re afraid of asking questions, they’re not supposed to ask. And even if they did ask those questions they’d get scared because they wouldn’t like the answers. It would offend their sense of Party loyalty. Yes, that’s the phrase they’d use to excuse their inability to do the job. Well, Gunther may be a lot of things but he has the Berlin nose for trouble. A real Schnauz. And that’s what I want.’