‘That’s not common knowledge, Captain,’ said Reinhardt, looking straight at him.
‘Not common knowledge?’ Thallberg snorted. ‘After your little rumpus in the mess this afternoon with the colonels? How quick do you think word like that gets around? Relax, Gregor,’ he said, quietly. ‘I’m not here about whose toes you might have trodden on.’ He shoved his cigarette into the corner of his mouth and, reaching inside his jacket pulled out a small, green booklet. Reinhardt knew what it was but opened it anyway, seeing the two photos of Thallberg inside, one of him in uniform, a second of him in civilian clothes. ‘I’m shy;Geheime Feldpolizei. Hendel was one of mine.’
Reinhardt flipped the ID shut and handed it back. ‘Let me see your warrant disc as well.’ Thallberg handed it over. Reinhardt twisted it in his fingers, flipping it over to see Thallberg’s number stamped under Geheime Feldpolizei, and Oberkommando Des Heeres above that. Save for that, it looked just like the one he used to carry as a Berlin detective and, he thought morosely, was probably stamped in the same factory that had once made his. ‘Secret field police? You are secret field police? As was Hendel?’ he asked as he gave it back. Christ, that explained a lot, he thought as pieces of the investigation slid and clicked into place.
‘I was down near Foca when word reached me this morning he’d been killed. I came back as soon as I could. He was working on something pretty secret. I didn’t know exactly what. His tasking came direct from Berlin, but he was after someone senior, I think. The last I heard from him, he was following up a lead given him by this Vukic.’
‘Where would Marija Vukic get information like that?’
‘The girl got around, if half the stories about her are to be believed,’ replied Thallberg. ‘Maybe she got it from someone she was banging. If that’s in fact what she had. Hendel wasn’t all that clear about it.’
‘Did she know Hendel was GFP?’
‘The idiot probably told her. No doubt he was trying to impress her. Can’t think why he’d want to do that,’ he muttered into his beer glass, raising his eyebrows suggestively at Reinhardt.
Reinhardt was finding Thallberg’s lurches between levity and shy;seriousness somewhat disconcerting, as it was probably meant to be. Nothing was ever spontaneous, not with the GFP. ‘And she was planning on giving him this information when?’
‘Apparently, she wanted him to have it at the same time she confronted the person with it. It sounded like a bit of an elaborate setup, if you ask me. Bit too much like the way it happens in the movies. Which, seeing as she was a film director or what have you, shouldn’t surprise us, I suppose. Those sorts of things have a habit of going a bit pear-shaped in real life, though, but I was too far away, and too tied up with work for this attack, so I left it with him.’
‘So, what you’re saying,’ Reinhardt said, eventually, ‘is Vukic may have had information about someone senior in German military circles and she wanted Hendel to have this information, but wanted to give it to him in the presence of another person. Who may or may not have been the person Hendel was investigating. Or she might have had information about something or someone completely unconnected to all that, but who was guilty of something or other.’
Thallberg grinned brightly. ‘Sounds about right,’ he said as he finished his beer. ‘What has Krause said about all this? I haven’t talked to him yet.’
‘Krause?’ repeated Reinhardt.
Thallberg looked straight at him. ‘Krause. Lieutenant Peter Krause. He usually partnered Hendel in any operations. I told Hendel to take someone with him.’
Reinhardt stared back at Thallberg. ‘Krause was GFP as well?’
Thallberg frowned. ‘ “Was”?’ he repeated.
Reinhardt shook his head, annoyed at himself. ‘I misspoke. You’re telling me Krause, Lieutenant Peter Krause, transport company, is a GFP agent?’ Thallberg nodded, frowning at him. ‘No, I haven’t talked to Krause,’ Reinhardt said, finally. So that was the link. Obvious, shy;really. Once you had all the pieces. ‘He’s missing. Hendel drove out to Ilidza with a motorcycle and sidecar. I presume Krause went with him. If he was killed there, his body hasn’t shown up, and he’s now reported as a deserter by the Feldgendarmerie. They’ve been looking for him since Sunday.’
Thallberg ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth and raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, well, well. More work for you?’ Reinhardt stared at the tabletop as Thallberg began picking up his equipment and made to get to his feet. ‘Me, I need a shower and some food. I’m here tomorrow then I’ve got to get back to Foca. I presume you’ve had someone look at Hendel’s files, but this stuff wouldn’t have been in them. I’ll see what we’ve got and get back to you.’
‘Unless you know of a secret place where Hendel stashed his good stuff, good luck finding it. And watch your back,’ said Reinhardt.
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning the Feldgendarmerie are after whatever Hendel had. They think Krause might have it and have been kicking in doors since Sunday.’
Thallberg grunted, curling his lower lip under his teeth. It was the first apparently unconscious gesture Reinhardt had noticed him make. ‘Well, when Krause turns up he’ll be able to explain it all.’
‘Thallberg, I may be wrong on this, but I wouldn’t give a pfennig for Krause’s chances if the Feldgendarmerie, or whoever is behind this, gets to him before we do.’
‘Oh?’ said Thallberg. He put his helmet back on the table and rested the MP 40 against his leg. ‘You have someone in mind?’
Reinhardt looked at him a moment, then breathed in deeply and shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve given you enough. You bring me something tomorrow, and we’ll talk more, but I’m not saying anything else.’
Thallberg looked back at him expressionlessly, then flashed his grin. ‘Fair enough,’ he exclaimed, slapping his thighs. He took a little notebook from his pocket, jotted down his office and extension, tore the page out, and left it on the table. ‘You can find me at State House.’
Reinhardt ran his eyes over Thallberg’s uniform. His unit insignia marked him down as 118th Jager Division, and he wore the close combat clasp in gold, and on his right arm the patch that signalled he had destroyed at least one enemy tank with handheld explosives. ‘Captain, are those awards real?’ said Reinhardt suddenly. He pointed at Thallberg’s Winter Campaign medal, fishing in his pocket for his handkerchief. ‘Were you in Russia?’
‘That’s what the frozen meat medal says,’ he replied, brightly, referring to the award by its army slang. ‘Although I’ll grant you, as GFP can wear any uniform we like, it’s a pertinent question.’
Reinhardt rose and proffered the filter from the papirosa. ‘Do you know what this is?’
Thallberg leaned over and sniffed, then put his helmet down again and took the handkerchief in his hand, looking closely at it. ‘There’s a blue smudge down the side… I’d say that’s a Belomorkanal papirosa. The authentic poor man’s cigarette.’ He handed it back.
‘It was found at the scene of the murder. A witness reported a man, possibly a chauffeur, smoking them outside the victim’s house shortly before the estimated time of death.’
‘None of my chaps smokes anything like that. I suppose if you find the smoker, you’re halfway there.’ He hefted his equipment, flipping his belt over his shoulder, and paused. ‘Dreadful stuff, that papirosa tobacco. You’ve got to really love that to smoke it out here. Can you believe, of all the things a man could bring back from Russia, he’s got to bring that? Something on your mind, Reinhardt?’
Reinhardt stared at him, at his Winter Campaign medal. He hesitated, running his tongue along the bottom of his teeth. ‘Look, there is strong reason to believe Vukic was killed by someone she met in Russia. And that that person has recently transferred here.’
‘Oh? You know that how?’
‘Never mind that. You gave me something, about the papirosa. I’m giving you something back, that you can do something about. Get a list of recent senior transfers. Officers who have served in the USSR. Something along those lines. And get a list of all officers who attended the recent planning conference in Ilidza. The one they just held for Schwarz.’