‘Yes, General,’ replied Ascher, a slight air of suffering in his voice. ‘I know what you say about impertinence.’
‘Is he scolding you, Captain?’ grinned Verhein, still looking at Reinhardt. ‘He’s like a mother hen, always pecking around.’ Ascher’s mouth tightened in a strained smile, as if this were a long-running joke. ‘Would you know, Captain, about impertinence?’
‘I might hazard a guess, sir.’
‘But you would feel impertinent doing so… ?’ Verhein laughed. ‘I believe an impertinent officer will always look beyond the obvious, and more often than not will arrive at a pertinent answer. Impertinence is a quality I value highly, Captain… ?
‘Reinhardt, sir.’
‘Are you an impertinent officer, Reinhardt?’
‘I believe I have been called that, or something similar, at times.’
Verhein laughed again, an open, honest laugh, and Reinhardt found himself smiling back. ‘Of course you are, Captain, else you wouldn’t be here, would you? I know who you are, and I know why you’re here, Reinhardt.’ Verhein’s words wiped the smile from his face. The general’s eyes flicked to Ascher. ‘I had a fairly good idea you’d be turning up. Didn’t I, Clemens?’ The colonel said nothing, his face blank. ‘I’ve a feel for men like you, Reinhardt. Ex-copper, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Coppers can be stubborn sons of bitches. Never give up if they feel they’re in the right. Right?’
‘General, if I may, there is not time for this,’ said Ascher.
‘I think there may well be, Clemens,’ replied Verhein, not taking his eyes off Reinhardt. ‘I think there may have to be…’ He trailed off. ‘I will talk to you, Reinhardt, but not right now. I’ve got to get my boys into action. My car’s up there. You can wait for me. Will you wait for me?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Reinhardt, somewhat taken aback by this man, by his presence, his style. He had met him only a few minutes ago, and he already liked him.
‘Good man,’ exclaimed Verhein, clapping him on the shoulder, then striding off. Officers and men gathered around him as he walked over to the tree line. Faces turned to him, wreathed in smiles, his arms reaching out, bursts of laughter.
40
‘You’ve got some nerve, Reinhardt.’ Ascher was pale with his anger, the fury coming off him in waves, like something shy;palpable.
‘The general said to wait for him by his car, sir. With your permission?’ He saluted and about-faced, walking past the half-tracks towards an open-sided Horch, feeling Ascher’s eyes on him the whole way. Reinhardt stepped onto the road, looking back down the line of vehicles, and gave a surreptitious wave to Claussen, the sergeant acknowledging him with a raise of his hand off the steering wheel.
The Horch’s hood was up, someone working on the engine. Reinhardt froze, suddenly. That smell, that acrid stink. A soldier stepped out from the front of the car, head down, wiping his hands on an oily rag. He looked up, and Reinhardt clenched his jaw to keep the surprise and, if he was honest, the fear off his face. The soldier had dark, slanted Mongol eyes resting on top of his heavy cheeks, and a cap of thick, black hair. His limbs were short and stocky, his torso thick and round. There was a cigarette like a rolled piece of cardboard in the corner of his mouth, thick as a thumb. Reinhardt felt he might have hidden his recognition, but it was clear the soldier knew who he was as he too froze in place.
‘Didn’t they teach you to salute when you joined up?’ Reinhardt snapped, saying the first thing that came into his head, trying to break the silence before things became too obvious. The soldier came to attention, saluting. Reinhardt returned it, then turned his back on him, ignoring him, feeling as he did it that it was one of the hardest things he had ever done, like exposing his throat for an enemy’s knife. He looked back up the line of vehicles and saw Ascher talking to a pair of soldiers, one small, one large, then begin walking towards him. There was something familiar about them, but he could not place it, could not think, not with that Mongol behind him, and the reek of his papirosa, remembering Frau Hofler and her little dog from what seemed like a lifetime ago.
Ascher seemed to erupt in front of him, his eyes flat. ‘So just what are you planning on doing, Captain?’
‘I’m hopeful General Verhein will be able to help me with my inquiries into the death of Marija Vukic.’
Ascher shook his head slightly. ‘That’s what you want, not what you’re planning. What you’re planning is proving the general had anything to do with that woman. You’re going to try to blame him for her death.’ Reinhardt shook his head, tried to speak, but it was clear Ascher was not listening. ‘And what you’ll end up doing is not only sullying the name of a fine soldier, you will impair the operational effectiveness of this unit. I cannot allow that.’
‘The general seemed willing enough.’
‘The general is always willing. That, if you will permit the remark, is part of his problem. It is my job to ensure that his willingness does not do him more harm than good.’ There was a thud behind him. Reinhardt risked a glance back and saw that the Mongol had shut the Horch’s hood and was staring at him. Turning back, he saw that the two soldiers Ascher had been talking to had appeared. Reinhardt suddenly remembered where he had seen them. At the Feldgendarmerie station in Ilidza. And driving past the cafe where he had sat reading Verhein’s file. The big one had his hand on the strap of his rifle where it hung from his shoulder. His hand was bandaged, Reinhardt noticed. Looking down, he saw the smaller one’s hands were too.
He was surrounded, he realised, by killers. Or those who had participated in its cover-up. He looked at each of them, taking a small step back as he did so. ‘Don’t move, Reinhardt. And keep your hands away from that gun,’ said Ascher. A wash of sour air was all the warning Reinhardt had as the Mongol stepped in close behind him and stripped the MP 40 away, and Reinhardt had not even heard or felt him move.
‘Ah, there you all are! Good! Good!’ Verhein came bustling around the corner of the half-track, and the effect was like a bighearted child charging into a flock of pigeons. Reinhardt felt the Mongol jerk back and away. The two soldiers, Little and Large, flowed to the side, and the colonel started like a little boy caught in the act. If Verhein noticed any of it, he gave no sign. ‘Car fixed, Mamagedov?’
‘Is all fixed, sir. Good all like new,’ the Mongol replied, his German thick with a Russian accent.
Verhein tossed his PPSh into the Horch and looked at Ascher. ‘Demmler’s and Tiel’s boys are moving. I need to get around to Ubben’s. Come on. Everyone in. Ascher. Reinhardt. No, I’ll drive, Ma shy;magedov. I said I’ll drive, stop fussing.’ He crunched his weight into the driver’s seat. ‘He’s a real fusspot. Absolute devil in battle, but an old woman out of it. Aren’t you, Mamagedov? Worse than Ascher.’ The Asian grinned like a child. ‘He’s a Kalmyk, from the Caucasus. Just turned up one day and wouldn’t go home. Reinhardt, sit in the front with me.’ The other two climbed in the back. Little and Large had vanished.