The Death Mask Murders

by Gabriel Farago

  The police officer in charge was driving the car that followed the fire engine through the shattered gate. Gruber tapped him on the shoulder. ‘That was bold,’ he said.

  ‘In Bavaria we do things differently,’ said the officer, grinning.

  ‘Well done,’ said the mayor, who sat in the back of the police car. ‘After all, you were told to secure the crime scene. I have no doubt that all this here is part of it.’

  ‘Let’s see if you’re right,’ said the officer. ‘Once we talk to whoever’s in charge here, we’ll know. Here we are.’

  ‘Can you hear it?’ said Gruber and held up his hand. They were standing in front of the house in the driving rain. The place looked deserted, and the mayor had just rung the doorbell.

  ‘A helicopter!’ said the officer and ran to the back of the house to investigate.

  Sitting next to the pilot, O’Hara listened to the powerful engine roar into life as the helicopter took off. ‘Fly over my house,’ said O’Hara and looked down. He could see two police cars parked in front of the house and several people standing in the rain, looking up. Smiling, O’Hara reached into his shoulder bag and activated the detonators. Moments later, there was a massive explosion. The roof of the house was blown apart and a fireball almost reached up to the helicopter as it gained altitude and turned away.

  Lying on the ground next to the police officer, covered in shards of glass, the mayor watched the helicopter disappear into the mist.

  ‘You were right,’ said the officer and stood up. ‘It’s a crime scene all right.’

  62

  Kempinski Hotel Berchtesgaden, Obersalzberg: 10 November

  Cesaria turned to Tristan sitting next to her in the private breakfast room the manager had made available for their exclusive use. Gruber had just arrived with the mayor and was giving an update. ‘Jack should really hear this,’ she said. ‘How is he; do you know?’

  ‘Still sleeping, I think. He had a big meal last night, and then went straight to bed. I’ll go and have a look.’ Tristan stood up and left the room.

  He returned a few minutes later with Jack. Wearing a bathrobe and slippers, his dishevelled hair and grey stubble accentuating the deep rings under his eyes, Jack looked like someone who had spent a week in an Oktoberfest beer tent without sleep.

  ‘How do you feel?’ said Gruber. He stood up and walked over to Jack.

  Jack put an arm around Gruber’s shoulder and looked at the others having breakfast. ‘I would like to say something,’ he said. ‘How do I feel? Grateful. In more ways than I can express right now. What you did yesterday was extraordinary.’ Jack looked first at Lola, then Isis sitting next to her, and then Cesaria. ‘I wouldn’t be here without you guys, and that includes you, Herr Oberregierungsrat Gruber, and you, Mr Mayor.’

  ‘That’s quite a speech on an empty stomach,’ said Isis, who noticed that Jack was becoming emotional. ‘I think you could do with some breakfast. Would you like some?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask. I’m starving.’

  ‘Herr Gruber, could you please repeat what you’ve just told us? For the starving latecomer’s benefit?’ said Cesaria, a sparkle in her eyes.

  ‘Certainly.’

  While Jack was devouring his breakfast, Gruber described what had taken place at the Adler compound.

  ‘Not only did the explosion and the fire completely destroy the house, it also blew up extensive installations under the house,’ said Gruber. ‘Obviously all of this was quite deliberate. A huge amount of explosives must have been used and detonated by a timer, or somehow from a distance. No bodies were found in the ruins.’

  ‘What kind of installations?’ said Cesaria.

  ‘Bunkers left over from the war.’

  ‘What was inside them; do we know?’

  ‘The Forensics team is there right now investigating all this. There isn’t much left after the blast, but I understand it was all sophisticated electronics gear.’

  Jack looked at Cesaria. ‘Could be the dark net server,’ he said.

  ‘That’s what I’ve been thinking.’

  ‘And there was a helicopter that got away?’ said Isis.

  Gruber turned to the mayor. ‘You know more about this than I do. Could you tell us?’

  ‘Yes. Just before the explosion, a helicopter took off from one of the farmhouses further up. I saw two people in the chopper. The pilot and someone sitting next to him.’

  ‘Incredible! And they got away?’ said Lola.

  ‘What I’m about to tell you must stay in this room, at least for the moment,’ said the mayor, lowering his voice. ‘I was told in confidence.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Jack, looking up.

  ‘The helicopter crashed—’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Jack and wiped his mouth with a serviette. ‘Where? How?’

  ‘The exact circumstances are still under investigation, but it would appear that the chopper crashed into a mountainside near Koenigssee and plunged into the lake. Police divers are there right now. The lake is very deep there and surrounded by mountains.’

  Silence.

  ‘Obviously no survivors. The storm?’ said Cesaria.

  The mayor shook his head. ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Jack.

  ‘According to an eyewitness, the chopper landed briefly next to a remote farmhouse close to the lake.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Jack.

  ‘It gets better,’ continued the mayor. ‘Moments after it took off again, the eyewitness heard an explosion and saw the chopper plunge into the lake.’

  ‘Are you suggesting it didn’t crash into the mountainside but exploded in mid-air?’ said Isis.

  The mayor shrugged.

  ‘What about that farmhouse?’ asked Jack. ‘Do we know anything about it?’

  ‘We do, but please remember this is strictly confidential. You’ll see why in a moment.’ The mayor looked around the room, apparently seeking assurance.

  ‘Are you going to tell us?’ asked Cesaria quietly.

  ‘No-one is living in the farmhouse. It’s empty, but that’s not the interesting bit.’

  ‘What is?’ said Jack.

  ‘The owner.’

  ‘Adler Security?’ suggested Tristan.

  ‘Exactly,’ said the mayor, surprised. ‘How did you know?’

  The detectives from Munich arrived later in the morning and began to interview everybody and take statements.

  ‘Clearly this will take some time,’ said Isis. They were having coffee with Gruber in the lounge while they waited their turn. Isis pointed to her tracksuit the manager had provided from the stores of the wellness centre. ‘We obviously need some clothes, don’t you think?

  ‘I will make arrangements with the concierge,’ said Gruber.

  ‘I have no problem with mine,’ Jack chimed in, contentedly devouring a delicious piece of cake. ‘I love tracksuits.’

  ‘All right for you, my friend,’ said Isis. ‘Not everyone is a rugged outdoor type like you who doesn’t mind standing in salt water for hours. Some of us are little more refined.’

  ‘Ah. Is that what it is?’

  ‘Absolutely. I would be grateful if you could arrange that, Herr Gruber,’ continued Isis, undeterred. ‘Perhaps a pair of Lederhosen, or a Bavarian Dirndl? What do you think?’

  ‘Why not both?’

  ‘Why not indeed. How exciting!’

  ‘If I’m the rugged type, you are a hopeless fashion aficionado. A rather snobbish one at that,’ said Jack, starting on his second slice of sachertorte.

  ‘I can live with that,’ said Isis. She crossed her legs and sat back in her chair.

  ‘By the way, Chief Superintendent Lapointe and Monsieur Dupree are on their way,’ said Gruber, tactfully changing the subject. ‘They should be here around midday.’

  ‘Our French contingent. That should be interesting,’ said Jack. ‘The hostage exchange.’

  ‘I just had a long conversation with Kat
erina in Venice,’ said Tristan, who had overheard the remark. He sat down next to Jack and slipped his phone into his pocket. ‘She made a suggestion.’

  ‘What kind of suggestion?’ asked Jack.

  ‘She has invited us all to Venice. She said after all we’ve been through, a couple of days in the Palazzo da Baggio would do us good. As you know, the hotel is still closed. The funeral ...’

  ‘What an excellent idea!’ said Isis, becoming excited. ‘We have the plane right here. I haven’t been to Venice in ages. We could be there in a couple of hours. What do you think, Jack?’

  ‘Great. We could all do with a little time out. Let’s ask Bartolli and Mademoiselle Darrieux to fly down and join us there. I know they would hate to miss out.’

  ‘In that case, I need a new wardrobe,’ said Isis, turning serious.

  ‘Can’t let Darrieux outshine you,’ mumbled Jack.

  ‘We might have to go into Salzburg. Could that be done, Herr Gruber?’ said Isis, ignoring the remark.

  ‘I don’t see why not. Salzburg is only half an hour or so from here.’

  ‘Excellent. Did you hear that, Lola?’

  ‘I did. I’ll tell the boys to get the plane ready, and we can leave as soon as the police let us go.’

  ‘Sure, but first, we go shopping!’

  63

  Kempinski Hotel Berchtesgaden, Johann Grill: 10 November

  After a gruelling interview with the detectives from Munich who had taken over the case, Jack headed straight to the Johann Grill, the famous hotel restaurant. He had invited Wagner to join him for lunch. Because of Wagner’s extensive knowledge of local family history, especially during the Nazi era, Jack wanted to follow up on the three families Wagner had mentioned: the Berghofers, the Steinbergers and the Hoffmeisters.

  Smartly dressed in a Bavarian Janker, white shirt and traditional tie, Wagner was wearing his Sunday best. It wasn’t often that he got invited to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the area, albeit one that was very close to Dokumentation Obersalzberg, where he worked.

  ‘Firstly, I wanted to thank you for yesterday. Without your invaluable knowledge of that mine labyrinth down there, the boys from the fire brigade wouldn’t have found us, and I wouldn’t be sitting here with you.’

  ‘I’m glad I was able to help.’

  ‘You did more than that. You saved us.’

  Wagner smiled. ‘Be that as it may, I’m sure you didn’t invite me to this posh place just to talk about that. I saw your reaction when I mentioned a possible neo-Nazi link between the Berghofer place and Adler Security.’

  ‘Very perceptive of you. You’re right. As you know, I’m a writer—’

  ‘I do know that; a very famous one,’ interjected Wagner. ‘Is that what this is all about?’

  Jack waved dismissively. ‘No, it goes much further than that. You seem to have a keen interest in family histories from around here, especially during the Nazi period, which, of course, featured very dramatically up here on the Obersalzberg.’

  Wagner nodded. ‘Comes with the territory. My job.’

  ‘Forgive me for saying this, but to me it sounded like more than that. It sounded personal.’

  ‘I’m impressed, Mr Rogan. You’re right. My grandparents owned property almost exactly where we are sitting right now. This here was part of their dairy farm: milk and cheese. The best. It had been in the family for generations until the Nazis confiscated it. Hitler’s Berghof, Martin Bormann’s house, and Goering’s “mountain lodge” as he liked to call it, all stood on land once owned by my family. They tried to resist the Nazis, but lost. The Berghofers, the Hoffmeisters and especially the Steinbergers embraced the Nazis and did much better. Their sons joined the Nazi party and advanced rapidly.

  ‘And one of them was Sturmbannfuehrer Wolfgang Steinberger, isn’t that right? He was very active in Auschwitz.’

  Wagner looked at Jack, surprised. ‘That’s correct. You are very well informed. Yes, he was one of the boys from here who had an illustrious career in the SS. He often came here to the Obersalzberg in his chauffeur-driven Mercedes. Not just to visit family, but on official business with Hitler and his cronies.’

  ‘To do with gold shipments to Switzerland. Dental gold from the concentration camps. Horrendous stuff like that. That’s how the Nazis financed the war and feathered their nests, and later their getaway, right?’

  Wagner nodded, impressed. ‘He was very well connected. Right up to the top. Money talks, you see. Nothing’s changed.’

  ‘Do you know what happened to him? After the war, I mean,’ said Jack.

  Wagner shrugged. ‘Not really. He disappeared like so many of them.’

  ‘I can tell you what happened to him.’

  ‘You can? How come?’

  ‘You are right, he was very well connected, and not just in Germany. After the war he stayed for a while in Rome. Protected by the Vatican. He was helping other high-ranking Nazis to go abroad with new identities. He had access to money – huge Nazi money. And then, he reinvented himself.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He became Dr Erich Neumueller, an aeronautical engineer, and migrated to Australia. A new, albeit stolen identity; the real Dr Neumueller was killed in an air raid in Dresden. A new life and a new start made possible by the Vatican. A few years later, he changed his name to Newman and became a prominent banker. He was even knighted and became Sir Eric Newman—’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ interrupted Wagner.

  ‘It’s a long story. He was prosecuted in Australia for war crimes and went on trial. That’s how I became involved. It all began with a famous violin, the Empress. A Stradivarius. I even wrote a book about it.’

  ‘You are a dark horse, Mr Rogan. Do you know what happened to him?’

  ‘Yes. He had a heart attack in court and died shortly after that. The court case was closed. He was in his eighties by then, but there’s a lot more to all this. And then, of course, there was his brother, Dr Erwin Steinberger, the infamous Auschwitz surgeon who experimented mainly on twins. For a while, he was also Goering’s physician. Erwin and his brother were staying at the Ritz in Paris at the time. That was in 1941.’

  ‘This is astonishing,’ said Wagner, looking stunned. ‘Few around here know about that. It’s a terrible part of history that many want to forget and pretend it never happened.’

  ‘In that case they certainly wouldn’t know what happened to him after the war, would they?’ said Jack, enjoying himself.

  ‘Are you suggesting that you do?’

  ‘Yes. And how that came about is another remarkable story. I wrote a book about that too. He went to live in Kenya and changed his name to van Der Hooven. But a leopard doesn’t change its spots. He continued with his despicable medical experiments, mainly using trusting natives. This time it wasn’t for the Nazis, but for wealthy drug companies with deep pockets that didn’t ask too many questions about the how, and were only interested in results. But this didn’t end well, either. He was killed by the Mau on his farm in 1960.’

  ‘You amaze me, Mr Rogan. Well, at least now I know what happened to the Steinberger boys. Another chapter to add to the sad Obersalzberg story. No happy endings. Hard to believe when you look around up here today. Look at this hotel. Five-star luxury built on a spot where some of the most shocking crimes in history were planned. Millions died. The timeless beauty of the spectacular landscape here hides many tears.’

  ‘It does, but the scars remain, don’t they?’

  ‘They do. That’s why I’m so passionate about the museum. The world must never forget.’

  ‘You are right. I can tell you what happened to one of the Hoffmeister boys as well,’ said Jack, smiling. He reached for his glass and looked at Wagner.

  ‘You can? You are full of surprises. Which one?’

  ‘Anton Hoffmeister.’

  ‘Incredible. The Hoffmeister farm was just over there, next to ours.’ Wagner pointed pensively out the window, the hurt in his
eyes apparent.

  ‘After the war, Hoffmeister also ended up in Rome and linked up with Wolfgang Steinberger,’ said Jack.

  ‘They grew up together, you know. Up here. They were all part of the wolf pack I mentioned.’

  ‘That explains it. Steinberger and the Vatican helped Hoffmeister to migrate to Argentina and start a new life there. He became Don Antonio, a nightclub owner. Tango clubs. I visited him there.’

  ‘You did? You met him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s complicated. It all had to do with the Steinberger prosecution. Hoffmeister was going to give evidence in the case, but it all went wrong.’

  ‘What happened to him, do you know?’

  ‘He died a broken man, in Buenos Aires.’

  ‘As I said, no happy endings. This is astonishing, to say the least. Especially in light of what happened yesterday.’

  ‘It is. And it doesn’t end there. I would like to talk about the Berghofer family, especially Johann Berghofer, who is buried in Berchtesgaden, and his son who joined the Nazis.’

  ‘I can help you there, but why?’

  ‘Do you believe in destiny, Herr Wagner?’

  ‘A strange question, but yes I do. Very much in fact.’

  ‘I thought so. So do I.’

  Jack pointed to the burnt-out ruins of the cordoned-off farmhouse in the distance.

  ‘In a way it’s all about destiny. I believe what happened yesterday over there at the Adler compound is all linked to the past we just discussed. The Berghofers.’

  ‘Intriguing. What would you like to know?’

  ‘I’ll tell you, but let’s order first, shall we?’

  Jack had asked Tristan to come with him into Berchtesgaden. He wanted to visit the cemetery before it got dark. It was his only opportunity because they had been given permission to leave the next day after the last of the police interviews. Lola had made the necessary arrangements for their short flight to Venice, and the plane was standing by.

  ‘You spent a lot of time with Wagner this afternoon,’ said Tristan. He was sitting next to Jack in the hotel limousine taking them into Berchtesgaden.