by David Young
Lehmann nodded as though accepting Tilsner’s instructions, but remained tight-lipped.
Tilsner started to speak aloud. ‘OK, I think Herr Lehmann understands what’s required of him. Unterleutnant Müller here and I will be asking you some questions about a robbery, Ernst. I’m sure you’re going to help us with our inquiries, aren’t you?’ The man’s brow creased in confusion. Tilsner yanked his arm again – provoking a louder scream – then got up close to his ear once more. He resumed the whispered conversation – Müller could only assume that Tilsner had seen a hidden listening device, or had taken it as read that there would be one, and that the Ministry for State Security would be listening in.
‘Ouch, OK, OK,’ shouted Lehmann. ‘I understand.’
Tilsner pressed his index finger against Lehmann’s lips. ‘Remember,’ he mouthed silently to the man. Then he sidled over to Müller and whispered very quietly in her ear. ‘OK. I think he understands what to do. You and I will need to ask him some questions about a robbery – we can just make it up as we go along. In the pauses – while he’s silent or refusing to answer – you can whisper your real questions to him and he will whisper back the answers.’
‘OK. So you’re taking it as read that there are listening devices here. Are you sure there aren’t cameras too?’ asked Müller, matching Tilsner’s secretive hushed tones, and cupping her hands over his ear.
Tilsner shook his head. Then mouthed, and gestured: There aren’t – I’ve looked around.
This all had a theatrical feel to Müller, and she was aware that – in his whispered conversations to the prisoner – Tilsner could have been making threats she knew nothing about. She wouldn’t put it past him. She might have been mistaken, but she thought she’d seen a flicker of recognition pass between Tilsner and the prisoner when they’d first entered the interview room. So what came out of Lehmann’s mouth from now on could be nothing but lies and half-truths. But Lothar Schneider – it seemed – had lost his life trying to give her information about this case. To ensure the story still emerged, he had referred her on to Lehmann via that note found after his murder. She owed it to Schneider, and his widow, to try to make this work.
Speaking out loud, Tilsner began the false interview about the robbery.
‘So, Ernst, tell me what you know about Manfred Fuchs – you two go back a long way, don’t you?’
‘I’m not going to talk to you,’ said Lehmann, again out loud.
Müller saw Tilsner silently mouth a ‘well done’ to the prisoner, and at the same time he waved her forward to begin the real – whispering – interview.
As Tilsner droned on in the background, with Lehmann alternating between answering with ‘no comment’ or ‘I don’t know about that’, Müller drew up close to the prisoner. She cupped his ear with her hand.
‘I don’t know if my colleague explained everything to you, but I’m interested in what you know about Gardelegen. What happened there in the war – and particularly anything you know about a Martin Ronnebach, an Ingo Höfler, a Heinz Unterbrink and, finally, Lothar Schneider – who I believe is a friend of yours.’ Müller used the present tense deliberately – this wasn’t the time or the place to be letting Lehmann know that his friend had been murdered, possibly by the same organisation that was holding him captive.
Lehmann nodded to her to indicate he understood. Then he, in turn, cupped his cuffed hands to Müller’s ear, and whispered through his thumbs. While he was doing this, in the background Tilsner kept up his monologue about the fictitious robbery and robber.
‘I will try to help,’ whispered Lehmann. ‘But I have one condition. I want to get a letter to my wife.’
Müller nodded her assent. She’d make sure she read any such letter before handing it over.
‘Does she live in Gardelegen?’
The man nodded to Müller, as he gave another unhelpful answer to Tilsner’s out-loud fake ‘interview’.
He cupped Müller’s ear again. ‘You have to understand that everyone’s name was changed. What we did was wrong. But we were schoolboys. You can’t hold us responsible.’
Lehmann shouted out another non-answer to Tilsner, then resumed his whispered conversation, as Tilsner droned out another false question. ‘Lothar came to see me – he was frightened. We were witnesses. We knew who was involved. Some people were given new identities to cover up their crimes, because they went on to work in important positions in the Republic.’ Müller thought of Ronnebach, Höfler, and Unterbrink – all of whom had been in relatively important positions, particularly Ronnebach. And she knew that both Ronnebach, as a paratroop officer, and Höfler, as a member of the home guard, were in some way involved in the war in Gardelegen. ‘Lothar had been approached by two people. And both approaches had made him very frightened.’
‘Come on, Lehmann,’ shouted Tilsner. ‘You can’t just continue this stonewalling.’ Müller realised the prisoner had become so caught up in his story, he’d forgotten to vocalise a fake reply to Tilsner.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about, honestly,’ he said aloud. ‘I’ve never heard of this Manfred Fuchs. I’ve never met him.’
As Tilsner started speaking again, Müller and Lehmann resumed their whispered conversation.
‘Who was it who approached Lothar?’ asked Müller. ‘Did you get a name, a description?’
‘A French businessman. Lothar thought he was an industrial spy . . . he said something about the power station.’
‘Did he give a description of him?’
‘In his fifties.’
‘Why did this unnerve Lothar?’ whispered Müller.
Lehmann broke off to give another unhelpful answer to Tilsner.
‘He was trying to find out about people who were there, and mentioned the other names you mentioned. Then Lothar got another visit.’
‘From whom?’
‘A Stasi bigwig from the Hauptstadt, who made all sorts of threats. Lothar recognised him as someone who was involved.’
Lehmann broke off again to give another fake answer to Tilsner. As he did so, Müller saw Tilsner tap his watch. We need to wrap this up, he mouthed, crossing his arms over his chest to emphasise the point. But Müller had two burning questions – one of which she should have asked all the widows a long time ago, despite the fact that some of them had been deliberately unhelpful. She should definitely have asked Frau Schneider, though.
First, she had her suspicions about the Stasi officer. ‘Did Lothar give any description about the Stasi man?’
‘He gave me names – current and previous. Back then he was Harald Scholz. A senior member of the Hitler Youth. We were all guarding the march.’
‘The march?’
‘To the barn! Isn’t that what all this is about?’ hissed Lehmann.
Behind them, there was a knock on the door.
‘OK, we’ll have to leave it there, Lehmann,’ shouted Tilsner. ‘But we’ll be back, mark my words.’
For the sake of any eavesdroppers, the prisoner gave an answer out loud. ‘I’ve told you time and time again. I know nothing about this.’
Müller frantically tried to ask further whispered questions. ‘What happened at this barn? And describe this Stasi man to me.’
Lehmann looked nervously at the door. They could hear a key turning in the lock from the outside. ‘He was in his late forties. Sandy, collar-length hair, looked like that West German news r—’
The door to the room swung open. Lehmann stopped whispering, and Müller pulled back. Their time was up. Lehmann hadn’t had time to write a letter to his wife. But she had secured her reply about the Stasi officer: Jäger. Although that wasn’t even his real name. He was really Harald Scholz. She was shocked, but not surprised. She hadn’t had time to learn about what happened at the barn. But even if it wasn’t in the history books, it sounded as though there would be plenty of people in Gardelegen who would know all about what had gone on there.
39
Continuation of trans
cribed and translated interview with Hitler Youth member Günther Palitzsch, conducted by Captain Arthur T. Wagner of the Ninth Army War Crimes Branch on 25 April 1945, at 1145 hours
Wagner: So, Günther, when were you aware that the plan was being put into action?
Palitzsch: Our Hitler Youth brigade was required to attend the cavalry school barracks in Bismarkerstrasse the next day.
Wagner: At what time?
Palitzsch: At 1500, I think.
Wagner: And you were aware of what was about to happen?
Palitzsch: Yes, but that doesn’t mean I agreed with it. A few of us thought it was wrong. We’d heard some of the SS leaders were even refusing to take part. There were rumours some of them had run off. I think that’s why we were needed as guards. But I’m only fifteen. I wasn’t in any position to refuse. I had nowhere to run off to.
Wagner: So you guarded the convoy of those too sick to walk, and the columns of those prisoners walking to the barn?
Palitzsch: That had been the original plan as I understood it. But something changed. They managed to appoint some Kapos from amongst the prisoners themselves. These Kapos were told that – in exchange – they would get cigarettes and food, and that nothing would happen to them.
Wagner: We’ll come to the Kapos and what happened to them later. So if you weren’t required as guards, why were you there at all? You’re not trying to minimise your involvement or lying to me, Günther, are you? That would be a very serious matter.
Palitzsch: I’m telling you the truth. I was ashamed about what happened. Sickened, really.
Wagner: So what I don’t understand is why you were at the barn at all.
Palitzsch: It must have been because the SS, or Kreisleiter Thiele as it was him in charge really . . . it must have been because they already knew what they were going to do with the new Kapos. That they would need guards to replace them. That’s all I can assume. Anyway, we were taken up to the barn on a tractor trailer.
Wagner: Did the prisoners themselves understand what was going on?
Palitzsch: No. Everyone just encouraged the rumour that they were being moved from the cavalry school barracks in order to be handed over to the Americans. So although many of them were in a bad way – terrible, really, like walking skeletons, those who could walk – their spirits were quite high. Almost euphoric. They thought their nightmare was over. I understand that now. It’s been explained to me. But at the time you have to understand that we kept on being told about the terrible things that had happened when the zebras – sorry, the prisoners – at Kakerbeck turned on the villagers. We were all frightened that the same would happen in Gardelegen.
40
August 1977
Lindenstrasse, Potsdam, East Germany
Müller could tell something was wrong by the expression on the Stasi captain’s face as he entered the interview room. He was livid, and wouldn’t look Tilsner in the eye. Somehow – despite their precautions – it looked like they’d been found out.
‘I’m afraid your interview will have to end now, Comrade Major,’ he said to Müller. So she was right. The trainee detective ruse hadn’t worked. ‘I’ve instructions to take both of you to another interview room. Someone is coming from Normannenstrasse to see you.’
*
After they were led to the interview room, which was almost identical to the one in which they’d been quizzing Lehmann, they heard the Stasi captain lock the door behind them, and slam close the spy hole.
‘I knew this was going to get me in trouble,’ said Tilsner. ‘Why didn’t you just go through the official channels?’
Müller shot him a withering look. ‘Why do you think? And please don’t make out you’re the injured party here. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.’
She slumped down in one of the two chairs provided. At least they weren’t forced to sit on a stool like Lehmann. But other than this, the room had no more comforts: bare, two-tone cream walls, a single desk, and two chairs. Not even a telephone or intercom. They were – in effect – prisoners themselves, if not in name.
*
It must have been about an hour before they heard the sound of the door being unlocked again. An hour where they had sat in virtual silence. There was much that Müller wanted – needed – to ask Tilsner. But they knew that whatever they said here would be listened to. It rather limited the options for conversation.
The identity of the man who opened the door wasn’t a surprise to Müller. It was Jäger. Stasi colonel Klaus Jäger – the alter ego for the one-time teenage Hitler Youth member Harald Scholz. Müller had always been wary of him – now she saw him in a completely different light. What would he be prepared to do to prevent his past history coming back to haunt him? Could he have killed Schneider? Slit his throat – or at least ordered the slitting of his throat – in the woods east of Estedt? Possibly. Would he have set fires to ensure Ronnebach, Höfler and Unterbrink met lingering deaths? Unlikely, unless it was a double bluff designed to try to point Müller towards the wrong suspect – one she simply hadn’t found yet. But there was one thing she was certain about. The Stasi, and Jäger, were capable – if that was what they wanted to do – of disguising Unterbrink’s death to look like an accident. She thought back more than two years to the killing of Horst Ackermann by the reform school teenager, Irma Behrendt. That story hadn’t suited the Stasi. So they’d changed it. Ackermann – it had been announced in the Party newspaper – had died in a car crash. They had form.
‘This is very embarrassing,’ said Jäger. ‘I’ve got a young chicken to pluck with you two. And I’m not sure I can help you out this time.’
Müller laughed sarcastically. ‘Help us out? When have you ever done that?’
‘And you, Werner,’ said Jäger, turning to Tilsner. ‘I’d have thought better of you.’
Müller sighed. ‘It’s nothing to do with him. It was my idea. Everything he did, I asked him to do, so if anyone is guilty of anything, it’s me.’
‘Well, we don’t want to make an elephant out of a mosquito. However, I do need to know everything that Lehmann told you, Karin.’
‘Or else?’
‘Or else it will get very uncomfortable for him here. And for his family back in Gardelegen.’
‘You’ve got to be joking. He told me nothing. We were questioning his relationship to a robber.’
‘Who doesn’t exist. Anyway, I take it you’re content for us to find out what Lehmann told you using our own methods, then?’
Müller felt a momentary stab of guilt – Lehmann had tried to help her. And with the interview being interrupted, she hadn’t even had the chance to fulfil her part of the deal – smuggling a letter from him to his wife.
Tilsner breathed in slowly. ‘Tell him, Karin. I’d like to know too.’
Müller raised her brows at Tilsner, then turned to Jäger and shook her head.
‘Are you arresting me? If not, I’d like to go now, please.’
Jäger opened the door for her. ‘Feel free. But I wouldn’t want to be in Herr Lehmann’s shoes.’
Müller simply glowered at him as she passed. She didn’t wait to see if Tilsner was following. She didn’t care.
41
Oberst Reiniger gazed at Müller in the manner of an exasperated father trying to talk sense to a particularly troublesome teenager.
‘Whose idea was the trick you pulled in Potsdam, Karin?’
‘Does it matter, Comrade Oberst? Tilsner was only there because I asked him to try to get me in to see the prisoner.’
Reiniger leant back in his chair, his hands clasped together over his bulging stomach. ‘Why didn’t you go through the official channels?’
‘If you mean the Ministry for State Security, they would have worked out why I wanted to talk to Lehmann, and would have denied me access. Not only that, they would have accused me of continuing my inquiry after I’d been taken off the case.’
‘Well, they’ve made sure of that now anyway. The Stasi have also
taken over the investigation of the death of Heinz Unterbrink. However they’ve asked me to pass on that they’re grateful to you for the evidence you’ve uncovered that he was murdered, rather than died accidentally.’
‘Surely they can’t continue to claim this is the work of the so-called Committee for the Dispossessed?’
Reiniger stroked his chin. ‘On the contrary, Karin. That’s exactly what they are saying. They just say Unterbrink was possibly not the intended target. They claim it was to do with the passing of Automobilwerk Eisenach into public ownership.’
‘But it was a BMW company before the war. A corporation owned it. That’s a ridiculous theory. No one could possibly hold a grudge, and the transfer of ownership was a result of the war. It passed into Soviet hands initially.’
‘I respect your knowledge of history, Karin. However, it’s not part of my role to contradict the Ministry for State Security. I strongly suggest it shouldn’t be part of your role either. Otherwise your tenure as leader of the Serious Crimes Department may not last very long. As for the present moment, you may as well simply go back on leave. Until there is another case for which I think you’d be suitable. If there is another case.’
*
Müller hadn’t seen fit to reply to Reiniger. It seemed like everything was stacked against her. Tilsner was no longer the loyal deputy she’d once thought. Jäger was revealed as a former Nazi, albeit a junior member, with the Hitler Youth. Even Schmidt had stepped out of line. Thinking of Schmidt, she remembered the historical research she’d set him on to. It was time to catch up. Then she needed to get back to the Strausberger Platz apartment for catching up of a different sort: with Jannika, Johannes and Helga.
*
Schmidt wasn’t at his usual desk in the lab, so she left a message asking him to call her when he had a moment. In the meantime, she sat back in her office desk chair, and tried to think if there was any way she could continue the inquiry without making it obvious. Without breaking the rules. Without getting into more trouble. Delving into the history of Gardelegen with Schmidt was one option. But the other concerned something Lehmann had mentioned: the French businessman. It was unusual enough that a foreign businessman had been prying around in the Republic. Dangerous too, for him. But he would need to secure authorisations, to show passes and papers at checkpoints. The trouble was, she didn’t have a name. She didn’t really have any dates. And other than that one visit to Lothar Schneider in Gardelegen, she didn’t really know his movements.