by Len Deighton
‘Thank you, General.’
Douglas got up, recognizing Kellerman’s polite dismissal, and went to the door. Kellerman got there before him and opened it for him. He shook Douglas by the hand. It was a curious way to terminate a briefing but perhaps Kellerman had heard that it was the way that English gentlemen behaved.
The connecting door between Huth’s office and the one that Douglas and Harry Woods used, was open. Douglas found him reading the small print in Das Schwarze Korps, the official SS weekly, but holding it in such a way that Douglas suspected that he’d picked it up to disguise the fact that he’d been waiting for him.
‘And what is Kellerman doing about Sergeant Woods’s predicament?’
‘He’ll ask Sturmbannführer Strauss for details,’ answered Douglas.
‘He’ll ask Sturmbannführer Strauss for details!’ said Huth with a sharp intake of breath, and mock surprise. ‘Perhaps I could give you a few details, without the help of Sturmbannführer Strauss. Do you know that Harry Woods’s name was added to the arrest list at the express order of General Kellerman?’
‘It’s not true!’
‘You’ve been a policeman long enough to know when you are being blackmailed, surely?’
Douglas said nothing.
‘What has the old bastard offered you? A house in the country? Promotion? Not women; you’re not the type.’
‘He promised me nothing.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Huth.
Coldly Douglas said, ‘As Harry Woods’s senior officer, you are the only one here who could get him released, using the authority you have from the Reichsführer-SS.’
Huth nodded solemnly. ‘And as soon as I signed the release order, the Gestapo would find a way of holding me in custody to see if I was Woods’s accomplice. Then they’d break the locks off the filing cabinets and read through all my confidential material…’ Afterwards I’d be released, with all kinds of humble apologies and explanations about the mistake, but all the material I’ve collected about Kellerman would have disappeared.’
‘Kellerman said that the Gestapo comes directly under the control of Berlin.’
‘Tell me,’ said Huth, leaning forward on his desk, ‘confidentially, do you still hang a stocking under the Christmas Tree?’ He ran his hands together, interlocked his fingers and twisted them to make the knuckles crack. ‘General Kellerman has arrested your friend Harry Woods, in order to put a little pressure on you to betray me. The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can cooperate to defeat the ugly old swine.’
‘Why don’t you hand over the Kellerman inquiry to some other officer?’
‘Whom can I trust?’
Douglas didn’t answer. He realized that this was a vendetta that neither man could abandon.
‘Five or six years ago Kellerman was a nobody,’ said Huth, trying to explain his hatred: or was it envy? ‘He shared a flyblown office in suburban Leipzig with three typists and a police detective. He was an Obersekretär, the lowest form of animal life in the German Criminal Police Service. Then he joined the Nazi Party and the SS and grinned and grovelled his way to being Senior SS and Police Commander Great Britain. Not bad, eh! And you needn’t take any notice of that shit about how he’s got no authority over anything, and Berlin doesn’t like him. That’s just a part of his style.’
‘I’m beginning to believe it.’
Huth said, ‘You’ll find Kellerman at some of the best houses of the British nobility, spreading his message of peace and prosperity, and giving his expert imitation of an absent-minded old buffer who likes warm beer, tweed suits, cocker spaniel dogs and house-parties. And who can be easily manipulated and outwitted by any able-bodied young Englishman who cares to get to his feet for the opening bars of “Deutschland über Alles”.’ Huth folded his newspaper into a tightly wadded parcel. ‘You thought he was a snob, didn’t you? He likes people to think that.’ Huth threw the newspaper into his wastebasket with enough violence to tip it over and spill its contents on the carpet. ‘Now tell me what he wanted!’ shouted Huth.
‘The yellow flimsies,’ said Douglas quietly.
‘Why?’
‘To prove to Strauss that Harry Woods was under the direct orders of Berlin.’
‘And you thought, it’s no more than a list of numbers. What harm can it do? Right?’
‘No,’ said Douglas.
‘Don’t no me! I can see it written all over your face.’ He waved a hand in the air as Douglas opened his mouth to explain. ‘OK, OK, OK,’ said Huth. ‘If it was my friend in trouble, I might have thought the same.’
Douglas said, ‘Do you think General Kellerman has someone who would dig the files out of the Berlin archive?’
‘If Kellerman could get a list of file titles, he would have a description of all the evidence against him.’
‘He’s cancelled his weekend trip,’ said Douglas. ‘He said it’s because he’s concerned about Harry Woods.’
‘I can hear the violins,’ said Huth. ‘Kellerman was invited to a shooting party at Schönhof – von Ribbentrop’s hunting lodge. That’s not something he’d give up because one lousy Detective Sergeant was arrested on his orders and then tried to escape.’
‘Then why is he staying?’
‘Things are moving fast, Archer. Surely you sense that. Martial law has given all the power to our army colleagues. Kellerman has to decide whether to hinder and oppose them, or go across to the army Commander and do his ingratiating subordinate act. He came back from Highgate with some crackpot idea that the army had caused the explosion in order to get power, but the casualty list persuaded him to abandon that line.’
‘And how soon will you have evidence against him?’
‘I’ll make Kellerman wish he’d never left that flea-bitten little office in Leipzig,’ said Huth. ‘My people in Switzerland have cabled me that Kellerman has tucked away over fifteen million Reichsmarks in numbered accounts. When I get the copies I’m waiting for, I’ll arrest him on my own authority using SD units to hold him.’
Douglas nodded. Every week the newspapers printed the names of men executed for black-market offences, graft or looting. In this respect the Germans applied the law rigorously to Germans and British alike.
Huth sighed, ‘Give the old fool the list of file numbers that we got when someone wanted all that material about billeting and discipline of SS units in western England. It will take him a little while to get the titles. Then tell him the files have false titles for security reasons. It will take another month to find out what we’ve done, and by that time I guarantee, Archer, we’ll be rid of that old crook for ever.’ He lifted a fist but then modified the gesture to a wave of the finger. ‘But give him one real file number from this office, and by God, I’ll…’
He didn’t finish. A gust of wind rattled the windows and large drops of rain made clear places in the sooty glass. The River Thames was the colour of lead and just as solid-looking.
‘I won’t give him any real ones,’ said Douglas.
‘And Archer,’ said Huth as Douglas got to the door, ‘don’t count too much on Kellerman helping our friend Harry. Sort out another Detective Sergeant to start work here tomorrow.’
Chapter Thirty-one
Standartenführer Huth’s predictions about General Kellerman proved true and false in equal measure. Kellerman went to lunch that day with Generalmajor Georg von Ruff, senior Abwehr officer in Great Britain. That these two exalted worthies, of military intelligence and secret policing, had not started at the lowest rung of their profession’s ladder, was evidenced by the way they chose to meet in the top room of Wheeler’s fish restaurant in Old Compton Street, Soho. To them it seemed enough to wear civilian coats over their uniforms, and to avoid being seen together in their respective headquarters. But any young detective on their staff would have told them that a private room booked for ‘Herr Braun and party’ in any Soho restaurant would have attracted attention during those first days of martial law, even had their aides not b
rought large leather briefcases that had become the mark of high-ranking German officials. And even had both Generals not worn high boots.
Kellerman made peace with his new masters, for he was a man supple enough to bend to the winds of change. But the prediction that nothing would be done to help Detective Sergeant Harry Woods proved wrong. At three o’clock that afternoon Douglas Archer received a phone call from Kellerman’s personal assistant requesting him – should his work schedule permit it, and providing he was not inconvenienced in any way – to spend a few moments upstairs with the General. Almost as an afterthought, the caller added that Detective Sergeant Harry Woods would be there too.
By the standards of the Gestapo, Harry Woods was virtually unharmed. But Douglas was shocked by the sight of him. His face was bruised and one eye puffy so that it almost closed. He winced as he moved his weight on the chair, and he kept one leg extended and still, as if to ease some pain in the knee.
‘Hello, Harry,’ Douglas said after greeting General Kellerman.
‘Hello, Superintendent,’ said Harry in a whisper.
‘Sit down, Superintendent Archer.’
Sturmbannführer Strauss was also in the room. He sat in the corner with his arms folded across a limp paper dossier. He said nothing. Kellerman went over to the window and opened it so that he could look out to the river. ‘You’ve been a fool, Sergeant Woods,’ Kellerman said.
‘If you say so,’ said Harry reluctantly.
‘Well, I do say so,’ said Kellerman. He turned to face back into the room. ‘And so does Superintendent Archer – and so does anyone else – if they are being honest with you. Have you been ill-treated?’
Harry Woods didn’t answer. Kellerman went across to where Strauss was sitting, took the dossier from his hand, and walked to his desk to pick up his spectacles. He read the arrest report holding the paper under his desk-light. Kellerman was a different man in his immaculate grey uniform, with its ‘Reichsführung-SS London’ cuffband, Gruppenführer’s silver oak leaves on his collar and medals on his tunic. The fine silver-grey material shone in the desk-light’s glare, as did the high boots, polished to gleam like metal. And yet there was a certain awkwardness about the General in uniform; he reached for the waistcoat – where he kept gold watch and fountain-pen – and encountered the tightly buttoned tunic. Constantly he patted the buttons of all four pockets to be sure they were fastened in the correct military style. And, in compliance with SS dress regulations for ranks of SS Oberführer and above, Kellerman wore spurs on his high boots. Perhaps in fear of getting them entangled, he kept his feet well apart, and walked with an exaggerated stride.
When Kellerman finished reading the report he closed the dossier with a snap. ‘Now, Woods, have you been ill-treated?’
Harry’s whispered words came slowly and Kellerman had to lean closer to understand them. ‘Cold baths and no sleep.’
Douglas flinched at the thought of Harry, near retirement and in the poor physical shape that comes from working too hard, drinking too heavily, and taking no exercise, being pushed into ice-cold water and systematically kept awake. Few men could withstand such torture.
‘Cold baths and not much sleep,’ said Kellerman, folding his arms unnecessarily tightly and nodding. ‘Well, that’s the standard routine in the German army…can’t grumble too much about that, Sergeant.’ He patted his stomach. ‘A few weeks in a recruit camp would do us all good, eh?’ He turned his head to smile at Douglas but Douglas was sitting feet crossed, studying his shoe.
Kellerman seemed unable to keep still. He marched across to Strauss and flourished the dossier at him. ‘But I cannot understand why this police officer should be held in your custody, Strauss?’ Strauss jumped to his feet, and clicked his heels.
‘Herr Gruppenführer…’ said Strauss. In other circumstances it might have been comic to see Strauss bowing low and using such an obsequious form of address, but now no one laughed. ‘The prisoner was only passed into my custody this morning. The duty officer who…’
‘We’ve no time for an official inquiry,’ said Kellerman. ‘That will come later. The facts of the matter are that this police officer should not have been arrested in his home by the army arrest team. That does not excuse him for the stupid escape attempt, but we should bear it in mind. Secondly…’ Kellerman was grasping his fingers as if unable to count without doing so, ‘…if he is to be tried for an attempt to escape from an army detention centre, then it is for the army to try him.’
Strauss did not answer. ‘Well, Strauss?’ said Kellerman, standing erect and giving a little tug to the hem of his tunic.
‘The SS Legal Department said that Detective Sergeant Woods comes under the legal protection afforded to members of the SS,’ said Strauss. ‘The army’s Legal Department agreed. So the duty officer took custody of him.’
‘You damned bureaucrats,’ shouted Kellerman angrily. ‘You’d hang us all to get your paperwork in order. Don’t you realize, Strauss, that the army have tricked you? You’ve helped them cover up their wrongful arrest of one of our best detectives…don’t you see that?’
Strauss made another curious little bow, like a mechanical doll. ‘Yes, Herr Gruppenführer.’
‘And don’t keep calling me Herr Gruppenführer.’
‘No, Gruppenführer.’
‘You send this prisoner back to the Feldgendarmerie. In fact, go with him, Strauss, just in case they don’t give him an immediate “release pending inquiries”.’
‘What if the Feldgendarmerie keep him in custody, Gruppenführer?’
‘You stay with him, Strauss.’ Kellerman brushed his pockets to be sure they were buttoned.
Kellerman touched Strauss’s shoulder and Strauss sat down again. Then he turned to Douglas. ‘Before we cross swords with our army friends,’ said Kellerman, ‘just let’s make sure we know what we are doing.’ He walked across the room and put a cigarette into Harry’s mouth, then he lit it. Harry began to smoke it without even looking up to see where it had come from. Kellerman said, ‘Because the Abwehr are our masters for the moment.’ He smiled at the absurdity of this situation. ‘Sergeant Woods has been indiscreet, headstrong and premature. He has had dealings with criminals, but this does not make him a criminal…are you taking a note of this, Strauss?’
‘Yes, Gruppenführer.’
‘We shall need a statement that he did no more than was necessary in the course of his investigation into criminal terrorist organizations.’
‘Do we want to reveal to the army details of an incomplete investigation?’ said Douglas, seeing where such a course was likely to lead.
‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ said Kellerman testily. ‘The young lady is dead. Let’s have some details of her. That will reveal nothing we need conceal, and you must know something about her…she was your clerk for nearly six months.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Douglas. It was almost as if General Kellerman was suggesting ways to preserve Harry’s Resistance friends but that was impossible to believe. Kellerman came round behind Douglas. It was a disconcerting trick of his, and Douglas never knew whether to turn and face him or not. This time he did not. ‘I’m trying to help Sergeant Woods,’ said Kellerman. Douglas could smell the brandy that Kellerman had consumed at his lunch.
‘Yes, General,’ said Douglas. ‘Do you hear me, Sergeant Woods? I’m trying to help you.’
Harry nodded without looking up and put the cigarette into his mouth to inhale.
‘If your investigation began as a direct result of the girl being employed in this building, say so. I’m not asking you to hide anything. You’ll have to describe Woods’s responsibilities working under Standartenführer Huth.’ Kellerman went to Harry Woods and patted his shoulder in an avuncular gesture.
‘Shall I check that with the Standartenführer?’ said Douglas.
Kellerman’s reply was no more than a whisper. ‘I’ve asked the Standartenführer for a statement that would assist in Woods’s release. I’m afraid that, so far, Doctor
Huth will not even make himself available for a talk on the phone about it.’ Kellerman sighed.
‘Shall we take the statement immediately?’ said Strauss, who preferred only to ask questions to which he already knew the answer.
‘In the German language,’ said Kellerman. ‘Half the people in this building can’t read a word of English, and in Berlin anything in English is pushed aside and forgotten. Superintendent Archer will translate it for his comrade, won’t you, Archer?’
‘Of course, sir,’ said Douglas, although he and Kellerman both knew that by getting Douglas’s name and signature on each sheet of the translation it would be absurd for him later to claim ignorance of anything it contained. It was very nearly as effective as having a statement from Douglas himself. It was a telling blow. To free Harry, Douglas was left with little choice but to render Huth vulnerable. While Kellerman could smile at everyone concerned, and continue in his chosen role of soft-hearted old buffoon.
‘Shall we take Harry down to an interview room?’ said Douglas.
‘Use my secretary’s office,’ said Kellerman. ‘That will give me the chance to help you draft the text.’
They worked hard for the next hour and Kellerman made a phone call to the Abwehr office in Piccadilly. The paperwork was considerable, but by six o’clock that afternoon, Harry Woods was free. At the last moment, Kellerman decided that Harry Woods’s statement was not needed at this stage of the proceedings. He locked it away in his safe.
It was masterly, thought Douglas, as he reviewed the sequence of events. Kellerman could now blame the Abwehr for the wrongful arrest of Harry Woods, and also for his wrongful release, should he misbehave. And he’d contrived it in such a way – returning Woods to army custody – that he could claim to be helping the army cover up their mistakes. Additionally he’d got from Douglas and Harry Woods a signed and witnessed statement that might – used skilfully – hamper Huth’s investigation of Kellerman.