‘Ah, yes. We had a call from Professor Solomon earlier this morning followed by a special delivery letter authorising me to talk to you. Said you’d be calling in. We keep our records for many years, just in case. Like now, for example. You enjoy the coffee I’ll be back. Didn’t have time to get the originals from archives before you arrived, I’ll go myself. Probably be quicker.’
‘I’m in no hurry,’ said Bron.
Previously he’d spoken at length to Stewart Isaacs and decided to extend his stay in London for a few days and advised his Care Home where he was and that he was fine. He’d been really happy to see Schatzi again and spend the day with him. During the course of the day he’d taken several samples of what he hoped would be acceptable for analysis.
Alaister sat down and took notes to accompany each sample Bron handed to him.
‘I’m going home back to Munich in a couple of days. I assume your report will follow. I need to know if these two samples make a match,’ pointing to Stewart’s DNA profile and that of the samples.
Back in Germany, Bron waited for the results.
Chapter 61
London
‘Jonny, It’s Alaister Simmons. You know those DNA results. Well, something strange, occurred to me the other day, so I thought I’d check back in my records.’ he said excitedly. ‘I thought for a minute that there had been some mix up, your sequences, the ones of the deceased, looked so familiar in retrospect, so I checked.’
He picked up the other file that Bron had previously left.
‘I think you should come in. I don’t like talking on the phone and in any case, I shouldn’t be telling you all this. You know the rules. Can you come now?’
‘This will be going nowhere, Alaister. You know me well enough. I’ll be there within the hour,’ said Jonny snapping down the phone and catching his raincoat as he ran through the door.
‘Well, here I am.
‘Jonny, remember the paternity question? Well, I have found something strange. There’s a third match, but this only came to my attention by chance. A German man came to see me and asked me to sequence some DNA. I had forgotten about it until yesterday and checked his request and yours. They were identical, so someone knew what you now know.’
Jonny described the man and gave his name, Johann Bron. Alaister was taken by surprise. You know him?
‘Not personally, but I know of him. He’s part of the paternity suit,’ lied Jonny. ‘Hey, but thanks that’s very helpful. You have no idea how helpful. They shook hands and Jonny left.
When Jonny returned to his apartment, he looked at the board. Against Johann Bron he wrote in the column ‘motive’, changing ‘possible’ to ‘probable’. He knew Schatzi was his grandson and now he would know soon who the father was. There were still Nadine, Schatzi, Stuart Campbell and Stewart Isaacs. They all had possible access to the killer’s gun, the Walther P38, including Bron. Jonny was now at a dead end. As much as he threw the possibilities around in his mind, nothing came to him until……
He reached for Solomon’s ‘Stealing the Staircase’. Had Solomon passed over Stuart Campbell’s comments on the resemblance between his adopted son Schatzi and himself? He had certainly done so when they discussed his own son, Stewart. Campbell must have noticed a resemblance to Schatzi, but then again everyone has a doppelganger somewhere.
‘Am I clutching at straws,’ muttered Jonny to himself, peering at the board again.
Chapter 62
Munich Germany
Johann Bron opened the envelope he’d just signed for and took out the two profiles and looked at them and read Alaister Simmons letter. So, Solomon Isaacs was the father of Schatzi. He hadn’t wanted to believe it but there it was in irrefutable black and white. No wonder poor old Roberta had hidden the paternity. Had Solomon Isaacs forced himself upon her? Got her drunk? Why else would she…? He didn’t want to believe anything else. It was bad enough that she had brought shame on the family by being pregnant outside marriage, that they coped with but the consequences of bearing a Jewish child would have spelled disaster for all of them.
Bron sat back and considered what to do next. He’d said to Professor Stewart Isaacs that he’d tell him what he was up to at the appropriate time. What a mess Solomon Isaacs had created.
‘I need to see you about that profile. Are you in London any time soon?’
‘Johann, I am seeing mother this weekend. We’re going to a concert at Covent Garden. Actually, I have an extra ticket I was going to give to a colleague. You’d be very welcome to join us. Mother would be delighted.’
‘That’s very kind.’
‘Come and stay at the flat. Mother would love it. Oh, by the way, it’s Wagner. Right up your street, I expect.’
‘Let’s say it’s interesting. Are you sure about staying at the flat, because if so, I’d be delighted?’
‘Of course. I’ll be there from Thursday evening. Get a flight over and I’ll meet you Paddington station from the Heathrow Express. It’s very convenient, you know.’
Nadine, flanked by Stewart on her left and Johann on her right, settled into her seat. The men waited and then sat beside her. The curtain rose to the sound of clapping as the audience surveyed to scene. The music began, Johann was transported back in Munich before being ostracized by the Nazi’s, stepping down the stone steps, opening the door of the black Mercedes for his wife. He’d always been aware that Hitler reinterpreted the story of Wagner's final opera ‘Parsifal’, the one they were now watching, to fit his own ideological vision. The programme hinted that the story carries elements of Buddhist renunciation suggested by Wagner's readings of Schopenhauer. Johann remembered what Hitler had written about it. He muttered the words to himself, ‘What is celebrated is but pure and noble blood, blood whose purity the brotherhood of initiates has come together to guard. His thoughts are intimately familiar to me, at every stage of my life I come back to him.’
Johann had learned these lines by heart when Roberta had to recite them as part of Hitler’s teaching in school.
‘What did you say, Johann?’
Turning to Nadine, he shook his head and whispered. ‘Nothing. Just a few words I remembered from long ago.’
Despite his misgivings about Wagner, Johann enjoyed the spectacle and the dinner afterwards. Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, warming the bandy that Stewart had poured, Nadine and Stewart looked expectantly at Johann.
‘Well. Come on tell us what you’re here about. Sing for the supper you have just had.’
Johann took a long breath.
‘I had a hunch, as they say in the detective novels I sometimes read. The hunch proved to be correct. You have a brother, Stewart.’
Nadine and Stewart looked at Bron unbelievingly.
‘What do you mean? What brother?’
‘My grandson is your brother. Schatzi is your brother. Just as I had suspected after meeting my grandson, Schatzi and then you. The physical resemblance had been uncanny, not to mention certain mannerisms, I noticed. You are brothers in a peculiar manner, of that I am sure. You showed me your DNA profile and after I met with my grandson. I took a sample for Alaister Simmons to compare. It was a match. Didn’t you guess?’
‘No. I have never met Schatzi Campbell. I don’t know what he looks like. I’ve read his scientific papers, of course. Everyone in the field does.’
‘But you must have seen his picture. He won a Nobel Prize in your field and yet you never met?’
Stewart’s denial left the thought hanging in the air. Was he lying? It is true that Schatzi didn’t court publicity and did most of his research hidden from view as would be expected from someone who needed his mother’s social support most of the time and remained a recluse, and yet Stewart Isaacs didn’t know or suspect. Bron was sceptical. There was something about Stewart, he couldn’t put his finger on. He liked the man and they got on well, but he was unusually agitated the other day about forgiveness. Maybe he hadn’t told the whole truth and he knew already what Bron had tol
d him.
Chapter 63
London
Jonny decided it was time to talk to Inspector Graham Rainham again. It was his turn to pay back a debt.
‘Graham, Jonny Wightman. I need to speak to you, off the record. Any chance of you coming to my apartment. I have all the papers here and it would be very convenient for me not to have to cart them elsewhere.’
‘What’s this about, Jonny?’
‘I’ll tell you when you come. Not over the phone. It’ll take too long. OK. Not in uniform, please. Have to think of the neighbours. And one more thing, Graham, I know I am asking a lot, but can you familiarise yourself with the death of Solomon Isaacs.’
‘What! You can’t be serious. It’s not my case. Vernon Smith’s is the senior officer in charge. Asking me to divulge details of an ongoing investigation to an investigative journalist like yourself, Jonny. No, that’s a step too far.’
‘Graham, I am not asking you to divulge anything. I asked you to familiarise yourself. It may help you to understand more when you see me. Of course, I love to see the investigation file, but that’s not what I’m asking. Just for me, please. I have never let you down over the years. I am not about to do so now. When can we meet?’
Jonny marked his diary, not that he would forget but this was habit.
Just before 5pm the next afternoon, he tidied the sitting room and laid out the loose leaved copy of ‘Stealing the Staircase’ on the dining table in front of the two chairs he arranged side by side. The board could be seen easily as it hung on the wall in front of the chairs. The entry phone buzzed, and he admitted Inspector Graham Rainham. Rainham entered the sitting room glancing all around him.
Looks like you’ve been busy, Jonny,’ he said shedding his coat. He walked over to the board and studied the array of photographs and the names and the headings of the columns.
‘Just like our control room. I already feel at home,’ he joked. ‘What’s this?’
‘We’re off the record, right.’ Rainham nodded. ‘This. It’s where it all started. Landed on my desk one day. Couldn’t stop reading it. It’s a fascinating story of one man, Solomon Isaacs.’
‘When did you get hold of it?’
‘Weeks after he was released from Belmarsh, we were about to launch the publication of the book when Solomon asked to meet me.’
‘So, were you with him when he was shot? asked Rainham.
‘Yes, Graham. I was there.’
‘I never saw a witness statement,’ said Rainham who had clearly read the file in the meantime.
‘No, only what I’d said at the Coroner’s hearing. There were a considerable number of witnesses as you know now I see you’ve read the file. I would have said what they said. I was at the inquest. There was nothing I could have added, Graham. Honestly.’
‘Did you see the shooter?’
‘Of course, as did everyone else. There was panic and chaos, as you’d expect. People running everywhere thinking the whole place was under attack. He or she just disappeared into the street and vanished. You know all that.’
‘Off the record, did you hear something?’
‘Remember, I was there to discuss the future with the writer. What happened was a shock to me. More so as I felt I knew this man better than most. I knelt beside him. He’d recognised me and started to say “Jonny, I recognise….” I have pondered the words so often and yet there are so many possibilities of the person who he was referring to. He obviously recognised the shooter from somewhere.’
Chapter 64
London
‘Solomon gave you an incredible insight into life in Auschwitz, Stuart.’ Said Jonny.
He'd invited Campbell to his London apartment after Rainham's unhelpful visit. All that Rainham had said was that when he looked at the police file it was surprisingly sparse for a murder investigation. All he could suggest, after listening to Jonny and scanning the wall board, was that somewhere in the past life of Solomon, maybe amongst the evidence he produced to help round up of war criminals, he may find the answer. Jonny had so far concentrated on everything in `Stealing the Staircase’.
Jonny wasn’t surprised that Stuart accepted the invitation after he’d explained he had a room full of exhibits and files that they could look at together. Stuart had wandered around the wall board closely examining everybody’s photograph, old and new.
His first word was `remarkable’. He turned to Jonny.
‘Am I still one of your suspects, my dear boy?’
‘Not anymore, Stuart,’ said Jonny removing his name from the `possible’ column.
‘Glad to hear it and you can wipe Schatzi’s name off the list as well. Neither of us would ever do such a thing even assuming there was a motive.’
‘May I sit down? Little too old for standing too long,’ he said lowering himself into plush leather settee putting his own battered file of papers from 1946/7 on his lap.
‘This must never see the light of day. I have reread it over the last few days since you rang me. Strange how it all comes back so immediately once you start prodding into the dim memories of those awful months. Anyway, I have marked a few pages that were traumatic for me because Solomon’s attitude, according to the stenographer’s side note, became very animated as he dictated his recollections. To my knowledge, this was the only time he became emotionally.... How shall I say, `vengeful’. Yes, that’s the right word.
Jonny took the papers and read the case. ‘Did the Tribunal prosecute?’
‘Yes. I believe the death sentence was carried out immediately.’
Chapter 65
London
An impossible theory was beginning to form in Jonny’ mind. He’d taken time to closely cross examine Stuart Campbell on the case he’d suggested and had asked Johann Bron for help in Munich through police contact. Bit by bit everything started to fit into place. Why hadn’t Jonny taken Solomon seriously when he said he was being tailed?
‘Graham, I haven’t had the chance to thank you.’
‘What for, breaking my oath as a policeman?’
‘No. You set me thinking outside the manuscript.’
‘And....’
‘Well, I am now in some difficulty. I don’t know where to turn next.’
‘I assume you want some police guidance?’
‘Yes. Can you give me an hour or so, but beforehand, I think you should read the evidence I have compiled. Can you come to the flat? Oh, one more thing.’ Jonny explained what he needed.
Carrying his shopping bags through into the hall, Jonny left Graham Rainham reading the new evidence, pen already poised to make notes.
‘My God, Jonny, I think we have the murderer.’
‘So, what I asked you over the phone is not a problem?’
‘No, it isn’t. The problem is what do we do now?’
‘Yes, I know. You’re the policeman, so over to you.’
Chapter 66
Central Criminal Court London
‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ said Sir Martin Grevelle, prosecuting for the Crown, ‘as he walked towards the jury members, ‘We have a very strange situation in this case.’
‘It is the Crown’s contention that the Accused deliberately set out to ensure that this crime was never solved and would eventually become a cold case that the conspiracy theorists could have a field day. My learned friend, Sir David Thornfield, will tell you that his client is innocent of the charges and that all the evidence that I will put forward is circumstantial and could point the other possible culprits. I intend to show you that beyond a reasonable doubt that the Accused is guilty as charged. I ask you to be very careful not to become confused by other theories put forward by the defence in their contention that Accused is not guilty.
‘First of all, we need to establish motive. Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, what I am about to describe may at first not seem to bear directly on the Accused but you need to appreciate what festered in the accused’s mind all the years before his fatal shooting of Solomon Isaacs.
/>
‘Let me take you back to the concentration camp at Auschwitz. The deceased was a Jew working in the camp hospital, his training at University was stopped by the Nazi regime and he and his mother and father were arrested as part of the `Final Solution’. Their ultimate fate was to be gassed in one of the chambers. They survived.
‘Solomon Isaacs witnessed some of the most horrific excesses that humans can perpetrate on other humans. You may not be aware of the term Funktionshaftling. It is the name given to prisoners who collaborated with the Nazis in order to serve over others interned in the concentration camps. Others used to call them Kapos or bosses. The camp system would not work without these men or women because of the sheer numbers involved. In return, these people received more rations and better treatment hoping they’d survive. However, some took their new-found power into the same realms as their SS guards treating their fellow Jews like sub-humans.
‘I have here the records taken by Captain Stuart Campbell from evidence provided by the deceased in this case, Solomon Isaacs. Let me read this to you. Captain Campbell is present in court but will not be giving evidence as the Defence have agreed the authenticity of these papers.’
With that opening, Sir Martin Grevelle, Prosecuting for the Crown looked at the bundle of evidence.
He started with the killing of the little boy who had survived the mass gassing but had been suffocated in the autopsy room when Solomon Isaacs was present.
‘I was walking to the hospital in Block 10, when I saw Gurt Heidmann, the Accused’s father, explained Counsel, standing over a small girl, no more than twelve or thirteen, he was beating her with his baton. She was covered in blood and curled into a ball, shouting and screaming for him to stop. My father tried to stop him, but he was too strong and threw him to the ground and beat his legs savagely. Abruptly, he stopped and walked away as if nothing had happened. My father managed to make back to our hut and I took the little girl to the hospital and we tried to do what we could. She told me that he had raped her and she had wriggled free and run away and he had chased her. That small child died in my arms as I cradled her. Later, I bandaged my father leg and put a splint above his left ankle. I had no idea whether there was a broken bone but acted as if there was just in case. He was in great pain for several days thereafter but feared to show it.
Prisoner 441 Page 21