“Neither have I.”
“Then what makes you think he’s one of the murderers?” Abrams asked.
“Overheard conversations, mostly. I believe he is one of the leaders of the organization.”
“There’s nothing you can give us to help locate him?” Mason asked.
“I’m afraid not.”
“What about Ernst Volker?”
“Now, there’s a despicable man.” Kessel looked directly at Mason. “I understand you had some dealings with Volker when you were a POW.”
“Maybe one day we’ll get into my personal history, but right now, I want you to tell us where we can find him.”
“Am I to get nothing out of my information?”
“That depends on what you have.”
Kessel smiled. “That is like asking me to reveal my hand before you place your bet.”
“We hold all the cards, Herr Kessel. Even if we can come to some sort of arrangement, there’s still the German police. They’ll want a piece of you.”
“What I demand in return is not for myself. I want you to promise me that no harm or criminal charges will come to Adelle.”
Mason felt his face turn hot with anger. Or was it embarrassment? He became aware of his own silence when Abrams stirred in his seat.
“I see you have feelings for her,” Kessel said. “She does for you, as well. She said she saw the same qualities in you that she does in me.”
At that moment, Mason was tempted to jump across the table and throttle Kessel.
Abrams spoke up. “We will do everything in our power to protect her.”
“That’s not good enough. I want to see that she is under your protection. She’s frightened, and now that you have arrested me, I can no longer ensure her safety.”
“Why was she so stupid as to go back to you in the first place?” Mason managed at last.
“She felt that I was the only person who could truly protect her. I told her she was foolish for thinking that way, but when people are afraid, they tend to do foolish things.”
“Where is she now?” Abrams asked.
“You will find her at Hans Weissenegger’s place. Hans is in love with her, though she’s never done anything to encourage this.”
Kessel wrote down Hans’s address. “Hans is at the club, so she’ll be alone. Knock three times, then twice. She’ll know you’ve come for her. We arranged this when I heard you had raided the army depot.”
Mason turned to Abrams. “Take a few MPs and bring her back here. I want to spend some quality time with Herr Kessel.”
Abrams rose from his chair and leaned in to Mason. “Don’t do anything crazy.”
When Abrams left, Mason offered Kessel a cigarette, which Kessel accepted. They both lit up and stared at each other through a growing haze of smoke.
Mason finally said, “Why didn’t you run when you heard of the army depot bust?”
“It was inevitable that you would come for me, and at the time it seemed the best way to end my involvement. I’ve had enough, and had little desire to go on the run. I have yet to decide whether that decision was honorable or cowardly.”
“How did you get into this racket if you didn’t have the stomach for it?”
“Don’t get me wrong; the commercial aspects of the group didn’t bother me at all. We provided a service. The black market is really all the German people have to survive.”
“Diluted penicillin and baby formula, narcotics. Did that really help the German people?”
“I’m a realist, Herr Collins. I was penniless and destitute when Volker approached me about coming to work for them. They offered me outrageous sums of money to be their front man.”
“But then they started murdering people.”
Kessel inclined his head. “Yes . . . Killing Herr Giessen and Bachmann, I didn’t mind so much. They were horrible men. But then they killed Winstone and Hilda, and I knew it wouldn’t stop there. I was very fond of Hilda. A sweet girl, despite her minor flaws of character. She’s the one who introduced Adelle to me.”
“How did you meet Volker?”
Kessel leaned back and regarded Mason for a moment. Mason could tell Kessel was calculating what to say.
Mason answered for him. “You were part of the group helping Nazi war criminals escape out of Germany.”
“War criminals,” Kessel said with bitterness. “Is it not your justice system that says innocent until proven guilty?”
“Oh, come on, Frieder. The evidence against most of them is overwhelming. Despite the horrible things they did, we didn’t shoot them over open ditches like they did to the Jews. We’ve tried them in a court of law. And more than a few—too many, in my opinion—have been released due to weak cases or lack of evidence.”
“All SS men are automatically arrested, considered war criminals, regardless of their actions. How is that just? If a few Americans in Patton’s Third Army committed atrocities, would that justify condemning the entire group?”
“The SS guarded the concentration camps and gassed the inmates. They slaughtered millions of people. Tried to eliminate the entire Jewish population in Europe.”
Kessel slapped the table. “But I did not. Nor anyone in my division. You cannot condemn us for what others did.”
“You got off, didn’t you? A tribunal determined you’d done nothing, and they let you go.”
“I am not going to try to justify helping my comrades escape political trials. My loyalty is to my country and the men who fought and died at my side. You would do the same for the men you served with, if the circumstances were reversed.”
Mason stubbed out his cigarette. “I don’t see what qualities Adelle thinks we share.”
They fell silent for a moment. Finally Kessel said, “I met Volker through the escape group. I despised the Gestapo, but I assumed, since he was free, he had been judged innocent of any war crimes. I didn’t know what Volker really was until after I’d accepted the job at the club. I accept my fate, Herr Collins. I no longer want to be a puppet for the organization.”
“Very noble of you.”
“I don’t pretend nobility. Those men are wanton killers and will stop at nothing.”
“So far, you’ve named Schaeffer, Abbott, and Volker as the leaders. Who else?”
“Only rumors, innuendos, speculation . . .”
“I’ll help you along a little. For instance, I’m sure there are high-ranking officers involved. Generals even. This operation couldn’t work without them. Come on, give it a shot. Give me some names, even if you just suspect them.”
“I don’t have any names. No facts. But, as you say, there seems no doubt that there are American officers, in very high places in Frankfurt, Berlin, Munich, who, while they are not part of the operation, profit from its existence. In fact, I am surprised that you are still alive. If you get too close to the kings, you will have a fatal accident of some kind. Or a crazed person will gun you down. I urge you, for Adelle’s sake, for your sake, stop this investigation now with my arrest.”
“If you want to help Adelle, then help me stop them. That’s the only way. And unless we do, all this—your confession and trying to protect Adelle—is going to be pointless.”
“And if I indicated to you where to stand on the tracks in front of an oncoming train, would you do it? Could you stop it? That’s the power these people have.”
“You don’t have to stand in front of a speeding train to stop it. Just remove some of the rails and it will self-destruct.”
Kessel reached for his pack of cigarettes and discovered it was empty.
Mason stood. “I’ll get you another pack. Lucky Strikes, right?”
Kessel nodded.
Mason needed to clear his head anyway. He felt conflicted about Adelle, about Kessel. He stepped out into the cold evening and took in the fresh ai
r. On rare occasions, during his years as a detective and investigator, Mason had experienced that antithetical bond that sometimes developed between cop and criminal, like priest and confessor. He was always fascinated by intelligent and compassionate men whose moral compass deviated to the polar opposite of his own. Mason had fervently wanted to bring Kessel down, but now that he’d accomplished that, he found himself resolving to do what he could for the man.
That brought him to Adelle. Battered and bruised, pushed and pulled by forces beyond her control, she had still maintained her dignity. She felt deeply, but, like Kessel, her morality had deviated off course. Yet Mason felt affection for her. The empathy he felt for both of them, actually, left him confused and made him wonder what that said about him. Perhaps some darker part of himself could emerge, given the right circumstances.
Ten minutes later, Mason came back to the interview room with the pack of Lucky Strikes and two cups of coffee. They shared a few stories about the war, and, as Kessel recounted some of his experiences, Mason began to recognize at least one quality they had in common: a sense of duty and honor. And by the time Abrams returned with Adelle, the barrier between them as enemy combatants had eroded.
Mason and Kessel stood when Abrams led Adelle into the room. Adelle only glanced at Mason. She tried to smile, but it never made it. Rather than run into either man’s arms, she stopped at the far end of the table between them. Abrams pulled out a chair for her and she sat.
“Herr Collins has agreed to our arrangement,” Kessel said.
“There’s a man I know in Munich,” Mason said. “A German police inspector. He’s a good man and a good cop.”
“I’m not going to Munich,” Adelle said.
“You want to be safe?” Mason said.
Kessel leaned toward her. “Adelle, you can’t stay in Garmisch. At least not until this is all over.”
“And when will that be?”
“Maybe not for a long time,” Mason said. “You should get used to the idea that you can’t stay here.”
Adelle finally looked into Mason’s eyes. “Again I am sent away. For years men have sent me here or there, always ruling my life. Dictating who I see, what I think. I’m sick of it.”
“We both want you safe,” Kessel said. “And Munich is not so far away.”
Adelle said nothing.
“It may take me a day or two to arrange,” Mason said. “In the meantime, you can stay with a friend of mine here in Garmisch.”
“You have no friends,” Adelle said.
“She’d probably agree with you.”
“She? A friend and a woman? That surprises me even more.”
“She’s a correspondent. She’s smart, resourceful, and we no longer have any connection. They’ll have a hard time tracing her back to me. Not in the few days it will take for me to get you to Munich.”
“Your former lover?” Adelle asked.
Mason ignored the question and turned to Kessel. “Are you satisfied with this arrangement? It’s the best we can do. I can’t trust the hotels, or even our headquarters.”
Adelle slumped in her chair and lit a cigarette. “You men talking about me like an item on the black market. So, Herr Kessel bargained a good price for me, I suppose.”
Kessel nodded his agreement to their arrangement. “You should find Volker by following his mistress. She has an apartment on Höllentalstrasse, number thirty-six. Volker often boasts about their midnight rendezvous near Kurpark. But he’s a cautious man, so their meeting place could have changed by now.”
“I’m trying to get over the fact that Volker has a wife,” Abrams said.
“She isn’t the only woman to make a poor choice in men,” Adelle said.
That seemed to take a bite out of Kessel, who gritted his teeth as he said, “Her name is Margareta Schupe—”
Adelle let out a chirp of surprise. “I know that guttersnipe. She’s Schaeffer’s part-time lover. She deserves both of them.”
“How do you know her?” Mason asked.
“She’s a skater—if you want to call her that—at the Casa Carioca.”
Mason asked Kessel, “Since you’re in the mood to give us information, what about Schaeffer? How about giving us something that could definitely connect him to the organization or the murders?”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Kessel said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mason noticed Adelle stiffen. She and Kessel knew something more. Maybe he could pull it out of Adelle or use her to persuade Kessel. “You help me get Schaeffer, and I can promise you a much lighter sentence.”
Kessel just smiled, but Adelle fidgeted in her chair.
“All right,” Mason said as he stood. “We’ll make sure you have a comfortable cell, and I’ll tell the MP guards to treat you well.”
Kessel bowed his head. “I appreciate that.”
“Let’s go,” Mason said to Adelle with a sharp edge.
Adelle rose from her chair and rushed over to Kessel. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He patted her arm, but said nothing. Adelle straightened and shot Mason a defiant glare then allowed Abrams to escort her out of the room.
Before Mason exited, Kessel said, “Treat her well.”
Mason nodded and left.
TWENTY-NINE
The usual ten-minute ride back to town took twenty due to the heavy accumulation of snow. When Mason pulled the sedan into the Rathaus parking lot, Abrams said, “I thought we were taking Adelle to Laura’s house.”
“You’re not,” Mason said as he paused in front of the headquarters’ front entrance.
“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t miss this little melodrama for anything.”
“Sorry, no show tonight. You can get started on the report.”
Abrams groaned as he got out of the car. “You want me to have a medic standing by when you return?”
Mason gave him a stern look and pointed at the entrance. Abrams sauntered off. Watching him made Mason smile.
“He’s a good man,” Adelle said.
“Boy, more like.”
“The few times I’ve seen you smile was when you were with him. He’s good for you.”
“Unlike you,” Mason said as he pulled out of the parking lot.
They were silent for a few minutes, then Adelle said, “I’ve known Frieder for a long time.”
“You don’t need to explain.”
“He was my husband’s best friend. When Aldrich died, Frieder helped me as best he could from wherever he was at the front.”
“I don’t need to hear this.”
“I was the first person he came to see once he was let out of the POW camp. We were both lonely. We never loved deeply, but—”
“Adelle, that’s enough.”
“You’re jealous. I’m glad.”
“I’m mad. Every woman I know can’t make up her damn mind. They come to me when they want a strong shoulder to lean on, then when they get what they need, they run off to play with the other boys.”
“Ever think you drive them away?”
He looked at her, then back to the snowy road. “Yes.”
“Was Laura your lover?”
“I’m not going to share my life story. . . .” Mason stopped. “What possessed you to go back to the Casa, when that’s the very place you escaped from?”
“Protection.”
“Pro—” Mason hit the steering wheel.
“You couldn’t offer it to me.”
“Adelle, I’m a cop. What more protection do you want?”
“The kind you couldn’t give me. You’ll be long gone—dead or transferred, or you’ll leave—and I’ll be here to fend for myself. I can’t live off principles. Or memories.”
Mason had no answer for that.
“I fell in love with you,” Adelle said, “but I couldn’t
see it was going anywhere. You’re still in love with that other woman. I could see it in your eyes every time you looked at me. An American woman, and I’m the widow of your enemy, an SS lieutenant.”
“That didn’t matter to me. It’s what you do now that matters.”
Adelle scoffed. “No one thinks that way. Not even you. And you didn’t deny that you still love that other woman.”
“That’s over. Okay?” Mason knew he had protested too much. He crossed the Loisach River and headed for the foothills of the mountains near Breitenau. “What were you doing in Schaeffer’s office?”
“Are you worried I’m fucking him, too?”
“I don’t want to know.”
Adelle clicked her tongue in annoyance. “You don’t hurt easy, but when you do, you’re like a pouty child.” She turned in her seat to face him. “I was looking for evidence. Frieder was sure there were records or a ledger, or something against him. Unfortunately, I didn’t find anything.”
“And he sent you in there?”
“I went on my own. Frieder knew that one of these days Schaeffer would dispose of him, and he’d had enough of the killing.”
“A saint, if there ever was one.”
Adelle looked at him for a long moment. “You really had feelings for me.”
Mason concentrated on the road. “The key word is ‘had.’”
“Spite doesn’t become you.”
Once more, Mason had no response, and Adelle continued, “If you didn’t have feelings for me, you wouldn’t be acting this way.”
“Like you said, I won’t be around much longer, and you’re going to Munich.”
“I’ll be staying with a friend of yours. Maybe you’ll come visit.”
“Maybe.”
Adelle leaned toward Mason. “Who knows? With a little time . . .”
“I’m going to be dead soon, according to you.”
“Yes, well, we can’t have everything. But we can have a nice dance before the music stops. You see, I’m a romantic realist.”
“I don’t see us doing a waltz together.” He paused. “But, now, the tango. That I can see.”
Adelle chuckled and kissed him on the cheek. Mason started to say something, but the lights came out of nowhere, aimed at his side window, blinding him. His instincts took over. He jammed the steering wheel and his car spun on the icy road, but not quickly enough. . . .
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