by Daniel Kemp
“We have what we call a 'lock-down' system in operation. Within seconds of a stranger being admitted through the outside gates all corridors are cleared and the offices automatically locked down. It's an anti-terrorist strategy, Shaun, and nothing for you to worry about. This door has now locked and will remain so until I unlock it. All the other offices have reopened and normal service has returned to the embassy. When we leave here, there's a time delay allowing the procedure to cut in again.” I was impressed, but didn't tell him that.
All four walls were lined by acoustic tiles only broken by two small windows which were barred and translucent. Our light came from winding fluorescent tubes masked by the panels of a suspended ceiling. It was subtle lighting, but perfectly adequate. We sat either side of a low, solid, grey block of polished aluminium, that served as a table, on two of the four matching red leather swivel armchairs that were new and unused. In my opinion it was a room designed for a discussion, not an interrogation. On top of the table was a writing pad and a pencil for each of us, as well as two empty glasses and a covered water jug. Alain had no notes to refer to, relying solely on his memory. We were alone, with no sign of anyone watching or listening. The air conditioning whirled efficiently away as he spoke.
“I'm going to start by explaining what Jack has fabricated slightly. Most of what he's told you is true, only he mixed some fiction into the reality adding romantic substance to a far from boring story. Firstly, that meeting in 1937 did take place with the people that he spoke of being there. As was I. I was ordered to supply Hitler and your ex-king's entertainment. That meant I met, and then coerced, the Jewish girls who were shot when the meeting ended. It was I who had to take then to the German Waffen-SS Oberführer in charge of the firing squad. He saluted me, Shaun. Can you imagine how nauseating that made me feel? To this day that scene has haunted me. I can recall the pain on each of those the girls' faces in every detail, their names and what that officer looked and smelled like. He wore a cologne that reminded me of walking on wet cedar bark and being surrounded by the perfumed air of the pine trees. I'll never forget that smell.” He paused for a split second and looked down at the table.
“No matter how all this plays out none of those memories will disappear, nor can I take enough lives in retribution to wash away my sin. All I can do is try to give justice to those innocents that I allowed to be damaged and then destroyed. It's been my only purpose since that day.”
“Yes, I can understand that feeling of blame and guilt, Alain. But if it wasn't you who carried out that edict from Hitler then in all probability you'd have been shot and someone else would have been ordered to do what you did.”
“Most definitely! I have no doubt of that. However, then I'd have died with pride instead of living with the disgrace that has forced me to keep alive. Yes, if you're wondering, I considered turning myself in and hoping for the best when the Nazis annexed Austria, after all, everyone knew it was coming. When I heard of the fate of others who had adopted that policy I contemplated using a hanging noose to finish my life, as a lot of fellow Jews had done, but I couldn't. I don't think I had the strength then, and I never found it. After a while I decided that the only course I could follow was the path of revenge. With your understanding of the human psyche you might well say that it's my guilt that I'm redressing and not doing it on behalf of the victims. To be honest I've lost hold of the reasons that persuaded me to carry on, it's been a long time and now I'm no longer sure. All I know is that I've arrived at my destiny and met a new friend in you. But that's enough of my soul searching, that's not what I promised.”
“It wasn't, no, but it's lifted the lid on what drove you to keep alive. I'm grateful for that insight. I never doubted Jack when he told of the meeting, but I did doubt that Hitler was Penina's father. I had many other doubts about his story including how you were hidden for the duration of the war by a priest who Jack subsequently had murdered. The motive I was given sounded too contrived and manufactured to be the truth. Care to address that one next?” I asked.
“I know of the story he told you and you're right, it was contrived, but that was to conceal a tale too unbelievable and dangerous to be told to anyone who was in authority back in those days. Many ex-Nazis were used in high positions of governments in Germany and in Austria. They were volatile days.” He leant forward and poured from the jug then sipped from the glass.
“I was not hidden by anyone from the Catholic faith, but I did hide in many of their churches. Father Finnegan is not a figment of Jack's imagination; there was a priest, however, Finnegan was not his name! I'll come to him after I explain how I stayed out of the Nazis' hands. My principal place of hiding was in St Augustine's Cathedral, on a street named after it; Augustsplatz. It was an ancient church with extensive catacombs and a museum underneath it. The interconnecting tunnels ran for miles in every direction. Some followed the sewers, others not, but one of them came up under St Peter's about two hundred yards away. I used both of those churches and a few others, along with various places I found, or made, along those passages of sewage. That was the main reason I was never found by the dogs the Nazis used to track down Jews who had not been captured. My aromatic smell flummoxed them.” For the first time since the street he smiled.
“Your fictional sister did kill a priest who was helped to leave Vienna by the Vatican; he wasn't the only person the Vatican helped escape justice, but as I say his name was not Finnegan, nor was he Irish and nor was it in Liverpool that the murder took place. You were told the story for a purpose, Shaun, and that purpose remained until this day. We wanted to see if you would research into it further for some motive unconnected to us, but endangering us. You didn't and we were pleased. Calmed our minds as to where your heart was. You haven't failed us in any way, so far. If you have any questions ask as we go along. The paper was put there to make notes and then refer back to then, but it seems more sensible to be spontaneous rather than structure a separate session to expand on any puzzling items. Anything unclear up till now?” he asked, rising unexpectedly from his chair and walking towards the door.
“None at all,” I replied. “But I do have a request. I smoke and would like to, if that's acceptable. It takes my mind off this busted cheekbone for a while.”
“You must blame that on my old age. I'm sorry but I'd forgotten that you did, otherwise I would have had one here already. I've never smoked, so it's not normally something I think of. But I thought I detected some agitation in you, that's when I remembered and got up to fetch an ashtray. While I'm at it I'll get a bottle of Bells. Jack tells me you like that variety of Fianna's forbidden fruit, but as she isn't watching, what harm can it do.”
He returned after a few minutes with both the things he had promised, waited patiently for me to light a cigarette and taste the whisky then began again. It was his story that cancelled the pain I felt.
“Let's start at the Catholic church, shall we?” he suggested, as he too poured a small measures of Scotch.
“The priest that I came to hear of in Vienna was called Der Hammer. I never knew his real name, but I saw him enough times to draw his face on a piece of white cotton with a child's crayon that I found in a bin outside a school where I used to scavenge for food. I scavenged at night at first, but after a few months of living underground, amongst rats and effluent, nobody came near me on the outside if I was careful to avoid the places which the Germans frequented more than others. I wasn't always lucky though. On one particular occasion, when I was stopped by two soldiers, I was left for dead in the street. They hit me with their rifles, their helmets and fists then kicked me for good measure. It was my smell that made them stop. I heard them say that regulations dictated that someone had to stay with my body until collected if I was dead. Neither of them fancied doing that. I didn't eat while I healed, but I did move about in the tunnels, I had no other choice. It was on one of those nights that I heard the screams that led to me seeing Der Hammer and what he was known for.
I was man
y miles from the Cathedral, but never knew exactly where I was. I couldn't just leave those cries of agony and ignore them; perhaps I should have, but I didn't. It was late as any sign of the sun creeping into the tunnel had stopped hours ago, so I chanced it and lifted a storm drain cover. I saw the street sign; Hoher Markt, predominantly a former Jewish area now deserted other than a few billets for senior German officers who had moved in before war was declared. There was only one building that was lit. It was in a side street to the main road, something you English would call a mews. It must have taken me an hour to reach that house, a three-storeyed affair that was in good order and well maintained. There were flowering window-boxes and hanging baskets. For all appearances a home where a caring couple lived in comfortable surroundings.”
He stopped speaking to replenish our glasses then regained his seat.
“The screams ceased then began again throughout that hour with no one coming to investigate. I hadn't seen the basement area until I was almost on top of the place. It was lit by three candlesticks that were place on the window shelf.” He swallowed the contents of his glass in one gulp then breathed in deeply through an open mouth.
“On the floor I could see two young bodies; one a girl, the other a boy. Difficult to tell their ages from where I was but at a guess I say neither was older than twelve. Both were nailed down, Shaun! And the man that had done this was walking in between their naked bodies holding a builder's hammer. Their arms were spread out horizontally, but it was their feet I couldn't look away from. They were grotesquely broken at the ankles as if they had been first nailed standing up before being forced backwards to the floor. There were thick, protruding nails sticking out of the flesh of their hands and from those small, tiny, broken feet. I was violently sick.” Once more he stopped to compose himself.
“The animal who did this was naked himself apart from his clerical collar. When I met up with Jack in the Cafe Landtmann we made a pact. I would tell him where the mother of the child of his one-time king was, when he told me 'the hammer' had been killed. It took a long time, Shaun. The Vatican had many secrets they wished to conceal forever, but when both ends of that bargain had been met, it opened up an entirely different affair that led us directly to where we are now.” He stopped speaking and leant back in his chair, inviting a question. I jumped in.
“I have an immediate question for you, Alain, that maybe you are about to address, but if not, here goes. When and how did you verify that this man was a priest as you haven't explained that so far?”
“I found out when the Russians came to Vienna in, I think, late March 1945. Austria as you know was not invaded by Germany, as were the Balkans, France and all of Northern Europe along with countries that are now part of the Eastern Bloc. Austria was Hitler's birthplace and as such the Government officially invited him to take over. However, as early as 1943 the Allies had decided that we would be handled in the same manner as any other country that the Nazis had overrun; as a liberated and independent state whenever the war finished. Vienna was to be divided between Russia, America, France and Britain, the same as Berlin, but before that happened the Red Army committed heinous crimes on both Austrians and any German troops they found in Vienna and throughout the countryside. It wasn't until the end of July 1945 that the Allies had set up their regions of control in the Capital. When they stopped raping and murdering in Vienna, the Russians returned to another favourite activity of theirs; getting drunk. Whilst the rest of Austria was bleeding, the surviving Viennese people came out of hiding and we talked. Names were put forward to form the government, gossip was exchanged, those who collaborated more than was thought acceptable were pointed at and a Catholic priest who regularly nailed Jewish children to the floorboards of house behind Hoher Markt was exposed. That's when the Archbishop of Austria stepped in and called his friend the Bishop of Rome for help.”
“But you never heard his real name, Alain? That I find surprising.”
“He was called by many names, Shaun. Everyone, apparently, had either seen these atrocities or been told of them and each of those had a different name for him. I, however, had my sketch. That was all I needed. I had, and I'm pleased to say, still have, an exceptionally accurate memory. When I eventually re-entered normal life I was able to draw a precise depiction of that man.”
“Are you responsible for whatever it was that rattled Jack? He mentioned a town in Argentina called Trelew, but never told me what happened there?”
“Wow! I thought it was only the Americans who rushed their meals. You English must also suffer from indigestion, wanting the whole dinner before the hors d'oeuvre course is dispensed with.” We both laughed, which I found refreshingly honest. Often I had shared in laughter because it seemed to be the right thing to do but it had been manufactured to suit the time and the audience, now was different. I felt different.
“If it's all the same to you I'd prefer to sip the whisky, taking time to savour it. We will arrive in Trelew, but at my pace, okay, Shaun?”
I raised no objection to his proposal, only raising my glass as an acceptance of the inevitable.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
An Explanation
“Although the Russians were in the whole of Austria they could not control all that happened there. It was full of troops who had either deserted from the German Army, or had been left behind when the main body had withdrawn. There were also anti-Communists and many others who hated the Russians. They all fought for their freedom, paying a great cost. There were also personalities who wanted to lose themselves in that kind of chaos. Allow me to make plain what I excel at and what I'm absolutely not cut out for. I'm what you might call a collector, or a collator like you have in Scotland Yard and I believe; every divisional police command. I'm like them, collecting information, piecing it together then passing it on. I'm also a facilitator, making it as easy as I can for others to act on the information I gather. I don't run people as spies do. I listen and ask questions. I draw conclusions from what I hear and advise on an appropriate course of action. Rarely do I participate in the execution of my recommendations.
Ante Pavelić left Yugoslavia in a hurry. Twice he had been sentenced to death in his absence. He didn't want to hang around in any country that had been liberated by the Allies and be executed when Tito took over the Balkans. In mid-April 1945 he, with Löhr, along with a large contingent of Ustaša troops arrived in Vienna. Karl Weilham was with them, but kept himself apart from them. Before the war began there were over one hundred thousand Jews living in Vienna, Shaun. When the Nazis withdrew, and those that had evaded the concentration camps re-emerged, there was about one percent of that number still alive. Some I knew from the old days. A few I remembered from my employment as the Chancellor's private secretary. Those I did not know soon became as close to me as all those others that I did. We were a family who had shared Hell and survived. I soon found clothes, they were more plentiful than food, and I started to appear respectable again. I was able to engage with previous government officials, some of whom were setting up a provisional ruling party that would deal with both the Allies and the Soviets. The trouble with that plan was that because the Russians had arrived before the others, Allied Command would not accept a government that the Russians already approved of.”
“Is that when Schuschnigg returned from the camp he was held in, Alain?” I asked as I leant across towards the bottle of Bells in mind to refill our glasses. He held his hand across his own and shook his head to my invitation. That wasn't his only reaction.
“I must clear away any misconception that you're under about our previous Chancellor. Jack's overworked imagination went into full throttle regarding Kurt Schuschnigg. He does not figure in this story other than it was he who presided over the 1937 atrocity and passed the orders. We will not speak of him again. Is that understood!” His voice rose several decibels when delivering that final command.
From nowhere he had changed from an engaging, expansive communicator into a bad-tempered aut
horitarian. I nodded my agreement and stressed it by adding a harshly spoked, “yes.” There was no explanation, nor apology for his drastic change of character. After a second of calming himself he continued in his narrative as though nothing untoward had disturbed him.
“To solve this problem the proposed leader of our representatives turned to me. He and I had met on many pre-war occasions over government agendas and proposals; usually I was able to end the discussions in favourable terms that all parties concerned found agreeable. He asked that I find a way to pacify the Allies' fears whilst maintaining the Soviets' approval and thereby guarantee his appointment as the post-war head of state of an independent Austria. I was successful, and Karl Renner became President of Austria in October 1945. Later that year Leopold Figl was appointed as Chancellor. He and I remained close friends until he died in May 1965. He was a truly great diplomat, Shaun. I learned a lot from him in many different ways.” He decided to overtake me in the whisky consumption, pouring twice as much as I had poured into mine into his own glass.
“You never struck me as a drinker, Alain, and your previous refusal only reinforced that opinion. Jack and I have shared a few this past week. The two of you are leading me into bad ways.” I smiled hoping his bad temper had disappeared completely with his more congenial side permanently returned.
“I don't drink as much as I did, Shaun, and I never drank as heavily as Jack, even when I was younger. We won't be leading you anywhere you don't want to go, my friend, but we will, and have been, opening your young eyes on things that only the old should have experienced.” He was back where I preferred him to be.
“The war was bad, but what is proposed to happen now is far worse than anything that took place during that six-year period. Karl Weilham, with Haynes Baxter-Clifford in the forefront, mean to administer death and terror upon millions in a much shorter timescale than that. I try to bury my memories by whatever ways are open to me. Yes, by that I do mean bury in the literal sense of under the ground. I haven't any fond memories to balance things, so I use artificial ways to cover that remorse, drink is one way. I shan't elaborate further, I might shock you.” His laughter had returned, but his attention never altered, nor had mine. He hadn't mention Michael Clifford, from which I deduced that he knew of his death. Equally obvious was his pain in recalling the war years spent in Vienna.