by John Holt
Yes I’ll be all of those – judge, jury, and prosecution witness. “But most importantly,” Scott said in a hushed whisper, “When that Guilty verdict is announced, as it surely will be then I will also be his executioner.”
Chapter Twenty
Deitrich Hartman – Hamburg 1946
Almost six thousand five hundred miles away in Hamburg, it was just after nine o’clock in the morning. As the final chime struck the hour, Major Deitrich Hartman opened his front door, as usual, and left the house.
As usual Mr. Brandt, the neighbor across the street, waved. “Good morning Mr. Weiss, lovely day,” he called out.
Over the past few months Hartman had built up a good relationship with his neighbours. He had established a regular routine, and was accepted into the local society, as an upright citizen. They knew nothing of his past life. They knew nothing of his true life. To them Major Deitrich Hartman never existed. To them he was Peter Weiss. He was always friendly, and polite. Always ready with a helping hand, when needed.
Hartman smiled, gave a cursory wave, and continued on his way. He turned to the left, and began walking slowly toward the corner of the street. On the opposite side of the street, about twenty yards behind Hartman, two men slowly emerged from the shadows of the doorway to a derelict house, and commenced walking in the same direction. Fifteen minutes later Hartman arrived at the newspaper stand, in the market square, where he regularly bought his morning newspaper. A short distance away, the two men had stopped, and were now asking for directions from a passer-by. As they did so their gaze never wandered away from Hartman for a moment.
“Good morning Mr. Weiss, beautiful weather,” said the newspaper vendor, handing over the newspaper. “How are you today?”
Every morning came the same question, and every morning the same response. Hartman said that he was well, and thanked him for asking. He paid for his newspaper, and proceeded to cross the Market Square, and headed toward his usual coffee shop, a short distance away. The two men standing opposite watched Hartman as he started to leave. They thanked the passer-by for his help, and moved away, a short distance behind Hartman. A few moments later Hartman arrived at the coffee shop and was shown to his regular seat.
As Hartman sat down the waiter approached his table. “Ah, Mr. Weiss, so good to see you,” he said. “How are you today?”
Hartman replied that he was very well, thank you.
The waiter made a few minor adjustments to the place settings on the table. Eventually, when he was quite satisfied, he was ready to take Hartman’s order. “Will it be your usual sir, coffee and croissants?” he asked. “And with strawberry jam?”
Hartman nodded, and the waiter left. Hartman opened his newspaper and started to read. There was a sudden noise over by the entrance door. What was going on, he wondered. Hartman looked toward the door. As he did so two men walked past the shop. They glanced in through the doorway, toward him. Hartman did not notice them.
Five minutes later, the waiter returned, and brought with him the coffee and croissants, and placed it down on the table in front of him. “Not too bad a day, Mr. Weiss,” he said cheerfully. “In fact it’s quite mild for this time of year. Although they did say we could have some showers later.”
Hartman wasn’t too concerned about the weather report. “What was that disturbance, earlier?” Hartman asked. “Over there, by the doorway.” He pointed toward the door. “It sounded as though somebody was fighting.”
The waiter looked over toward the door, as though the disturbance was still happening. “Oh that. That wasn’t anything of any great concern, sir,” he replied. “The manager was just chasing some children away from the entrance, that’s all. They were making a bit of a nuisance of themselves. Yelling and screaming. You know what children are.”
Hartman definitely knew what children were. “Yes,” he said emphatically. “I know exactly what you mean.”
The waiter was unsure whether the comment had been said jokingly, or was Mr. Weiss being serious. Undecided he merely smiled back. “I don’t suppose they really meant any harm. Boys will be boys, you know,” he said. “We were all young once, Mr. Weiss.” Somehow he could not visualise Mr. Weiss ever being young. “Anyway, they’ve gone now, problem solved. Enjoy your coffee.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later Hartman left the coffee shop. If he had taken the trouble to look he might have seen two men standing outside of a bookshop on the opposite side of the road. They appeared to be very interested in something displayed in the shop window. However, upon closer inspection it was obvious that there was nothing of any real interest, except possibly Hartman’s reflection in the glass, as he passed by. As Hartman reached the far corner, the two men appeared to lose interest in the shop window. They turned away and hurriedly walked toward that same corner.
Later that morning Hartman was in the Kaiser Park close to the railway station. He was sitting in the formal garden area close to the central fountain. He had been there for exactly forty-five minutes. As he sat there reading his newspaper, he was completely unaware of the two men sitting close to the lakeside, no more than fifteen yards from him. Both men were in their mid twenties. One was blonde, and blue eyed. About five feet seven inches tall, slim, and athletic in build. His companion was dark haired, and approximately five feet five in height. He was stocky, and overweight.
Both men had also been in the park for exactly forty-five minutes. Although they appeared to be feeding the ducks they were actually paying more attention to Hartman. They were watching him very closely. Unbeknown to Hartman they had been following him for the past few days. Everywhere that he went, they followed, biding their time. Waiting for the right opportunity to present itself, and then to put their plan into action.
* * *
Wolfgang Behr and Walter Steiner had first seen Hartman four days previously, at the main concourse at Hamburg Station. The two men were about to catch a train back to Munich, when the elder of the two saw what he thought was a familiar face.
“Isn’t that Major Hartman?” he said to his companion. “Just walking toward Platform 7? There, near the kiosk.”
The other looked over in the direction his friend had indicated. “Whereabouts?” he asked. “I can’t see him.”
“There,” replied the first speaker, a little impatiently. “He’s there by the kiosk. You must be able to see him, he’s just picked up a magazine. Look, he’s flicking through the pages. Now he’s just put the magazine back. Do you see him?”
“Yes I can see who you mean,” said his companion, completely uninterested.
“Well! Come on. It’s him isn’t it,” said the first person excitedly. “I’m right aren’t I? That’s our old friend, Hartman isn’t it?”
His companion looked closely, and thought for some time. He then shook his head. “No, Wolf, that’s nothing like him. The hair is far too dark, and he looks much younger than Hartman did. I don’t know who it is, but it’s not the Major.”
The elder man insisted. “Steiner, I’m telling you, that is Hartman. I’d swear to it. I’d know him a mile away. Don’t forget I worked with him a lot more than you did. I ought to know him. He’s changed his hair, sure, but I’d recognise him anywhere. His manner, that walk, there’s no mistake. Look, he’s just turning around, now. I think he’s coming back this way. Look at his face. Look closely. That’s Hartman, no doubt about it.”
The subject of their attention was now heading directly toward them. As he drew nearer the two men quickly turned their faces away until he had passed by. As he did so the two men watched him from the corner of their eyes.
“Well,” Behr asked. “Did you see him? So, what do you think now? It was him wasn’t it?”
“All right, Wolfgang, let’s say you’re right. Let’s say it is Hartman,” Steiner responded, not fully convinced. “And I’m still not convinced that it is, anyway. But if it is him, and I said if, he has deliberately tried to alter his appearance, agreed. So why would he do that?�
��
“That’s simple, Walter,” Behr replied. “He just doesn’t want to be recognised as SS Major Hartman. That could be very awkward if the Americans got hold of him.” He continued watching Hartman as he crossed the concourse. “You can be absolutely certain the authorities would be very interested in our Major, if they knew where he was.”
It suddenly occurred to Steiner that if the authorities would be interested in Hartman, then they might also be interested in him and Behr.
“Maybe they would,” said Behr. “But I doubt it.” Behr could see the puzzled look on Steiner’s face. “Look, we were just two technicians, two very junior technicians, at the test centre. There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing there that’s against the Geneva Convention. We merely did our jobs. We followed orders. That’s all there was to it, nothing more.”
Steiner still didn’t understand, and looked as puzzled as ever. “We were not in any position of power were we?” Behr patiently continued. “We are not ex SS officers. We never used prisoners as slave labour. And we never carried out reprisals against Austrian and Italian civilians. We never executed anyone. Do I need to go on?”
Steiner agreed that he did not need to say anymore.
Wolfgang Behr looked back at Hartman, and watched as he walked toward the exit. “Come on, Walter. Let’s follow him, quick. I think we could make some money out of this.”
“What do you mean, Wolfgang?” asked Steiner.
“Blackmail, Walter. We simply blackmail him.” Behr then started to walk quickly toward the station exit, following in Hartman’s direction.
Steiner was very uneasy, and lacked the confidence that his friend seemed to possess. “Blackmail the Major,” he said incredulously, as he hurriedly tried to catch his friend. “You must be mad. Anyway we have a train to catch, remember? Back to Munich?”
“Stop worrying Walter, it’ll be so easy. Trust me,” said Behr. “Come on, we need to work out a plan. Just forget all about the train. Right now, we have something far more interesting to think about.”
* * *
Four days later the two men were in the park, a short distance away from where Hartman was now sitting. They had been watching him for a little while. That’s definitely Hartman, thought Behr. It must be him, had to be. And yet, there was a slight doubt beginning to form. Nerves, that was all.
“It’s definitely him, isn’t it?” said Behr. “We are absolutely sure aren’t we?”
“Yes that’s him,” replied Steiner. “I can’t believe he is walking around like this. Calm as you like. Surely the authorities would have been interested in his past, and arrested him by now.”
“Obviously, they don’t know. He’s probably changed his name. You can see that he has tried to alter his appearance,” said Behr. After a moment he looked up and down the pathway. He looked across toward the lake. “There’s no one around, I think now is a good time.”
“Right,” said Steiner, reluctantly. “Let’s get on with it then.”
They rose and slowly, casually, walked toward Hartman. As they drew near, Behr looked around once again, to make sure that no one was around. He looked toward his friend, and nodded, mouthing the words “okay.” Steiner looked back and smiled nervously.
They slowly approached where Hartman was seated, and walked a metre or two beyond his position. Suddenly they stopped, noisily, and turned. At that moment Hartman looked up.
“Why, Major Hartman is that really you?” Behr said. “What a very pleasant surprise. Imagine seeing you here. I can’t believe it.” He turned to his companion. “Walter, can you believe it? I mean it’s so incredible.”
Walter agreed that he couldn’t believe it either, and yes, it was certainly incredible.
Hartman was stunned. He looked at the two men standing in front of him. “I’m sorry. I beg your pardon. You are very much mistaken I’m afraid. My name is Weiss,” he said, his voice faltering. “Peter Weiss.”
“Peter Weiss,” Behr repeated slowly. “Weiss is as good a name as any other I suppose. What do you think Walter?”
Steiner started to reply, but Behr was already continuing. “Surely, you must remember me sir? You couldn’t have forgotten so quickly. Behr, Wolfgang Behr.” Hartman’s face froze, but he said nothing. “Junior Technician, from the test centre. At Toplitzsee, remember? And you must know Steiner here, Walter Steiner? It seems such a long while ago doesn’t it? Yet it’s only a few short months. Ten months. Is that right? Such a lot has happened since those days.”
Hartman remembered Behr and Steiner very well. “I haven’t any idea what you are talking about.” Hartman continued to protest. “My name is Peter Weiss. I do not know either yourself, or that gentleman with you. I know nothing about any test centre. I know nothing about Toplitzsee. Now if you would kindly excuse me, I should be going.”
“All right, Major, have it your way. Whatever,” said Behr. “If you want to be called Peter Weiss well that’s absolutely fine with us. We’ll call you Eisenhower if it pleases you.” Behr moved closer. “But I know that you are Deitrich Hartman. Walter, here, he knows that you are Deitrich Hartman. You know you are Deitrich Hartman. I wonder if the authorities know? Of course if you are really Peter Weiss, as you say you are then the authorities would be of no concern to you, would they? It wouldn’t be a problem would it?”
Hartman was no longer listening. He wasn’t going to waste his valuable time with these two. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” he said. “Now please get out of my way.” He rose from his seat, and tried to walk away, but Behr was standing directly in front of him. Hartman turned awkwardly, to go around him, and stumbled. Behr grabbed him before he fell.
“Oh please be careful, sir, you could have had a nasty accident there. You didn’t hurt yourself did you? Please say that you are all right. I hope that you’re insured,” Behr sounded menacing.
Hartman pulled loose and started to walk away. The two men followed, one either side of him. Behr went on casually. “That’s what we do, by the way. We are in the insurance business.”
Steiner turned and looked at Behr. He was puzzled.
Behr nodded. “Yes Insurance.” He looked back at Hartman. “You know life insurance, car insurance, that kind of thing.”
“House insurance,” offered Steiner, joining in with the theme. “Oh, and then there’s fire insurance, and, er, medical insurance, oh and health insurance.” He hesitated, a puzzled look on his face. “Or are they the same thing?”
“Yes, that’s right, Walter, they are the same,” said a bemused Behr. “But it goes to show how important Health insurance is. It’s good to stay healthy, but one does need the insurance to cover any eventuality, just in case. Doctor’s bills can be so expensive. And if you ever need hospital treatment, you could be talking huge sums.”
He looked directly toward Hartman. “I mean, sir, had you fallen just now medical treatment could have been very expensive.”
“I’ve just thought of another form of insurance, Wolfgang,” said Steiner joining in once again. “Accident insurance,” he said triumphantly.
“Accident insurance, that’s right, absolutely correct, Walter,” said Behr. “Did you know that there are more deaths from accidents, than any other cause?”
Hartman didn’t know that. More to the point, he didn’t much care either. He remained silent, and kept walking straight ahead, trying to get away from the two men.
Behr started once again. “It’s quite amazing. Were you aware that you could get insurance for almost anything these days. Not just the everyday mundane items, but even things you would never normally think of. For example, we even do insurance to protect people’s secrets. Just imagine that?”
Hartman still said nothing, busily trying to find a way out of his present situation. Then Behr was speaking once more.
“You can now keep all of those precious little secrets safe and secure. All of those tiny things you don’t want other people to know about. Past misdemeanours, life’s little indiscretio
ns, shall we say. Well away from prying eyes, and ears. The time you drove through a red light, and got away with it. Remember? Bad mistake. We don’t want other people to know about that do we?”
“Or the time you didn’t pay for your ticket on the bus,” said Steiner. “Disgraceful.”
“Wouldn’t want to spread that around, would we, Walter?” said Behr, menacingly.
“What about when you blamed somebody else, for something that you had actually done,” offered Steiner. He was beginning to enjoy himself, getting more and more confident as the time went on.
“Good point, Walter, very good,” said Behr encouragingly. “If that actually got out it could prove very difficult. All of that explaining that would be necessary, very difficult indeed.”
Hartman suddenly stopped. What was he talking about? Then slowly he began to understand what this was all about, and where it was leading.
It all became crystal clear with Behr’s next comment. His worst fears were confirmed.
“What about being a Major, in the SS? How would anyone ever explain that? Even more difficult I’d say. Could be very awkward, very awkward indeed,” said Behr slowly, and deliberately, looking straight at Hartman. “Wouldn’t want the authorities to know about that kind of thing would we, sir?” He stopped for a few moments, and moved in closer, watching Hartman’s face. “You know, sir, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help a friend in that kind of situation,” he said quietly. “They would just need to call, and I’d be there.”