The Kammersee Affair

by John Holt

  “Every wretched word is true. But it wasn’t my fault”, he shouted loudly. “I did not betray them.”

  A loud echo came back to him across the lake. He stopped, and looked around. He knew he was innocent but that would not be enough. He knew that approximately ninety five per cent of what the document contained was absolutely true. That fact would only give additional credibility to the remainder of the document. It was clear that the authorities would accept it as the truth. They would only need to check a few items, to verify the facts. Naturally, they would expect him to deny it. They would have been surprised if he didn’t. His denial would only add further proof of the accuracy of the document. Hartman’s testimony would only provide additional proof, if any were needed. The case would be almost wrapped up.

  Suddenly, the hammer blow struck him, the final proof that the document was absolutely correct, that one major piece of evidence that completely sealed his fate. It was clear that the Germans knew all about Ernst Richter, every detail, his name, his whereabouts, and his activities. They had known everything about his friends, and his neighbours. They knew the people he met, the people he contacted. They knew everything about his role in the resistance. They knew that he was a partisan. They knew of his role in the acts of sabotage against the German rulers. The file clearly showed everything. And yet the German High Command had never arrested him. They hadn’t even questioned him. In short, he had never been bothered. Why not? Every one of his colleagues in the resistance had been stopped, and questioned on many occasions. But not him, why?

  The answer was obvious, crystal clear, simplicity itself. Naturally they would not arrest anyone who was actually working for them, would they? They would have no need to question anyone who they trusted implicitly. In that assertion, Hartman was absolutely correct. No, without any doubt whatsoever, the Austrian Government would be delighted to get hold of Ernst Richter. At that precise moment he knew that he had no choice. All that awaited him was a humiliating trial, imprisonment, and finally execution. He shivered nervously. Not a pleasant prospect.

  Perhaps I’m thinking this out the wrong way, he suddenly thought. “There is no way I can convince the authorities of my innocence. That seems more than obvious. All right, let’s forget that idea then. But, what if I told the two strangers of Hartman’s plans? But what would I actually say?

  “I need to tell you that Hartman has instructed me to kill you both.” Just a simple statement and that should solve everything.

  What if they don’t believe me? Why would Hartman want them killed? If they asked that question, he would be unable to give an answer. “I don’t know why he wants them dead.” What if they then become suspicious? They might even kill me. The next question is what about Hartman himself. As soon as he finds out that I’ve betrayed him, he will release the document to the authorities, as he said he would. Either that or he will find me, and kill me himself.

  He shook his head once again. That isn’t going to work, that’s not the answer. He was becoming more and more alarmed, and more and more unsure of what to do.

  “I’ll kill Hartman himself,” he suddenly announced. That was it. It still involved killing someone though, which was not in his nature. Nonetheless, he would make an exception in Hartman’s case. I could easily kill him. But would it be that easy, he wondered. He suddenly realised that he knew nothing about Hartman. He could not find him if he wanted to. He didn’t know where he lived, or how to contact him. He didn’t even know if Hartman was his real name. Perhaps that didn’t actually matter. After all, he is coming here in the next few days. I won’t need to look for him. I’ll wait for him to come here, and then I’ll kill him.

  There were still a few problems, Richter realised. Hartman wasn’t due until after the two men had arrived, and had, supposedly, been killed. Supposing he comes, and I haven’t carried out his instructions? Suppose I try to kill him, and fail? Suppose he overpowers me? Suppose he kills me? Suppose he doesn’t even come? He still has the dossier, and is still able to use it as and when he chooses.

  Richter finally had to admit that there appeared to be no way out of his predicament. There was nothing he could do. Every path he took came to an abrupt dead end. Dead end, how appropriate. He had thought the problem over and over. Every idea that he had, every solution that he thought of, all came to nothing. Every possibility crumbled into dust. He had reached the end of the road. There was nowhere else to go, not now. He had no choice. He had to carry out Hartman’s instructions, to the letter. He knew that now. The fact that he was innocent of the accusations didn’t matter. No one would ever listen to him. He could never prove that he was innocent. They would never believe his version. No, his fate was sealed. He knew that Hartman would always have a hold on him. And once he had killed those two men, that hold would be increased. He had to accept that, and he would have to learn to live with it.

  Richter had been given precise, detailed instructions by Hartman. He had been given full details regarding the weapon that should be used, and from where it should be obtained. He had been given full details of the men concerned; how they were to be disposed of; and what action he was to take afterwards. There was to be no trace left to indicate that these men had ever been anywhere near Kammersee. They would be arriving at Bad Aussee station. They would then take a taxi and make their way to Kammersee. After they had been killed their belongings were to be thrown into the lake. Hartman, himself, was due to arrive at Kammersee two days later.

  Now he had finally realised that he could do nothing about the situation. He had to comply with Hartman’s instructions, fully. He started to make plans for what was to happen. He took out the revolver that he had acquired, and started to check it. He had purchased it a few days earlier on the black market, from someone in Vienna, as instructed by Hartman. There was nothing to link him with the dealer, and nothing to identify the weapon. Identification marks, and numbers, had all been removed. The barrel had been re-bored.

  He had spent a lot of time cleaning the gun. It was shiny, just like new. He checked the barrel. He took the gun in his hand, and checked the balance. He pulled the trigger. He noted the resultant action of the chamber, spinning around one notch. It felt okay. He had never used a gun before, not even when he was in the resistance. Perhaps he ought to check the gun out with some live ammunition. He went over to his tent, and picked up a box of cartridges. He took out six bullets, and placed one in each of the six chambers. He held the gun out at arm’s length. Took aim, and fired. The force of the ricochet, hit Richter hard in the arm, and shoulder. The vibration knocked the gun out of his hand, and it dropped to the ground. The shot missed the target by a wide margin.

  Great, he thought, not only did that hurt, but the shot wasn’t even close. I didn’t expect anything like that. I can’t even hold the gun to fire one shot without a major problem. His plan involved firing two shots – two accurate shots, in quick succession. This was going to be a lot more difficult than he had imagined. He needed a lot more practice. At least he knew what to expect the next time.

  Over the next two hours he practiced, and practiced. At the end of that time he had fired almost one hundred shots. He was managing to control the ricochet, and keeping hold of the weapon. He was, however, still missing the target. Perhaps that didn’t matter too much. Maybe accuracy was not that important. He actually intended firing at very close range. I couldn’t miss could I, he thought to himself. No, that’s not right. I cannot take a chance of any slip up. I have to be absolutely sure, and accurate.

  Another hour passed by, and he was now hitting the target most of the time. He was beginning to feel satisfied, but it was getting late. It would be dark soon. It was enough for one day. It was time to get something to eat and then to bed.

  As Richter lay down to sleep, he felt pleased with his preparations. He was beginning to feel quite ready, resigned almost to the inevitable. He had no choice anyway. Why not just get on with it? Work with Hartman, recover the gold, and make some money. Mig
ht not be that bad after all. Anyway, as he well knew by now, there simply was no alternative. I’ll just have to get on with it, and make the best of it.

  The two men were not due until the day after tomorrow. He had a little time in which to prepare. Hartman wasn’t expected until a few days after that. It would all be over by then. In the meantime, there was nothing to be done, except wait, and maybe a little more practice.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Cavern

  The day finally arrived when the two men were expected. Richter was already at the station waiting. He wanted to be sure that they came alone, and that they had not been followed. Knowing that he had no choice, and what was to come was inevitable, he didn’t want anything to go wrong. There should be no clues left behind, nothing that could possibly incriminate him, and certainly there should be no witnesses.

  * * *

  He had arrived at the station in good time, and found a good vantage point, opposite the station, where he could observe the station entrance without being seen. It wasn’t long before the train arrived. He watched it as it came into the station. A handful of people got off the train. Upon leaving the station most of them turned immediately to the right, and started to walk down the gentle slope toward the town.

  Then he saw them, exactly as Hartman had described them. They must have been the last off of the train. They were certainly the last to leave the station. He watched as they slowly crossed the street in front of him. They never noticed him as they walked past his observation place, and got into a waiting taxi. A few moments later the taxi drove off.

  Richter waited a few more moments. He looked back toward the station. There was no sign of any one. Nobody had followed them. Now he had to get back to the lake, before them. He ran to his car, which was parked at the corner, opened the door and got in. He started the engine and drove away. He intended to take a quicker route running around the town and overtake them just on the northern outskirts. Five minutes later he arrived at the junction with the main road through to Grundlsee. As he looked to the right he could see their vehicle some distance away. He quickly turned to the left, and drove off. He looked in the rear view mirror. That was them all right, a little over one hundred yards away. He still needed to be a long way ahead, if he were to have enough time to get back, and be prepared before their arrival. He changed gear, and put his foot hard down to the floor. The car sped away.

  * * *

  Richter could see the two men through the trees. He watched them for several moments, checking to see that they had not been followed. Satisfied he made his way around them and down to the edge of the clearing to welcome them as they emerged from the forest.

  “Hello, you must be Behr and Steiner, it’s good to see you,” he said. “How was your trip?”

  “Oh it was okay,” Behr said, with a wide grin on his face, and eyes beaming. “No problems.”

  “Nobody saw you coming did they?” Richter asked.

  “No. Nobody saw us.”

  “And nobody followed you?”

  “Nobody followed us,” Behr replied. “You’ve no need to worry nobody knows that we are here.”

  “Good,” said Richter. “We don’t want any unwelcome visitors do we?” Richter noticed that Steiner was some way behind Behr, and saying nothing. He’s a little more cautious, Richter thought. He will need extra encouragement.

  “We’re a little early,” Steiner suddenly remarked nervously. “I hope that’s all right?”

  “No problem,” said Richter, walking back to Steiner, and placing his hand on his shoulder. “You are both very welcome. Good to see the enthusiasm. There’s such a lot to organise. Come on over to the camp, I’ll make some coffee.” Steiner relaxed noticeably. “What about a little breakfast? It’s not hotel quality, but I’m sure a couple of eggs, and bacon would be welcomed.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Behr.

  “Afterwards I’ll explain a little about what is going on, and then I’ll show you around.” As Richter realised the implications of what he had just said he suddenly became nervous. He took a few deep breaths to compose himself, and the feeling disappeared as suddenly as it had come.

  As they reached the camp, Richter invited them to take a seat, and make themselves comfortable. “It’s not the greatest,” he said looking around at the site. “But I have everything I need.”

  * * *

  When breakfast was over, Richter started to explain what was happening. His story had been well prepared by Hartman, and Richter repeated it almost word for word.

  “As you already know,” he started to explain, “Hartman was the security officer at the Weapons facility, at Toplitzsee. Of course, you know that, you were there with him, weren’t you?”

  The two men nodded in agreement.

  “You also know that a number of crates were delivered to the complex during the last few months of the war,” Richter continued.

  “The crates contained documents, and secret weapons, that were to be destroyed,” Steiner said, adding a bit more detail. “Some of the crates contained counterfeit US and British money. Orders were that these items should not fall into the hands of the Allies.”

  “Correct,” said Richter. “But what you probably didn’t know is that some of those crates contained gold bullion, from the Reichsbank.”

  “We didn’t know at the time,” Behr remarked. “It was quite a surprise when Hartman told us about it the other day.”

  “Hartman only found out when one of the crates being transported, fell, and broke open.” Richter explained.

  “What happened to that gold?” asked Behr.

  “It was hidden, along with a number of other crates.” Richter replied. He then looked out across the lake. “Do you see that waterfall?” he asked, pointing toward it. The two men looked in the direction he was pointing.

  “Yes, I see it,” said Steiner. “What about it?”

  “Behind that waterfall, there is a narrow crevice. And beyond that crevice there is a cavern. The cavern is perhaps thirty or forty metres deep.” Richter explained. “The gold bullion, together with a number of other crates, was placed inside that cavern.”

  Behr’s interest was now fully aroused, as was Steiner’s. “Has any gold actually been recovered?” Steiner asked.

  They’re hooked, thought Richter. “So far we have only recovered two crates from the more accessible areas,” he said, lying. He then went on to explain more about the cavern. “The cavern is quite rocky inside, and a number of crates were lodged at quite shallow depths. Other crates seem to have fallen much further, and may have actually gone to the bottom of the cave.”

  Richter stopped for a moment, and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Oh, more coffee anyone?” he asked.

  There was no reply. He started to collect up the breakfast items. “Better wash these then,” he said. “Have to keep the camp tidy.”

  He walked over to the lake to collect some water. The others said nothing, but continued to stare across the lake, at the waterfall.

  “Oh, by the way,” Richter shouted from the edge of the lake. “We found some documents which seem to suggest that there are several more crates hidden around the lake, and also back at Toplitzsee.”

  He started to walk back toward them. “One document mentions a storeroom, at the test centre, where the crates were stored originally.”

  “That could be storeroom C,” said Behr. He remembered a storeroom being described that way by some of the troops who were stationed there.

  “Possibly,” Richter replied. “Anyway, we could go across to the falls, and I’d show you the cavern. What do you say?”

  Now, with the impending deed so close, the time at hand, he could feel the adrenalin building. He noticed that his hand was shaking. Must get a grip, he thought, control the fear that was now creeping into his mind.

  “Come on, there’s the boat.”

  * * *

  Richter led the way down to edge of the lake. They climbed into the
boat, and Richter started to row across to the over side. “This shouldn’t take long,” he said casually. The two visitors said nothing. Slowly Richter made his way over to a small clearing close to the waterfall.

  “Here we are gentlemen,” Richter announced as he reached the shore. He got out, and began tying the boat to a mooring post.

  “Come along, gentlemen,” he said, as he watched the others clamber ashore. “Just a little way up there,” he informed them pointing to his right. “Go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you. You might get a little wet from the falls, I’m afraid.”

  Behr and Steiner started to walk in the direction indicated.

  “Be careful,” Richter called out to them. “It can get quite slippery up there. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you would we?”

  Behr raised his hand in acknowledgement. “We’ll be careful,” he replied. “You can count on it.”

  Slowly the three men made their way along the narrow pathway leading to the crevice. Behr was in the lead, closely followed by Steiner. Richter was some fifteen yards behind. “It’s not that far, gentlemen,” he called out. “Another twenty or thirty yards, and you should see it.”

  * * *

  A few minutes later they had arrived at their destination. “We’re here, at the crevice,” Behr called back to Richter.

  “All right, I’ll be right with you,” Richter replied.

  The crevice was twenty or thirty yards high, and only wide enough for one person to pass through. As Richter approached the crevice he indicated that they should pass through ahead of him. “You go ahead, the cavern is just to the other side,” he told them. “Please be careful that you don’t fall in. I don’t think I would be able to get you out again. Not on my own, that is.”