“I ran toward the park. I heard somebody running after me, but the air raid had started and it was so dark, I don’t know who it was. I ran to the park, climbed the tree, then sat there until that policeman found me.”
“You didn’t see or hear anything else?”
Another shrug. “Just the bombs.”
“No gunshots?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Any people out that shouldn’t have been?”
“I don’t think so.”
Vogel looked at his notes. “So, you found your mother’s gun, found Corporal Griese behind the house, closed your eyes and shot him, ran away, dropping the gun almost immediately, thought someone was following you, then climbed the tree until an hour ago.”
“Yes.”
“Now, why did you take the gun?”
“What?”
“Something must have angered you enough to get it. What was that?”
Joachim shifted in his chair. “He embarrassed my father.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure. Something happened with General Graf. I think it involved his wife. I don’t know. I just know that the general was very angry and said that he wanted Griese reassigned to the Eastern Front immediately.”
Vogel’s eyes widened. Whatever had happened must have been truly egregious for a punishment such as that, though he had heard of Graf, and he was notorious for overreacting. It was a brave man, or a foolish one, that interacted with him voluntarily.
Some said he put Himmler to shame in the revenge department.
“If he was being sent to the Eastern Front, wasn’t that punishment enough? Why kill him?”
“He, umm, embarrassed my father a second time.”
“How?”
“He threw up.”
Vogel’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“He puked, you know. Outside the window. My brother and I saw him throw up. My brother laughed and everyone heard him, so we were sent to our bedrooms. It was so embarrassing.”
“So, that’s why you decided to kill him?”
“This dinner was important to my father. This was the first one he had hosted since his promotion. Everything had to go perfectly. And I was supposed to be allowed to observe everything, but that idiot corporal threw up and my brother laughed and we both got in trouble. How is that fair? I did nothing wrong!”
“You murdered a man. You don’t think that’s wrong?”
Joachim fell silent for a moment. “Not if he deserved it.”
“You think a man deserves to die because he embarrassed your father?”
Joachim shrugged.
“I don’t think you do. I think you shot him for another reason. You said he knew something. What was it he knew that he deserved to die?”
Joachim stared at the floor.
“Was it something about you?”
No response.
“Your father?”
Joachim shifted in his chair.
“Your mother?”
Joachim erupted. “Leave me alone! You’ve heard enough! Take me to Himmler! I’ll only tell the Reichsführer!”
Vogel remained calm, letting the tirade continue as the young man’s emotions got the better of him. Whatever it was that Griese had known had something to do with his mother, and perhaps on the periphery his father, or more generally, his family.
But it was definitely related to his mother.
The boy calmed, or at least fell silent, his chest heaving under his folded arms, his face red for his efforts.
“I can only take you to Himmler if I have a full report. You know that. Now, what is it Corporal Griese knew? It was something about your mother, wasn’t it?”
A glare was the only response.
“What secret could your mother possibly be hiding that is so terrible, you felt it necessary to kill a man?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised!” Joachim’s eyes shot wide at his utterance, clearly shocked he had admitted to the fact there was indeed a secret, and that it involved his mother.
“Why don’t you surprise me? Maybe it’s not as bad as you think.” Vogel paused, a thought occurring to him. “You just discovered the secret, didn’t you?”
Joachim glared at him, saying nothing, but nodded with a huff.
“That’s good. Reichsführer Himmler needs these details. So, I assume it was last night that you discovered this secret?”
Joachim said nothing, though a grunt of confirmation was uttered.
“Just before you shot the corporal?”
Another grunt.
Vogel suppressed a smile. “You discovered it when you retrieved the gun, didn’t you?”
Joachim’s eyes flared then his shoulders slumped. “Yes.”
“And where did you find the gun?”
The boy’s eyes filled with tears. “In my mother’s vanity. In her bedroom.”
“How did you know it was there?”
“I saw it once.”
“So, last night, after Corporal Griese vomited and you were sent to your room, you decided to kill him, so you got your mother’s gun and saw something you shouldn’t have seen.”
He nodded.
“Something in her vanity?”
Another nod.
“What was it?”
“A photograph.” Tears poured down the young man’s face and Vogel’s heart ached for him. He was betraying his own mother, and Vogel felt like a heel for forcing him, but a man was dead, and this boy had nothing to do with it, yet this secret might have everything to do with it.
It was their first hint of a motive since the case had begun.
“And what was this photograph of?”
“I-I can’t say.”
“Why not?”
“I-I can only tell Himmler.”
“Why? Is it really that bad?”
Joachim sniffed. “Yes.”
“So, you want to tell Himmler because you want to get your mother in trouble?”
The boy’s eyes shot wide, staring at him in horror for a moment before his chin dropped to his chest. “I-I…” His shoulders shook as he finally gave in to the conflicting emotions that must have been tormenting him since the discovery of whatever secret his mother was hiding.
Vogel reached across the table and put a comforting hand on the boy’s arm. He flinched, pulling away. “Listen, I know this is hard. Maybe we shouldn’t tell Himmler just yet. Maybe you should just tell me, and let me decide if he needs to know. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe your mother doesn’t need to get in trouble.”
“But—but it’s wrong. I mean, every day we’re told it’s wrong. They’ve been lying to us forever.”
“Who has been lying?”
“Mother and Father! Maximilian knew. He remembered! I don’t know how that fool remembered when I forgot, but he did!”
Vogel kept the confusion off his face. “Maximilian. Is that your brother?”
Joachim nodded, wiping his tears on the back of his hands.
“What was it that he remembered?”
“Frida!”
The door burst open and Vogel spun in his chair, about to deliver a verbal tirade on whoever had interrupted them when he saw it was Colonel Konrad and a woman he assumed to be his wife.
“Joachim!”
The woman rushed forward and the boy jumped into her arms, sobbing hard as they both embraced each other.
“I’m sorry, Mother! I didn’t mean to! I won’t tell anyone! I swear, I won’t tell anyone!”
Konrad turned on Vogel. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Vogel rose. “Interviewing a murder suspect.”
“You and I both know he had nothing to do with it!”
“I do now, but before I started questioning him, he was a prime suspect.”
Konrad turned to his wife. “Take him to the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Vogel held out a hand to block them. “One last thing.” He put his hand on Joachim’s shoulder. “Son, y
ou need to know something.”
“Wh-what?”
“You didn’t kill Corporal Griese.”
His eyes widened. “Wh-what?”
“You missed. You shot him in the ear.”
His jaw dropped. “He’s-he’s alive?” Joachim stared at his mother. “But he knows about Frida!”
His mother paled and reached for the wall to steady herself. Konrad batted Vogel’s hand off his son. “He’s dead, son. Someone else killed him.”
Joachim seemed relieved, then turned to Vogel. “Are-are you going to tell Himmler?”
Vogel glanced at Konrad, the shock on the man’s face quickly wiped away. “Do you want me to?”
Joachim shook his head vigorously. “No. Please don’t.”
Vogel smiled. “Then I won’t.” He turned to Konrad. “Though I need to talk to your father first.”
The Colonel’s wife led her son from the room, and Vogel turned to Stadler. “Give us a minute, would you?”
Stadler looked none too pleased, a look he must be growing accustomed to, but left the room, closing the door behind him.
“I’ll have your job for this.”
Vogel sat on the edge of the table, his arms folded, as he regarded Konrad. “I think not, Colonel, not with what I’ve just heard.”
Konrad shifted from one foot to the other. “And just what is it you think you know?”
“Your wife’s secret.”
Konrad paled slightly. “Perhaps you should come to the house where we can talk. Alone.”
Vogel nodded. “I’ll be there in two hours.”
Konrad left the room and Stadler entered, closing the door, his eyes wide. “Holy mother of God! What the hell just happened?”
Vogel sighed, still coming down from what he had just done to that young man. Joachim would carry the scars of their conversation for some time, though during the process, whatever horrible secret he was hiding, was no longer something he wanted to share with Himmler.
Depending on what it was, how bad it was, how much against doctrine it went, it could still mean their deaths, for he feared it was indeed a horrifying secret. It was clear to him that Joachim was battling everything he had been taught by the system, drummed into him since he was born, a system that tolerated little that deviated from the norm and didn’t celebrate the notion of a pure Aryan.
Whatever that was.
With the history of Europe so replete with one state conquering another over thousands of years, how could anyone be pure beyond perhaps the naked eye. What lay beneath the fair skin, blond hair, and blue eyes so prized by a man who had none of these attributes beyond the skin color he shared with an entire continent, was beyond him.
What had this photograph revealed that had Joachim so upset he was willing to kill to keep its secret? For that’s what had happened. He had discovered the secret, and was so shocked by it, he was, for a short while, willing to sacrifice his entire family because it offended him so much. Yet he had also shot Corporal Griese because he too had known the secret. His internal conflict was so out of control, he was at once willing to kill to preserve the secret, and to tell Himmler himself the very same.
He regarded his partner. “I’m not sure what just happened, but I’ll know more later. He’s asked me to come to the house to discuss everything.”
“When do we go?”
“We aren’t going anywhere. He asked me to come alone.”
Stadler groaned. “I’m getting sick of being left out all the time.”
Vogel grunted. “Enjoy it while you can. Once you’re in my position, you can’t avoid anything.”
“So, what do we do now?”
“I’m going to prepare my notes while everything is still fresh, then put together a list of questions. I want you to run the name Frida Konrad through Central Records. See if they come up with anything. Oh, and find out what the wife’s maiden name is, and run that too with the given name Frida.”
“Who do you think she is?”
Vogel shook his head. “I’m not sure. He said his younger brother remembered her, and he had forgotten. I’m guessing it’s someone they both knew years ago. Perhaps a relation.”
“But what secret could that possibly hold? I mean, it’s just a person he saw in a photograph. What could that photograph possibly have shown?”
“I don’t know, but it might not be what was in the photograph that has him so upset. It could be that the photograph triggered a memory of this Frida person, and who or what she represents is what has him so upset.”
Stadler’s eyes widened. “You don’t think she’s a Jew, do you?”
Vogel frowned. “I hope not for their sake.”
“We have a duty to report our suspicions.”
Vogel eyed him. “What suspicions? Everything we’ve been discussing is pure conjecture. I’m not going to condemn a family, possibly to death, just because you think someone in a photograph might be Jewish.”
Stadler bristled. “Remember our oath and our duty, sir. We are required to report all Jews.”
“And we will, if that’s what’s going on here. But I don’t think that’s what’s going on here at all.”
“Then what do you think is going on?”
“I don’t know, but I hope to in the next couple of hours. Now, leave me alone and run those names.”
Stadler left the room, fuming, and Vogel watched him storm down the hall.
If they are Jewish, with him as my partner, they’re doomed.
38 |
Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany
Hoffman was relieved to hear Joachim had been found safe, yet he had a duty to perform. The colonel and his wife had rushed out of the home a short while ago, and he had been given the runaround by Central Records, finally threatening to come down in person with a squad of men to perform the search himself.
The threat had worked, a supervisor beckoned by a terrified clerk.
“This is Zimmer. To whom am I speaking.”
“This is Captain Hoffman, aide to Colonel Konrad. I need—”
“How dare you speak to one of my people like that! Konrad, you said? I want to speak to him right now!”
Hoffman bristled. Years ago, a voice such as this would have had his stomach churning with fear, yet today, after all he had seen and done? It didn’t bother him one iota. Not with the SS embroidered on his collar, the Totenkopf skull and crossbones on his hat. “He’s not available, however if you’d like, I can transfer you to his superior, who is eagerly awaiting the results of my query.”
“You do that.”
“Very well, please hold for General Graf. It may take some time.” He paused. “Oh, and your name again was?”
“Umm, Graf, you say? Well, we wouldn’t want to disturb him now, would we?”
The subdued voice had Hoffman smiling. “I wouldn’t, but you’re insisting. Please give me a few minutes, I’ll try to get him.”
“No, wait, I didn’t realize this was for him. What is it you wanted?”
“I wanted the records confirming the death of a Corporal Klaus Griese last night.”
“Yes, umm, I have those here. You see, there’s some confusion as to what happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we have two bodies identified as Corporal Griese. Obviously, there’s been some mistake, and we’ve launched an internal investigation to determine what’s going on. It shouldn’t take more than a few days to—”
“I need those records now. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. And certainly not a few days from now.”
“But we’re not sure he’s dead.”
“You’re telling me that you have two bodies identified as Corporal Griese, and you think you might have made two mistakes, not just one?”
Heavy, desperate bursts of static were the response. “Umm, no, definitely not. One mistake is rare, two is unheard of.”
“Then one of the records is correct.”
“Yes. I’m quite certain that one of them is.”
“Good, then make copies of both of them, and I’ll come by within the next hour to collect them.”
“Of course, Captain. They’ll be waiting for you.”
Hoffman hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair.
I love my job.
39 |
Berlin-Mitte Morgue Hannoversche Straße, Berlin, Nazi Germany
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m looking at it right now.”
Naumann smiled. “Have it sent over immediately.”
“I’ll have it put with the next shipment tomorrow morning.”
“No. Send it now. Special messenger. This is important.”
“It’s a corporal. Who cares?”
Naumann’s chest tightened. All human lives were important, whether corporal or general, civilian or military. This mentality of lives being discounted because of their position or perceived value to the Reich was a plague spreading throughout Germany. He treated every single person that crossed his autopsy table as equal. Yes, some might take priority over others if there was some question as to how they died—Corporal Griese being one of them—but in the end, they were always given the same respect and reverence. “When I see you on my table, I’ll be sure to remember where you rank in society.”
There was silence at the other end of the line. “You can be an asshole sometimes, you know that?”
Naumann shrugged. “Better to be called one than to actually be one. I want that uniform in my hands in the next hour.” He hung up before the asshole could respond.
You have to control your temper.
When he had started his career, saying things like he just had carried little risk. But now, under National Socialism, insulting the wrong person could lead to imprisonment, torture, even death. The man he had just insulted had no power to do anything to him, but perhaps he had an uncle who had the ear of someone in the Gestapo or SS. Someone who could make his life a living hell.
You really have to control your temper.
If they ever came for him, he had decided long ago he’d kill himself. He’d seen enough tortured bodies to know he didn’t want to go through anything like it, even if he came out the other end alive. That was why he always carried a small scalpel with him. One quick nick of a major artery, and he’d be dead in under a minute, and the latter half of that would be a sweet oblivion.
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