The Colonel's Wife

by J. Robert Kennedy

  “He wouldn’t say, not over the phone. He just said he was dutybound to report it.”

  Zimmer wiped the sweat from his brow. “Fine. Let me know when you’ve got it. I’ll fill out the paperwork to report Frida Baum as a possible Aktion T4 candidate. Let them deal with it.”

  Ludwig left, closing the door behind him, leaving Zimmer alone with his thoughts.

  Sometimes a successful search isn’t as satisfying as one would hope.

  If young Frida Baum wasn’t already dead, she was about to be.

  And it sickened him.

  His eyes widened. Hoffman was Konrad’s aide. That would mean he knew the man and his family intimately. If Frida were alive, then could he know the secret the family was hiding?

  And if he did, what would he do to the supervisor at Central Records who had discovered their secret?

  All blood drained from his face and his bladder let go as he slumped in his chair.

  50 |

  Kriminalpolizei Headquarters Prinz-Albrecht Straße, Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Stadler woke with a start, bolting upright in the bunkbed buried deep in the complex where officers took naps when it wasn’t worth the time to go home then come back for a shift that would soon be starting. The life of a police officer was never nine-to-five.

  Especially detectives.

  He enjoyed it. In fact, he loved it. When his father had pushed him into the job, he hadn’t been happy, though it was a relief to not go fight with his friends. The war had just started and was raging on two fronts, the death notices rolling in steadily for a while. As soon as he had graduated, his father had secured him the job, saving him from active duty.

  For now.

  Perhaps one day he might have to serve, but he doubted it. Europe was mostly secure, Russia would soon be defeated, and the English would be flying the Nazi flag at Buckingham Palace within a year. Then who was there to worry about? The Americans? They were burying their heads in the sand, which was perfect. Once Europe was secure, then Asia and Africa, Germany would have time to build the navy they needed to mount an invasion of the Americas. If he were at the table, planning the conquest with Hitler and the inner circle, he’d go through South America, then march northward, then when America turned its attention there, open a second front in Canada.

  It would be easy with the massive resources afforded by the Reich’s control of Europe, Asia, and Africa.

  They’d be unstoppable, and eventually the war would be over, there would be peace with the Nazi flag fluttering over every former capital.

  His chest swelled.

  I can’t wait for the day.

  He rolled out of bed and freshened up before returning to his desk. An envelope was waiting for Vogel and he glanced at it. It was from Colonel Konrad’s office. He sat down then opened it. It was a single page containing two columns of names, separated out into guests who were at the party, as well as staff and soldiers on the grounds during the time in question.

  And there were scores of them.

  This is going to take forever.

  He took out a piece of paper and began jotting down the names he felt would need to be followed up with. Those who could have perhaps committed the murder. He eliminated all the guests. It was his understanding that all of them were in the bomb shelter during the air raid. He eliminated the female house staff, and the children except for Joachim, whom he still had lingering doubts about. It was still an extensive list, what with the soldiers regularly assigned to the post or brought in special for the night, and the large contingent of caterers and support staff tending to the twenty guests and two hosts.

  It was a substantial affair.

  I never would have thought it took so many people.

  He had seen movies and newsreels portraying events such as this, and was always impressed when a long line of waiters would appear carrying trays, placing them in front of the guests, then with a flourish, they would all remove the covers simultaneously, revealing delicacies he could only taste in his dreams.

  And if such a display took place last night, it would take 22.

  Insanity.

  Though judging from the extensive list, that might have been exactly what took place, and once done, how many would have actually been needed? Could one of them during their idle time have killed Griese? But what possible motive could they have had?

  He shook his head, leaning back in his chair. It had to be someone normally at the residence, not someone brought in for the night. None of the catering staff would have had a weapon with them, and the soldiers wouldn’t have left their posts. And if they had encountered Griese during the search for him, and subsequently shot him for whatever reason, there would have been no repercussions. He had just attempted to assassinate a senior officer, or so everyone thought at the time.

  No, it couldn’t be one of the soldiers brought in, nor the catering staff.

  And that left a short list.

  None of which were someone named Frida.

  He eyed the phone. He wasn’t certain how long it would take for any results to come back from his search request, but he had made it a priority request, and would have thought there’d at least be a progress report by now. He picked up the receiver, placing the call to Central Records, and was soon transferred to a supervisor.

  “This is Zimmer.”

  “Hello, this is Kriminalassistent Otto Stadler, Kriminalpolizei. I put in a priority request earlier for two name searches. Frida Konrad and Frida Baum.”

  “Yes, yes. That request was canceled.”

  Stadler’s eyes shot wide. “Excuse me? By whom?”

  “I don’t have the name in front of me, but it was one of your people. A kriminalinspektor if I remember correctly. Not long ago.”

  Stadler hung up the phone, his mind racing as he leaned back in his chair. Only two people here knew of the request. Him and Vogel, and Vogel was a kriminalinspektor. It had to be him.

  But why?

  Why would he cancel the name search? Yes, they now knew Frida was the colonel’s deceased daughter, but why not confirm that? At this moment, they only had the man’s word on it. And he wasn’t entirely convinced that everything that had happened was related to a girl dead for six years.

  Something else was going on.

  Griese dying and Joachim fleeing all around the same time was simply too much of a coincidence. There was obviously a connection. If the boy had shot Griese in the ear then fled, then Griese went after him, where did Joachim get the weapon to shoot the corporal? It didn’t make sense for him to have two weapons. Then who killed Griese? It had to be someone from the party, and why would they kill over something as trivial as a dead daughter they had kept secret?

  And what kind of parents told their sons that their sister had gone away, then never spoke of her again?

  That didn’t make sense to him. Why would they want their daughter to be forgotten? Why no photos displayed proudly in her memory? Why was Frida a forbidden name in the Konrad household?

  His eyes flared.

  It was something about her that had to be forgotten.

  He leaned forward and grabbed the phone, reaching Zimmer within seconds. “Reinstate that records search.”

  “Consider it done.”

  51 |

  Central Records Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Zimmer hung up the phone with the Kripo detective, staring at Ludwig who stood in front of his desk, having just delivered the copy of the files sent from Offenburg.

  Files that were shocking.

  He stared at the incriminating page in front of him listing the birth of Frida Konrad, the birth parents listed plain as day. “I don’t understand. He changed her surname on the official birth record. Why wouldn’t he change this? This is more damning than anything!”

  Ludwig dropped into a chair. “It’s not the official record. It’s a copy.”

  Zimmer looked up from the page. “A copy?”

  “Yes. Remember how there were complications with the
birth? That she had Down Syndrome? Well, they kept records of those. Anyone born with a birth defect had their files copied and sent to a research department at the university there. This is that copy.”

  “So, our colonel would never have known it existed.”

  “He couldn’t have.”

  “And he would have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for your digging.”

  Ludwig frowned. “I don’t want the credit.”

  Zimmer eyed him. “Why? You did your job and you did it well.”

  “People are going to die because of this. I’d rather forget about it.”

  Zimmer nodded. It was a difficult thing. With Aktion T4 in place, Frida Konrad, if she were still alive, soon wouldn’t be. But what they had uncovered by accident was something far worse.

  And would result in the death of an entire family, if the rumors were true.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Ludwig.

  “My duty. I have no choice. If I didn’t, and the man who provided you these records found out, he could report me, then it would be me who was executed, along with the Konrad family.”

  Ludwig rose. “This…this…” His shoulders slumped. “Can I go now?”

  “Go. And don’t feel guilty about doing your job. You and I both know we have no choice in these matters anymore.”

  Ludwig left the room, leaving Zimmer with the grim task of making the official notifications. The paperwork was one thing. The paperwork didn’t scare him.

  It was the phone calls.

  The police were waiting for the information.

  But so was Captain Hoffman.

  A man he feared knew the secret his commanding officer was hiding, and might kill to protect the family. A father. Two sons.

  And a Jewish mother.

  52 |

  Kriminalpolizei Headquarters Prinz-Albrecht Straße, Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Desk Sergeant Abel sauntered through the large room containing dozens of detectives and the empty desks of dozens more. He had never wanted to be one. He had always preferred the uniform he still wore proudly. But a badly broken knee after a fight with a perp, had left him unable to perform his duties.

  Relegating him to a desk.

  He missed it, though there was some satisfaction at manning that desk at the front, being the first point of contact for the public needing help, for helping coordinate the efforts of the hundreds that worked here.

  He was respected.

  He was needed.

  He was useful.

  Vogel’s phone rang, something it had been doing the entire length of his walk through the office, and no one seemed keen to answer it. He picked it up. “Kriminalinspektor Vogel’s desk. Sergeant Abel speaking.”

  “This is Zimmer from Central Records. May I speak with him, please?”

  “I’m sorry, he’s not here at the moment. Can I take a message?”

  “Yes. Tell him we have the information on the names he asked us to search. Please have him call me at his earliest convenience.”

  “Hey, Sergeant, who are you talking to?”

  Abel glanced behind him to see Stadler returning to his desk with a fresh cup of coffee. “One moment, please, his partner just returned.” He handed the receiver to Stadler. “Central Records for you.”

  The young man’s eyes shot wide and he grabbed the phone. “Yes?”

  Abel continued his stroll back to the front desk, exchanging pleasantries with the others as he passed. Before he could reach the door, Stadler rushed past him, struggling to put his jacket on. “What’s the rush, son?”

  “That bastard knew! He had to have!”

  “Who knew what?”

  “Vogel! He had to have known!”

  Stadler blasted through the doors, leaving a dozen puzzled fellow officers in his wake. Abel returned to his desk and picked up the phone.

  53 |

  Vogel Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany

  When the evening was finally over, Vogel would be willing to admit to his wife that he had a good time. Hermann and Erika were good people, but he was exhausted. He had managed to squeeze in about two hours of sleep in the past two days, and was fading fast.

  He needed them to leave.

  Now.

  The phone rang and a surge of energy gave him a slight second wind. He excused himself and answered it. “This is Vogel.”

  “Hello, sir, this is Sergeant Abel. Something’s happened that I think you should know about.”

  Vogel tensed. “What’s that?”

  “Well, it’s about your young partner. You see, your phone was ringing, so I answered it. It was someone from Central Records saying they had the info you were looking for on a name search.”

  Vogel’s heart raced. “But I canceled that search.”

  “I can’t speak to that, however Stadler returned to his desk, took the call, then raced out of here very angry, claiming you had known something all along.”

  Vogel held his tongue. Central Records must have found out Frida Konrad had Down Syndrome. Yet he couldn’t be certain. “Did he say what it was I was supposed to have known?”

  Abel chuckled. “No, sir, but he was pretty upset.”

  “Any idea where he went?”

  “Sorry, sir, no idea.”

  “Very well, thanks for letting me know.” He hung up the phone and immediately called Zimmer at Central Records. “This is Vogel. What did you find on Frida Konrad?”

  “Oh, your partner didn’t tell you?”

  “I’m not at the station.”

  “Well, we found out several things, actually. Frida Konrad is the daughter of the colonel and his wife, though his official record doesn’t indicate he has a daughter, which is odd in itself.”

  “What else did you find?”

  “Well, this is where it gets disturbing. It would appear that the daughter was born with a condition called Down Syndrome. I’m not sure if you’re familiar—”

  Vogel’s heart rate picked up some more. Stadler now knew the secret, and was obviously assuming, correctly, that he knew as well. “I am. Go on.”

  “Well, we also discovered that he altered the birth records to show his wife’s maiden name as the surname on the record. He was obviously trying to hide the fact he had a handicapped daughter.”

  “A reasonable assumption.”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Have the records sent to my office. I’ll review them later. Good—”

  “Oh, Detective, there’s more.”

  A wave of trepidation washed over him, his skin crawling with goosebumps. “What?”

  “Something most disturbing that I’ll be reporting momentarily.”

  “And that is?”

  “Well, the birth records indicate the parents’ religion, and these show that Mrs. Konrad is Jewish.”

  Vogel’s pulse hammered in his ears at the revelation. It was something that had never occurred to him, though his young partner had suggested it with no evidence. He had been operating under the assumption the secret was Frida’s condition, but when he had realized Griese couldn’t possibly have known, and that there must be another secret, the wife being Jewish wasn’t even on the map.

  And once it was reported, they were all dead.

  “Who have you told?”

  “Your partner, and the colonel’s aide, Captain Hoffman.”

  Vogel gripped the doorframe. “Why would you tell him? That was a Kripo request!”

  “I-I’m sorry, sir, but he was here on another matter, and I made the mistake of mentioning your search when I heard who he worked for. I-I couldn’t say no. He’s SS!”

  Vogel hung up and immediately called Konrad’s residence, praying Hoffman didn’t answer.

  “Colonel Konrad.”

  “Sir, this is Kriminalinspektor Vogel. They know! Hoffman knows! You have to get out of there immediately!”

  There was a pause, but when the response came, there was little doubt the colonel knew exactly what he was talking about. “What…do th
ey know?”

  “About your wife.” He glanced at the forgotten room behind him, his wife and two guests staring at him, riveted. “About where she…used to worship.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  The line went dead and Vogel hung up the phone, turning to the others.

  “I have to go. If Stadler calls, tell him I went to arrest the Konrads.”

  54 |

  Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany

  Hoffman sat at his desk, stunned. The phone call he had received only minutes ago was shocking, and so completely unexpected, he wasn’t sure how to react.

  Though that didn’t last long.

  Rage.

  Disgust.

  To think he had served a colonel who had married a filthy Jew was so revolting, his mouth filled with bile at the thought he had shared space with her and her half-breed children. He had been loyal to a man who would introduce impurities into the Aryan race by lying about the genetics of his own children.

  It was unthinkable.

  It was intolerable.

  It was a crime of unimaginable proportions.

  Griese must have discovered their secret!

  The thought had him incensed. To think that an SS corporal was murdered to hide the fact the colonel’s wife was a Jew was unforgivable.

  Justice had to be delivered.

  He rose and straightened his uniform, inspecting himself in the mirror before fitting his cap firmly in place, regarding the skull and crossbones on the band that meant so much.

  This would disgrace him. This would set his career back for years, perhaps permanently. How could he ever live down the fact he had served a Jew-lover and not known it?

  He drew his Luger from its holster and confirmed it was loaded.

  This ends today, with the reclamation of my honor.

  He stepped out into the hall and headed for Konrad’s office. It was empty save a maid straightening up. “Where is he?”

  “I believe he went to check on his wife.”

  Hoffman strode toward the stairs, his weapon held tightly at his side.