A Murder in Auschwitz (13 page)

Deschler shrugged at this comment, but Bauer continued between puffs on his pipe and checks that the tobacco was fully alight.

“So, this young man, let’s call him Schmidt, performed the same tasks as you have been performing for Herr Deschler. He assisted him in court, ran background checks on witnesses, and collected statements and the like. You know the kind of thing, probably better than I do. I was planning on asking him to commit to his first case but...”

Bauer was interrupted by a knock on the door, and a young girl carrying a tray of coffee entered. She had a broad face, childlike eyes, and a button nose.

“Ah, Marie, thank you. Just place the tray on the table. We shall help ourselves to the cream and sugar.” Marie did as she was asked, giving Bauer an enormous smile, and, without a word left the room.

“Lovely girl,” commented Bauer, as he poured a spot of cream into one of the cups and dropped in a lump of sugar. “She had an Italian mother. She's entirely mute and, how can I put this, a bit simple of mind, but very reliable, and really just a wonderful girl.”

Deschler and Meyer helped themselves to cups of coffee. Meyer rarely drank coffee as he found it rather bitter but did not wish to offend Bauer, so filled his cup with as much cream as he could and dropped in three of the irregular shaped sugar lumps. Herr Bauer returned to his story.

“Where was I? Ah yes, it was all going very well with our young star until a particular case. Herr Deschler was defending a client, Walter Baumann. A name neither myself or Herr Deschler will ever forget, isn’t that right?”

“Walter Baumann,” replied Deschler. “A very interesting case indeed.”

“Yes, a remarkable case of theft. Herr Baumann was accused of stealing from a bank. Nothing particularly unusual in that, you may think except Herr Baumann worked there as a bank teller.

“Now, you would think that if you were a bank teller and you wished to steal some money from the bank, you would do so with the money which is kept in the drawer at your desk. With transactions happening all day, and every day there would surely be an opportunity that someone with a criminal bent who worked in that environment would spot and digest and mull over until they had formulated a plan for stealing money with a reduced risk of being caught.

“But not our client, Walter. He had come up with a much riskier but essentially more lucrative plan for defrauding his employer.

“At the end of every day, a bank counts the money that it has and compares this to the amount given out and received by customers. So, once a week, the bank manager and Walter arrived early at the bank to open the safe, and several armed guards would either remove an already agreed-upon amount to the central bank, or replace currency when funds dropped below a certain amount due to customer withdrawals.

“Over the period of a week, Walter dealt with customers as he normally did. By all accounts, including Herr Deschler's, he was a quietly polite man, perfectly suited in his role as senior bank clerk. Yet over this week, every time he had a customer deposit cash into their account, or move money from one account to another, Walter made a small adjustment to that total; he added a certain amount to each transaction, marking the correct amount in the customer’s book, to his eternal credit, he made sure that none of the customers lost out due to his crime, but having a smaller amount in the banking record. And as he was head bank clerk, he was the one who tallied up the amounts from each desk at the end of the day.

“He also had the responsibility of going to the safe every morning and distributing the regular amount of cash to each of the tellers' desks. For that week, he carefully removed the amount of Reichsmarks which he had fraudulently misrepresented in the banking record the day before. This he put into a safety deposit box which was kept in the safe room next to the bank’s main cash safe.

“By the end of the week, on the day before the addition or removal of money from the safe, Walter had managed to increase the amount of funds that the bank was in error of holding by an exact number. One hundred thousand Reichsmarks. And this is where the genius of his plan was. As senior clerk, he also did the weekly tally which he then passed to the bank manager. The bank manager then checked the amount of money in the safe and as long it was within tolerance, then all was well.

“Of course, the removal of the one hundred thousand Reichsmarks had been covered in the discrepancy in the banks records and Walter fully expected the two to tally and the bank manager to put in the regular request for either more cash or to have cash removed.”

Bauer drained the last of his coffee from the cup and stared into the glowing bowl of his pipe. “Now, Walter was near retirement and, as we found out later, this was the main reason that he decided to alleviate the bank from some of its money. However, up to that point, he had been a diligent and conscientious servant of the Berlin Bank. No money had ever gone missing and the banking accounts had always been faultlessly accurate.

“Perhaps it was because Walter was so engrossed in his own crime that he had taken his eye off the ball, or perhaps it was just a case of misfortune that such a thing would happen in the same week, but Walter was not the only person stealing from the bank.

“A young teller with a secret mistress who had become pregnant needed some cash to pay for her silence, so, in desperation, he simply took cash from his desk at the end of the day. Walter didn’t notice this as he was certain that he was the only person stealing money from the bank and so all of his effort went into covering his own crime, rather than his actual responsibility of detecting any anomalies in the books at the end of the day.

“So this young teller, emboldened by not being caught on the first day, removed yet more cash the next day. And the next. And so on until the end of the week. So that poor Walter, when he handed over the final total which he had doctored by an amount of exactly one hundred thousand, was actually inaccurate by several hundred; the amount that the young teller had stolen.

“When the bank manager came running up the stairs to Walter and declared that there had been money stolen from the bank, Walter made his gravest error; he assumed that for some reason he had been found out and confessed all there and then. In fact, the manager had only discovered the few hundred Reichsmarks that were missing and who knows, if Walter had kept his nerve, perhaps he could have walked away with the money.

“In any event, the police were called and Walter was arrested. His sister asked us to represent him in court and we had advised him to plead guilty and take a reduced sentence. But this is where our bright young star comes in.

“He was a very intelligent and charming young man, but he had a few major flaws. He was greedy and he lived a champagne lifestyle which he could ill-afford. And here was someone he felt he could influence and exploit, since although Walter had confessed to the crime, he had not told anyone how it was carried out or where the money he had stolen was.

“In secret, our young lawyer convinced Walter not to plead guilty, which was against what Herr Deschler had advised, and promised him all sorts when he was released. He also put a huge amount of pressure on Walter to disclose the whereabouts of the money, telling him that if found guilty, giving up such information would mean his sentence would be lessened. Now, Walter may have led a somewhat sheltered life in the bank but he could determine when someone was attempting to relieve him of his ill-gotten gains.

“He gave Schmidt false information on where the money was. Once he had this information, unbeknownst to either Walter or Herr Deschler, Schmidt also began attempting to falsify evidence to have Walter convicted. Our young lawyer did not want to share any of this money with the man who had stolen it.

“Herr Deschler began to become suspicious of this young man’s ability to supply evidence, and once he had investigated further and found the full extent of his abuse of his position and attempts to find the location of the money, then the judge was informed and, in a turn of luck for Walter, a mistrial was adjudged and Walter was free to go.

“Perhaps Herr Deshler would like to finish this little tale.”

Deschler took a deep drag from cigarette and rubbed the scar on his face. “Walter Baumann shook my hand at the judge’s decision and handed me an envelope which he asked me to promise not to open until I returned to the office. He quickly disappeared from the courtroom and that was the last I saw of him.

“Of course, our young lawyer, Schmidt, had not turned up for that day’s court appearance, and a warrant was issued for his arrest. He was quite easy to find since, as I had promised Walter Baumann, I read the letter on my return to the office. It described his crime in detail but also that he had told Schmidt that the money was buried in the Friedrichsfelde Central Cemetery. He also explained further in the letter where the money had actually been kept; in the safety deposit box. Additionally, he explained that he had sent someone to remove the money from that location and, by the time I had read the letter, it would be gone.

“The police picked up a filthy and disappointed young lawyer with his career in tatters and nothing to show for his hard night’s digging except a handful of old bones.”

Bauer puffed on his pipe and, in a great cloud of tobacco smoke, added, “So, since then, Herr Deschler has been very suspicious of any new assistants we have given him, no matter what their pedigree may be. However, it seems that you may have won him over.

“He has also intimated to me that apart from a few errors which will be remedied by experience, you are ready to front your own case.”

Meyer’s eyes flicked to Deschler and then back to Bauer before he managed to ask, “My own case? You mean run it entirely? And represent a client in court?”

Bauer gave one of his wide, friendly grins. Pipe smoke wreathed his head and a small chortle escaped from his throat. He looked genuinely pleased for Meyer.

“Yes, Herr Meyer. In fact, you will have your own assistant,” said Herr Bauer, and indicated with his eyes towards Deschler.

Meyer could hardly believe it. He would be given his first case and Deschler would be his assistant. He wanted to run straight home and tell Klara the great news.

Deschler placed his empty coffee cup on Herr Bauer’s desk. “I will find you a suitable case which will be appropriate as your first. It won’t be one which would be in danger of overwhelming you or putting a client at risk, but it will be challenging enough to require guidance and assistance from myself.”

Herr Bauer stood up, placed his thumb over the bowl of his pipe and, with the tobacco still smoking, slipped it into his pocket. Smiling, he gestured with his hand towards the door.

“Thank you for your time this morning Herr Meyer,” he said.

Meyer placed his empty coffee cup on the edge of Bauer’s desk and stood to leave. “Thank you, Herr Deschler, Herr Bauer. I won’t let either of you down.”

Herr Bauer put his great paw on Meyer’s shoulder. “Please, er, Manfred isn't it? Call me Friedrich. I think we can heartily greet you into the firm, wouldn’t you agree, Kurt?” he asked, looking to Deschler.

Deschler pushed himself up on his stick and gave Meyer a rare smile, while holding out his hand, which Meyer took. It was only then that Meyer noticed the silver pin which Deschler wore on his lapel. It was a small eagle with its wings spread wide.

“Yes, Friedrich. Manfred, welcome to the company.”

The men shook hands and, guided by Bauer’s hand, Meyer headed for the door. As he left, Meyer realised what had been held in the eagle’s claws on Deschler’s lapel pin. It was a swastika.

Auschwitz, 30th July 1943

MEYER was woken by banging on the door and pushed himself up from the bunk. The hut was dark, but enough light from the full moon outside flooded into the building through the broken windows that he could see that everyone was asleep except him.

There was another banging on the door. Then he saw Langer in the moonlight, limping towards the doorway. Langer's limp was always worse in the morning. This was the result of a broken ankle from his bank-robbing days. He was lucky that he could walk at all, as it was a break which had never healed properly, but then, Langer had never had it set by a doctor.

Meyer saw him open the door and speak to someone outside. Then Langer’s hand went out and brought in the person who had been banging on the door. It was Klara.

Meyer couldn’t believe his eyes. His breath left him as he watched Langer bring her over to him. Both Langer and Klara were smiling.

Meyer reached out his hands, waiting for her to take them.

Langer was the first to speak.

“Your wife has some wonderful news, Herr Meyer.”

Meyer stretched his arms forward. He couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and he felt tears prick his eyes.

Her kind face was an open smile as she started to explain her presence. Her beautiful brown eyes and those lovely creases at the corners from years of laughing and joyful life.

Klara was wearing the blue summer dress with little white flowers that he had given her for her birthday, and he was pleased that she didn’t wear the harsh cloth of a prison uniform. Her hair was held in place with her favourite large, black clasp, and around her neck was her silver locket. She even had makeup on. And then he heard her voice. It felt like he had not heard it for years.