A Murder in Auschwitz (33 page)

“And that is why you killed him? Because he was bullying you?” asked Meyer.

“No...yes. It was complicated. That was part of it; over the years it built up. I wanted to be part of the family, be part of the company. I wanted the respect I was due. So I started to court Kristin, Josef’s sister. He was furious when we started to meet. She was very pretty but, how can I put this? Not the most intelligent woman I have ever met. And extremely vain. In truth, I couldn’t bear to be near her, and as time went on it became less my attempt to become part of that family and more my enjoyment of how it upset both Josef senior and Josef junior.

“The night before I killed Josef, Kristin decided that she was going to give herself to me. Who can tell what goes through a woman’s head? Who can determine why or when a woman decides to give herself to someone?

“Anyway, it was an awkward situation and let’s just say that I found it difficult to perform. The next day, Josef had a grin on his face all the time we were working. He kept making references to the firmness of the upholstery or the flaccid nature of the fabric. I didn’t pick up on it straight away. It was only while we were having a beer that he started to directly insult me, calling into question my masculinity, calling me a queer, making disgusting comments. That was why we left the beer hall, and then, even as we crossed the street all the way back to the workshop, he kept on. He started laughing at me. Laughing and laughing and I couldn’t take his bullying anymore, and before I knew it I had picked up the closest thing to me and driven it through his chest.”

Kolb sat back in his chair. “So that is why I killed him. It was in anger. A moment of exasperation, of resentment and temper. Nothing more than that.”

Meyer let Kolb’s confession sink in. “What about the murder weapon? Where did it go? That was what our whole case rested on.”

Kolb began to laugh. “No more questions, Meyer. One question on the Pfeiffer case each time we meet. That is the agreement.”

Meyer knew it was Kolb trying to keep control of the situation, allowing out a piece of information at a time, but it was an illusion. As soon as Meyer had agreed to help Kolb, Kolb had lost control. He needed Meyer, and Meyer was certain that Kolb had had to pull some strings to have a Jew involved in the case. Meyer would allow Kolb and his associates to think that they were controlling this situation, but Kolb's life was in Meyer's hands, and by the time of the court martial, Meyer's words would be considered gospel. “Okay, let’s go back to your current case. What do I need to know that you can’t say in front of Fuchs?”

“Fuchs was correct in his research on Straus. He was a homosexual. It may have been suspected by those who knew him, but I knew for certain. He had made advances to me. It was disgusting. But I saw an opportunity. An opportunity to make some money.”

“You were blackmailing Straus?” asked Meyer.

“A homosexual is a dangerous thing to be in Auschwitz. We gas queers in Auschwitz. Whenever I was short of money, I would pay Straus a visit. He was very accommodating,” replied Kolb.

The door opened behind Meyer and Fuchs returned to the table. “Have you given Meyer the information that you wanted to?” he asked Kolb, the sarcastic tone obvious in his words.

“Heinrich,” started Kolb, but was interrupted by Fuchs.

“I also have something that Meyer should know about your case. Ritter let something slip as I was talking to him last night,” he said, taking his seat again.

Both Meyer and Kolb looked at Fuchs as a smile crossed his face. “Ritter had put in for a transfer and had been refused by Straus. It could be the motive you are looking for.”

Meyer thought about this. Fuchs was right, this could be the motive. Kolb certainly did not seem to have a motive; it was in his interest that Straus was alive since he had supplemented his income from him.

“Scharfuhrer Fuchs, did we get any witness statements?” asked Meyer.

“I requested them from Hauptsturmfuhrer Kramer this morning, but they will not be available to me until tomorrow,” replied Fuchs.

“Okay,” said Meyer. “We need to go through everyone’s movements again, adding in the information that Scharfuhrer Fuchs has provided since yesterday.

“Sturmbannfuhrer Straus was working in his office until around seven o’clock. Untersturmfuhrer Ritter was also in his office until either just before or just after Sturmbannfuhrer Straus’ death. Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb sees either Sturmbannfuhrer Straus’ or Untersturmfuhrer Ritter’s office door open and close, but it was difficult to determine due to the fog.

“Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb enters Sturmbannfuhrer Straus’ office and finds him already shot dead. His pistol is on the floor in front of him. Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb picks up the gun and it accidentally discharges. This shot is heard by the perimeter guards and they arrive on the scene.”

Meyer rubbed his eyes. He had found what did not fit. He deliberated on whether he should share it with the two SS or if he should keep this for himself for the time being. In the end, he decided that perhaps having Kolb and Fuchs work on this problem as well as himself may bring an answer.

“The two perimeter guards hear the accidental discharge of the Luger. This should be the second shot, since, according to Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb, Sturmbannfuhrer Straus was already dead with a gunshot wound. So why did no one hear the first shot?”

Fuchs and Kolb looked at each other. “I don’t know,” said Kolb.

Fuchs walked through the snow with Meyer to the main block, where Liebehenschel’s office was situated. Meyer shivered after the relative warmth of Kolb’s cell. He had made sure that they left well before nine o’clock as he did not want to miss the meeting with Liebehenschel under any circumstances.

“Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb really believes that you can save him from the firing squad,” said Fuchs, as they made their way across the courtyard.

“Yes, Scharfuhrer Fuchs,” replied Meyer.

“He is under the impression that you will find the truth of what happened to Straus that night,” continued Fuchs. “Do you think you can do that?”

“I am not certain, Scharfuhrer Fuchs,” said Meyer, pulling his arms into his ribs in a desperate attempt to hold the heat in his body.

“What are you certain about, Meyer?” asked Fuchs.

They were halfway across the courtyard from the stockade to Liebehenschel’s office, and it felt like the icy wind was tearing through Meyer's skin like razor blades, but Meyer suddenly stopped walking and turned to Fuchs.

“I am certain that I love my family. And I am certain that I miss them dreadfully. I am certain that I will do anything to see them, even if that means making sure that Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb is found innocent whether he is guilty or not. Nothing else is certain, Scharfuhrer Fuchs. Nothing.” Meyer then turned and continued on the trek across the courtyard to Liebehenschel’s office.

The air was full of freezing moisture and a fog had started to descend again. Sometimes, the air itself seemed to freeze in Poland. Meyer had experienced bad winters in Germany, both in Leipzig as a boy and in Berlin with Klara and the girls, but nothing like this. Although he remembered one winter when it was so cold that when he took Anna and Greta to the park, he had had to put so many layers of clothing on them that they could not run, only waddle. He felt himself smile at the memory, but as soon as the cold air invaded his teeth a sharp pain shot across his jaw.

As they arrived at the door to the Commandant’s block, Fuchs took Meyer by the arm and turned him to face him. “Do you think Kolb killed Straus?” It was an honest question and Meyer could see that Fuchs needed an honest answer. Meyer could also see that Fuchs was in Kolb’s shadow, not just because of his rank but because of Kolb’s intelligence and his strength of character. Meyer realised now that Fuchs' Jewish insults and the requirement to keep the protocols between prisoner and guard had no more substance than the wind which howled across the camp.

Meyer looked at Fuchs. It was like looking into a boy’s face; the chill made his lips quiver and his eyes watered in the piercing frost. Then a snowflake, torn from its resting place by a frigid gust, caught Meyer’s gaze; it floated across his vision and landed on Fuchs’ collar, just above the SS runes.

It had been an honest question but Meyer was not sure if Fuchs deserved an honest answer. “Do I think that Kolb killed Straus?” said Meyer, not using the men’s ranks, in imitation of Fuchs’ phrasing. He wanted to see if Fuchs reacted.

When he said nothing, Meyer gave him an answer. “There was no first gunshot heard.”

“Come!” came the call from inside Liebehenschel’s office.

Fuchs leaned past Meyer and pulled open the door. “Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer, it’s Scharfuhrer Fuchs. Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb asked me to bring over prisoner Meyer.”

“Thank you, Fuchs. Bring the prisoner in,” replied Liebehenschel, without looking up from his paperwork.

Fuchs and Meyer walked into the Commandant's office. Liebehenschel finished making some notes on a piece of paper then looked up at the two men. “Thank you, Scharfuhrer, please wait outside, if you don’t mind.” Fuchs saluted and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Liebehenschel placed his pen back in its holder and leaned back in his chair. He looked at the man who stood in front of him. Liebehenschel rarely got this close to the prisoners. It was difficult for him to believe that the man stood in front of him had been a well-respected lawyer in Berlin before the war. His appearance was certainly in stark contrast to how Liebehenschel imagined a well-paid Jewish lawyer would have looked in the thirties. His striped prison uniform was ragged and there were layers of makeshift clothing underneath. Liebehenschel was not sure if it was just the fact that Meyer had just come in from the freezing cold outside, but there seemed to be a lack of colour about him; his hair, his clothes, even his skin was grey.

“You are Meyer, the lawyer?” asked Liebehenschel.

“Yes, sir,” replied Meyer who felt himself standing to attention.

“I believe that Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb has made an agreement with you. That you will guide his adviser in his court martial and in return you will be given access to your family for a period of time which we have yet to determine.”

Meyer nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“But you will only be given permission to meet them if Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb proves to be innocent of the crime he is charged with. Is this correct?” asked the Commandant.

Again, Meyer nodded. “That is correct, sir.”

“And to make sure that this is a binding agreement he has requested me to give my personal approval, which, Meyer, initially I was hesitant in giving. However, having spoken to Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb, I think it would be in the interest of justice that I grant his wish.” Leaning forward in his chair once more, Liebehenschel opened a blue card folder. “Both yourself and Hauptscharfuhrer Kolb have my approval.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Meyer.

Liebehenschel looked up at Meyer for a moment and then back down at the contents of the folder. “One of my administrative staff has provided me with this file. Your wife is Klara Meyer?”

It felt strange hearing Klara’s name said aloud by someone else. “Yes, sir.”

There was a pause for a few moments while the Commandant read a handwritten note which had been pinned to the top of the sheet inside.

“You say that you have two children, girls aged fourteen, Anna and Greta Meyer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We do not have a record of them in the women’s camp. This would suggest that on arrival they were considered unfit to work and were selected for euthanasia.” Liebehenschel removed the note and crumpled it in his hand before tossing it into his waste paper bin.

He removed the typewritten sheet from the folder and began to read it to himself before giving Meyer any relevant information on his wife. As Liebehenschel was scanning the document he became aware of a high-pitched noise. Then he realised it was coming from Meyer. He was crying.

Berlin, 2nd May 1942

KLARA had put the girls to bed early. They had had sleepless nights the previous two evenings as the British and American bombers attacked the city. They had run to their secret bomb shelter when the air raid siren had sounded. Their visits to the shelter had been so frequent of late that they now kept supplies at the back of the coal bunker to save them carrying bags backwards and forwards, especially given the short amount of time that the air raid sirens allowed.

Meyer and Klara cuddled up on their sofa and listened to the rain outside. Meyer hoped that the bombers would not come that night. He wanted the twins and Klara to have an undisturbed night, a night which would be filled with peaceful dreams of a time before this, of hope and the possibility of some kind of future.

It had been a long time since he had been to the offices of Bauer & Bauer. In spite of Friedrich Bauer’s support, many of the other members of staff had begun to display anti-Semitic behaviour. At first, some of the lawyers had stopped using Meyer for advice and research, which he had not really noticed. But as time went on, only Otto Weber used Meyer for work, and even for Weber's cases had become harder when he had been forced to sew a yellow Star of David onto his jacket. He was no longer allowed to use the public library or access any of the resources in the Reich Ministry for Justice.