The Pale Criminal (35 page)

‘Thank you, Lieutenant,’ I said, ‘but first I have to remove some important documents that I left on the front seat.’

Having recovered my briefcase, which contained Weisthor’s medical case-history, Lange’s statement and the Lange-Kindermann letters, I followed the lieutenant across the cobbled courtyard towards the west wing. From somewhere to our left could be heard the sound of men singing.

‘Sounds like quite a party,’ I said coldly. My escort grunted without much enthusiasm. Any kind of party is better than late-night guard-duty in November. We went through a heavy oak door and entered the great hall.

All German castles should be so Gothic; every Teutonic warlord should live and strut in such a place; each inquisitorial Aryan bully should surround himself with as many emblems of unsparing tyranny. Aside from the great heavy rugs, the thick tapestries and the dull paintings, there were enough suits of armour, musket-stands and wall-mounted cutlery to have fought a war with King Gustavus Adolphus and the whole Swedish army.

In contrast, the sitting-room, which we reached by a wooden spiral staircase, was furnished plainly and commanded a spectacular view of a small airfield’s landing lights a couple of kilometres away.

‘Help yourself to a drink,’ said the lieutenant, opening the cabinet. ‘If there’s anything else you need, sir, just ring the bell.’ Then he clicked his heels again and disappeared back down the staircase.

I poured myself a large brandy and tossed it straight back. I was tired after the long drive. With another glass in my hand I sat stiffly in an armchair and closed my eyes. I could still see the startled expression on Kindermann’s face as the first bullet struck between the eyes. Weisthor would be missing him and his bag of drugs badly by now, I thought. I could have used an armful myself.

I sipped some more of the brandy. Ten minutes passed and I felt my head nodding.

I fell asleep and my nightmare’s terrifying gallop brought me before beast men, preachers of death, scarlet judges and the outcasts of paradise.

By the time I finished telling Heydrich my story the general’s normally pale features were flushed with excitement.

‘I congratulate you, Gunther,’ he said. ‘This is much more than I had expected. And your timing is perfect. Don’t you agree, Nebe?’

‘Yes indeed, General.’

‘It may surprise you, Gunther,’ Heydrich said, ‘but Reichsführer Himmler and myself are currently in favour of maintaining police protection for Jewish property, if only for reasons of public order and commerce. You let a mob run riot on the streets and it won’t just be Jewish shops that are looted, it will be German ones too. To say nothing of the fact that the damage will have to be made good by German insurance companies. Goering will be beside himself. And who can blame him? The whole idea makes a mockery of any economic planning.

‘But as you say, Gunther, were Himmler to be convinced by Weisthor’s scheme then he would certainly be inclined to waive that police protection. In which case I should have to go along with that position. So we have to be careful how we handle this. Himmler is a fool, but he’s a dangerous fool. We have to expose Weisthor unequivocally, and in front of as many witnesses as possible.’ He paused. ‘Nebe?’

The Reichskriminaldirektor stroked the side of his long nose and nodded thoughtfully.

‘We shouldn’t mention Himmler’s involvement at all, if we can possibly avoid it, General,’ he said. ‘I’m all for exposing Weisthor in front of witnesses. I don’t want that dirty bastard to get away with it. But at the same time we should avoid embarrassing the Reichsfuhrer in front of the senior SS staff. He’ll forgive us destroying Weisthor, but he won’t forgive us making an ass of him.’

‘I agree,’ said Heydrich. He thought for a moment. ‘This is Sipo section six, isn’t it?’ Nebe nodded. ‘Where’s the nearest SD main provincial station to Wewelsburg?’

‘Bielefeld,’ Nebe replied.

‘Right. I want you to telephone them immediately. Have them send a full company of men here by dawn.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Just in case Weisthor manages to make this Jew allegation against me stick. I don’t like this place. Weisthor has lots of friends here in Wewelsburg. He even officiates at some of the ludicrous SS wedding ceremonies that take place here. So we might need to mount a show of force.’

‘The castle commandant, Taubert, was in Sipo prior to this posting,’ said Nebe. ‘I’m pretty certain we can trust him.’

‘Good. But don’t tell him about Weisthor. Just stick to Gunther’s original story about KPD infiltrators and have him keep a detachment of men on full alert. And while you’re about it, you’d better have him organize a bed for the Kommissar. By God, he’s earned it.’

‘The room next to mine is free, General. I think it’s the Henry I of Saxony Room.’ Nebe grinned.

‘Madness,’ Heydrich laughed. ‘I’m in the King Arthur and the Grail Room. But who knows? Perhaps today I shall at least defeat Morgana le Fay.’

The courtroom was on the ground floor of the west wing. With the door to one of the adjoining rooms open a crack, I had a perfect view of what went on in there.

The room itself was over forty metres long, with a bare, polished wooden floor, panelled walls and a high ceiling complete with oak beams and carved gargoyles. Dominating was a long oak table that was surrounded on all four sides with high-backed leather chairs, on each of which was a silver disk and what I presumed to be the name of the SS officer who was entitled to sit there. With the black uniforms and all the ritualistic ceremony that attended the commencement of the court proceedings, it was like spying on a meeting of the Grand Lodge of Freemasons.

First on the agenda that morning was the Reichsführer’s approval of plans for the development of the derelict north tower. These were presented by Landbaumeister Bartels, a fat, owlish little man who sat between Weisthor and Rahn. Weisthor himself seemed nervous and was quite obviously feeling the lack of his cocaine.

When the Reichsfuhrer asked him his opinion of the plans, Weisthor stammered his answer: ‘In, er . . . in terms of the, er . . . cult importance of the . . . er . . . castle,’ he said, ‘and, er ... its magical importance in any, er ... in any future conflict between, er . . . East and West, er . . .’

Heydrich interrupted, and it was immediately apparent that it was not to help the Brigadefuhrer.

‘Reichsführer,’ he said coolly, ‘since this is a court, and since we are all of us listening to the Brigadefuhrer with enormous fascination, it would I believe be unfair to you all to permit him to go any further without acquainting you of the very serious charges that have to be made against him and his colleague, Unterscharfuhrer Rahn.’

‘What charges are these?’ said Himmler with some distaste. ‘I know nothing of any charges pending against Weisthor. Nor even of any investigation affecting him.’

‘That is because there was no investigation of Weisthor. However, a completely separate inquiry has revealed Weisthor’s principal role in an odious conspiracy that has resulted in the perverted murders of seven innocent German schoolgirls.’

‘Reichsführer,’ roared Weisthor, ‘I protest. This is monstrous.’

‘I quite agree,’ said Heydrich, ‘and you are the monster.’

Weisthor rose to his feet, his whole body shaking.

‘You lying little kike,’ he spat.

Heydrich merely smiled a lazy little smile. ‘Kommissar,’ he said loudly, ‘would you please come in here now?’

I walked slowly into the room, my shoes sounding on the wooden floor like some nervous actor about to audition for a play. Every head turned as I came in, and as fifty of the most powerful men in Germany focused their eyes on me, I could have wished to have been anywhere else but there. Weisthor’s jaw dropped as Himmler half rose to his feet.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Himmler growled.

‘Some of you probably know this gentleman as Herr Steininger,’ Heydrich said smoothly, ‘the father of one of the murdered girls. Except that he is nothing of the kind. He works for me. Tell them who you really are, Gunther.’

‘Kriminalkommissar Bernhard Gunther, Murder Commission, Berlin-Alexanderplatz.’

‘And tell these officers, if you will, why you have come here.’

‘To arrest one Karl Maria Weisthor, also known as Karl Maria Wiligut, also known as Jarl Widar; Otto Rahn; and Richard Anders, all for the murders of seven girls in Berlin between 23 May and 29 September 1938.’

‘Liar,’ Rahn shouted, jumping to his feet, along with another officer whom I supposed to be Anders.

‘Sit down,’ said Himmler. ‘I take it that you believe that you can prove this, Kommissar?’ If I’d been Karl Marx himself he couldn’t have regarded me with more hatred.

‘I believe I can, sir, yes.’

‘This had better not be one of your tricks, Heydrich,’ Himmler said.

‘A trick, Reichsführer?’ he said innocently. ‘If it’s tricks you’re looking for, these two evil men had them all. They sought to pass themselves off as mediums, to persuade weaker-minded people that it was the spirits who were informing them where the bodies of the girls they themselves had murdered were hidden away. And but for Kommissar Gunther here, they would have attempted the same insane trick with this company of officers.’

‘Reichsführer,’ Weisthor spluttered, ‘this is utterly preposterous.’

‘Where is the proof you mentioned, Heydrich?’

‘I said insane. I meant exactly that. Naturally there is no one here who could have fallen for such a ludicrous scheme as theirs. However, it is characteristic of those who are insane to believe in the right of what they are doing.’ He retrieved the file containing Weisthor’s medical case history from underneath his sheaf of papers and laid it in front of Himmler.

‘These are the medical case notes of Karl Maria Wiligut, also known as Karl Maria Weisthor, which until recently were in the possession of his doctor, Hauptsturmfuhrer Lanz Kindermann–’

‘No,’ yelled Weisthor, and lunged for the file.

‘Restrain that man,’ screamed Himmler. Immediately the two officers standing beside Weisthor caught him by the arms. Rahn reached for his holster, only I was quicker, working the Mauser’s slide as I laid the muzzle against his head.

‘Touch it and I’ll ventilate your brain,’ I said, and then relieved him of his gun.

Heydrich carried on, apparently undisturbed by any of this commotion. You had to hand it to him: he was as cool as a North Sea salmon, and just as slippery.

‘In November 1924, Wiligut was committed to a lunatic asylum in Salzburg for the attempted murder of his wife. Upon examination he was declared insane and remained institutionalized under the care of Dr Kindermann until 1932. Following his release he changed his name to Weisthor, and the rest you undoubtedly know, Reichsfuhrer.’

Himmler glanced at the file for a minute or so. Finally he sighed and said: ‘Is this true, Karl?’

Weisthor, held between two SS officers, shook his head.

‘I swear it’s a lie, on my honour as a gentleman and an officer.’

‘Roll up his left sleeve,’ I said. ‘The man is a drug addict. For years Kindermann has been giving him cocaine and morphine.’

Himmler nodded at the men holding Weisthor, and when they revealed his horribly black-and-blue forearm, I added: ‘If you’re still not convinced, I have a twenty-page statement made by Reinhard Lange.’

Himmler kept on nodding. He stepped round his chair to stand in front of his Brigadeführer, the sage of the SS, and slapped him hard across the face, then again.

‘Get him out of my sight,’ he said. ‘He is confined to quarters until further notice. Rahn. Anders. That goes for you too.’ He raised his voice to an almost hysterical pitch. ‘Get out, I say. You are no longer members of this order. All three of you will return your Deaths Head rings, your daggers and your swords. I shall decide what to do with you later.’

Arthur Nebe called the guard that was waiting in readiness and, when they appeared, ordered them to escort the three men to their rooms.

By now almost every SS officer at the table was openmouthed with astonishment. Only Heydrich stayed calm, his long face betraying no more sign of the undoubted satisfaction he was feeling at the sight of his enemies’ rout than if he had been made of wax.

With Weisthor, Rahn and Anders sent out under guard, all eyes were now on Himmler. Unfortunately, his eyes were very much on me, and I holstered my gun feeling that the drama had yet to end. For several uncomfortable seconds he simply stared, no doubt remembering how at Weisthor’s house I had seen him, the Reichsführer-SS and Chief of the German Police, gullible, fooled, sold — fallible. For the man who saw himself in the role of the Nazi Pope to Hitler’s Antichrist, it was too much to bear. Placing himself close enough to me to smell the cologne on his closely shaven, punctilious little face, and blinking furiously, his mouth twisted into a rictus of hatred, he kicked me hard on the shin.

I grunted with pain, but stood still, almost to attention.

‘You’ve ruined everything,’ he said, shaking. ‘Everything. Do you hear?’

‘I did my job,’ I growled. I think he might have booted me again but for Heydrich’s timely interruption.

‘I can certainly vouch for that,’ he said. ‘Perhaps, under the circumstances, it would be best if this court were postponed for an hour or so, at least until you’ve had a chance to recover your composure, Reichsfuhrer. The discovery of so gross a treason within a forum that is as close to the Reichsführer’s heart as this one will doubtless have come as a profound shock to him. As indeed it has been to us all.’

There was a murmur of agreement at these remarks, and Himmler seemed to regain control of himself. Colouring a little, possibly with some embarrassment, he twitched and nodded curtly.

‘You’re quite right, Heydrich,’ he muttered. ‘A terrible shock. Yes indeed. I must apologize to you, Kommissar. As you say, you merely did your duty. Well done.’ And with that he turned on his not inconsiderable heel and marched smartly out of the room, accompanied by several of his officers.