The White Gallows (19 page)

‘Natzweiler had a specialist medical laboratory for the lunatic, Hirt, where he performed very cruel experiments with mustard gas and he tested methods of sterilisation such as injecting testicles with various poisons. In order to kill the new prisoners they built a gas chamber. However, getting cleaned skeletons was not so easy. Once dead the problem is to remove all the flesh. The traditional process was to first put the bodies in lime chloride to dissolve the soft tissues. Then they put them in gasoline to get rid of the fat. The whole process takes weeks. As a skilled chemist and enthusiastic member of the SS, Kucken was consulted about how to more efficiently strip the flesh from the bones of those Jews murdered at Natzweiler. We think Kucken was temporarily moved from
Auschwitz
to Strassburg to help Hirt carry out the task.’

‘You think?’ McEvoy said, his mind trying to process the horrific story.

‘We’re almost certain,’ the man said, his voice weak and reedy. ‘We have many boxes of evidence – documents and witness statements. We know that Kucken was on leave from Monowitz and in Strassburg at the right time. The prisoners were shipped there in early August 1943. Eighty-six of them were killed from the eleventh onwards and the corpses shipped to the Anatomical Institute within a few hours of death. Kucken was there from the ninth to the nineteenth; at the Institute. He had no other reason to be there. His family were in
Freiberg
.’

‘And Monowitz was?’

‘The forced labour camp built to house the slave workers used in constructing the buna factory; it produced artificial rubber for the German war machine,’ the woman answered, handing McEvoy four more photos. One was of a large factory with four tall chimneys, two wide stacks, and a plethora of buildings and exposed pipework. The second was row after row of barracks surrounded by barbed wire and watch towers. The final two photos were of emaciated men in striped rags staring forlornly at the camera.

‘
Auschwitz
was a complex of many camps and works. Many of the workers at the factory were foreign, “volunteer” labourers or ethnic Germans, but twenty to thirty per cent were concentration camp prisoners who were systematically worked to death. Somewhere in the region of thirty-five thousand unfortunates passed through Monowitz between 1943 and 1944. The number of
confirmed
deaths was twenty-three thousand. People were forced to work eleven or twelve hour days carrying heavy loads in all weathers with pitiful clothing and the minimum of food. And these were the people fit enough that they weren’t sent straight to the gas chambers as they climbed off the trains.’

‘Jesus,’ McEvoy muttered.

‘Have you heard of Primo Levi?’ the man asked.

McEvoy shook his head no.

‘He was an Italian chemist who survived Monowitz. Everyone should read his books.’

McEvoy nodded his head, unsure what to say. If true, then
Ireland
had not only been sheltering a war criminal for nearly sixty years, it had enabled him to live a very successful life.

‘Kucken was the star chemistry student of his generation at
Heidelberg
University
,’ the woman continued. ‘
Heidelberg
had produced a number of Nobel Prize winners, including Carl Bosch, one of the founders of IG Farben, and it was felt that Kucken had the potential to follow in their footsteps. In 1941 at the age of twenty-three he was already near to completing his doctorate and he’d secured a post with IG, then the largest chemical conglomerate in
Germany
. An early member of the Hitler Youth he was recruited by the SS and encouraged to continue his career. When IG started to build the buna plant near to
Auschwitz
, given his interests and his SS involvement, Kucken was an obvious candidate to go there and help run it.

‘He was a brutal man who we know from personal testaments killed at least five people in cold blood; probably several more. We have a picture of him standing next to a gallows from which several people are hanging. He certainly attacked and maimed many people. And we have strong evidence that he knew about and took part in the Jewish Skeleton Project. Through his SS contacts we know he also came into contact with the infamous Josef Mengele – the Angel of Death – and that he also met Bruno Beger when he visited
Auschwitz
.’

‘And what evidence do you have that Albert Koch was  Adolf Kucken?’ McEvoy asked trying to equate their story with the ashen corpse he’d inspected a couple of days ago. It was hard to see the frail, old man as a mass murderer, despite the fact that he knew murderers had no typical recognisable traits.

‘You’ve seen the photograph, Superintendent. Even after sixty years he looked the same. Besides, his brother also changed his name. Franz Kucken became Frank Koch. If you check the internment records for the Curragh camp during the war there is no record for Frank Koch. But there is for Franz Kucken – Adolf Kucken’s brother.  Adolf Kucken laid low after the war, then somehow found a way to
Ireland
. Once here he persuaded his brother to slightly modify his name and started a new life, keeping his past hidden.’

McEvoy realised that he’d let the couple say their piece without actually finding out anything about them. ‘And you’re here to expose his past?’ he asked.

‘We’re here for justice,’ the woman said firmly. ‘One of the people he killed in cold blood was my grandfather on my mother’s side. He shot him in the head in January 1944 for not working fast enough. We’ve been trying to persuade Kucken to confess to his crimes.’

‘And you are?’ McEvoy asked, taking the opportunity to wrestle back the initiative.

‘I am Ewa Chojnacki from
Krakow
in
Poland
. This is Tomas Prochazka, he is from
Slovakia
. We both belong to an organisation called Yellow Star. We try to track down the last of the war criminals before they die to capture their confessions and to make sure the world does not forget the evil they committed. Adolf Kucken lived a very good life. He became very rich and very powerful. He destroyed thousands of lives and yet he did not suffer for his crimes. Instead it appears that he was rewarded.’

‘And would taking his life be a suitable revenge?’

‘If you are asking whether we killed Adolf Kucken, then the answer is no. We wanted Kucken to confess; to admit to his crimes and face prosecution. A quick death was too good for him.’

‘And what did Dr Koch say to your accusations?’

‘He refused to talk to us. We tried to persuade him; we threatened to take a case against him unless he confessed.’

‘And what did he say to that?’

‘He told us his lawyers would wrap us in legal tape to silence us. We tried talking to his brother, but he just got angry and wouldn’t answer our questions. We also tried to talk to his housekeeper, Roza, but she didn’t want to know. She lost several family members during the war, including a grand-uncle that died on a death march from
Auschwitz
towards
Germany
as the Russians approached the complex. This is our third trip here to try and persuade him.’

‘Does Roza know about her great-uncle?’ McEvoy asked.

‘Possibly. We don’t know. We haven’t told her yet.’

‘And what were you doing late on Saturday night?’

‘We were here in the guest house.’

‘And can anyone confirm this?’

‘Only each other, and perhaps the landlady. We did not kill him. We wanted him alive so that he could suffer the humiliation of being exposed for who he really was.’

McEvoy nodded his head. If what the couple were saying was true then Koch’s reputation would soon be in tatters.

‘If you didn’t kill him then why didn’t you come forward straight away?’

‘We wanted to see if the real killer was caught quickly. Given our interest in Adolf Kucken we are seen as suspects, yes?’

‘I’m afraid so. Koch’s, or if you are right Kucken’s, house had been searched when he was killed. You were after information about him. Did you break into his house?’

‘No. We have all the evidence we need from the German, Polish and Irish archives. We were after a confession, nothing more.’

‘But you did visit his farm on Saturday?’

‘We went to the house in the morning, but he would not talk to us. His son and grandson were there. We left and did not go back.’

‘You needed evidence that Koch was Kucken.’

‘We
knew
he was Kucken. You’ve seen the photo. His history fits.’ She shrugged as if to say, ‘what more do I need to say to prove it?’

‘We’re going to need to verify your story. You said you have boxes of evidence?’

‘We only have a little of it here. Most of it is at our headquarters in
Israel
.’

‘
Israel
?’

‘It is the safest place for it. Many people would like our files to disappear, Superintendent. Much of the original sources are still in their proper archives, but our files are carefully catalogued and cross-referenced to reveal patterns of association and guilt. Adolf Kucken was a billionaire. He could have tried to use his wealth to destroy our evidence, so we protected it well.’

‘And what about yourselves?’

‘What about us?’

‘Perhaps he could have tried to make you disappear?’ McEvoy suggested.

‘He could have tried, but he would be making a bigger problem for himself. If we disappeared, then Yellow Star would mobilise fully against Kucken and Ostara Industries. We are a small organisation but we have very influential friends and funders. It would quickly turn into an international incident.’

McEvoy nodded his head, unsure what to say.

‘I can arrange for copies of the evidence to be sent to you,’ Ewa continued, ‘though the documents are mainly in German. The witness statements are in Polish, Hungarian, Russian, Hebrew, Italian, French and other languages. Very little has been translated into English.’

‘We’ll take anything you have,’ McEvoy said, unsure of how they would be able to fully analyse the material without lengthy and expensive translation and transcription. ‘Particularly anything that proves your claims as to Koch’s identity and his guilt of war crimes. We’ll also want to know where the original sources are so we can make sure they’re genuine. I’ll arrange for someone to collect the material you have here. Is that okay?’

‘Yes,’ the woman nodded. ‘We have copies.’

‘I’ll also need you to provide full statements as to your movements over the past few days and especially on Saturday and Sunday.’

‘That’s not a problem.’

‘Right, okay. I think that’s it for now. What will you do now that Koch is dead?’

‘Once we are no longer considered suspects, we will tell the world his story. Just because he’s dead does not mean that the crimes he committed die with him. People should know what he did. Do you know what Ostara means, Superintendent?’

‘No.’

‘Ostara was the pagan god of rebirth and new life; new beginnings. In some places she was known as Eostre. It’s where the word Easter comes from; the time when things re-emerge after a dark winter and start to grow again. Kucken saw
Ireland
as a place where he could forget his past and start over afresh. We’re going to expose that past and why he needed to start again.’

‘And what about the people who work for Ostara Industries,’ McEvoy said, starting to think through the ramifications of their story. ‘They might lose their jobs if the company gets in trouble.’

‘If history is anything to go by, they might experience a slight downturn, then grow back. Look at all the big German companies today. Many of them served the Nazi war machine and now they are thriving. The uniform Kucken wears in this photo,’ she held it up again, ‘was tailored by Hugo Boss. People forget and forgive corporations quickly. But they will not forgive Adolf Kucken.’

McEvoy nodded his head in agreement and pushed himself to his feet. ‘I’m afraid that I must request that you do not leave the country until further notice.’

Ewa and Tomas levered themselves standing.

‘We understand,’ Tomas said.

‘Somebody will come to collect your material and statements.’ He shook their hands and left the room.

McEvoy exited the bed and breakfast and waited on the steps leading down to the gate, shielding his eyes from the low sun. He felt strangely calm. All of his frustration and stress seemingly dissipated. The couple’s story was otherworldly. If true, then the search was no longer for the killer of a rich, but innocent, old man. Rather they were seeking someone who had killed a murderer, a monster who had been an active contributor to genocide. A monster who had not only evaded justice, but had prospered seemingly without guilt or shame. The front door closed behind him.

‘Well?’ John Joyce asked.

‘They had a strong motive for searching Koch’s house,’ McEvoy said neutrally. ‘Perhaps they disturbed him, he came downstairs and they got into a fight? Koch almost certainly had a gun. They could have been defending themselves?’

‘Perhaps,’ Joyce said unconvinced.

‘And the hanging rope would make sense as a statement.’

‘Or that’s what someone wanted us to think,’ Joyce speculated.

‘Well, we have two definite lines of enquiry for now – Marion D’Arcy and her strong desire to see her father’s will and our two friends in there.’ McEvoy gestured over his shoulder. ‘Marion D’Arcy might not have been snooping round the house, but that’s not to say that someone else wasn’t doing it on her behalf. I want you to get hold of the doctor who pronounced Koch’s death and find out if Mrs D’Arcy placed pressure on him to declare a natural death. Also track down Koch’s solicitor. I’ll want to talk to him. And get Kelly Stringer to organize the collection of whatever evidence those two have, to take full statements from them about their movements, and to talk to the landlady to corroborate their story.’

‘I’ll talk to the landlady again before I leave,’ Joyce said.

‘And ask Kelly to check with military records about Frank Koch’s internment in the Curragh,’ McEvoy continued. ‘I’m going to talk to him again.’

He glanced at his watch. ‘Jesus,’ he whispered to himself. He was late for his meeting in Trim about the dead Lithuanian. He was going to have to delay it for now and also rearrange his meeting with Stefan Freel.

_{* * *}

Frank Koch opened the door before McEvoy had a chance to press the bell. ‘Superintendent?’

‘I’m afraid I need to ask you some more questions. Can I come in?’

‘Yes, yes,’ Koch said smiling, ‘please. It’s good weather for a change, no?’

‘Anything’s better than rain,’ McEvoy said, following Koch into the living room.

Mary Koch was sitting in the same chair, a newspaper in her lap. ‘You look better than yesterday,’ she observed. ‘More colour in your cheeks. Do you want a cup of tea? Frank, will you put the kettle on?’

‘No, no, I’m fine,’ McEvoy muttered. ‘I need to ask you both some more questions though, if that’s okay.’

‘Sit, sit,’ Mary demanded.

McEvoy and Koch sat in the same places as they had the day before.

‘Are you making any progress?’ Mary continued. ‘It’s terrible about Bertie. I still can’t believe it’s happened; to attack an old man like that.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘We’ve been told we can’t bury him yet, so everything’s all up in the air. And I haven’t slept right since for worry. What if he tries to break into our house in the middle of the night? My Frank isn’t as strong as he used to be.’

Frank Koch pulled a tight smile, but stayed silent.

‘We’re making some progress,’ McEvoy replied, ‘and hopefully we’ll catch whoever’s responsible for Dr Koch’s death soon.’

‘I hope so, I really do.’

‘I’d like to ask about when your brother moved to
Ireland
,’ McEvoy said to Koch. ‘His son, Charles, said he moved here in 1948.’

‘Yes,’ Koch replied warily.

‘He came from
Germany
to join you in Athboy?’

‘Newbridge,’ Mary answered. ‘We were living in Newbridge. That’s where I met Frank. We moved to Athboy in 1952 when they bought the factory.’

McEvoy nodded. The Curragh internment camp was a couple of miles from Newbridge in
County
Kildare
, about forty miles to the south of Athboy. ‘The factory?’ he prompted.

‘We bought a fertiliser factory that had just gone out of business,’ Koch stated flatly.

‘The two of you?’

‘Yes. We worked very hard for four years to save enough to buy it. It took us three months to get it operational again. We lived in the factory to save money.’

‘All of you? I mean, both of your families?’

‘Yes. We couldn’t afford anything else.’

‘So Albert was now married?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Mary said. ‘He’d married Maura in 1950. She died in 1987 of breast cancer. It hit Bertie hard.’

‘And both his children had been born?’

‘Yes,’ Mary answered. ‘Charles was born just a couple of months before we all moved. It was not easy living in the factory with young children. We had two of our own at that stage and I was pregnant with Karl. The place was filthy and there were mice and rats everywhere, but we coped.’

‘And did anyone else move with you from Newbridge to Athboy?’

‘Why are you asking these questions?’ Frank Koch said, his voice hardening.

‘I’m trying to get as full as picture of Dr Koch as I can. When he married Maura, he also took on her daughter as well, didn’t he?’

‘If you already know the answers why are you asking these questions?’

‘Because I don’t know all the answers. I have some bits of information, which may or may not be true, that I want to piece together into a full story.’

‘Maura O’Coffey was my best friend, Superintendent,’ Mary said. ‘She went to
Britain
in 1943 to work as a nurse in
Liverpool
. She stayed on there after the war for a couple of years and returned to
Ireland
not long before Bertie arrived. When she finally travelled home she had a four-month-old daughter. She told her family and friends that she had married a local man, but that he had died a couple of weeks previously whilst clearing a bomb site – a wall had fallen and crushed him to death. With a young child and no breadwinner she decided to come home.’

‘And was she married?’

‘No. But this was 1940s
Ireland
, Superintendent. Mothers without husbands were sent to Mother and Baby Homes. The child might have been taken away for adoption. The family would lose face with their neighbours. It was easier for everyone to pretend that she had been married. And then Bertie came along.’

‘He rescued her?’

‘They fell in love. They were close from the minute he arrived. They were both determined to make a better life for themselves.’