Part 32 (1/2)
”I may have seen Kurt in Berlin just before he left. We were both still too young for the draft, so we had time for socializing, such as it was, with the blackout and all. They even closed the beer gardens, you know. Worst decision the Cripple ever made.”
”Did your father know about this problem with the Bauers' ancestry?”
”Of course.”
”And he didn't order you to stop seeing him?”
”You know, people always a.s.sume that any German in those days would have simply been appalled to find out that a friend had even a drop of Jewish blood.”
”Can't imagine why they'd think that.”
”See? You are the same. And in my case, it is only because of my father, and some meeting he supposedly attended, and a single law that bears his signature. Say what you will, but I am not at all ashamed of my father. He was a legal technician, nothing more. They asked him to draft laws and he did so, just as he was obligated to do. Not by the German Reich, but by his professional code of conduct. The same way that any lawyer would defend some criminal, some murderer, to his very last breath if that was his duty. Does that mean the lawyer is complicit in the murder? Of course not.”
”Yes, I see your point.” The last thing Nat wanted to encourage was further lecturing. ”So his Jewishness didn't bother anybody, then-is that what you're saying?”
”It was merely some old blood, a mistake made long ago by a distant relative. Or not a mistake, but you know what I mean. I suppose there was some reaction among a few people. But no one of importance. His girlfriend, for example. If anything, she was probably pleased by it. Not because she was a Jew, of course. More because of her politics. I always suspected that deep down she was a little Bolshevik.”
Stuckart laughed, the smoke issuing in bursts.
”What makes you say that? Because of this little group they were mixed up in, the White Rose?”
Stuckart's smile disappeared.
”I don't know a thing about any of that.”
”Nothing?”
”Quite right.”
”But wasn't Bauer arrested? Surely you heard about that. He was interrogated by the Gestapo, even put into prison for a while.”
”I don't know.”
”Your best friend goes to jail for five months and you don't know about it?”
”We were friends, not best best friends. And if these things indeed happened, then it must have been during a period when I didn't see him much. There were a lot of bombings of the city in that period. Life wasn't exactly proceeding in a normal fas.h.i.+on. So when people went missing from your life for a while, it didn't seem out of the ordinary.” friends. And if these things indeed happened, then it must have been during a period when I didn't see him much. There were a lot of bombings of the city in that period. Life wasn't exactly proceeding in a normal fas.h.i.+on. So when people went missing from your life for a while, it didn't seem out of the ordinary.”
”I see.” Lying son of a b.i.t.c.h. But why cover for Bauer on a matter that, presumably, would make the man look good, even n.o.ble? ”What else do you remember about Bauer's girlfriend?”
”Not so much. It was a poor match. My father detested her. But all the same he was fine with letting her dine in his house, because that is the kind of man he was.”
”Tolerant.”
”Of course. His duties and his work he kept to one side, his friends.h.i.+ps and his hospitality he kept to another. As is only proper.”
”Of course.” Nat wished he had all this on tape, if only for the circuitous marvel of Stuckart's rationalizations. He had heard some splendid examples over the years from Germans of that era, but this was a virtuoso performance.
The discussion of Bauer's girlfriend, however, had jarred loose his memory of Berta's findings on the deaths at Plotzensee Prison, plus all those photos of the elderly Bauer arriving at the site on the fourth day of every month, flowers in hand.
”This girlfriend. I suppose you're referring to Liesl Folkerts?”
Stuckart tilted his head and gave Nat a long, silent look, as if reappraising his questioner. His next words emerged with great deliberation.
”How much, exactly, have you dug up on old Kurt?”
Was it Nat's imagination, or had Stuckart's tone contained a hint of gleeful malice? Yes, this was a complicated friends.h.i.+p.
”Bits and pieces. She died, didn't she? Some misadventure at Plotzensee Prison?”
”She was killed in a bombing raid. There was a big one that night, and the prison took a direct hit. A few people even managed to escape as a result, but Liesl was buried under a collapsed wall. Kurt was inconsolable.”
”I thought you didn't see him any then?”
”This was all secondhand, of course. From mutual friends. As for myself, I, uh, didn't see him again until-”
”Switzerland?”
”Of course.”
”Let's go back there for a second.”
Stuckart shrugged and reached again for his cigarettes. He stubbed out the first one even though it was only half finished.
”As I told you, we hardly saw each other in Bern. I recall running into him once on the Kornhaus Bridge, but that was about it.”
Nat consulted his notes from the Swiss surveillance reports.
”This meeting on the bridge, would that have been on the twentieth of July, 1944?”
”I have no idea. It was so long ago. That could have been the date, but I would hardly describe it as any sort of 'meeting.'”
”Well, I'm not sure what else you would call it. You and Kurt were witnessed together on the bridge. Then both of you walked to a house in Altenberg, where you were inside for several hours.”
Stuckart was stone-faced, silent. Nat continued.
”A few days later you visited him at his room at the Bellevue, where his family had a suite. You stayed two hours, then the two of you had dinner together on the terrace, where you were also seen chatting with members of the German legation. One of them was a new addition to the staff of the Gestapo.”
Stuckart exhaled twin plumes of smoke through his nostrils. A long column of ash drooped from his cigarette, on the verge of collapse.
”Where did you come by this ludicrous hearsay?”
”It's not hearsay. It's a surveillance report by Swiss intelligence. An original, not a copy. Swiss agents observed a third lengthy meeting between the two of you as well. It was also attended by the new staff member of the Gestapo. Maybe now that I've refreshed your memory you could fill in some of the details?”
”I'm afraid that isn't possible.”
”Isn't possible, or isn't desirable? Why keep protecting Bauer?”
”Look, when I said earlier that Kurt Bauer and I were still friends, perhaps I was being a bit boastful. We are in touch from time to time, but we really don't see each other. Not face-to-face, or out in public. So, naturally, we never have occasion to revisit these old conversations, meaning that my memory of any time we may have once spent together has faded over time. Quite a bit, in fact. Do you see?”
”Yes, I see. And I'm beginning to understand your friends.h.i.+p. It's based on mutual leverage, because you both have something to hide. For you, the Stuckart ident.i.ty. For him, something that happened during the war, here or in Bern. In a strange way you're still valuable to each other. In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that he helped arrange your little vanis.h.i.+ng act, in that fake accident. You probably didn't have the right connections at the time. But he did. And he was glad to help, because if his own secret ever got out, well, that would be almost as embarra.s.sing as having people know you were the son of a convicted war criminal.”