Читаем Prague Fatale полностью

‘You took your time getting here,’ said Heydrich, sourly.

The remark appeared to be directed at me so I glanced at my watch and said, ‘I received the call from Major Ploetz in my hotel just forty-five minutes ago. I came as quickly as I could, sir.’

‘All right, all right.’

Heydrich’s tone was testy. There was a cigarette in his hand. His hair looked dishevelled and uncombed.

‘Well, you’re here now, that’s the main thing. You’re here and you’re in charge, d’you hear? You’re the experienced man in this situation. Incidentally, I don’t want that fucking Czech involved at all. D’you hear? This is a German matter. I want this thing investigated quickly and discreetly, and solved before it can reach the ears of the Leader. I’ve every confidence in you, Gunther. If any man can solve this case, it’s you. I’ve told everyone that you enjoy my complete confidence.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ I said, although this wasn’t at all how I felt or indeed what he meant. I wasn’t about to enjoy Heydrich’s confidence for any longer than he took to say it.

‘And that I expect everyone to cooperate fully with your inquiry. I don’t care what you ask and who you upset. D’you hear? As far as I’m concerned everyone in this house is under suspicion.’

‘Does that include you, sir?’

Heydrich’s blue eyes narrowed, and for a moment I thought I’d gone too far and that he was going to bawl me out. I was relieved he wasn’t holding a sword. I had gone too far, of course, and it was clear the two adjutants thought so too, but just for now, neither man was prepared to protest my insolence. Unpredictable as always, Heydrich took a deep breath and nodded, slowly.

‘I don’t see why not,’ he said. ‘If it helps. Anything that will get this sorted out as quickly as possible, before my tenure in this position descends into farce and I become a fucking laughing stock in Berlin.’

He shook his head and then stubbed out his cigarette, irritably.

‘That this should happen now when we’re just about to put paid to UVOD.’

‘UVOD?’ I shook my head. ‘What’s that?’

‘UVOD? It’s the Central Leadership of Home Resistance,’ said Heydrich. ‘A network of Czech terrorists.’

He leaned down on the desk with both fists and then hammered the glass surface hard enough for the model plane to shift several centimetres nearer the lamp. ‘Damn it all.’

I lit a cigarette and drew down a lungful of smoke and blew it back at him hard, hoping it might help to distract him a little from what I was about to say and the way I meant to say it.

‘Why don’t you take it easy, General? This isn’t helping me and it’s certainly not helping you. Instead of beating up the furniture and biting my head off why don’t you or whoever else has the best grip on the story tell me exactly what happened here? The whole once-upon-a-time in a town called Hamelin. And then I can do what I do.’

Heydrich looked at me and I sensed he knew I was taking advantage of him. Everyone else was looking at me too, as if surprised that I should dare to speak to the General in this way; but just as surprised that he should continue to hold off shouting me back into my shell. I was a bit surprised about that myself, but sometimes it can be interesting just how wide the door can open.

For a moment he bit his fingernails.

‘Yes. You’re absolutely right, Gunther. This isn’t getting us anywhere. I suppose, well, it’s a great shame that’s all. Kuttner was a promising young officer.’

‘Yes, he was,’ said Pomme.

Heydrich looked at him strangely and then said, ‘Why don’t you fill in some of the details for the Commissar?’

‘Yes sir. If you wish.’

‘Mind if I sit down?’ I said. ‘Like any copper I listen better when I’m not thinking about my feet.’

‘Yes, please gentlemen, be seated,’ said Heydrich.

I picked a chair in front of the Leader’s bust and, almost immediately, regretted it. I didn’t care for Hitler staring at the back of my head. If ever he learned about what was at the back of my mind I was in serious trouble. I reached into my fart-catcher’s pocket and took out my officer’s diary. It was more or less the same kind of diary the Gestapo had found on Franz Koci’s dead body in Kleist Park.

‘If you don’t mind,’ I said to Pomme, ‘I’ll make some notes.’

Pomme shook his head. ‘Why should I mind?’

I shrugged. ‘No good reason.’ I paused. ‘Whenever you’re ready, Captain Pomme.’