NEUMANN SAT at his desk. He’d arranged his papers and his pen, ready to start his work. But he found himself staring at them, without the slightest inclination to begin. He should be preparing for the Commandant’s visit. He would, as always, have questions. But there had been more bombing last night. They had mentioned Hamburg. Marguerite was near there. And the boys. Their town was small – barely twenty thousand people – but they were bombing towns not much larger now.
The thought of Marguerite and the boys saddened him. He had heard nothing from her since her letter. Nor from the boys either. And now it was Christmas.
There was a knock at the door, quiet. Two more knocks, quiet but firmer. You could tell a lot from a person’s knock. It was something that could be studied. This one wasn’t going away unanswered.
‘Come in, Brandt.’
Brandt slipped around the door. He was an interesting fellow, full of a false obsequiousness. Neumann almost admired the deception. No doubt he felt superior to them. But at least Neumann was here because he had been ordered to be here – even if the Commandant had been behind the orders. Brandt had been bought for a cigarette ration. He had no reason to feel superior to anyone.
‘Sit down.’
‘Thank you, Herr Obersturmführer,’ Brandt took the chair in front of the desk.
‘All is well? In the kitchen?’
‘I think so. When will the officers arrive?’
‘Hopefully at three. I’ll suggest a walk down to the reservoir when they arrive, if the weather isn’t too cold. To stretch their legs before it gets dark. Then they can change for dinner.’
‘And in the morning?’
‘They’ll be up early for the shoot.’
‘In which case I’ll need the prisoners early as well.’
‘I’ll tell Peichl.’
Neumann looked up at Brandt, at his missing arm. He wondered.
‘Do you think you could manage a camera, Brandt? The Commandant would like someone to take photographs of the dinner. Something to remember the evening by.’
Neumann thought he saw the glimmer of a smile draw at the man’s raw mask. He should pull him into line. So what if the Commandant wished to remember this evening in later years. Yes, everything would no doubt be different but it was his right to do as he pleased in this place until things changed. In their world, for the moment, the Commandant was supreme. All fortune and misfortune was in his power.
On the other hand, of course, Brandt might have a point. This place and these times would be best forgotten, if that was possible.
‘If it’s an easy enough camera to handle, I can do it.’
‘It’s a Leica. I’ll set the exposure for you. Just get close and press the button. You wind the film forward with your thumb, I’ll show you. It’s easy enough.’
‘Then I’m at the Commandant’s service, Herr Obersturmführer.’
‘Good. And the tree?’
‘It’s ready.’
Neumann nodded his satisfaction. A thought occurred to him.
‘Before, I mean, when you were younger.’ Neumann found himself nodding towards where the man’s missing arm should be. Exactly the kind of thing he’d wanted to avoid.
He gathered himself.
‘Did you shoot, is my question. Animals, birds, that sort of thing. The Commandant has asked for this hunt and the mayor has helped arrange it. It’s not something I know anything about. Will it be a success?’
‘I should think so. The mayor knows his business. All you have to do is stand in a long line and shoot anything that comes your way. A bit like at the Front.’
Neumann wondered if the man was mocking him. There was no hint of it – but it was hard to tell.
‘Let’s hope the animals don’t shoot back,’ Neumann said, and Brandt’s thin mouth turned upwards.
‘Speaking of the mayor, Herr Obersturmführer, I understand he is making preparations for an evacuation of the civilian population – purely as a precaution, of course.’
‘And you’re wondering if we should do the same?’
Brandt nodded. Neumann considered rebuking him, but decided it was too much effort. ‘We have no orders yet – perhaps this evening. When the Commandant comes. I intend to ask him.’
‘Thank you, Herr Obersturmführer.’
When Brandt had left, Neumann got up from his chair and walked to the window, looking down across the frozen reservoir and then over to the hills on the other side. In the reflection he thought he could see a shape behind him, just beside the door – the blurry outline of a man.
He paid it no attention. If he jumped every time he thought he saw a ghost in this place, he’d be worn out by breakfast.