‘This is difficult, Hans. No proof, no evidence except your word. And as you obviously realise, any word from you will simply put a target on your back.’
‘I know that.’
One thing that was immediately obvious to Seb was that the two BPP men had almost certainly been working for someone else. Why would two BPP men want to kill a harmless academic? Only because they had been paid to; they were hired killers, getting rid of a witness. In which case, perhaps there was some trail to be followed. Would they be making contact again with the person who hired them? Demanding more money, perhaps?
‘You haven’t told me their names, Hans.’
‘Do I have to?’
‘I can’t force you to do anything.’ Another thought was occurring to him: were these two men behind the attempts on his own life – the car in the street in Schellingstrasse, the tampering with the Lancia’s brakes?
‘Matthäus and Fuchs. Lukas Matthäus and Rudi Fuchs.’
‘I know them,’ Seb said. And nor was he surprised. They had both been Kripo men who moved across to the political police. They had been corrupt and brutal when they worked at the Presidium. They were on the take and they beat the hell out of anyone who got in their way; old-time Brownshirt bruisers for the Nazis, protecting the beer halls where Hitler spoke, beating up Reds.
Seb and everyone else had been glad to see them go from the criminal police. It was a shame they hadn’t gone even further, somewhere in the Arctic Circle perhaps, where they could try their strong-arm tactics with the polar bears.
At least he now knew who had pulled the trigger that killed his friend. And he knew what sort of men he was up against. They were dangerous, all right. But what of the faceless ones behind them? Perhaps, at last, he had a link.
‘I suppose they were the ones who tried to run me down on Schellingstrasse.’
Winter hesitated momentarily, then nodded.
‘Good God, Winter, you saw them – you knew what they were about to do – that’s how you had the time push me out of the way.’
Winter smiled bleakly. ‘What will you do now, Inspector?’ The secret policeman’s unprepossessing figure was rigid. There was sweat on his brow, and not just from the warmth of the day. He was immersed in a terror that Seb had seen in the new recruits arriving at the front and experiencing their first bombardment. The terror in which men cried for their mothers or soiled themselves like infants.
Of course he was scared – because Seb’s next move was a matter of life and death for him.
‘You mean am I going to approach them? Tell them what I know? No, I’m not going to do that.’ He knew exactly what Matthäus and Fuchs would do if the roles were reversed; they would take him to a cellar, shackle him against the wall and torture him until they had the name they wanted. And then, when they were satisfied that they had all the information they needed, they would club him to death or, if they were in a generous mood, finish him off with a bullet in the head.
But Seb was not Matthäus and nor was he Fuchs.
‘However,’ he said. ‘That doesn’t mean I’m done with you, Hans. You might not yet be the best detective in the world, but you have skills. You managed to shadow me for quite a while without discovery. So now put that skill to good use. Watch Matthäus and Fuchs. Find out who they talk to and why. Can you do that?’
He hesitated.
‘Can you? Will you?’
‘It will be dangerous.’
‘Oh yes, that’s true enough. But there’s hope for you yet, Sergeant Winter. And don’t forget the damned Maybach.’
*
Seb drove the old Opel up to Schellingstrasse and marched into the entrance hall of the Völkischer Beobachter.
‘Can I help you, sir?’ the girl on the reception desk said.
‘Is Colonel Raspe in?’
‘I’ll just check for you.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll go up.’
Otto Raspe was on the phone when Seb pushed open his door. Their eyes met, then Raspe said, ‘I’ll call you back,’ and put down the receiver. He stood up and smiled. ‘Well, Inspector Wolff, what brings you here this fine morning.’
‘I was hoping to talk to you about runes again, Colonel.’ He removed the picture of Hildegard Heiden from the envelope he was carrying and handed it over to Raspe.
The sight of the photograph had an immediate effect, a stiffening of the shoulders and a tightening of the mouth. ‘What is this?’
‘A dead girl with marks on her body. I told you I would show the picture to you to determine whether the marks are runes?’
‘This isn’t Rosie Palmer. You said you had a picture of Miss Palmer to show me. Who is this girl?’
‘Her name is Hildegard Heiden. I thought you might know her.’
‘Why would I know this poor girl? From the picture it is clear she has been murdered. What are you implying, Wolff? Is this a damned accusation?’
Seb ignored the question. ‘Hildegard’s body was found at Hesselberg. I couldn’t help noticing that the marks are very similar to those on Rosie Palmer. Any detective would immediately deduce that both girls were murdered by the same killer or killers. And so, in the absence of photographs of Miss Palmer – which have been mislaid – it occurred to me to show you this picture. I ask you again – as an expert not a suspect – are the markings runes?’
Raspe glared at Seb, then lowered his eyes once more to the photograph. Then he sat down at his desk, switched on his lamp and studied the picture closely. Finally, he looked up and met Seb’s eyes. ‘It is possible,’ he said.
‘Could you say what the runes might be? What they might communicate?’
‘No. And I doubt whether anyone else could either. There is no sense or form to the markings. Not that I can divine, anyway. A child with a crayon could have done this.’
‘Thank you, Colonel.’
Otto Raspe’s glare softened. ‘Sit down, Inspector Wolff.’
‘Herr Wolff will do. I was fired this morning.’
‘Really? I thought your star was in the ascendant.’
‘It was, but I’m like a dog with a bone and that is not popular in Munich these days. Such dogs tend to get put down. You see I have been asking too many uncomfortable questions. In particular I have been asking whether the wrong man was executed yesterday.’
‘He confessed.’
‘Under duress. It was made clear to him that he would be convicted and executed even if he pleaded not guilty and that his parents would be incarcerated as accessories for giving him a false alibi. His lawyer negotiated a deal whereby if he pleaded guilty they would be released. He did the decent thing as he saw it. He was a brave young man.’
Raspe was nodding, deep in thought, his eyes once more on the picture. He sighed. ‘Well, these markings, whatever else they are, are certainly not Hebrew script.’
Seb pointed his finger at the lipstick mark on the corpse’s belly – the . ‘I believe that is called sowilo and refers to the sun. Is it possible that there is some connection to the solstice?’
‘Yes, that could be the sowilo, but as to the solstice I have no idea.’
‘What do you know of Hesselberg. Might it have been a place of sacrifice for the ancient Germans?’
‘Herr Wolff, you are now entering the realms of demented fantasy.’
‘It is the killers who are demented, sir.’
‘I take your point.’
‘You drive a large black Mercedes, I believe, Colonel.’
‘I do, but it belongs to the Beobachter. Anyway, what has that to do with anything? You certainly come up with some strange lines of questioning, Wolff.’
‘And the young Englishman who is lodging with you in Altbogenhausen, what does he drive?’
‘A Maybach, the spoilt brat. Rather nice creamy white motor. Ridiculous thing. One seventy kph top speed apparently. The devil knows what his parents were thinking in giving him such a large allowance.’
‘What do you know about him, sir?’
‘Oh, I know that his father is a wealthy lawyer. I believe they have some German ancestry and they have a great love for our country, which was why he was so keen for the boy to come here to study.’
‘Do you know the family?’
‘No, I don’t. Funnily enough, they sought me out. I think they had read some of my works and knew of my interest in the Völkisch movement. I received a letter out of the blue expressing their admiration and asking if they could send their son to me to lodge. They offered a very high price for board and lodging. Money that was too good to refuse. Having been a professional soldier and now working as a professional writer I have always earnt a decent enough living, but I am not wealthy like Walter Regensdorf or your esteemed uncle, Christian Weber. The money Adam Rock’s family pays me is very useful.’
‘And his character?’
‘Do you think he’s a killer? Is that where this is going?’
Seb shrugged. ‘He knew Rosie.’
‘So did many people. You’d need more than that to convince me, let alone a court of law.’
‘Karl Friedlander was convicted on little more.’
‘He pleaded guilty. If a man says he has committed a crime, why should a court doubt him? Look, to get back to Adam Rock, I must confess I don’t much like the young man. He is arrogant and unpleasant. But I work long hours and so it is quite easy for me to avoid him. Why don’t you talk to my wife for she is very much the mistress of the house, and obviously sees more of him.’
‘Will she talk to me? She seemed rather shy and disinclined to talk when I called at your house.’
‘I’ll telephone her now. Go and see her. I doubt you’ll get very much – because I doubt whether Mr Rock is the man you seek – but at least you can clear the air.’
‘Thank you, Colonel.’
‘Well, good luck. And let’s hope you sort out your own problems, too. By the way, last time you were here we talked about the Thule Society. Why don’t you come along to our meeting this evening? You’re a patriotic German, fought for your country with valour. You should fit in well.’
‘What happens at your meetings?’
‘Nothing mysterious. No human sacrifices.’
‘I do believe you’re laughing at me, Colonel.’
‘The Vier Jahreszeiten Hotel at nine. I’ll make sure you have entry as my guest.’
‘Very well. I might just do that.’ He was interested to see who else turned up.
‘I realise you are a sceptic, but you could be pleasantly surprised.’