A Kiss for the Enemy (53 page)

On 1st February, a message again came for Marcia during the morning.

‘Marvell to the Superintendent's office, at once!'

It was Müller again. He looked more hostile and more animated. Marcia felt, as she had before, a strong sense of nausea.

‘Fraülein Marvell, you'd best tell me the truth this time, all of it, and quickly. When I was here last week, you said you knew nothing of your brother's connection with Frau Anna Langenbach.'

‘Yes.'

‘That was a lie. You had been told of it in a letter, from Frido von Arzfeld, even if you hadn't known it before.'

‘A private letter – a confidence – I didn't know whether to believe – perhaps a delusion – I couldn't –'

‘Stop this fooling or you'll be sorry. My business is state security, and we're fighting a war. I want facts. You were told the Langenbach woman had a child by your brother. Did you know that your brother is a prisoner of war in Germany?'

‘
In Germany?
' cried Marcia. She's genuine, I'd say, thought Müller, I'd back that squeak for sincerity.

‘In Germany, where else? Furthermore, he at one time escaped from a prisoner of war camp. Now he may be faced with serious charges, as well as escaping.'

Marcia was silent. She was dumbfounded. Müller looked at her, a hard look.

‘We caught him again, of course. Yesterday. And we reckon the Langenbach woman helped him – helped him, an enemy officer, hide from the Reich authorities. And you – you who are a friend of Anna Langenbach – are standing there telling me that this woman, this “respected friend”, has been sheltering your precious brother and never got word to you about it? Your own brother? Is that what you're telling me, eh?' From habit, Müller's voice had risen to a shout and he had moved round the table and was standing very close to Marcia. Something in the way he was shouting, in his overt bullying, strengthened Marcia. She felt a glorious surge of anger and it exorcized fear for a moment.

‘No, Herr Müller,' she said, ‘that is not what I'm telling you. It is what you are telling me. I have said nothing, because I know nothing about it.'

Müller continued talking loudly and fast.

‘You'd better tell me everything you know about Langenbach, there's an inquiry going on, it's a serious matter. It'll be best for your brother, I promise you. What's more, provided you tell me the truth there's no reason why you can't continue the good work you're doing for us.' His tone was suddenly reasonable.

‘I know nothing, Herr Müller. Everything you have said has astonished me.'

‘Nothing at all, is that it?' Müller looked at her lasciviously. Flushed, some brown locks escaping from her nurse's cap, eyes shining: she really was delicious. No wonder that traitor had fallen for her! Schwede was mad keen to get all the dirt he could on the Langenbach woman but he, Müller, doubted whether this little English piece could help much. She was obviously suffering from shock at hearing that her wretched brother was in custody, here in Germany! Müller wondered whether they had managed to get enough out of him – Schwede had sounded most peculiar when he'd telephoned that morning, he'd talked in a tone of excitement surely unwarranted by the tiny scale of the affair. What did one prisoner of war, one silly, disloyal woman who'd let her heart rule her head, produced a little bastard – what did it all add up to, even if
she did have a cousin involved in the July business? Like a great many others, thought Müller, past caring much by now. He grunted, sat down again at Sister Brigitta's desk and opened another notebook.

‘There's plenty to go on,' said Schwede. He was addressing the police officer in charge of Kranenberg. ‘Plenty. I didn't need him to talk, his evidence could have added nothing to what I already knew. He was in Schloss Langenbach since November. Under your damned nose!'

The police officer in charge of Kranenberg looked respectful. There was no other way to look, and he put a lot into it.

‘And now that place has got to be thoroughly searched. Turned inside out, you understand me! I intend to visit the family myself, once the search has started. And mind you question the servants, somebody must have felt suspicious, you can't keep a live man hidden for nearly two months without something showing!'

‘
Herr Obersturmbannführer
, the only permanent servant is the gardener, Hans Treuerbach. Some women come and clean the schoolrooms, and a girl helps Frau Langenbach in the kitchen on a daily basis, but apart from that –'

‘
Apart from that
! What the hell do you mean “Apart from that”? Take them to pieces, find out who heard what, and when! Do you want me to teach you your job? Somebody needs to.'

But only Hans, under a little pressure, conceded that he had ‘spoken to Frau Anna about rats in the attic'.

‘There was something up there, perhaps, but maybe it was only the wind. Frau Anna said it was the wind. I wasn't allowed to investigate.'

More pressure was applied. Hans recalled that the said rats had been heard ‘about Christmas time'. The attics were turned inside out, furniture tested for finger prints, every corner was investigated. Meanwhile Anna Langenbach sat, her face impassive, her lips compressed, in a small room on the ground floor. With her was her ancient mother-in-law.

To them, after an hour, came Egon Schwede.

He addressed the old lady.

‘Nobody regrets the necessity for this disturbance more than I, Frau Langenbach. Unfortunately we have proof that an enemy of the Reich, an escaped prisoner of war, has been sheltered for some weeks in your house. He was seen here, here in the Schloss, by Fraülein Wendel, the schoolteacher. She has recognized his photograph. He has now been recaptured.'

Anna did not look at Schwede. He noted with bitter regret that she was as lovely as ever. And here she was, facing a capital charge as she must know, and still behaving as if he was some unimportant lout who needn't even be noticed. He determined to play the same game. He would talk only to old Frau Langenbach, although he knew she was decrepit and unlikely to take in much, if anything. Usually bedridden, as he understood it, she was today sitting in an armchair with blankets wrapped round her.

Anna said quietly,

‘They are saying there was some escaped prisoner of war hiding here, Mother. They are searching for evidence. They have found him somewhere else.'

‘Yes,' said Schwede. ‘They have found him somewhere else. And they have interrogated him. And they know that he has been living under your roof, here in the upper rooms of Schloss Langenbach.' He was sufficiently confident to be precise about the upper rooms and he thought he saw a gratifying flicker from Anna when he mentioned interrogation. ‘Furthermore,' Schwede continued courteously, still addressing the old lady, ‘when questioned about it, your daughter-in-law, last Monday, described a young stranger who was seen here as a cousin visiting for the day. No doubt she will explain to you the identity of this cousin visiting her for the day, who has now been identified by Fraülein Wendel, who saw him in this very house, as the escaped prisoner.'

‘I don't understand,' said old Frau Langenbach weakly. ‘Anna, what's this about a cousin?'

‘There is confusion, Mother. You remember I told you my cousin Kaspar von Arzfeld is coming to stay here for a few days. There must have been a misunderstanding and –'

But Anna knew she had erred. The news that Wendel had identified Anthony, although she supposed she should have
anticipated it, had caught her unprepared. The introduction of Kaspar von Arzfeld's name, the suggestion that his imminent arrival might have been confused in the telling with Wendel's encounter with Anthony – this might be sufficient to blur the matter for an already muddled Frau Langenbach. It could not possibly convince anybody else. But what story could have done so?

Schwede was still speaking to Frau Langenbach, with every appearance of deference.

‘I fear there was no confusion. Fraülein Wendel will testify as to what Frau Langenbach said to her, just as she will identify the young man seen in this house as the escaped prisoner now in our hands. The visit arranged for Colonel von Arzfeld will not now take place and has nothing to do with the matter.

‘I must also tell you, with deep regret,
gnädige Frau Langenbach
, that this same escaped prisoner of war, this English officer, was, as it happens, well known to your daughter-in-law previously. We know that in the past there have been criminal relations between them. This distinguished family has been cruelly deceived.'

He saw with grim pleasure that he had struck home. Anna must have known that the game was up in respect of the concealment of the enemy, Marvell. She must know that was a hanging matter, with no possible mercy to be expected. She had not flinched so far, the bitch. But she could not have known – indeed, only those who had had the luck to read young von Arzfeld's letter to the sister could have known – that her own wretched misdoings, her immorality, her lies were now also on the table. It wasn't necessary, of course, but it was, Schwede reflected with satisfaction, justice that her sins had all been brought home. He had watched her face as he spoke. He knew that he had won. He rose and spoke formally and politely.

‘Arrangements will be made by the Kreis authorities for your own well-being; Frau Langenbach. Frau Anna Langenbach will be accompanying a police officer from this place. She will not be returning.'

The old lady stared at him. She had taken in more than he – or Anna – suspected. She said only one word, softly,

‘Franzi?'

‘The boy will be taken care of,' Schwede said smoothly. ‘Arrangements have been made.'

Many hundred miles to the east another interview was that day being conducted, another duel fought, another defiance organized against powerful odds.

‘Why do you not join your friends in the fight against Fascism? They are being very cooperative, very wise. They understand what is truly good for your country.'

‘They must do what they think right, Colonel. So must I.'

The Russian Colonel's tone was wheedling, his voice soft. He smiled often and looked at his stubby fingers. He had the air of a man with all the time in the world. He spoke excellent German.

‘Rudberg, you are, perhaps, being arrogant in believing you are an infallible judge of what is right – when so many think differently. Perhaps they have more understanding of the facts, the situation. May this not be so?'

The strongly constructed wooden hut in which the interview was taking place was warm – indeed, the contrast in temperature with the bitter cold outside was grotesque. They were, Toni Rudberg knew, about two hundred miles south-east of Moscow. To be warm was extraordinary, and for this reason he was not unhappy that the session should continue for some time. He knew the arguments which would be deployed, the alternating cajolery and menace. He gave the impression of considering the Colonel's last words. He knew this particular Colonel. There had been many such occasions. Some of his colleagues were so obviously longing to shoot you that it seemed control might snap if another minute elapsed. One had to be careful with those. This one, clearly, was immensely bored. He must regard interviews of this kind as providing not unwelcome relief to the monotony of winter. Most of them, quite simply, drank.

‘I am sorry if I appear arrogant, Colonel. I do not know how a man can act rightly except by trying to obey his own conscience.'

‘What you call conscience,' said the Colonel agreeably, ‘is simply a matter of how your reactions have been conditioned
by your upbringing, your training. It is, therefore, capable of itself being developed. Changed. To suppose that conscience is anything else is a bourgeois illusion.'

Toni said nothing but registered interest. He knew that a significant number of German officer prisoners had decided that their lives would be a good deal more comfortable – and probably longer – if their consciences were developed in the way recommended. There were some famous names among them, too, and by all accounts they were leading lives of ease. No doubt a good many – probably most – were simply determined to survive and, like Toni, were clear that Hitler was not going to last long. Others might have persuaded themselves that the future really did belong to Communism – and that anyway, as Bismarck had said, ‘Germany should have no enemies to the east.' They had come, these gentlemen of the ‘Free German Officers League', of the ‘National Committee', and tried to make others see matters as they did. Toni, sceptical about most things, was unsure exactly why he found the idea of joining them so repellent. It certainly wasn't because of his oath to the Führer. The Colonel pursued the subject.

‘Your comrades have spoken to you?'

‘Some of them have done so, Colonel, as you know.' Toni suddenly felt faint. Warmth had at first seemed delightful. Now it seemed to have produced a reaction, a sort of shock. He knew that hunger, cold and absence of communication had produced a weakened body and jangling nerves. Still, he had survived so far. Two years of captivity. Two years alone.

‘Your comrades made no impression on you?'

It had been incredible to hear their voices, to speak to other human beings again. It had been distasteful to hear what they had to say.

‘I was interested, of course.'

The Colonel changed his tack. His voice became harsher.

‘The Soviet forces are about to conquer Fascism. This is February, 1945. The Red Army has already entered Germany. It can only now be a question of a few months before your country will be liberated.'

Toni looked attentive. He had no idea of whether there was a shred of truth in any of this. He wished he was not so close to retching.

‘When that liberation takes place – and it has started – the Soviet Union will recognize its friends among the Germans. There will be some who will be rewarded for their friendship, who will enjoy positions of responsibility. Others –' The Colonel laughed, as if in high amusement. He looked at Toni with quizzical enjoyment. ‘Don't you think that's something to reflect upon? You were a Major, after all. You know about responsibility.'