Ruins of War (17 page)

T
he same two MPs who had brought in Fischer now led in a slight woman with short brown hair. Her high cheekbones emphasized her haunted eyes and sullen frown. Herta Oberheuser was one of the few female doctors—perhaps the only one, as far as Mason knew—to be accused of performing grisly and agonizing experiments on concentration camp inmates.

Oberheuser’s lawyer came in just behind her. He nodded, then sat in the corner chair.

Oberheuser glowered at Mason and Wolski. Mason gestured for her to sit. She pulled her long black coat tight around her and sat. Wolski took his place by the window. Mason stopped by her chair and offered her a cigarette. She took it with a curt
“Danke.”
Mason lit her cigarette and sat opposite her. She avoided Mason’s gaze, while taking hungry puffs off the cigarette.

Mason introduced them and ran through the offer, repeating that they were detectives and not there to prosecute her. He laid out the photograph of “Scholz” as before, and told her about his methods and the state of the victims. “We know he worked as a surgeon at Ravensbrück and he sterilized female inmates. We’re hoping you might help us identify this man.”

Dr. Oberheuser exhaled a cloud of smoke and stared at Mason for a moment. “There were many doctors who worked at Ravensbrück. Many only a short time. I never paid attention to their names.”

“Let me tell you about this particular man—”

“I am not interested.”

Mason remained silent a moment and watched for anything in her expression that might indicate a desire for redemption. “As I’ve said, we will put in a good word for you if you cooperate. It may even save your life.”

Oberheuser stole a glance at Mason, then puffed on her cigarette to mask her moment of doubt. Mason signaled Wolski for the photographs. He laid them out in front of Oberheuser. She glanced at them with a remote expression.

“Those aren’t concentration camp inmates,” Mason said. “One of these people was killed within the last month, and the other two within the last ten days. The killer tortured and butchered these innocent German citizens. And you know what else? They were all doctors.”

He paused. Oberheuser said nothing as she crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. Wolski stepped over and offered her another, then returned to his place under the window.

Mason waited until she had her second cigarette lit. “I’m guessing you believe what you did was to further medical science and was meant to help wounded soldiers. And you did that work under direct orders.”

“I did the best I could as a woman in a difficult position.”

“Yes,” Mason said, “though not so difficult as the inmates’.”

Oberheuser stopped in middrag and glared at Mason. “You have a very strange way of persuading someone to help you.”

“The persuasion should come from those photographs. Those innocent people suffered untold agony. Maybe all the agony and death at the camps drove away your humanity, but I’m willing to guess you managed to hold on to it.”

Oberheuser shifted in her chair. “You cannot imagine what living in that camp could do to a person.”

“I want you to consider for a moment that you and I are just two people. We are not adversaries. We are not American and German, but two people. A detective trying to stop a killer from murdering innocent people and a doctor who is concerned enough to help stop these horrible crimes.”

Oberheuser flashed a menacing smile at Mason through the cigarette smoke swirling around her face. “You cannot play this childish psychological game with me. We will always be adversaries as long as I remain a prisoner.”

Mason shoved the two most gruesome photographs against her hands. “These people had nothing to do with your imprisonment. They were doctors and nurses, healers, trying to help your countrymen survive in the ruins of Munich. They were grabbed off the street, strapped to an operating table, cut open, and dissected without anesthesia. Their limbs were hacked off while they were still alive and they were allowed to bleed to death. All the while they were wondering, Why me? Who will help me? Who will stop this beast from doing this to other Germans?” He stabbed the photo of the dead nurse with his forefinger. “This could have been you or one of your colleagues.” He pointed to the other photos. “An uncle or a brother or cousin or friend. Right now the killer is still out there stalking his next victim, and he’ll keep doing it until he’s stopped. These were not camp inmates already condemned to death by the Third Reich. There is no National Socialist policy behind these slayings. This is not science! All I’m asking you to do is give me the identity of this killer.”

It was her snide expression more than her silence that got to Mason. He wanted to wrap his hands around her throat. . . . He suddenly became aware of Wolski approaching the table, probably guessing Mason’s flaring temper.

Oberheuser crushed out the cigarette with a shaking hand. Her eyes were glassy, not from tears but from some internal conflict.

Wolski tossed his pack of cigarettes on the table in front of her. “Keep the pack.” The doctor clutched it in her hand. Wolski slipped
into the third chair as if joining friends for a drink. He lit a cigarette for himself, took a puff, then slumped in his chair and sported a boyish grin.

A quiet moment passed between them. While Mason and Wolski let Oberheuser absorb everything Mason had said, Mason studied the woman sitting across from him. For some reason, he felt more unsettled by the idea of a woman doing such horrible things. Perhaps it was his notion that women were more nurturing; to spurn the instincts of motherhood required an even darker soul, a deeper commitment to evil. He’d read witness testimony in her dossier that she’d injected children with oil or evipan, watched them slowly die, then cut off their limbs and removed internal organs.

When Mason was a young boy, his mother had routinely bordered on a nervous breakdown from the alcohol, but she still held sway over him. She was his world. He rarely saw his stepfather before he left for good, so his mother was the sole person with the power to make his spirits soar or, with a simple look, devastate him. And on occasion, as she slipped deeper into her alcohol-induced depression, she would try to drag him with her into that dark place in her mind.

But in this small interrogation room he looked upon a frail woman, her shoulders hunched and arms tucked close to her sides. Yet when she’d had absolute power over her “patients,” Mason felt sure she had wielded it with great zeal.

Whether Mason’s persuasion or Wolski’s boyish charm had softened Oberheuser, she began to speak. . . .

“His name is Dr. Gunther Albrecht. He was at Ravensbrück for about a year starting in the spring of 1942.”

Wolski wrote this down.

“Did he ever work with you?” Mason asked.

“No. I was aware of his experiments in sterilization, but we never shared information. He was answerable to Dr. Gebhardt only. Most of his . . . experiments, if you want to call them that, were done in another part of the camp from mine.”

“Did you ever socialize? Did he talk about family or friends?”

“I didn’t care for him. He didn’t think much of women except how to exploit them. I do know that his parents both died sometime before the war. I met his wife once, a mousy thing. Not very interesting.”

“Is there anything you can tell us that might help us find him? For example, did he mention any favorite getaways? Maybe a vacation home, hunting lodge?”

“Hunting lodge?”

“Dr. Fischer said he was an avid hunter,” Wolski said.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. The only hunting I saw him do was for anything with a vagina. He thought he was a real ladies’ man, but the only women he could bed were the inmates I suspect he raped. He acted very dignified around the other doctors, but behind closed doors . . .”

“Can you give us names of any of the nurses assisting him? Any staff?”

“There were two other prisoner doctors that I recall, one a Jew who was later sent to Auschwitz, and a Polish woman who, I heard, was executed last spring before the Red Army overran the camp.”

“No one else you remember besides the ones who are dead?”

“I did not decide their fates.” She took a long drag on her cigarette. “You might want to look up a German prisoner doctor. I never knew his name, but I heard some of the inmates called him the Healing Angel. He assisted Albrecht sometimes.” She leaned forward on her elbows and lowered her voice. “It was rumored that Albrecht experimented with amputees, switching limbs from one subject to another. This German prisoner doctor supposedly assisted him.”

“And you can’t remember his name?”

“No, and I would be surprised if he’s still alive. I have no direct knowledge of this, but many of the prisoner doctors who were thought to know too much or who could not efficiently perform their assigned tasks were usually executed or sent back to labor details.”

“Do you know where Dr. Albrecht was before Ravensbrück, or where he went afterward?”

“He was transferred to another camp. Auschwitz or Mauthausen, I believe.”

“Frau Oberheuser . . .” Mason began, but Oberheuser interrupted him.

“Frau Doktor.”

“Right. Do you know who he may have worked for at Auschwitz or Mauthausen?”

“I can only speculate. Dr. Clauberg visited our camp in the winter of ’42. Clauberg was interested in Albrecht’s work on mass sterilization. Albrecht also assisted Dr. Kiesewetter quite often, and the two seemed to spend time together. Clauberg went to Auschwitz and Kiesewetter went to Mauthausen at about the same time. Shortly after they left . . . Oh.” She suddenly paused, staring into the cigarette smoke between her and Mason. “I almost remembered the prisoner doctor’s name . . . Dr. Ram . . . Ramstein, Ramsdorf. Something like that. Anyway, he followed one or the other of them.”

Mason looked at Wolski and saw Wolski was already writing it down.

“Frau Doktor,” Wolski said, “we’d like a list of the other nurses, staff, and prisoner doctors who assisted Dr. Albrecht, you, and Drs. Gebhardt and Fischer.”

“I’ve told you enough,” Oberheuser said. “I will not supply names of witnesses who could testify against me or my colleagues.” She stood and nodded to her lawyer, who stood as well.

Mason and Wolski shot up from their chairs. “Frau Doktor,” Mason said, “it’s very important that we have those names. We need to talk to them to see if we can get more information, anything that might help us track Dr. Albrecht down.”

“I told you what I can. I will give you no more,” Oberheuser said and joined her lawyer by the door.

Wolski nodded to the MP guard, who knocked on the door. The two escorting guards came in, but Mason held up his hand for them
to wait. “Withholding information negates the agreement. Those names, Frau Doktor.”

Oberheuser’s lawyer whispered in her ear. She recoiled in anger and yelled,
“Nein!”
She shoved her hands toward the guards, who handcuffed her and led her out of the room.

Mason gathered up the photographs and said, “Let’s get out of this snake pit.”

“How about we have a notice circulated to the rest of the prisoners to let us know if they can supply any information?”

“Okay, write it up real quick.”

“Already done.” Wolski pulled out a piece of typewritten paper from his satchel. “Might I also suggest that the very next thing we do is find the nearest bar?”

“So ordered.”

M
ason stood at the chalkboard in the operations room when Wolski shuffled in the room, squinting against the bright overhead lights.

“Morning, sunshine,” Mason said.

“You got in early.”

“I didn’t pound ’em back like you did.”

“I’ve got a good excuse. I kept thinking about those goddamn Nazi doctors. Felt like I brought the stink home with me but couldn’t wash it off.”

“That’s why I got in so early. Couldn’t sleep.”

The rest of Mason’s team started arriving in twos and threes. The six investigators and four MP squad leaders gathered chairs and set them to face Mason and the boards.

“Good morning. We’ll see how everyone stands with their assignments, but first I want to go over what Mr. Wolski and I learned from the Nazi doctor interviews.” He stepped over to the chalkboard and wrote as he spoke. “Scholz’s real name is Dr. Gunther Albrecht. He was definitely at Ravensbrück for most of 1942, doing mass-sterilization experiments and probably other human experiments. We believe he was transferred to either Mauthausen or Auschwitz, maybe working
alongside a Dr. Kiesewetter or Dr. Clauberg. I have an incomplete list of known doctors, nurses, and medical staff who worked at Ravensbrück at that time. The list is short, but we’re going to try to track as many of them down as we can.” He turned to Timmers and said, “Now that we have his real name, I want you and MacMillan to search for any documents relating to Albrecht’s past. Anything you can find, right down to what he preferred for breakfast.”

Mason pointed to Pike. “Anything new from the LMU hospital staff interviews?”

“They gave us nothing we haven’t heard. No one knew him outside of work. Pretty much a dead end.”

“What else have we got?” Mason asked.

Cole raised his hand. “Mancini and I have been plowing through the civilian night passes. Nothing so far under Scholz or Mendel.”

Mason nodded and turned to one of the MP squad leaders. “Sergeant Hague?”

“We’re still patrolling the areas around a ten-block radius of the hospital, the crime scenes, and the place where the nurse was abducted,” Sergeant Hague said. “Got zip, so far. I’m betting this guy is too careful to frequent the same areas where he committed his crimes.”

“The guy’s no superhuman, and he could make a mistake. I’d hate to miss an opportunity if he does decide to return to the scenes of his crimes or use the same hunting grounds.”

A knock at the door stopped Mason. A staff corporal opened the door and gestured for someone to enter. Inspector Becker stepped in with another, younger man dressed in a green overcoat. All eyes turned to them.

Becker removed his homburg hat and said, “Gentlemen.” The other man murmured, “
Guten Tag.
”

“Come in, Inspector,” Mason said. To the room: “Gentlemen, for those of you who haven’t met our German police liaison, this is Oberinspektor Hans Becker. He’s leading the German side of the investigation.”

Becker introduced the other man as his assistant, Inspektor Mannheim. A couple of Americans mumbled a greeting, while others offered cold stares.

Wolski jumped up and headed for the door. “I’ll get a couple of chairs for you from the outer office.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wolski, but that won’t be necessary,” Becker said.

Wolski shrugged and returned to his seat.

“Actually, Herr Oberinspektor,” Mason said, “could you come up front and give us your progress report?”

Mason knew most of the team still felt uneasy about Germans in positions of policing authority, but since they would have to work together, he figured they’d better get used to the idea. Admittedly, he was still getting used to it himself.

Becker cleared his throat and strode up to the front. Before turning to face the men, he glanced at the chalkboard with the listings of concentration camps and the Nazi doctors. He looked at Mason with a pained expression, obviously putting together what it all implied.

“I’ll fill you in after the meeting,” Mason said.

Becker nodded, clearly uncomfortable standing by the many damning names and places on display. He cleared his throat and said in English, “First, I would congratulate all of you on your fine police work and your dedication to solving these horrible crimes against German citizens. The German police hold you all in high regard and look forward to our continuing cooperation. The people of Munich are very grateful, and you are all a great example of the principles of the American democratic system.”

Becker paused as he looked around the room. The little speech worked. Most of the men appeared more relaxed and ready to listen. “First of all, we have just identified the first victim,” Becker said.

“The one found in the sewer?” Mason asked.

Becker nodded and referred to his notepad. “A Dr. Adolphus Reinhardt. He was practicing family medicine in the suburb of Milbertshofen.”

As Mason wrote the new information out on the chalkboard and the men made notations, Becker continued. “We have officers—I believe your word is ‘canvassing’?” A few nods. “Canvassing door-to-door all around the hospital and his apartment. We’re also checking every livery and possible wagon owner in the city. This, of course, will all take time as we have a limited number of trained officers available to us, and they have numerous other duties to perform. Unfortunately, we have not obtained any substantial leads up to this time.”

Mason pointed to Sergeant Hague and said, “Inspector, if you can provide a list of where you’ve been and places left to visit, we can have some of Sergeant Hague’s team help out.”

“Sir,” Sergeant Hague said, “we don’t have that many MPs who can speak good German.”

“Perhaps we can form teams,” Becker said. “One American and one German, to go out together. It would greatly improve our ability to cover such a large area in the shortest amount of time.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sergeant Hague said, “that’s going to go over big with my boys. I can’t ask them to team up with kr—” Hague stopped and glanced at Becker from the corner of his eye.

“We’ll discuss that later, Sergeant.” Mason turned to Becker. “Anything you would like to add, Inspector?”

At that moment, Becker looked old and tired. He bowed his head and walked to the back of the room to join Mannheim.

The door opened, this time without a knock. Two privates carried in a large trunk labeled,
Restricted. CID eyes only. Attention Chief Warrant Officer Collins.

One of the privates said, “This came in from Colonel Marsden at the repository, sir.”

Mason directed them to set the trunk down next to him. Wolski broke the seals and opened it. Mason and he began removing file folders.

“These are copies of documents, photos, ex-inmate affidavits, eyewitness accounts,” Mason said. “This is what most of you will be going through in the next few days. I want you to split up into groups
and divvy up the folders.” He had to speak up over the groans. “I want you to find and separate out any information on Dr. Albrecht. One of the camp doctors we interviewed mentioned some prisoner doctors who worked with Albrecht.” In brief, Mason explained the role of the prisoner doctors in the camps. “Other inmates referred to one of Albrecht’s prisoner doctors in particular as the Healing Angel. If you can get the identity for that man, or for anyone else who assisted Albrecht, then find out if they’re still alive and where we might be able to reach them.” A thought came to him as he was speaking. “Also, cross-check any names that match employees at the Ludwig Maximilian University hospital. If Albrecht managed to evade detection and got work there, then there may be more. Pay attention to detail. The slightest reference might be a clue. There are also transcripts from the first Dachau war crimes trial and the Belsen trial, both of which just wrapped up, plus JAG and War Crimes Commission lists of potential witnesses for upcoming proceedings. Remember, many of the medical staff, including the prisoner doctors, were transferred around over the years, especially as the Allied forces began to overrun the camps. This is probably only the first trunk. Others will likely be coming over the next few days.”

This elicited another round of groans.

“Okay, gentlemen, start divvying up the material and get to work.”

As Wolski started organizing the folders into piles on a long folding table and guiding the work of the various teams, Mason walked over to Becker.

“That was a nice speech you made,” Mason said.

“I am learning how to talk to you Americans. I just think like a coach at an American football game. You always seem to need your egos boosted.”

“The term is ‘sucking up.’ I bet you guys had lots of practice at that before we came along.”

They both smiled, their initial animosity having turned into a game.

“Mr. Wolski and I are going back for another go at the hospital administrator and chief of surgeons. Care to come along?”

Becker shook his head. “We must check a few reported sightings. Besides, you and Investigator Wolski will scare them more than I will.”

“I’m counting on it.”