Read Online If the Dead Rise Not by Philip Kerr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Philip Kerr
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all depends on your notion of legitimacy.”
“In which case this little stenographer, the one who went back to Danzig—”
“Ilse Szrajbman.”
“Maybe she did steal the box, after all.”
“Maybe. But she’ll have had a good reason.”
“Like that, is it?”
“No. But I know the girl, Otto. And I’ve met Max Reles.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’d like to find out more before you go charging off to Danzig.”
“I’d like to pay less tax and make more love, but it’s not going to happen. What’s it to you if I go to Danzig?”
“We both know that if you go you’ll have to make an arrest to justify your expenses, Otto.”
“It’s true, the Deutsches Haus hotel in Danzig is quite expensive.”
“So why not telephone the local KRIPO first? See if you can get someone local to go and see her. If she really does have the box, then perhaps he can persuade her to return it.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“I don’t know. Nothing, probably. But she’s a Jew. And we both know what’s going to happen to her if she’s arrested. They’ll send her to one of their concentration camps. Or they’ll put her in that Gestapo prison, near Tempelhof. Columbia Haus. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s just a kid, Otto.”
“You’re turning soft, you know that, don’t you?”
I thought of Dora Bauer and how I had helped her get off the sledge. “I suppose I am.”
“I was looking forward to some sea air.”
“Drop by the hotel sometime, and I’ll have the chef fix you a nice plate of Bismarck herrings. I swear, you’ll think you were on Rügen Island.”
“All right, Bernie. But you owe me.”
“Sure I do. And, believe me, I’m glad about that. I’m not sure our friendship could take the strain if it was you who owed me. Call me when you hear something.”
MOST OF THE TIME THE ADLON ran like a big state Mercedes—a Swabian colossus with handcrafted coachwork, hand-stitched leather, and six outsized Continental AGs. I can’t claim that any of this was attributable to me, but I took my duties—which were largely routine—seriously enough. I had a maxim of my own: Running a good hotel is about predicting the future, and then preventing it from happening. So every day I would look over the hotel register, just in case there were any names that leaped out at me as likely to cause trouble. There never were. Unless you count King Prajadhipok and his request that the chef prepare him a dish of ants and grasshoppers; or the actor Emil Jannings and his predilection for loudly spanking the bare bottoms of young actresses with a hairbrush.
The events diary was a different story, however. Corporate hospitality given at the Adlon was frequently lavish, often alcoholic, and sometimes things got a bit out of hand. On that particular day there were two groups of businessmen that were booked in. Representatives of the German Labor Front were meeting all day in the Beethoven Room; and, in the evening—by a coincidence that was not lost on me after my visit to the Ministry of the Interior—the members of the German Olympic Organizing Committee, including Hans von Tschammer und Osten and SS colonel Breitmeyer, were to convene for drinks and dinner in the Raphael Room.
Of the two, I was expecting trouble only from DAF—the Labor Front, which was the Nazi organization that had taken over Germany’s trade-union movement. This was led by Dr. Robert Ley, a former chemist who was given to bouts of heavy drinking and womanizing, especially when the taxpayer was picking up the bill. Prostitutes were frequently invited into the Adlon as the guests of Labor Front regional leaders, and the sight and sound of heavy men making love to whores in the lavatories was not uncommon. Their light brown tunics and red armbands made them easy to spot, which made me think that Nazi officials and pheasants had something in common. You didn’t have to know anything about them personally to want to shoot one.
As
“In which case this little stenographer, the one who went back to Danzig—”
“Ilse Szrajbman.”
“Maybe she did steal the box, after all.”
“Maybe. But she’ll have had a good reason.”
“Like that, is it?”
“No. But I know the girl, Otto. And I’ve met Max Reles.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’d like to find out more before you go charging off to Danzig.”
“I’d like to pay less tax and make more love, but it’s not going to happen. What’s it to you if I go to Danzig?”
“We both know that if you go you’ll have to make an arrest to justify your expenses, Otto.”
“It’s true, the Deutsches Haus hotel in Danzig is quite expensive.”
“So why not telephone the local KRIPO first? See if you can get someone local to go and see her. If she really does have the box, then perhaps he can persuade her to return it.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“I don’t know. Nothing, probably. But she’s a Jew. And we both know what’s going to happen to her if she’s arrested. They’ll send her to one of their concentration camps. Or they’ll put her in that Gestapo prison, near Tempelhof. Columbia Haus. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s just a kid, Otto.”
“You’re turning soft, you know that, don’t you?”
I thought of Dora Bauer and how I had helped her get off the sledge. “I suppose I am.”
“I was looking forward to some sea air.”
“Drop by the hotel sometime, and I’ll have the chef fix you a nice plate of Bismarck herrings. I swear, you’ll think you were on Rügen Island.”
“All right, Bernie. But you owe me.”
“Sure I do. And, believe me, I’m glad about that. I’m not sure our friendship could take the strain if it was you who owed me. Call me when you hear something.”
MOST OF THE TIME THE ADLON ran like a big state Mercedes—a Swabian colossus with handcrafted coachwork, hand-stitched leather, and six outsized Continental AGs. I can’t claim that any of this was attributable to me, but I took my duties—which were largely routine—seriously enough. I had a maxim of my own: Running a good hotel is about predicting the future, and then preventing it from happening. So every day I would look over the hotel register, just in case there were any names that leaped out at me as likely to cause trouble. There never were. Unless you count King Prajadhipok and his request that the chef prepare him a dish of ants and grasshoppers; or the actor Emil Jannings and his predilection for loudly spanking the bare bottoms of young actresses with a hairbrush.
The events diary was a different story, however. Corporate hospitality given at the Adlon was frequently lavish, often alcoholic, and sometimes things got a bit out of hand. On that particular day there were two groups of businessmen that were booked in. Representatives of the German Labor Front were meeting all day in the Beethoven Room; and, in the evening—by a coincidence that was not lost on me after my visit to the Ministry of the Interior—the members of the German Olympic Organizing Committee, including Hans von Tschammer und Osten and SS colonel Breitmeyer, were to convene for drinks and dinner in the Raphael Room.
Of the two, I was expecting trouble only from DAF—the Labor Front, which was the Nazi organization that had taken over Germany’s trade-union movement. This was led by Dr. Robert Ley, a former chemist who was given to bouts of heavy drinking and womanizing, especially when the taxpayer was picking up the bill. Prostitutes were frequently invited into the Adlon as the guests of Labor Front regional leaders, and the sight and sound of heavy men making love to whores in the lavatories was not uncommon. Their light brown tunics and red armbands made them easy to spot, which made me think that Nazi officials and pheasants had something in common. You didn’t have to know anything about them personally to want to shoot one.
As
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