The Other Side of Silence

“The governor isn’t in Friedrichsberg for reasons of his own personal safety,” explained Hennig, “but because that’s simply the best place to coordinate the defense of the city. It’s not just Konigsberg that’s under threat but Danzig, too. Rest assured, the governor is looking after all our interests.”

“I was sure he would be,” I said, but everyone knew that Koch was looking out for his own interests most of all. I had a good idea that the Park Hotel where I was living was actually owned by the Erich Koch Institute and that the army was obliged to pay Koch four marks a night for every officer staying there, but I thought it best to confine my comments to general approval of the gauleiter. Koch was notoriously touchy and inclined to order the arrest and execution of anyone critical of his absolute rule. Public executions were common in Konigsberg, with bodies left hanging from lampposts near the refugee camps on the southern side of the city where, it was believed, there was a much greater need for discipline.

“And what service do you perform for Governor Koch?” I asked Hennig, being careful not to mention blackmail and extortion.

He shook his head and poured some wine into a glass. “You might say that I’m his aide-de-camp. A military liaison officer. Just a glorified messenger, really. The governor issues an order and I have the job of conveying it to the military commander. Or anyone else who matters.” He smiled at Irmela. “And what about you, my dear? I can see that you’re in the naval auxiliary but doing what, may I ask.”

“I’m in signals.”

“Ah. You’re a Valkyrie. A lightning maiden. No wonder this fellow Gunther is spending time with you, my dear. He always did like to stand a little too close to high voltages. In nineteen thirty-eight, he almost got his fingers burned. Didn’t you, Gunther?”

“It’s a wonder I have any fingerprints left,” I said.

At this Irmela picked up my right hand and kissed my fingertips, one by one, and while I appreciated the tenderness of her gesture, I could have wished that she’d not done this in front of Harold Hennig, for whom all knowledge was power, probably. It wasn’t that I thought he might tell my wife, but there was just something about him knowing about us I didn’t like.

He grinned. “Well, we’re all survivors, eh?”

“For how much longer, though,” I said. “That’s the question.”

“A word of advice, old fellow,” said Hennig. “There are only two people in East Prussia who still believe in the final victory. One of them is Adolf Hitler. The other is Erich Koch. So, if I were you, I’d avoid defeatist talk like that. I’d hate to see you end up decorating a lamppost for the edification of some foreign workers and refugees.”

“It’s horrible the way they do that,” said Irmela.

“And yet it is hard to see how else good order is to be maintained in this city,” said Hennig. “Iron discipline is the only way we are going to hold out for any longer.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I’m very glad to have left behind the Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse way of doing things. The Gestapo, I mean, with their torture chambers and knuckle-dusters. To be quite frank, I was never cut out for all that heavy stuff. Even with the law behind you, it’s not for me.”

His eyes glanced momentarily at me and I wondered if he’d forgotten how my partner, Bruno Stahlecker, and I had been obliged by him to fetch Captain von Frisch from Gestapo HQ after Hennig and his thugs had finished beating the old man half to death. But even if he hadn’t forgotten about this and knew that I hadn’t either, it was probably best I didn’t mention it now. No one likes to be told that he’s a loathsome piece of shit in front of a beautiful woman.

Hennig looked perfectly at ease, however, as if he’d been recalling his days with a student society given to displays of unruly behavior. He thrust his hands in the pockets of his riding breeches and pushed his chair back so that it stood on only two legs, rocking to and fro, and continued in this somewhat expansive mode, as if he was someone used to being listened to.