The Good Liar (30 page)

Weber was businesslike. ‘Now then, Herr Taub.’

It took Hans a moment to realize that Weber was referring to

him. He sat on one side of the table with the other two men and

invited Hans to sit on the other.

‘May I introduce two colleagues from the legal department, Herr

Engel and Herr Ziegler? As you’ve made a number of serious allega-

tions we are required to ensure complete accuracy in taking your

statement. We must at all costs avoid a miscarriage of justice. Legal counsel are present to confirm that this statement has been taken in accordance with the law of the Reich and is admissible in possible

future legal proceedings.’

Legal proceedings. Hans had, he supposed, understood that this

was an inevitable consequence of the information he had given to

Weber the previous day. But to hear it said out loud made it all the more concrete. The kernel of a qualm germinated in his stomach

but was easily quelled. That bastard Schröder was after all planning to betray the Fatherland. And so what if the family would be humiliated and ruined? They deserved all they got.

‘Do you understand?’ asked Weber.

‘Yes, sir,’ said Hans.

Patiently and kindly, they took him through what he had told

Weber the previous day. Hans had an excellent memory and was

able to recall more or less word for word what he had said. He stuck closely to the same script, venturing the odd extra detail but avoiding wholesale additions even when invited to provide more

information by Weber or his two lawyers. The three men each had

a copy of what seemed to be an identical document in front of

them, which they checked carefully at each stage.

Engel pressed him on the circumstances of his hearing what his

father and Schröder had said.

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I was there. Herr Schröder was so keen to begin the discussion. I

went away then and returned later. That’s when I listened outside

the door.’

‘You would say that you heard the conversation clearly?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And there were no other persons in the room? You could recog-

nize the two speakers quite clearly?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Engel pursed his thin lips. ‘So you are quoting the direct words of these two individuals?’

‘Yes.’

‘I want to ask you about your father’s response to what Herr

Schröder had to say,’ said Ziegler, the friendlier of the two. ‘Your father is a socialist, I understand.’

‘He calls himself a liberal, sir. I don’t know a lot about politics, but I think that means he is on the left?’

‘Indeed.’ Ziegler smiled at him. ‘Now, would you say your father

was happy with what Herr Schröder proposed?’

Weber looked sideways at Ziegler and cast a warning glance in

Hans’s direction.

‘No, not happy, sir. Not really. Of course I couldn’t see their faces.’

‘If I may interrupt for a moment, Herr Doktor Ziegler,’ said

Weber. ‘I’ve noted Hans’s impression that his father seemed shocked at the boldness of Herr Schröder’s statements. I believe you said,

Hans, if I’ve written it down correctly, that “whatever my father’s personal views he would not be disloyal to his country at a time of national crisis”. Do I have that correct?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I ask,’ persisted Ziegler, ‘because it appears that for some reason Herr Schröder had the impression that your father would be passing his information on to third parties. Do you have any idea why

that might be the case?’

‘None at all, sir.’

‘Very well.’ Ziegler smiled again, and their business was all but

done.

Weber gathered together the three copies of the document they

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had been perusing and neatened the edges. It seemed to Hans a

rather feminine gesture.

‘This is a statement I had prepared for your signature, Hans. Read

it carefully. It is a legal document. Then, if you’re happy, please sign each copy.’

Hans took a moment or two to pretend to read the document. In

truth the adrenalin burst had robbed him of the ability to concen-

trate. Casually, he signed the three copies.

‘Well then,’ said Weber, addressing Engel and Ziegler, ‘you gen-

tlemen may wish to begin the process. I need to discuss some

practical details with Herr Taub.’

The two lawyers filed from the room.

‘Three days,’ said Weber. ‘That’s all I can guarantee you. There’s

a chance the process of drawing up warrants may take longer if I

drag my heels but three days is the maximum on which you can

count. You’ll need to be gone by then. After that it’ll be as if our agreement never existed. In the meantime, if your parents are

arrested for reasons outside the bounds of our agreement, the same

applies. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I’ve spoken with Herr Professor Wolff. Later today he will do as

we discussed.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘And your parents will need exit visas. They’ll have to obtain them through Herr Professor Wolff. I’ll brief him what to say. I can do

nothing about foreign entry visas. I’m assuming your father has

contacts abroad who can supply whatever is required . . .’

‘I suppose so, sir.’

Weber’s mood lightened somewhat. ‘Then all that remains is our

written contract.’ He took a single sheet from his pocket and looked at it for a moment before handing it to Hans to sign. Hans did so

without reading it.

Weber said, ‘London, that’s where you think your father will head?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You’d be prepared to serve the Reich while there?’

‘Of course.’

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‘There’s always a requirement to keep tabs on annoying little

communities of dissenters abroad. You may well be contacted by

one of our fellows.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I’d like to make one thing clear. I view your father as a traitor.

I’m allowing him to go because you and I have a bargain. I’m a man

of my word. If it were up to me I would personally wring your

father’s neck. But there it is. We have our deal. You’ve been a very brave and a very clever little German, and you’ve served your country. It will be noted. Goodbye and good luck.’

In the car on the way back to his school Hans replayed the con-

versation and savoured each drop of sarcasm in Weber’s words.

Well, fuck you too, he thought, and smiled.

4

His father was working on an article when the rap on the door came

that evening. Hans went quickly to the window and glanced down

to the street. He could see no cars but now fully expected Weber to have reneged on the deal. His father scrabbled at the table, struggling in his panic to pick up the papers that lay before him and

seemed to stick to the surface. Renate opened the door to the main

bedroom, where Konrad thrust everything under the bed. Hans

was sure both his parents knew this was a futile action, a gesture

and no more.

Hans watched his father compose himself and go to the door.

‘Ah, Herr Professor Wolff,’ he said, surprised.

‘Herr Taub.’

‘Do come in.’

Wolff entered, stamping his shoes clear of wet snow on the door-

mat and handing his overcoat to Hans’s mother. He peered around

the small apartment, his curiosity evident even as he attempted to

conceal it. Hans did not know what Herr Professor Wolff might

expect of the lair of two liberal intellectuals. A mire of squalor and filth denoting their depravity, a coterie of revolutionaries trading 197

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polemics, a cache of weapons and explosives? What he would have

seen was a perfectly normal apartment consisting of a bathroom,

two small bedrooms and a larger single living area comprising

lounge, dining area and small kitchen, clean and tidy, perhaps a little worn and old, as the Taubs had not prospered since Hitler became

Chancellor.

It was peculiar to see his headmaster here. Wolff seemed a fas-

tidious man, entirely at home in the familiar environs of his study, where he could find security in his carefully arranged books and the neatly aligned pen and pencils on the blotter on his desk. Here, he appeared nervous, his eyes flicking to and fro and his fingers moving swiftly, interlocking then parting, twirling and bending, to no obvious purpose.

‘Is it about school?’ asked Hans’s father. ‘Is Hans in trouble?’

‘Pardon?’ said Wolff, an expression of perplexity coming to his

face. He was not cut out for this, thought Hans. But his unease

might serve a purpose. ‘Ah, no, nothing like that at all.’

Konrad and Renate Taub waited for a moment.

‘Then?’ asked Konrad.

‘Ah yes. If it were convenient, it would be helpful, I think, to have a private word.’ Wolff glanced at Hans.

‘Without Hans?’ asked Renate.

‘Indeed.’

‘We do not keep secrets from our son,’ said Konrad. ‘Whatever

you have to say you may say in front of him.’

‘I rather think . . .’

‘It’s all right, Father,’ said Hans. ‘I’ll read in my room.’

He went to his tiny bedroom, which overlooked the snow- covered

courtyard, and left his book unopened on his bed. He listened at the door. Wolff was attempting to speak quietly but he was so accustomed to making bombastic pronouncements that it took little

effort to hear what he was saying. Hans’s parents’ responses were

more difficult to discern.

‘Herr Taub,’ said Wolff, ‘we can agree on one thing at least,

namely that we disagree wildly on almost every topic. I find your

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views anathema and I am sure you regard mine with equal distaste.

But I do acknowledge that, however misguided, you believe in your

country. I am here, therefore, on an errand of mercy. I see in your son the makings of a fine young man. But I fear that owing to

your views your son’s future will be destroyed.’

Konrad Taub replied inaudibly.

‘No no no,’ said Wolff. ‘I am not here to proselytize or try to convince you of the error of your ways. Things are much too far along

the road for that. I am here for a specific and very practical purpose.

And you should know that this is at considerable personal risk. You need to understand that we live in a very different world today from even five years ago.’

There was silence. Hans strained to hear whether his parents

spoke. But it seemed that this pause was for dramatic effect, before Wolff continued to declaim.

‘Whatever our differences, I am here to tell you that you are in

severe and immediate personal danger. As you know, I am heavily

involved in Party matters. I have it on the highest authority that a warrant has been issued for your arrest.’

Hans could well imagine his parents’ shocked expressions.

‘The reasons will be as clear to you as they are to me. I have been informed discreetly. The consequences are obvious. You will be

tried for sedition, with a predictable outcome. Hans’s future will be uncertain. If he is fortunate he will be fostered or adopted. But I rather doubt that will happen. After all, he will be the son of two traitors.’

Wolff spoke without emotion. ‘There can be no mistake. No

doubt at all,’ he was now saying dismissively, as if talking to a particularly stupid pupil. ‘I am certain of my facts. The nation at such times of crisis needs to know precisely who its enemies are.’

As he heard the bitter tone of his father muttering, Hans could

imagine Wolff looking directly at him with contempt through his

rimless spectacles.

‘I am not here to debate with you, Herr Taub. I have come here

because I wish to save your innocent son from ruin. I am here to

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give you some facts. What you do with them is for you to decide.

You can denounce me if you wish, and we will both end up before

the courts. That is a risk that I have calculated.’

Wolff cleared his throat noisily before continuing. ‘Of course you

can choose to be a hero. You can be a martyr to whatever cause it is that you support. What I find heartless is it you seem content to sacrifice your son. I suppose that is your prerogative and what I should expect from someone like you.’

Konrad Taub spoke again and while Hans could not hear his

words his tone was angry.

‘No, I cannot intervene with regard to Hans. Officially I do

not know. Once the arrests have been effected he will be taken

somewhere – I do not know where – and it will be impossible for me to do anything.’

Hans could hear Renate interrupt, her voice almost shrill, but still could not distinguish individual words.

Wolff continued, speaking through her. ‘You have an obvious

choice to make, it seems to me, and you do not have much time. I

also feel I may have made this visit in vain. I hope not.’

Heavy footsteps crossed the room and then came back. Hans

assumed they were those of his father. Someone dragged a chair

back noisily and sat heavily on it. He heard the soothing tones of his mother’s voice.

‘Ah yes,’ said Wolff, as if he had forgotten something important.

‘It would of course be difficult for you under normal circumstances to leave the country. But I have contacts and may be able to