The Night of the Generals (32 page)

"Well, I feel twice the man," Kahlenberge sighed, when nothing remained but a litter of shells and two squeezed lemons. "You can come to the point now."

"With pleasure," said Prévert, dividing the rest of the Chablis equally between their two glasses. "What I have to tell you can be summed up in a few words. We haven't seen each other too often in recent years, as you know, but we've been admirable correspondents. You know that last letter of yours--the one I got a few days ago? There was one sentence in it which made me sit up."

"There wasn't anything special about it, as far as I can remember."

"The sentence I'm referring to," said Prévert, "ran something like this: 'Even General Tanz seems to recognize the signs of the times. They say he'd like nothing better than to make contact with the West.' "

Kahlenberge wagged his hairless, glistening head, which looked more like a billiard ball than ever. "I don't see anything unusual in the fact that one man has lost his taste for life in East Germany. Millions share his opinion. Nothing could be more natural."

"On the contrary," said Prévert firmly. "I can't imagine anything more unnatural--in Tanz's case."

BRIEF NOTE: Tanz in the intervening years Promoted to Corps Commander at the end of July 1944, after the successful quelling of the revolt in the Paris area. Transferred to the Eastern Front in this capacity and fights first in Silesia, then in Brandenburg. Taken prisoner by the Red Army .1945-49, prominent inmate of a camp for generals near Moscow .1949-51, confidential adviser to the Russian Army of Occupation in the Saxony-Thuringia area. From 1952 onwards involved in the creation of the so-called National People's Army of the so-called German Democratic Republic. Since 1955, frequently tipped as a potential Deputy Minister of Defence in the same political set-up.

"What's so worrying about it?" asked Kahlenberge, smiling at Prévert with a hint of curiosity. "What do you deduce from it?"

"Certain things," Prévert said. "I've got my fair share of imagination, you know. It can be awkward sometimes, for other people as well as myself."

They emptied their glasses, ordered another bottle and waited in silence until the wine waiter had finished serving them. While he did so they stared out at the Kurfürstendamm with apparent interest, each man covertly eyeing the other's reflection in the polished glass of the window. They smiled as their eyes met.

"If I understand you correctly," said Kahlenberge, leaning forward, "I owe my invitation to Berlin to you."

"Shall we say--I arranged it."

"May I ask what your motives were?"

"I had several, mon cher. In the first place, it seemed a good opportunity to see you again after all this time, and, in the second place, I felt I might be able to offer you an entertaining experience. In fact, I may be able to lay on a performance which you would not have missed for worlds. But that's not all. I may well need your assistance."

Kahlenberge smiled wryly as the last words sank in. "I expected something of the sort," he commented. "You plan to use me as a sort of bait--for Tanz, of all people. I suppose I oughtn't to be surprised."

"The idea annoys you?"

"Put your cards on the table, Prévert. What do you want with Tanz?"

"Can't you guess?"

"I imagine you want to win him over. For some reason, you want to lure the revered General Tanz into the Western camp--with my help. On the other hand, you may be doing a little wild-game hunting and you need me to help beat the covers."

"You could be right."

"I'm shocked at you," said Kahlenberge, "shocked at what you've turned into. You treat yesterday's enemies like old friends. Next, you'll be telling me there were no Nazis, only Germans. Go ahead, then--scrub out three wars and call history a whore. Let's all indulge in an orgy of spurious bonhomie."

"I could argue that it's the trend of the times."

"And I could tell you to take your trend of the times and go to the devil!"

"Thank you for those few kind words," said Prévert with unabashed amusement.

He raised his glass to Kahlenberge, small eyes sparkling like greenish water lit by a ray of sunshine. Then he put his glass down and rubbed his hands together as though he had concluded a particularly advantageous business deal.

"Do you remember the strange yarn Hartmann told us on the way south from Paris?"

"Morbid nonsense!" declared Kahlenberge. "The product of an over-heated imagination. You thought so, too, didn't you?"

"What he told us certainly sounded morbid, but I'm beginning to wonder if it was such nonsense."

"Really, Prévert! You were sceptical enough about his story yourself--to put it mildly."

"Yes, I was," Prévert conceded, "then."

"But not now?" Kahlenberge shook his head wonderingly. "My dear chap, it's absurd--absolutely crazy!"

"A lot of things are absurd and crazy, war most of all. The more I think about it, the more convinced I become of one thing: there's nothing a human being isn't capable of, especially when war has destroyed all his inhibitions. The question of rank doesn't enter into it."

"It's all very well theorizing, but don't forget that the boy was in a state of nerves at the time. He was at the end of his tether."

"But he wasn't a murderer, I'm absolutely positive of it. Hartmann wasn't a sex maniac."

"I didn't say that, Prévert. Don't misunderstand me--I've no doubt he'd been through a lot of things which would have unbalanced stronger personalities than his. Think what he must have gone through in Russia, for instance. But all that blood-curdling poppycock about Tanz... Just the product of an over-heated imagination, I tell you."

"I thought so too, at the time," admitted Prévert. "That's why I dropped the case like a hot potato. Besides, I had more important things to do. There was a war to be won, if you remember, and after that we had our hands full paying for the privilege of having won it."

"Have you heard anything of Hartmann since?"

"I've been hoarding him like buried treasure," Prévert said. "However, it wasn't until yesterday that I knew with any certainty what a treasure I was hoarding."

BRIEF NOTE: Hartmann in the intervening years End of July 1944, escapes to the South of France. Goes to ground first in Marseilles and later in Antibes, where he lodges with a fisherman from August 1944 onwards and works on boats and nets. From March 1945 onwards, employed by a master mason who specializes in the rebuilding of harbour installations. From summer 1947 onwards, works as a casual labourer, mending roads, building walls, repairing fences and erecting houses at Antibes and Cap d'Antibes. Now living there in a room near the Castell, quietly tolerated and protected by former members of the Resistance, once all-powerful but still influential. Passes for a Frenchman locally.

"It's characteristic of the man," said Kahlenberge. "He's buried himself--cut himself off from the world. Obviously, he prefers to live like a hermit. But that often happens when someone finds life more than he can cope with. I'm not surprised by his reaction in the least."

"People like Hartmann are commoner than you think, mon vieux. It's just that they don't all behave as logically. He refuses to compromise and insists on living as he thinks he was destined to live. But it's precisely because Hartmann is what he is, and nothing else, that he's given me so much food for thought. I've asked myself again and again if he mightn't have been telling the truth--and, if so, what to do about it."

Kahlenberge drained his glass. The wine was dry, fruity and full-bodied, but he got no pleasure from it. His head had grown suddenly heavy.

"How much do you really know, Prévert?"

"Tanz wrote to von Seydlitz-Gabler, hinting that he wouldn't be averse to changing sides. Von Seydlitz-Gabler informed you and you wrote to me. My first reaction was: why?"

"Why? You know what I think of Tanz, but in this case his motives may be entirely above reproach."

"They may be, yes, but not necessarily so--particularly with a man nice Tanz."

"Perhaps you underestimate von Seydlitz-Gabler's influence. He's still got a lot of pull, you know."

"I've taken his influence into consideration from the start. I realize that generals like von Seydlitz-Gabler are an institution in Germany. Just because they lose battles or campaigns or even wars, it doesn't mean they forfeit their influence."

BRIEF NOTE: Von Seydlitz-Gabler in the intervening years End of July1944,promoted to Army Commander. Invested with the oak leaves to his Knight's Cross for exemplary conduct during the 20th July crisis and honoured with a personal citation from the Führer and Supreme Commander. Exemplary conduct maintained until the last day of the war. Preferential treatment while a prisoner of war at Schloss Beil near Stuttgart, where he writes essays on the reasons for Germany's defeat, larding them with veiled allusions to Hitler's incompetent generalship.1946-49,a peaceful interlude at the Villa Friedhold near Berchtesgaden.1950,elected one of the three honorary presidents of the Combat Veterans' Association.1951onwards, essays, articles and lectures. Their general theme: the integrity of the German soldier, in particular his sense of honour. A noted spokesman for the revival of military self-reliance, currently known as defensive preparedness. Now preparing a comprehensive book of memoirs to be entitled "Every Inch a Soldier."

"You're right," said Kahlenberge. "Von Seydlitz-Gabler may be an overgrown schoolboy, but his contacts are legion. If Tanz wanted to break with the East he couldn't turn to a better man."

"But to resume, mon cher. It is my habit to glance through international police reports occasionally--out of sheer boredom, if you like. Well, whether you call it coincidence or fate, on the very day when I received your letter telling me that Tanz was contemplating a change of scenery I happened to see a confidential report from East Germany. It referred to a crime of violence."

Kahlenberge was breathing heavily now, like a man toiling up a mountain-side. "A crime similar to the one described by Hartmann?"

Prévert nodded. "Not only similar, but identical in almost every detail with what he told us. One more thing: the crime was committed in Dresden, and General Tanz is quartered in the Dresden area at the present time."

"I can promise you one thing, you won't be bored." Prévert snapped his fingers for the bill. "But that's all I can guarantee."

Kahlenberge regarded his companion with a quizzical smile. "And what part do you envisage for me?"

"Principally that of a friend," Prévert said cordially. "I am operating in a somewhat unfamiliar field, you know. My experience of generals has been rather limited hitherto, and I lack the special knowledge which you, my dear friend, so abundantly possess. Your main function will be to draw my attention to any features of my plan of action which you consider faulty. I rely on you to be frank."

"What else do you want me to do?"

Prévert slipped a large note under the bill which had been presented to him and gently drew Kahlenberge towards the exit. "You, mon cher, are here to give a lecture. That's the official version, as it were. However, your lecture won't claim all your time, so you may get a chance for a chat with one or other of your old friends--about your unforgettable times together in Warsaw and Paris, for example."

"Not with von Seydlitz-Gabler, surely? How are you going to entice him here?"

Prévert raised his hands like a salesman defending the quality of his goods. "General von Seydlitz-Gabler," he said blandly, "has been invited here by a publisher to discuss his memoirs. It wasn't too difficult to find a potential buyer, incidentally. To cut a long story short, our former hero has already arrived--complete with lady wife, needless to say. All expenses to be paid by the publisher."

"That only leaves his daughter."

"Ulrike von Seydlitz-Gabler has been living in Berlin for some years. At the moment she is working as secretary to an industrial consultant."

BRIEF NOTE: Ulrike von Seydlitz-Gabler in the intervening years Immediately after 20th July 1944, quarrels with her parents whose efforts to make her see "reason" are entirely unavailing, and breaks away from the family fold.1945-8,a durable affair with an American colonel, already married. Stays on in Berlin after his departure and tries her hand at modelling {dress-house and photographic) and acting--all with only moderate success .1952, learns shorthand and typing. Has since been employed by various industrial concerns.

"Exactly what do you hope to achieve by this family reunion?"

"To be honest, Kahlenberge, I'm not quite sure--except that it's one way of getting Tanz to Berlin. To begin with, von Seydlitz-Gabler--and you as well, to a certain extent, provided you're willing to make a show of burying the hatchet--will act as a draw. Later you may be able to render me valuable assistance as witnesses or advisers."

"That's all very well, Prévert, but how do you hope to conduct your case without your star witness? Surely you can't hope to get Hartmann here?"

"I'm in the process of making the necessary arrangements."

They stood in the Kurfürstendamm and looked across at the Gedächtniskirche. The sombre, smoke-blackened spire dominated the long street far more effectively than any of the new buildings with their glass and chromium façades. Its tortured, shattered silhouette seemed to claw the sky in a desperate effort to retain its equilibrium. No memorial could have been more melancholy or more mutely eloquent.

"Your hotel's just across the street," said Prévert. "I've reserved you a room with bath. You'll find your bags already installed there, if I'm not mistaken."

"First-rate planning," remarked Kahlenberge. "I congratulate you."

Arranging to meet in the hotel foyer at seven that evening, they shook hands grinning like a couple of old cronies indulging in a piece of youthful folly. Then Kahlenberge crossed the Kurfürstendamm to the hotel and Prévert got into his waiting car.

"Friedrichstrasse," said Prévert. Friedrichstrasse lay in the Eastern sector of the city, but Prévert's driver betrayed not the slightest surprise.

The car passed through the two check points at the Brandenburg Gate without incident, glided down the Unter den Linden and turned left into Friedrichstrasse. There, a few blocks beyond the Admiralspalast, it drew up in front of a bleak façade of grey stone broken by dim window-panes set in narrow, elongated embrasures and interspersed with unadorned but massive pillars--a piece of severely uniform architecture which had once been the lair of Prussian officialdom.