Any Survivors (2008) by Martin Freud

military greeting. My captain thanked me with particular warmth and offered me a seat on the sofa. I sat on the far corner ready to jump to attention if required.
    ‘Griesemann,’ the captain began. I sprang up.
    ‘Stay seated,’ he said smiling. ‘This is your special day and you should be treated well.’
    The Nazi was rummaging amongst the various objects on the desk, looking bored, until he found something that looked like a miniature bayonet and started cleaning his nails with it. He showed little interest in our conversation and yawned intermittently. ‘Griesemann,’ he started again, ‘without any fault of your own, I am certain, you have been drawn into an ugly espionage affair. The Gestapo want me to send you to Berlin to be interrogated but I refused. I need all my people, especially my trusted Torpedomaat , and I had heard that the Gestapo often don't return people they take. What was that, Herr Polizei Vizepräsident ?’
    The man could not answer because he was now busy cleaning his teeth with the mini-bayonet and was in the midst of a campaign with a bridge on one of his molars on the left. He just waved his fat hand at an angle of 110°, which seemed to mean ‘lets forget about all that’. My heart was bursting with pride at the thought that my captain was protecting me against the almighty Gestapo. How many battleships must you have sunk to be able to talk fearlessly to these monsters?
    ‘We have come to the agreement,’ the captain said, ‘that I will interrogate you myself with the kind assistance of Herr Vizepräsident . So be prepared. You have nothing to worry about but please promise that you will tell the truth. Let me proceed with an explanation of the situation.’
    The Nazi who was pretending not to listen stared at me with his fish eyes as if to say, ‘heaven help us’. The captain paused and leaned courteously towards the police official, giving him the opportunity to say something. He remained silent and gave a little wave again, thus permitting the questioning that was not to his taste to continue.
    The captain continued: ‘A suspect was stopped by the Gestapo and his papers were inspected. He was carrying a forged Danish passport that was linked to a dangerous group of political terrorists. The Gestapo were aware of the passport number and were watching his moves so we are certain there is no mistake. The suspect came to see you, gaining access with a forged permit. You were together for one hour and you were seen taking him to the front gate, perhaps even further. Now you tell me with all openness and honesty all you know. What do you know of the man, his cause, what did he ask you and what did he even want from you? Don't worry, you have nothing to fear. The Gestapo rendered him harmless. He was shot while attempting to flee.’
    With these words the police functionary hammered his fist on the table so hard that the letter scales danced up and down and the globe turned itself by about a hand's width. I could now examine New Zealand more closely, which up to a minute ago remained invisible. The captain jumped. People who stay on a U-boat for weeks and weeks under water are left feeling jumpy with nerves. The Nazi policeman shouted: ‘Sir, you are going too far with your openness. You’re ruining my plans!’
    ‘Never mind, Herr Vizepräsident ,’ said the captain, who had now regained composure and was smiling. ‘Your notes are on the table. I can read your old-fashioned stenography. I was just reading your note: “The friend is in the next room and has confessed all.” Let us leave the dead in peace and not confuse the living.’
    The Nazi policeman's anger now intensified. Impatience and heightened concentration were evident on his forehead in the form of beads of perspiration. He demanded with forced politeness: ‘Perhaps you would allow me now, Herr …’, and here he checked his note, ‘Griesemann, to ask you some questions?’ He moved his head up and down with