Any Survivors (2008) by Martin Freud Page B

to drive to the hotel is our agent, as is the porter of the hotel. While you were on the market there was always someone watching you. Three of our agents were keeping a very close watch. No one could see any sign of any papers being put aside, but yet, our searches have yielded nothing. We appeal to your honour as a German citizen, a member of the party and as a petty officer, help us to find the papers.’
    This was starting to get on my nerves. If I had had the opportunity I would have quickly sketched a U-boat and its interior and smuggled it in. To my shame, however, I was no good at drawing and could neither draw one from the outside nor depict the inside plans. Just to prove this to myself I tried it at a later date and it always came out looking like a row of false teeth.
    ‘ Herr Polizeirat ,’ I said, as I felt the need to respond. ‘I have nothing to do with this affair. When the officers asked me if I was expecting anyone, I felt flattered, as it was the first time anyone had ever come to see me, so of course I said I was expecting him. I don't have many friends, obviously. But then this drunken chap appeared and started talking rubbish. I felt a little sorry for him so I accompanied him back to his hotel. He could hardly walk straight. When I heard the shots I could see that the Gestapo was already there so I thought there was no point in me getting involved. Just a thought Herr Polizeirat : if you really think the man was a conspirator and was carrying secret papers, would it not have been possible for the exchange to have taken place with someone else? And that he stayed with me so long so as to divert attention and lay a false trail? You yourself mentioned that this was a common practice. Why don't you let me go through his things? As a sailor I may be better qualified to find these plans.’ My thought here was to show willing and also to see if there might be an opportunity to get some of my things back.
    So to my surprise the basket with Mr Andersen's things was brought to me because the captain approved of the idea. I could see immediately that there was not much that could be salvaged. All the clothes had been cut up and ripped so the lining could be checked; all other items, tobacco pipe and my treasured flute, hacked into little pieces, tubes of toothpaste emptied, cut open and rolled flat. I felt a little stab in the heart but I had to pretend that it was leaving me cold. The only intact item on this sad heap was the bottle of French cognac, the finest French make with a crown and three stars. We all saw it at the same time and the two others licked their lips. Even my captain who had the face of an ascetic was not entirely averse to alcohol.
    ‘Perhaps it's written on the back of the label,’ I added modestly. Both men grabbed the bottle at the same time, saying, ‘Allow me’ and ‘May I?’
    My captain's arms were longer and his fingers more nimble. He lifted up the bottle, held it against the light and said contemplatively, ‘If we empty the bottle we should see more easily.’ He lifted it to his lips and drank almost half. Here was further proof of the lack of abolishment of the class system. The leading classes stuck together and the poor ordinary man could see where that left him. My captain handed the half-empty bottle not to me but to the superintendent, and that was that, the rest of the bottle disappeared in one large gulp. If they only realised that it was my cognac and they didn't even offer me a small sip!
    The SS superintendent looked at the inventory and modified the entry for one full bottle of cognac. He crossed out ‘full’ and wrote ‘empty’ over the top. Then he wiped his mouth, reasonably satisfied with the conciliatory result of the interrogation. He gave a short salute and left. My captain was squinting at me, his normally dry fiery eyes filled with moisture. The cognac was strong and his gulp had been hefty. ‘Gotthold,’ he said. Now we were on first name terms