‘Most certainly to his face. That’s what made it so very entertaining for the rest of us. It happened when they were both at the SS officer school in Prague. That was last Sunday, the 29th of September. The day after Heydrich arrived here in Prague. The school asked him to come to a lunch in his honour and, naturally, his adjutants accompanied him. Someone, not Kuttner, had asked Colonel Jacobi about the death’s head ring he was wearing – a gift from Himmler, apparently. One thing led to another and before very long Jacobi was talking balls about Wotan and sun worship and the masons. In the middle of this, Captain Kuttner burst out laughing and said he thought all of that German folk stuff was “complete poppycock”. His exact words. For a moment or two there was an embarrassed silence and then Voss – he’s the officer in charge at Beneschau and one of the guests here at the Lower Castle, and, I might add, an idiot – Voss tried to change the subject. But Kuttner wasn’t having any of it and said some other stuff and that’s when Jacobi said it.’
Frank frowned for a moment.
‘Said what?’
‘I’m trying to think of his exact words. Yes. He said something like “If it wasn’t for the fact that you are wearing an SS uniform, Captain Kuttner, I would cheerfully kill you now, and in front of all these people.”’
‘You’re quite sure about that, sir?’
‘Oh, yes. Quite sure. I’m sure Voss will confirm it. Come to think of it, he didn’t say “kill”, he said “shoot”.’
‘What did Kuttner say to that?’
‘He laughed. Which didn’t exactly defuse the situation. And he made some other remark that I didn’t understand at the time but which relates to the fact that there was already some previous bad blood between them. Apparently they knew each other at university. And they were enemies.’
‘I thought Jacobi was from Munich, sir,’ said Kahlo.
‘He is.’
‘And that he studied law at Tübingen University,’ Kahlo added. ‘At least that’s what it said on his file.’
‘Oh, he did. But he also studied law at the Martin Luther University in Halle. The same as Kuttner. He might not look like it, but Jacobi is only a year or two older than Kuttner was. According to Heydrich, they even fought a duel. While they were students.’
‘A duel?’ Kahlo guffawed. ‘What, with swords?’
‘That’s right.’
‘About what, exactly?’ he asked.
‘They were in a duelling society. It doesn’t have to be about anything at all. That’s the whole point of being in a duelling society.’
‘So it might even have been Jacobi who put the
‘It’s possible. You should certainly ask him.’
‘Given that Jacobi was Kuttner’s superior,’ I said, ‘then surely Kuttner was being grossly insubordinate when he said what he said. Surely there would be repercussions of saying something like that. Why wasn’t Kuttner put on a charge?’
‘For one thing, this was the mess and it wasn’t a formal occasion. As you may know, there is supposed to be a certain amount of leeway in what officers can say to each other upon these occasions. Up to a point. But beyond that, well, that wasn’t a problem either because Kuttner had vitamin B, of course.’
‘You mean with Heydrich.’
‘Of course with Heydrich.’
Frank lit a cigarette with a handsome gold lighter before crossing his legs nonchalantly, affording us a fine view of his spurs. Maybe his Czech wife, Karola, liked the dashing cavalry-officer look. This was certainly better than Frank’s natural look, which was that of a man recently released from a prison. His bony head, drawn features, strong fingers, sad smile and chain smoking were straight out of a French novel.
‘What you also have to understand,’ said Frank, ‘is that after Kuttner’s breakdown in Latvia, and because it was Heydrich and von Eberstein who saved the young man from being cashiered, his brother officers were already cutting him quite a bit of slack. And for Jacobi to have pressed the matter through official channels would have meant taking on Heydrich. And since Heydrich is now the source of all advancement in Bohemia, you would only do that if you were prepared to park your career in the toilet. Jacobi might be a cunt and a complete waxed moustache but he’s not entirely stupid. No, not entirely.’
‘But is he a killer?’ I said. ‘To shoot a fellow officer in cold blood, that does seem stupid.’
Frank’s tired eyes tightened, and a few seconds after that a smile arrived on his lean face, like a winning card. ‘And I thought you were supposed to be a detective.’
‘It’s Jacobi who’s keen on the occult, sir, not me. And generally, I question witnesses because, more often than not, it turns out to be more reliable than a crystal ball, or a set of Tarot cards.’
Leaning forward in a way that made him seem almost simian, Frank played with a ring on his right hand for a moment and kept on smiling as he enjoyed the superiority of knowing something I didn’t, at least for a few seconds longer; it was obvious to both of us that he was going to tell me, eventually, exactly what this was.
