Stranger at the Gates (40 page)

‘That's very encouraging,' the old man said. He had poured a glass of iced Riesling for Kopner and a slightly larger one for himself. He sipped it, showing appreciation. ‘I hope she didn't suspect what line your questions will take?'

‘I'm sure she didn't. We parted on friendly terms and she has agreed to see Minden. I'll arrange a visit tomorrow morning. She didn't want to go, but I persuaded her.'

‘And you think that's wise?'

‘I think the newspapers will make a very interesting item of it,' Kopner said. ‘After all, here is a man accused of war crimes, being visited in prison by the Frenchwoman with whom he was in love during the war. A wealthy lady with a title, prepared to come and testify for him. That alone will blur the public image of a Nazi murderer.'

‘Not the tabloids, I hope. We mustn't have sensationalism at this stage.'

‘The
Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung
. Very respectable. There will be foreign syndications, of course.'

‘I look forward to reading it.' A smile flitted over his mouth and then disappeared. ‘I have great confidence in your ability, Herr Kopner. If you can manœuvre this case in the way that our party wants, your political future is assured. You have my word on that.' Kopner bent forward from the waist; it was difficult to bow when sitting down, but he accomplished it.

‘My one wish is to serve my country,' he said. ‘I have lived with shame and reproach all my life, and I have refused to deny my pride in being German. It's time what happened in the war was seen in its true perspective. The vindictive hounding of men for doing their duty in defence of their country has gone on unchecked for all these years. If we can gain an acquittal for Heinz Minden, or a suspended sentence, there may be an end to these trials. And a political rebuff to the people who advocate them. It's time we stopped hiding from the past, and cringing before the world. What happened at St. Blaize en Yvelines was a military operation, a so-called atrocity, which in fact never took place, and Germans are vilified while the people who collaborated and battened off them are described as heroes. There will be no heroes left by the time this case is over. Just let me get Madame de Bernard into the witness-box.'

‘That, my dear Herr Kopner,' the old man said quietly, ‘is what we are waiting for. Now let us go in to lunch.'

Bonn prison was a dark stone block, situated in the old part of the city. It was approached by electrically operated gates, and guarded by armed men. Kopner had collected Louise at nine that morning, and passed the short travelling time in explaining to her that she would find Minden very much changed. She was annoyed and embarrassed by the sympathy in his tone, as if he were preparing her for a reunion which must by its nature be a painful one. Without saying so, he conveyed the impression that her relationship with Minden had been more prolonged than the single incident she had described. Her discomfort changed to dread when they passed through the gates, Kopner being quickly recognised and admitted, and were actually within the precincts of the prison itself. It was horribly oppressive, dingy and impersonal, a dungeon for the mind as much as the body. More electrically operated gates, more men with dour faces in grey-green uniforms, horribly reminiscent of men she had known years ago, with the same harsh look of authority. Then they were in a small room, with a plain table and two chairs, lit by fluorescent lighting. The walls were painted a dull slate blue; the effect was chilling and metallic. She turned to Kopner. ‘What a dreadful place—how long has he been in here?'

‘For two years.' The bland face smiled at her. She thought suddenly that to this pleasant, highly cultured man, there was nothing offensive about the stone cage in which his fellow men were shut away. A warder opened the door; there was a brief conversation between him and Kopner, and when he returned a moment later he brought a third chair. ‘Sit down,' Siegfried Kopner said. ‘They've gone to bring him up. I'm afraid smoking is forbidden.' There was a large notice on the wall, printed in Shcrift, of which the prohibition of smoking was only one of the rules.

Louise sat down; the chair was wooden and hard. She gripped her handbag tighter than she realised, and waited for the door to open. When it did, she didn't recognise the man who came in, a warder behind him. He was quite short, whereas her memory of Heinz Minden was of a tall man, well built. His hair was grey and his eyes sunken into his face. Kopner came towards him. He spoke to him in German, and then in French. ‘Here is Madame de Bernard. She's come to help you.'

Louise stood up and slowly they approached each other. He looked at her without saying anything. She held out her hand, and after a second's pause he took it. His hand was dry, and it trembled.

‘You shouldn't be here,' Heinz Minden said, and the voice was the same. ‘This is no place for you.' He let her hand go and turned to Kopner. ‘You shouldn't have done this. I told Ilse and I told you. I don't want Madame de Bernard mixed up in this.'

‘Sit down,' the lawyer said. ‘Madame de Bernard wanted to come. She wanted to see you. For old times' sake.' He turned away and walked over to the notice. His back was to them, leaving them alone as far as he could.

‘How are you?' Louise said at last. ‘How are you bearing up?'

‘We'll sit down,' Heinz Minden said quietly. ‘I only have twenty minutes; they don't count this as a legal visit. They're very strict about visitors.' He shook his head suddenly; the hair was very white. ‘I won't see Ilse today; I'm only allowed one visit a week.'

Kopner spoke without turning round. ‘You'll see her tomorrow. I got special permission for Madame de Bernard to come.'

‘I'm going to give evidence for you,' Louise said. ‘I'm going to tell them how you saved Paul and Sophie.'

‘They told me,' he said. Now the eyes were fixed on her; they were bright in the prison-grey face, and the look in them was the same as it had always been. She had a sudden flash of understanding for his wife. ‘You're as beautiful as ever,' he said. ‘You haven't changed at all. How are the children—they're grown up now, of course, but I still think of them as they were …'

‘Paul is married, he has two children. He lives at St. Blaize now. Sophie isn't married; she's very modern about these things.'

‘That's a pity,' Minden said. ‘The world is changing. I haven't seen my sons since I was arrested. But my wife has been very loyal to me. I wish you'd go home!'

‘I can't,' Louise said quietly. ‘You need my evidence. I want to give it.' Now, having seen him, it was true. On an impulse she put out a hand to him. ‘Don't worry about me,' she said. ‘Your wife told me you'd had a very bad time since the war. I was so sorry things turned out like this for you.'

‘You shouldn't be,' he said. ‘I deserve it. Me and people like me who supported them. I've had years to think about it. I deserve to be punished.' Behind him, Siegfried Kopner's back went stiff.

Minden looked at Louise and smiled slightly. Old and physically broken, he had a strange dignity. ‘I am quite resigned to what will happen,' he said. ‘It is very kind of you to try to help me. But any human being would have done what I did. I was very fond of your children. And of you. I never forgot you.'

‘If you lie down, you'll be walked on.' Siegfried Kopner spoke suddenly. His voice was cold and he looked impatient. ‘If you go into that court and hang your head and ask to be punished, you'll stay in here for the rest of your life. One letter a month, one visit every three months. Solitary confinement as a special case. Madame de Bernard! For God's sake, try and convince him that he's got to fight. He wasn't responsible for what he was making—it was a weapon of war!'

‘Gas was forbidden under the Geneva Convention,' Minden said. ‘You know that, Herr Kopner. It won't do you any good to defend me. You'll be accused of sympathising with the Nazis. Enter a plea of guilty, let Madame de Bernard go home to her family, and leave me in peace!'

‘Think of your wife and your sons,' Kopner urged him. He shrugged in Louise's direction. ‘He mustn't take this defeatist attitude. He will be his own worst enemy.'

‘Try not to give up,' she said. ‘What's done is done now. And Herr Kopner said in the car coming here he thought you'd get a suspended sentence. That wouldn't be too bad.'

‘Herr Kopner is an optimist,' Minden said. ‘Tell me, how is the Comte?'

‘He's dead,' Louise said. ‘He died ten years ago.'

‘I'm sorry to hear that. He was a good man.'

‘Yes,' Louise said. ‘He was.' They both heard the door open, and the warder come into the room. He spoke to Minden, who got up.

‘You have to go now,' he said. He held out his hand, and she shook it. He didn't bow, or kiss it. He was very much changed.

‘I am glad to have seen you,' he said. The moist brown eyes gazed at her and the years fled. ‘But if you really want to help me, don't listen to Herr Kopner or my wife. Go home. Stay away from this. And God bless you.'

Then he was gone. Kopner came to her side. ‘He's been here too long,' he said. He sounded a little brusque, as if he were trying to minimise what Minden had said. ‘He's given up hope of justice.'

‘Perhaps,' Louise answered him slowly, ‘perhaps it's justice that he wants.' They walked out of the main building in silence. As they reached Kopner's car, Louise had an impression of a group of men converging on them from the gates. Seconds later the first photographer ran up and snapped his camera in her face.

Sophie looked at her mother's old friend Raoul Delabraye. She had dismissed him for years as a dull, conventional man, plodding on in pursuit of Louise. She had made fun of him and worried in spasms in case he persuaded her mother to marry him. She remembered that morning when Ilse Minden came to the Rue Varenne, he had just telephoned to take Louise to the Opera and she had made a slighting remark about him. Now, sitting opposite him in the Ritz lounge, she saw why Louise liked him, and why he was her most regular escort. Grey haired, very well dressed, impeccable manners and a gentle voice; none of these appealed to Sophie who saw them as varieties of stuffiness. But there was strength and reliability; and kindness. She had come to ask his help and she felt ashamed of her intolerance. She carried a copy of
Le Monde
.

‘Have you seen this?'

‘Yes,' Raoul said. ‘There was another photograph in
Figaro
and the story was worse. “Comtesse to defend war criminal.” It was almost libellous.'

‘It's terrible,' Sophie said. ‘The whole slant that's been put upon it is making Mother look like this bloody man's mistress. As if they'd been lovers! I'm very worried for her, Raoul. I felt I had to come and see you—you're such an old friend.'

‘What can I do?' he asked her. ‘If she'd told me, I'd have done my best to stop her going there. I don't trust these people; a war crimes trial is a very nasty business. I wish you'd come and told me before—why didn't your brother go with her? I can't understand it.'

‘My brother is so terrified of being connected with it, Mother wouldn't hear of it. He did offer, I must admit that. But she was blackmailed into going; that's why she didn't tell you. Minden's wife threatened her if she didn't give evidence. And because of Paul and his career. Mother gave it. I'm going to fly to Bonn tomorrow; the trial opens the day afterwards, but I feel she needs a man there with her. I want you to come with me.'

‘What was the blackmail? Can you tell me?'

‘No,' Sophie answered. ‘I'm sorry. But it doesn't reflect any blame on Mother. You must believe that.'

‘Knowing her as I do,' Raoul said, ‘I couldn't believe anything else. I've been thinking about this story. It must have been a planned leak to the press. Somebody wanted the spotlight to turn on Louise, and show her in a certain light. And you're right, my dear. She is going to need help. Would you pour me some tea—I'm afraid it may be cold. We quite forgot it.'

‘I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking.' Sophie poured him a cup and some for herself. Tea at the Ritz was a pleasant ritual, enjoyed by little groups of people sitting in the handsome lounge. Silver, fine porcelain and delicious small cakes; an atmosphere of placid elegance. Sophie lit a cigarette. ‘Will you come?'

‘Of course,' he said. ‘But I don't think I'm the one to help in this. Moral support won't be enough. When she goes into that court she's going to need more than a faithful old friend sitting in the background. Neither of us, my dear Sophie, are what she needs. We weren't at St. Blaize, we've nothing to contribute. She will be at the mercy of the prosecution; perhaps even of the defence. I know this man Kopner's reputation. He's an ambitious politician, a self-publicised lawyer who's putting himself up for election to the Bundestag. He's undertaken this man's defence because it's going to be a major trial and he will be centre stage. The very thought of Louise being in the hands of such people horrifies me. No; I won't be much help to her. But I know exactly who would. And I'm sure he'd come to her, wherever he is, if he knew what was happening.'

‘I don't understand,' Sophie said. She had flushed, without knowing why. Even before she heard the name, she had tensed up against it.

‘Roger Savage,' Raoul Delabraye said. ‘The man who was there at the time. And he is a lawyer too.'

‘How did you know about him?' Sophie said. She crushed out her cigarette. ‘Why did Mother tell you?'

‘Because he is the reason she won't marry me,' he said quietly. ‘Or anyone else. She still loves him.'

‘She loved my father,' Sophie said. ‘That other man was years ago. She can't still care about him. It's not possible.'