Free The Other Side of Silence by Philip Kerr Page B

she certainly would not. And I could never leave her. That would be unthinkable.”
    â€œI can see you’re in a difficult position.”
    â€œThat’s why I’m here.”
    â€œLook, have you spoken to General von Fritsch about this? I imagine he’d be quite interested in what you have to say.”
    â€œNo, not yet. As I say, I want to find out how far up the chain this goes before I go out on a limb for the general. But if it should come to that, I’d prefer you to make the first contact with his legal counsel. I’m afraid I have little energy for waiting around the Bendlerstrasse to see him. I intend to retire to my bed the minute I return home.”
    â€œDo you know who his legal counsel is? I take it this is another senior army officer.”
    â€œCount Rüdiger von der Goltz. You’ll find him at the Bendlerstrasse, too.”
    â€œAll right. But first I’ll speak to Nebe. And perhaps also to Franz Gürtner, the minister of Justice. Perhaps he’ll know what to do.”
    â€œThank you.” Von Frisch took out his wallet and opened it and thumbed two Prussian blues onto my desk. “From what your colleague told me earlier, this should be enough to secure your services on my behalf for one week.”
    â€œThat’s more than enough, sir.”
    The fact was, I’d have handled his case for nothing. But there was no point in arguing with the old man; Achim von Frisch was an old-school Prussian with a lot of pride and he’d no more have taken my charity than he’d have offered to clean my office or fetch my cigarettes.
    After he’d gone I sat around and took the Lord’s name in vain a lot, which only raised my blood pressure. Then Bruno came back with my Murattis and I had to smoke one right away and also take a bite of the bottle of Korn I had in my desk drawer. Then I told him what von Frisch had told me and he cursed a lot and took a drink, too. We must have looked like a couple of priests on holiday.
    â€œThis isn’t a case,” he said, “it’s an unfolding political scandal. Take my advice, boss; leave it alone. You might as well look for Amelia Earhart as try and help this old Fridolin.”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œThere’s no maybe about it. If you ask me, you’d be puttingyour head in the lion’s mouth, with little prospect of getting it back with both ears. This is just the Nazis consolidating their grip on power. First the Reichstag fire, then the Night of the Long Knives when they murdered Ernst Röhm and the SA leadership, and now this—the emasculation of the army. It’s just Hitler’s way of telling the Wehrmacht that he’s in charge. You know, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he makes himself the new minister for War. After all, who else is there?”
    â€œGöring?” I murmured, not quite believing it myself.
    â€œThat fat popinjay? He’s already too powerful for Hitler’s taste.”
    I nodded. “Yes, you’re right, of course. Too powerful and too popular with the people at large.” I shook my head. “But I have to do something. In Turkey, Captain von Frisch saved my life. But for him, there would be a large hole in my head where my brains should be.”
    I’d handed Bruno the straight line for the joke and of course he did not disappoint; my business partner is nothing if not predictable, which, for the most part, is an excellent quality in a partner.
    â€œThere
is
a large hole in your head where your brains should be. There is if you take the captain on as a client.”
    â€œI already did. I gave him my word I’d try to help. Like I say, he saved my neck. The least I can do is try to save his.”
    â€œLook, Bernie, that’s what happens in a war. It doesn’t mean anything. Saving someone’s life was just common courtesy in the trenches. Like giving a man a light for his cigarette. If I hadten