them, someone else installed them. Prisons need ovens. Cities need sewers. Unpleasant, but the way of things. Every hospital has a tall chimney somewhere along its skyline. Children will be born in the happier wards but far away from them will be a tall chimney. Make it as efficient as they could. The camps rife with disease, with sickness and the damned. A necessary service. This surely my induction to such.
*
I had taken down Klein’s instruction and measurements. He had taken photographs. We had finished for the day, passed lunch.
‘Two o’clock, Ernst. We should go. What do you say? Home early. I can develop my film at home. I have my own darkroom.’
‘Are we not going back to the factory? To send a repair team for tomorrow, sir?’
‘I organised that this morning. Before we left. I knew he would have to go for the repair. Senior-Colonel? Ha! You know he came from Himmler’s motor-pool?’
Keep up. Keep up.
He threw away his cigarette in an arc and I watched it fall and saw an officer in a peaked cap approaching. Klein did not wait for him. He strode toward, away from me, and I watched him put out his hand and intercept, converse out of my earshot.
I stood on my cigarette and watched them go back and forth, happily back and forth, and Klein turned his back to me. I shifted nervously, waved when the officer looked to me as Klein spoke. He did not wave back. I flushed at the glance, bent and pretended to fumble through Klein’s briefcase. Their shadows came over me.
‘Ernst,’ Klein said, and I stood up clumsily in the mud. ‘This is Captain Schwarz.’ We shook hands, his in leather. He bowed and I did the same, not as naturally. ‘I want you to do me a favour, Ernst,’ Klein said. ‘My house is only a few miles from here. It seems pointless for me to travel back to town only to come out again, no? I wondered if you would mind riding back to Erfurt with the captain?’
A gratified look from the SS captain.
‘I am going to Erfurt. To pick a gift for my wife, Herr Beck. At the Anger. It is her birthday. It is no trouble for me to take you home. I would welcome the companionship.’
Klein took his briefcase from me. ‘Would you mind, Ernst? I would appreciate it.’
‘Of course. Yes. Of course. But, Herr Klein? I think you still have my worker’s pass?’
The captain snapped out his gloved hand. My pass between his fingers like the reveal of a magician with my chosen card.
‘Here it is, Herr Beck. We will leave by the east gate.’
‘I’ll get your hat and coat from the car,’ Klein said.
The Daimler-Benz was not as grand as Klein’s Opel. Klein’s car for pleasure. This was austere, quieter, more noble. The first mile in silence and then as the farmhouses became manse houses the captain’s fingers became looser on the wheel. Removed his cap to my lap.
‘Too warm. Hold that for me would you, Herr Beck. I do not like to put it on the floor.’
I looked at the grinning silver skull.
‘Klein tells me that you have only been at Topf for a few days now?’
‘Yes, Captain. Since Thursday.’
‘What did you do before?’
‘I was at the university. Studying to be a draughtsman. Then no work until this.’
‘So you got the work you studied for? That is good. Well done.’
He was maybe ten years older than me but seemed ancient in comparison as if he had already lived one life and come back and remembered it all. I was the boy next to him. His uniform pristine like a wedding table, my clothes hanging around me with the wet morning. I could smell them above the car’s leather.
‘I never went to university. I envy you that. I could have. But I valued my duty more I suppose. But your duty is just as important. Your education will be a great asset to your country. We value that.’ He looked at me kindly. ‘When did you graduate?’
‘41.’ I added nothing else but he was ready to go on.
‘And you have only just found work?’
‘There was not a lot of work about.’
‘Ah. That is true. Did you not think of joining the war? For the time being? That is duty too, no?’
‘I married that year. I thought I would get a job sooner. I thought I would be helping the country by planning fighter craft by now.’
‘As did your wife I’ll bet? Women, eh? Look at me. I am going to the Anger and using up a day’s relief to buy something I do not want. And when I have to work Sunday to make up for it she will complain, eh? Women.’
‘I have only just started work and she has already spent my wage.’
He slapped the wheel and I jumped at his laugh.
‘That is it! That is just so, Ernst! We married men only understand! Look at Klein. No wife, no children. What does he know? Something we do not for sure.’
I did not know Klein was not married. I had assumed so. It bothered me. Unsure why. I thought everyone wanted to be married. Fool. Poor fool in a damp suit again. Riding in a car with an SS captain while Klein was at home fixing himself a bath and a Martini.
‘So, when did you join the Party, Ernst?’
I had forgotten the pin, the proud pin still stuck to my lapel. I looked at it as if a scorpion had appeared there.
I could say that Klein had given it to me. Given it to me for the reason he had said. To make the right impression. But that might get him into trouble. And myself. I had thought of Klein first. I was sure I should not treat a small tin badge with such flippancy. But if I said a year, a time, committed to it, there would be a paper somewhere to confirm. Everything, even my subsistence chits, were stamped with an eagle.
‘Oh. That would have been ’42. I think. To be honest, Captain, I am not political I must confess.’ I tried to say it the way Klein had done. ‘My wife insisted. Thought it would help with my career. They always know what is best for us.’ Now I was being more than the fool. I was playing it. I did not believe such sentiments about Etta. It is just what you say when you ride with an SS officer in his car. Your opinion his opinion.
He laughed again.
‘That is the way! That is the way! Do you have children, Ernst?’
‘No, Captain. But when we have won the war we should think of it.’
‘Exactly. Just so. I have a son. My proudest gift. I envy him the country he will inherit. What is your wife’s name?’
‘Etta.’
‘A good name. My wife’s name is Emma.’ He grimaced. ‘I think it is too English.’
‘Not at all. Where are you shopping in the Anger, Captain?’
He leaned his ear to me. ‘Hmm?’
‘The Anger. For your wife’s birthday.’
‘Oh. Yes.’ He shrugged. ‘I have not thought on it. I have a few hours to waste.’
‘We do not see many SS officers in town. You will be stared at no doubt, Captain.’
He nudged me with his elbow. Like a friend.
‘But I bet I get good service, eh? Now, where do you live for me to drop you?’
I had not thought on this. An SS car to my door. The black and silver pennants flying, the runes on the licence plate, the twitch of curtains along the street. Etta watching