‘Gold,’ he replied.
‘You never told us that,’ shouted Greenberg, slamming his fist on the table.
‘You never asked,’ hissed Don Antonio without bothering to look at him.
‘Gentlemen, please, calm yourselves.’ Carrington spread his hands like a referee trying to separate two prize fighters. ‘That explains the three gold bars we found in the grave by the lake,’ he said. Greenberg blanched. A barely noticeable smile spread across Don Antonio’s face as he realised he had made the right call.
‘Do you know what happened to the gold?’ Carrington pressed on.
‘It was taken across the border by boat to Switzerland.’ Don Antonio clicked his fingers to attract the attention of the band. The musicians picked up their instruments and began to play.
‘May I tempt you with a tango, Inspector Gonski?’ asked Don Antonio, turning towards Jana sitting to his right. As far as he was concerned the interrogation was over – at least for the moment.
‘I would only disappoint you I’m afraid, I’ve never tried it.’
‘Then this is your opportunity.’ Don Antonio stood up without waiting for Jana’s reply and took her by the arm. ‘We must talk,’ he whispered, pulling her gently towards the dance floor.
‘First, we take three small steps together to the right, like this,’ he explained, guiding her expertly across the floor. ‘Just relax and follow me. Excellent. I knew you would be a natural. Women seem to feel the music so much more intensely; it’s instinctive, I think. They anticipate the next move, like you do right now – see?’
‘What do you want to talk to me about?’ asked Jana. To her surprise, she was enjoying herself. Don Antonio was an excellent teacher and quite an exciting man, even at his age.
‘I want to speak to you and Mr Carrington privately, without the American attorney and without the journalist,’ began Don Antonio, ‘to explain my position and to give you some information I know you will find interesting ...’
‘In what way?’
‘I have only agreed to cooperate with the Americans for one reason – to save my son. You must understand that at the end of my life he’s the only thing of value I have left; he’s the only thing that really matters to me.’ Don Antonio paused. ‘No, that’s not quite true. There’s another reason ...’ he added.
‘There is?’
‘Yes, Eric Newman and his betrayal ... That’s what I want to talk to you about. Now, lean back slowly – just like that. Don’t worry, I won’t let you go,’ he said, holding Jana firmly around the waist. The young woman in the black dress was glaring at them from the bar. ‘She doesn’t like me dancing with other women,’ explained Don Antonio, following Jana’s gaze. ‘That’s Conchita, I could be her grandfather. South American women are so different,’ he mused. ‘Fiery, possessive and very jealous. Quite a dangerous cocktail, don’t you think?’ The music stopped and the other couples on the dance floor began to clap.
‘Tomorrow morning perhaps?’ suggested Don Antonio, walking with Jana back to the table. ‘Here, in the club. Please.’
‘Well, what do you think?’ asked Jack, sitting in the back of the taxi. Greenberg had excused himself earlier. Storming out of the club in a huff, he had mumbled something about having to contact his principals in New York.
‘Hoffmeister obviously knows Newman very well and has certainly seen the photograph before – that’s obvious. He also knows about the gold. He may even know what actually happened at the lake on that November day in 1944. As for the rest, I’m not sure,’ answered Carrington.
‘You mean you don’t believe he was there? Are you suggesting he didn’t take the photo after all?’ asked Jana.
‘He’s a desperate man under a lot of pressure who’s made a deal to save his son. To be of value he must have something to offer, to trade. He may be telling us what we want to hear.’
‘What about this deal with the Americans?’ asked Jana, placing her hand on Jack’s shoulder.
‘The Americans are only interested in the Holocaust money in the Swiss banks. According to their intelligence, the Nazi money trail is leading from Switzerland to Hoffmeister right here in Argentina, and then – this is still speculation, of course – somehow to Newman’s bank in Australia. They can’t touch Hoffmeister here, but they have his son in Florida awaiting trial,’ explained Jack.
‘And?’
‘You know the Americans, everything’s negotiable and the Jewish lobby – especially in New York – is very powerful. As I understand it, in return for helping them get their hands on the Swiss money, they’ll go easy on his son.’
‘I see. They get the money and the son gets off lightly, is that it?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Yankee-dollar-justice; an interesting concept,’ said Jana, ‘but where do we fit into all this?’
‘The Americans believe, if Newman ends up going to trial as a war criminal in Australia and the truth about the Swiss Nazi money trail becomes public, the Swiss banks will come under enormous international pressure to cooperate.’
‘That explains why the news of the gold sent Greenberg into such a tizz. I suppose, from his point of view, it was further confirmation that he’s on the right track,’ observed Jana.
‘And Hoffmeister’s bargaining power has just gone through the roof,’ said Carrington, ‘and he knows it.’
‘Exactly,’ agreed Jack. ‘I wonder what Don Antonio wants to talk about tomorrow?’
‘You haven’t been invited, remember?’ interrupted Jana, winking at Jack. ‘Don’t look so worried, we’ll tell you all about it – after. Won’t we Marcus?’
‘We may,’ said Carrington, laughing.
‘Ungrateful bastards,’ complained Jack, shaking his head. ‘I found this guy for you, remember?’
42
Robert Blackburn, the Attorney-General, decided to lie low. Question Time in the Federal Parliament in Canberra was almost over, and he wanted to leave the chamber as soon as possible to meet with his friend, Marcus Carrington.
A well-informed member of the Opposition was grilling the Prime Minister about ‘Operation Matchbox’ – a secret post-war scheme for the Employment of Scientific and Technical Enemy Aliens – code-named ESTEA. He pointed out that ESTEA had been set up by the Labor government of the day shortly after the war. The purpose of ESTEA, he explained, was to facilitate the recruitment of German scientists out of the ruins of the Third Reich to work in Australia on sensitive defence projects. He emphasised the words sensitive defence projects. The Prime Minister, Harold Evatt, looked glum as the unexpected broadside found its mark.
‘How is it possible,’ asked the Honourable Member, holding up a copy of Jack’s latest article filed from Buenos Aires, ‘that a journalist on the other side of the globe apparently knows more about this woeful affair than the government?’ Rob Blackburn realised that he could afford to relax a little as further questions were unlikely to be fired at him at this late stage. It was the Prime Minister’s turn to take the heat for a while. He settled back in his green leather seat, put on his reading glasses and discreetly opened Jana’s latest report.
Anton Hoffmeister claims that during the last year of the war he was working as an SS undercover agent posing as a representative of the Reichsbank in Switzerland. He was coordinating the flow of vast Nazi gold shipments into the vaults of certain Swiss banks sympathetic to German interests. In return for the gold, the banks agreed to provide the necessary funds to allow an elite group of SS officers to start new lives abroad after the collapse of the Third Reich, read Blackburn, as the Honourable Member – by now in full flight – began making allegations that several of the recruited ‘Matchbox’ scientists had been active members of the Nazi party.
Hoffmeister is prepared to testify that in November 1944 his friend, Sturmbannfuehrer Wolfgang Steinberger, (according to Hoffmeister, Sir Eric Newman’s real name), joined him in Switzerland with the final delivery of Nazi gold. Apparently, some of that gold is still saf
ely locked away in one of the banks in Zurich and is currently the subject of an international investigation.
Blackburn had lost all interest in the parliamentary proceedings and quickly turned the page.
When questioned about the source of the Nazi gold, Hoffmeister – who appeared particularly well informed on the subject – had this to say: ‘Prompted by the disasters on the eastern front and the steady retreat of the Wehrmacht, the notorious Special Commando 1005 was formed under the command of SS Colonel Paul Blobel. His secret mission was to dig up the rotting corpses of murdered Jews in the East, strip them of gold rings and other valuables, extract gold teeth from the skeletal remains and burn what was left to obliterate the evidence of the slaughter.’
Blackburn turned the page again, without noticing that his colleagues were leaving the House. ‘A large portion of the gold harvested by the exhumation commando – especially out of the Janowska pits at Lvov – was delivered by the SS to a secret camp near Auschwitz and given a new “respectable” identity. There, the gold teeth and jewellery were apparently melted down and cast into small gold bars. Each was stamped with the letters “RB” (for Reichsbank), with the German eagle, the retrospective date 1939, and the exact weight.’
‘Still here, Rob?’ asked Evatt, gathering up his papers at the lectern. ‘Whatever you’re reading must be riveting; you’re usually one of the first to storm out of here after Question Time.’ Blackburn looked up, surprised to find himself in an almost empty Chamber with the Prime Minister.
‘It is. Here, listen to this.’ Blackburn walked across to the Prime Minister and began to read aloud. ‘Sturmbannfuehrer Wolfgang Steinberger – according to this, that’s our Sir Eric Newman,’ explained Blackburn, pointing to the report, ‘was responsible for the collection of the dental gold from the exhumation sites and death camps. He was also in charge of the secret workshops and forgery units operated by forced labour in a special “satellite camp” near Auschwitz.’
‘The Newman investigation, I see. Very opportune, wouldn’t you say? Are we making progress?’ asked Evatt, walking towards the exit. ‘We could certainly do with a little assistance after today’s debacle, don’t you think?’
‘Sure, but listen to this,’ replied Blackburn, following Evatt to the door. ‘In order to avoid capture and annihilation, the SS needed funds, large amounts of ready cash in hard currency – preferably Swiss francs – and new identities for its officers, with the necessary formal papers to give them credibility. Sturmbannfuehrer Steinberger had access to both. The survival plan became known to the initiated as “Operation Walhalla”.’ Evatt was shaking his head.
‘And you’ll love this,’ continued Blackburn. ‘Hoffmeister – that’s a witness living in Argentina,’ he explained, ‘who displayed considerable hostility and resentment towards his former friend, volunteered the following on how Newman managed to arrange his entry into Australia in 1946: During the final death-throws of the Reich early in 1945, both Hoffmeister and Newman were enjoying the hospitality of the Swiss banking fraternity in Zurich as “representatives” of the former Reichsbank. Soon after the surrender, Newman went to Rome and spent a year at the Vatican – as the guest of one of the Cardinals. Hoffmeister was unclear about what Newman was actually doing there during that time. However, Newman provided new identification papers and cash to many prominent Nazis looking for somewhere to disappear to. The main destination was South America. Apparently, Hoffmeister himself was one of those who received assistance from Newman in that regard. Newman had access to documentation obtained from recently deceased civilians – birth certificates, passports, diplomas and the like. These documents were then “tailored” by forgers working for him, to provide new, credible identities for the Nazis planning to flee Europe.’ Blackburn paused, adjusted his glasses, and then read on.
‘When the time came for Newman to leave the relative safety of the Vatican, he became Dr Erich Neumueller – an aeronautical engineer killed in an air raid in Dresden – who had worked for Messerschmitt on the development of the helicopter. With the support of the Vatican and a Monsignor Brandauer to vouch for him, he managed to have himself included in a secret Australian recruitment program ...’
‘Operation Matchbox!’ interrupted Evatt. ‘Incredible! This is potential dynamite.’ The PM snatched the report out of Blackburn’s hand. ‘If we actually brought this man secretly to Australia in 1946, offered him a job working on sensitive defence projects, allowed him to stay here and become an Australian citizen and then gave a knighthood ... to a Nazi charlatan; have you any idea what that means six months before an election? I can already see the headlines: “Sir Eric Newman – accused Nazi war criminal, imported by Australian Labor Government at taxpayers’ expense – and knighted?” Can you imagine the scandal? The damage? The opposition will crucify us with this.’
‘Hold on, aren’t we forgetting something here?’
‘What?’
‘Surely we cannot be held responsible for the actions of another government more than fifty years ago?’ suggested Blackburn.
‘Don’t be naive, Rob. It was a Labor Government, Ben Chifley of all people, a Labor legend. We may be able to somehow distance ourselves from what happened fifty years ago, and that’s not our main problem, I agree – but what we do about it now certainly is!’ Blackburn couldn’t argue with that.
‘We have to get in first, Rob, can’t you see? We have to take the initiative. We have to prosecute this guy, this impostor, throw the book at him before the press gets wind of the full story. How accurate is your source?’
‘I’m about to find out. Remember Marcus Carrington, the QC I appointed to investigate the Newman affair?’ Evatt nodded. ‘He met with this Hoffmeister character in Buenos Aires a few days ago. Carrington is waiting in my office right now with Inspector Gonski to present his report and give me his recommendation.’
‘Well then, let’s go and hear what he has to say, shall we?’
43
Jana sat next to Carrington in the empty conference room adjoining the Attorney-General’s office. She was leafing through her report and was trying to identify the topics most likely to attract questions. She knew the Attorney-General would be well prepared. Carrington finished his second cup of coffee and looked at his watch; he didn’t like to be kept waiting. Going over his notes once more, there was something about Hoffmeister that made him feel uneasy. His instincts – honed from many years of dealing with delinquents from all walks of life – told him to be careful. Before making his final recommendation, he would ask for a little more time to cross-check the accuracy of the extraordinary information Hoffmeister had provided.
‘This is it, Marcus,’ said Jana, straightening her skirt.
‘We aren’t quite ready.’
‘What do you think he’ll do?’
‘He’ll try to pin us down; wait and see.’
Carrington heard footsteps approaching and looked up. His friend swept into the room, followed by the Prime Minister himself.
‘You must forgive us, Mr Carrington. You know what politicians are like; they all talk too much and are rarely on time,’ joked Evatt, holding out his hand.
‘Speak for yourself,’ said the Attorney-General. ‘I’m only late because of Inspector Gonski’s report; I couldn’t put it down. Excellent work, Inspector.’
‘Thank you, Sir,’ said Jana, looking pleased.
Carrington was momentarily taken aback by the Prime Minister’s unexpected presence and realised at once that the meeting had taken on an entirely new dimension. Asking for more time would be difficult.
‘Can you give us an indication where you are up to with your investigation?’ asked Evatt, coming straight to the point. ‘The case has now become rather urgent, I’m afraid. In short, Mr Carrington, is there enough evidence to prosecute the man?’
Carrington saw where this was heading and decided to outline some of the key issues instead of giving a yes-or-no answer. He reached for his notes and handed Evatt a co
py of the photograph that had started it all.
‘We now know who this is,’ Carrington said, pointing to the youth hanging from the tree. ‘His name is David Krakowski, a Jewish boy from Warsaw. DNA tests have confirmed his identity. We have also located the place where this photo was taken and have found the boy’s remains, together with five other bodies, buried in a shallow grave in Austria – right on the Swiss border.’
‘Extraordinary. How did you manage all that?’ asked Evatt.
‘With the help of an eyewitness – Benjamin Krakowski, the boy’s brother. He was present when it all happened and is prepared to testify,’ explained Carrington. Evatt looked stunned.
‘Can he identify the officer in the photo?’ asked Blackburn hopefully. ‘Is it Newman?’
‘No, he can’t, but someone else can.’
‘Who?’
‘Anton Hoffmeister, the man who took the photo.’
‘Are you suggesting you found the man who actually took the picture?’ asked Blackburn, shaking his head in disbelief.
‘Yes, we have. And he, too, is willing to testify.’
‘Where on earth did you find him?’ asked Evatt.
‘Buenos Aires; it’s a long story, I’m afraid.’ At least the expensive detour to South America had now been explained. Criticism seemed unlikely, but money was always a sensitive issue when dealing with public servants.
‘Well then, is the man in the photograph Newman?’ Evatt asked impatiently.
‘According to Hoffmeister, yes. But please, there’s still a lot more work to be done here. We have to cross-check all this information,’ Carrington hastened to add, ‘before we can begin to rely on it with any confidence. It’s all in here.’ Carrington reached into his briefcase and put a copy of his Memorandum of Advice on Evidence on the table.
The Empress Holds the Key Page 19
