Huber's Tattoo

by Quentin Smith

  Bauer handed the smaller of the skulls to Huber, who turned it over in his hands, caressing the prominent bony ridge above the orbits with his index finger, exploring the cavities and orifices familiar to his neurologically-trained eyes. He had never held the skull of an evolutionary ancestor of humans before and its relatively small brain capacity was quite striking.

  “Then, within the last two hundred thousand years, Homo sapiens appeared, first Neanderthal man with a brain well over 1000 cubic centimetres, some believe even as large as ours today, and then Homo sapiens sapiens, Rolph, that’s you and me, the wisest of the wise.”

  Bauer handed the second skull, a human skull, to Huber, who held one in each hand, weighing them up like melons at a fruit stall.

  “The difference?” Bauer ran his hand over the domed cranial convexity of Homo sapiens sapiens, the larger of the two skulls. “Brain size, Rolph; in other words, intelligence.”

  “Just as both Charles Darwin and Herbert Spencer showed and espoused, Professor, survival of the fittest.”

  Huber was impressed by the simplicity of Bauer’s succinct demonstration.

  “Exactly, Rolph.” Bauer shifted weight from one leg to another. “Have you heard of the Toba volcano catastrophe around seventy thousand years ago?”

  “Standartenführer Brack told me about it, Professor, a major climate change that reduced the human population to a mere ten thousand breeding pairs. Only those able to adapt their lifestyles, hunting techniques, tool-making et cetera, could survive, and this led to the evolution of the wisest of the wise, and ultimately to us.”

  Bauer beamed with pride, as though admiring his eldest son achieving a great accolade.

  “Excellent, Rolph. Now, you and I are going to recreate a Toba catastrophe in our generation. We are about to advance the evolution of human intelligence forward the next step without the catastrophic interventions of a super volcano. You see, the Reich cannot wait another million years, Rolph, not even a hundred thousand years. What the Reich needs is strength, purity, brilliance; it needs it now.”

  “But how…?” Huber placed the two skulls on the desk with a resounding clunk.

  “Hominid brain expansion, and therefore intelligence, so closely parallels the refinement in recovered tool technology over the past two million years, Rolph, that one would expect the increasing demands of current scientific and technological advances to further drive human brain evolution. Consider the incredible discoveries and inventions we have made, the Nobel Prize awards for human endeavour at KWI alone; people like Vogt and Spemann who should be spawning a generation with even larger brains and intellectual capacity, don’t you think, for the further advancement of the German peoples as a superior race.”

  “I know we have larger brains than the Jews, Professor, Standartenführer Brack confirmed this for us at Hadamar. Our superiority is evident even in our make-up, probably over many other races, too.”

  Bauer’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm and approval.

  “But we have a problem, Rolph. The very nature of human intellectual development has in fact hindered it from progressing further.”

  “What do you mean, Professor?”

  Bauer walked to the corner in which a human skeleton hung, suspended from a simple steel frame by a hook through the skull. His eyes ran over the complex structure of the interconnected yellowed bones.

  “The single most important advance that enabled hominids to become intelligent humans was learning to walk on two legs and not four; in other words, bipedalism. This single evolutionary step both freed up our hands for technical tasks, which in turn demanded greater brain power, and also made the body more efficient as it no longer needed four legs to move. This efficiency enabled more energy to be diverted to the brain, thereby fuelling its subsequent development and increase in size.”

  “Yes, I know about this, Professor: human brains comprise only two per cent of our body mass but consume twenty per cent of our energy,” Huber said, his eyes flashing behind his glasses.

  “Exactly, Rolph. But we wish to advance this even further. We now have the knowledge. The physiological and chemical discoveries at KWI in recent years have put at our disposal the tools to produce future Aryan generations with superior intelligence.”

  Huber felt as if his brain might burst from this stream of new information. Bauer’s hands embraced the skeleton’s pelvis, tracing the contours of its great concave crests of bone on either side.

  “But the problem with bipedalism, Rolph, is the shape of the pelvis required to support our body weight in the upright position. The human pelvis is narrow and very restrictive; it cannot deliver a human baby with a head as large as it should be, proportionately as large as other primates and mammals are. That is why human babies are born relatively premature for our gestational demands. If human foetuses achieved full maturity in the uterus they would never pass through the birth canal. Mother and baby would die in childbirth.” Bauer moved away from the skeleton and back to the wall chart, where he stabbed his index finger on the skull of Homo sapiens sapiens.

  “It is the human pelvis that limits the size of our brain development and it is human kind’s single greatest evolutionary disadvantage now. Superior humans evolving with larger heads and brains will simply die in childbirth, which is exactly the opposite of what Darwin and Spencer espoused should happen to the fittest and the strongest. Humans have reached a crisis point in their evolution, Rolph, but, as superior Aryans, we can overcome this, to our ultimate great advantage.”

  Huber was enraptured by Bauer’s grasp of evolutionary anthropology, taking the lead from Vogt’s purely physiological inclinations and insights and re-examining the process from the perspective of… yes… the perspective of… God!

  Bauer paused, sensing that he was losing Huber, that he was moving too fast. It was a lot to take in and absorb so quickly. But Huber’s silence was not caused by confusion, rather by hesitant disapproval.

  “Are we to plagiarize the work of Professor Vogt and pass it off as our own?” Huber said, his eyes darting about the office uncertainly and glancing briefly at the swaying skeleton which appeared to be performing a macabre dance beneath its pivot.

  Bauer moved closer to Huber and placed a reassuring arm around his shoulders.

  “Vogt should be here right now. He is the perfect man for this job; brilliant, experienced and enthusiastic. But his work at KWI was funded and supported by the Nazi Party, Rolph, so when he turned his back on them this crucial body of work and ideas was naturally claimed by the Party. We are merely continuing the considerable investment that the Führer has made over many years in both KWI and this brain research programme.”

  Huber sighed uneasily, his eyes downcast, this business of Vogt unfortunately tarnishing his ebullience at being involved in such a daring and exciting project.

  “What has become of Professor Vogt?”

  Bauer removed his arm from Huber’s shoulder and moved back a step to sit on the edge of his desk, one foot on the floor.

  “Vogt was allowed to leave Berlin peacefully with his wife and they have, I believe, opened a brain research institute somewhere near Neustadt.”

  Huber could feel Bauer’s eyes upon his face, studying his responses. He bit his lip.

  “Would you rather be working with Vogt in Neustadt, Rolph?”

  Huber winced inwardly, realising that he was being tested; was his loyalty being challenged?

  “Of course not, Professor, don’t be silly. I have signed my oath of allegiance to the SS and the Nazi Party. If this is how they wish me to contribute to the greater cause, then I will do my duty.”

  Huber met Bauer’s eyes confidently for a few moments.

  “Good. This project is of critical importance to the future superiority of the Aryan race, Rolph. If we succeed here our dominance over inferior races will be guaranteed, our ascension to immeasurable heights made possible. But with Vogt out of the picture, I need you, Rolph, for you worked very closely with him.”r />
  “Of course, Professor.”

  The slight tension in the air lifted a degree as Bauer smiled and then stood up.

  “Come here, let me show you,” he said, moving to the opposite wall where a map of Europe hung beside a framed picture of Reichsführer Himmler.

  “The SS and its doctors are presently scouring many regions, not only throughout Germany, but beyond our borders as well,” he explained, sweeping his hand across countries east and north of Germany.

  “Scouring… for what?”

  “For superior breeding stock, Rolph. We must have only the finest human intelligence with which to breed. You may know how highly the Führer thinks of the Nordic races and so our SS colleagues are searching there, in Sweden and Norway, also in Poland and of course throughout Germany and Austria, searching for young men and women with only the highest intelligence.”

  “How are they doing that, Professor?”

  “Two criteria: firstly, documented high IQ and secondly, estimating brain volume from cranial size. Human brains average around 1350 cubic centimetres these days, varying slightly from race to race, as you so aptly put it earlier, Rolph. We are seeking to bring only those with above average cranial dimensions and intelligence to this facility.”

  Huber nodded, enraptured by the extensive network that Himmler had already spread across Europe to effect this evolutionary, and indeed revolutionary ideal.

  “And what do we do with them, Professor?” Huber asked, hesitantly. This seemed to him to be the pivotal question. One did not leap from Homo erectus to Homo sapiens in less than a million years without considerable intervention.

  Bauer was just opening his mouth to speak when a blood- curdling scream rent the clinical air of the office, making the hairs on Huber’s skin rise as one. The two men exchanged a look of horror and then Bauer rushed to the door. They hurried down the corridor towards one of the rooms, their coat tails flaring behind them as they moved.

  In one of the six-bedded wards in which five pregnant women lay quietly on their beds, pretending not to notice that something awful was afoot, a screen had been drawn around the sixth bed from which the terrible sounds of pain and anguish emanated. Huber frowned and his heart began to accelerate. He was not experienced in matters gynaecological, beyond knowing that the complications of pregnancy and childbirth were grave enough to consume the lives of both mothers and babies in the blink of an eye.

  Bauer barged into the screened-off area in which several nurses in white uniforms were gathered around the bed. The sixth pregnant woman was lying on her back with her knees bent and legs slightly apart. Her nightdress and the bed were saturated with blood, a great red stain that seemed to spread with each passing second.

  “She started bleeding, Professor, with considerable pain,” one of the nurses, who was holding the woman’s hand, said to Bauer.

  “Has she been resting?” Bauer barked, casting a confirmatory eye around the ward over the screen.

  “Oh yes, just like all the others.”

  Bauer sighed.

  “Is she losing it?”

  It was as though nobody wanted to make eye contact with the terrified woman, or with Bauer.

  “Yes, Professor,” the nurse at the head of the bed said, quietly, head bowed down.

  The woman wailed loudly and clutched her blood-soaked abdomen, sticky red fluid oozing out between her fingers as she grasped the blood-steeped fabric of her clothing tightly.

  “No, no, it cannot be!” she cried. “My baby! You have killed my baby!”

  “Damn it!” Bauer said, then turned to Huber. “Get a drip up quickly, Rolph. Let’s not lose the woman as well.”

  “What has happened, Professor?” Huber asked, his face ashen, his fingers trembling. “What does she mean by that?”

  “I’m afraid this happens from time to time, one of the unfortunate complications we have been unable to overcome. She is aborting the pregnancy, Rolph. Let’s first save her life and I will tell you more, later.”

  With that Bauer patted Huber reassuringly on the shoulder and whispered into his ear.

  “Not a word about any of this to Gudrun, or anyone, understand?”

  Huber watched Bauer walk out of the ward, shoulders drooping, clearly deflated and disappointed by this event, leaving Huber to lead the resuscitation efforts to save the stricken woman. Huber had one thought in his mind as he stared at the blood and anguish on the bed before him, watching the woman’s vitality seep into the bedding: how he wished to have Oskar Pahmeyer beside him at this moment.

  Thirty-Four

  The major incident room positively hummed with the muted conversations of about two dozen officers. Superintendent Bruce’s entrance brought an immediate hush to the low ceilinged room that shimmered slightly from a faulty fluorescent tube in the centre. The officers, both uniformed and plain clothed, took their seats amidst a clatter of chair legs and crumpled papers. Henry sat in the front row beside Natasha. His grey suit was creased and his narrow vermillion tie untidily knotted.

  The wound on the back of his head was now crusted over, leaving the stitches visible on either side, resembling the partial skeleton of a mackerel.

  “Right, settle down,” Bruce said, taking to the podium and placing his black Met cap on to the polished beech surface beside him. He tapped the microphone, causing a deafening ‘thump-thump’ to echo around the room.

  “We’re going to have an open information-sharing session. Everyone, from the SIO to outside enquiry teams, who has new information about these cases is invited to share it with the entire group. At the end we will hear from DCI Webber and DS Keeler about their investigative trip to France.”

  One half-hearted belch of amusement was instantly muted as Bruce read off the first name from a list before him.

  “Jennings.”

  A lanky uniformed officer stood up, his manner that of an uncomfortable and self-conscious teenager.

  “David Barnabus had amassed several arrests for drink-related misdemeanours. We know he had lost his driving licence after knocking down a schoolboy while twice the legal limit at two o’clock in the afternoon. There had also been calls about disturbances at home, though no complaints were filed by Mrs Barnabus.” The officer looked around the room.

  “What about his background, schooling, family?” Henry asked, half-turned around in his seat to face the officer.

  “We have not traced any parents, siblings or immediate family. He was educated in an obscure school outside Halifax which has long since closed down without traceable records. We have not established where he came from beyond what it says on his passport under place of birth.” He looked down to check a sheet of paper he was holding. “Steinhöring.”

  Henrik swivelled to the front, exchanging a glance with Natasha, before catching Superintendent Bruce’s eye as he halted momentarily from the task of writing bullet points on a large whiteboard behind him.

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” Bruce finished writing, the dry marker squeaking on the whiteboard. “Now for… DI Atkinson.”

  A squarely built woman in plain clothes stood up, her hair cut short in a masculine way, her trouser suit and stance similarly manly.

  “Vera Schmidt was widely known for her liberal and anti-war views which had accumulated a clutch of enemies, especially amongst war veterans. Some of these had, apparently, previously threatened her anonymously. A close friend of Vera revealed that she had received letters warning her about her excessive smoking and her sexual preferences: it seemed that Vera dated both men and women.”

  Atkinson paused at this point, glancing about the room as if inviting reaction, either formal or prejudicial. The only sound audible was the scraping of Bruce’s dry marker on the whiteboard.

  “The exact date and place of her death is still unknown and therefore trying to find sightings or witnesses to anything unusual is almost impossible. We have found no traceable family, no parents or brothers and sisters, nobody. We know she was schooled in London on the south si
de and there are records of her enrolment at the age of five. Her childhood home address has turned out to be false and there the trail runs cold. It’s as if she appeared out of nowhere. Once again, her passport states her birthplace as, Steinhöring.”

  Bruce busily added a few more points before turning to meet the silence.

  “Thank you, Inspector. Now for…” he scrutinised the sheets in front of him, “Welborn.”

  A short, round uniformed officer stood up and adjusted the rather tight belt around his midriff. He cleared his throat.

  “Professor Haysbrook was one of London’s most eminent economists and advisers on government policy. A quiet man who was widely admired and universally liked, it would seem. We can find nothing that would make this man a target. We already know of his vague past, suggestions of having been fostered in London in the 1950s, but no names, no traceable evidence, nothing. We have no idea where he went to primary school as he suddenly turned up at a private school near Epsom in 1964, where he boarded until he completed his A levels.”

  Welborn stopped to clear a dry and nervous throat.

  “Haysbrook was picked up on CCTV at Covent Garden boarding a tube for Greenwich where we have footage of him exiting the station, still alone. We have traced some of the duty staff at Greenwich from that night and two members of the public have responded to a Crimewatch reconstruction, recalling that Haysbrook met a tall man with what they collectively described as ‘like an Afro hairstyle’. It seems these two men walked into Greenwich Park together. It is very likely that this tall man with the Afro could be Haysbrook’s murderer. Unfortunately, we do not have any CCTV pictures of this man with Haysbrook at Greenwich station.”

  “Good work, Sergeant.” Bruce continued to scribble bullet points on the whiteboard.

  “Have we managed an artist’s impression of the man with the Afro?” Henry asked.

  Welborn, who had almost sat down, straightened again.

  “No, Inspector, recollections were too vague, unfortunately. It was also very late at night, so lighting was poor.”