Hearts of Stone

by Scarrow, Simon

  ‘Really? Because it sounds German?’

  The waiter came over and hovered at Dieter’s shoulder until he looked up.

  ‘Drinks, sir?’

  ‘A Diet Coke for me and a spritzer for the lady.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The waiter bowed his head and made off towards the bar.

  ‘How have you been?’ asked Dieter. ‘Since the last time we met.’

  ‘Well enough. Looking forward to Christmas though. I could use a break, get some rest and eat some food.’

  He smiled at her. ‘I can imagine. I have friends who are teachers back in Germany. They say the same. So, you spoke to your grandmother, yes?’

  ‘I did. I got almost all of her story. I’ll get the rest when I am next in Norwich. I’m hoping that’ll be before Christmas. I’ll type it up when I’ve got all my notes together.’

  ‘Very good . . . I thank you, Anna, from the bottom of my heart.’

  ‘It probably won’t help you much. She doesn’t have much to say about what happened before the war.’

  Dieter shrugged. ‘That may not matter. I have extended the scope of my research since we met. I’d like to know whatever your grandmother can recall. It is a pity that she would not speak to me herself.’

  Anna recalled the contents of the envelope that her grandmother had passed to her, and shuddered. ‘She has her reasons, as I am sure you understand.’

  He looked up at her wearily. ‘It seems we Germans will never be allowed to forget the war.’

  ‘And given what happened, perhaps that is not such a bad thing. The world needs examples to make people reflect.’

  ‘You think so?’ Dieter looked amused. ‘And having reflected on what happened in Germany, do you think the world has really become a better place? Do you think we have learned from the past? When I look at the world I begin to doubt that. What do you think, Anna? You seem like a good person to me. An honest person. Tell me.’

  She could think of nothing to say. After the war to end all wars, and the war that followed hot on its heels, and the multitude of further wars and horrors, it was hard to have any faith in the examples set by history. Few people seemed to pay history much attention at all. Even so, she still believed, passionately, that the point of teaching the subject was as much to do with warning her students to learn the lessons of the past as it was to do with studying the subject for its own sake. There was still that hope.

  She stared back at Dieter and her thoughts shifted to a school trip to Berlin she had taken as a girl. The German capital had been a strange place, a city looking back almost as much as it looked forward. New buildings jostled with older, bullet-scarred facades. Memorials to the atrocities carried out by the Nazis were plentiful and in plain view, forcing onlookers never to forget. Nor would they forget the brutal wall that had once divided west from east, its line forever marked by bricks set into the roads and pavements. If only more countries were prepared to bear the scars of the past rather than slip into the collective amnesia that passed for a reverence for history when the anniversaries of previous wars came and went. If only there were more like this German, who clearly cared deeply about history.

  Dieter had given up waiting for a reply and nodded a curt thanks to the waiter as he returned with the drinks and set them down. He picked up the menu and began to read. He nodded as he made his decision and returned his gaze to her.

  ‘I’m having the risotto. Have you decided?’

  ‘The Caesar salad.’

  Once Dieter had given the order, he settled back in his chair and studied Anna. ‘I will look forward to reading your notes. But for now, could you outline what you have found out?’

  ‘I will, if you share what you have discovered with me.’

  ‘That will be easier once I know what you know.’

  Anna nodded, wondering how far she could really trust him. ‘OK, I’ll go first.’

  She briefly related what Eleni had told her, but withheld the details of the letter, determined to see if what Dieter said matched her grandmother’s disturbing account. Dieter listened attentively, nodding once in a while. Their food turned up as Anna finished and once the waiter had departed Dieter gave his reaction.

  ‘It’s a little disappointing.’

  ‘Well, I’m so sorry about that . . .’

  He looked apologetic. ‘I did not mean to make sound as it did. It’s just that I was hoping for more detail. To help with my research.’

  ‘If you could tell me what it is that you are after then perhaps I can find out more when I next see my grandmother.’

  He chewed his lip gently and then nodded. ‘All right. I told you that my great-grandfather was part of an expedition looking for the remains of the palace of Odysseus. At the time he was forced to give up the search and return to Germany nothing of significance had been found at any of the excavations in the charge of his superior, Dörpfeld. Just a few small buildings here and there and fragments of pottery and so on. For a long time that’s all that it seemed. When I started my research degree I had little interest in such details and that was not the focus of my thesis.’ He leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘Then I found a reference in a diary to his discovery of something significant. He was very careful not to go into any detail. For a while I tried looking for further references in Berlin University’s archives, and the papers of some of his colleagues, but there was nothing. So I went back to his notes and diaries and read them again. Far more closely this time. And I discovered something very interesting. Look . . .’

  He leaned down towards his bag and came up with a thick notebook covered in faded red leather. Opening it carefully to a bookmarked page, he showed Anna a list of numbers under a neatly written legend at the top. She shook her head.

  ‘What’s it mean? I don’t understand German.’

  ‘It’s dated the last day of the excavation, before he and Peter had to leave Lefkas. It says that it is a list of the items found and catalogued.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I came across a separate list of the finds in another set of records, compiled by his assistant, Heinrich Steiner. There are no matching numbers. This is something else.’

  ‘What?’ Anna thought quickly. ‘Like a code?’

  ‘Exactly!’ He grinned. ‘Just like a code. So I asked a friend of mine in the mathematics department if he would have a look at it. He came back to me very quickly. It was a simple enough cypher to break using his computer. He gave me the key and I set to work uncovering my grandfather’s secrets.’

  ‘And?’

  Dieter took a fork of risotto and his jaws worked briefly before he swallowed. ‘And he claims to have discovered the resting place of Odysseus.’

  Anna lowered her the fork as she felt a tingle of nervous excitement at the back of her neck. ‘Odysseus?’ She asked softly. ‘The Odysseus of Homer?’

  ‘I think so. No, I am sure of it. My grandfather was a careful man, a precise man.’

  ‘Did he find a tomb, then?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what he claimed. It was hidden in a cave not far from the excavation. He gives directions on how to locate it in his code. He said that it contained the treasure Odysseus brought back from Troy.’ Dieter frowned. ‘But there’s something wrong. I couldn’t find the cave where he said it would be.’

  Anna’s eyebrows rose. ‘You’ve been there?’

  Dieter nodded. ‘There’s nothing. No cave.’

  ‘Then your great-grandfather made a mistake. But I thought you said he was a precise man.’

  ‘He was. That’s why I thought I must have made an error in deciphering his directions. I checked again and again. But there was no mistake on my part. It’s puzzling. There is no cave. I have been to the site of the excavation. I found it easily enough. I followed the directions my grandfather had given, but they led nowhere. I came to a rocky slope where he claimed there was a cliff and that’s as far as I could go.’

  ‘Then your grandfather made a mistake when he encoded the directions.�
�

  Dieter shook his head. ‘I told you. He was a precise man. Meticulous. He would not have made a mistake.’

  Anna sniffed at the German’s conviction. So typical of a man. ‘Clearly someone has.’

  ‘It would appear so. But there’s something else I discovered that seems to have a connection to my great-grandfather’s work. It’s in another coded entry in this notebook. He speaks of his work having come to the attention of an official in the government. He says that he has been under observation and that his office and home have been searched. And then he makes a brief note that he has been summoned to the Hotel Prinz Albrecht to speak to H.’ Deiter showed her the entry. A half-page of more code. He flicked on a few more pages to show her that they were blank. ‘It’s the last entry he made.’

  ‘Before he was killed in the air raid?’

  ‘If that is the way he died.’

  Anna lowered her knife and fork and stared back intently. ‘You think something else happened to him?’

  ‘It’s possible. Especially if one considers the content of that last message.’

  ‘You think he met someone at that hotel who might have killed him?’

  Dieter gave a dry laugh. ‘At that time the Hotel Prinz Albrecht had not been a hotel for some years. It was taken over by the SS as their headquarters after Hitler and his thugs came to power. Many entered the building, never to be seen alive again. Perhaps that was the fate of my great-grandfather.’

  ‘Oh . . . Then who is H?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Not who I think? Surely?’

  ‘No. I don’t think so. It might be anyone, but I think it is likely that it was Himmler, given the nature of my great-grandfather’s work.’

  ‘Why would Himmler be interested in archaeology?’

  ‘He wasn’t. Not archaeology as such. He was more concerned with the occult, with symbols of power throughout history. But I think the Nazis just liked to take possession of anything that had any kind of value. Mystical or monetary. Goering was the worst of them all in that respect. They looted Europe for anything of value.’

  ‘I saw a movie about that recently.’

  ‘I know it. But this was all real, Anna. It was not a movie. My great-grandfather went to the headquarters of the SS and that’s the last record of his life that I have found. Most of his papers were lost, or disappeared. Except for the few notebooks and diaries that he had sent to his son for safe keeping with a note to keep them secret until he asked for their return.’ Dieter took another forkful of rice. ‘And that never happened.’

  Anna helped herself to more salad before she said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was long ago, and I never knew the man. I barely even knew my grandfather, Peter. He died while I was young. But there again I found that the story continues.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Dieter removed his glasses and dipped into his pocket for a lens cloth and gave them a quick rub as he continued. ‘Once I had exhausted my great-grandfather’s records I turned my attention to his son. He had been there at the excavations, and like his father he kept a diary. There was not much of interest in the early years, but plenty of mentions of his friends Andreas and Eleni. It’s clear that he had strong feelings for her. Sadly for Peter there is no indication that she gave him any sign that she felt the same way about him.’

  ‘I don’t think she ever did, from what she told me.’

  ‘A pity. It might have changed the way things turned out.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Dieter raised a finger. ‘That will become clear in a moment. But first let me tell you more about Peter. I believe you know he served in the Wehrmacht, the German army?’

  ‘Yes. You showed me the photo. Remember?’

  Dieter nodded. ‘Then you also recall that he returned to the island when he was posted to Lefkas.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So I read his diaries again. All of them this time. Before I had been interested in what happened before the war. But given what I had discovered about his father’s last days I hoped that there might be something in Peter’s account that would help me find the tomb of Odysseus.’

  Anna’s pulse quickened. ‘And did you find anything?’

  The German pursed his lips before he replied. ‘I’m not sure. What I did discover is not going to be easy for you to hear, Anna. It concerns Eleni, and Andreas. If I tell you, then you must try not to be angry with me. I had nothing to do with it. It is the story of events which took place nearly seventy years ago. They would be forgotten if I had not brought them to light. Please understand that, before I tell you any more.’

  There was a pleading tone in his voice and it made him look vulnerable somehow. Anna felt a slight glow of warm feeling towards him, before it faded to be replaced by the account set down by Eleni. She already knew what Dieter was getting at. Now she would know for sure. Between his account and what was contained in Eleni’s own words she would know the truth of what had taken place on Lefkas all those years before.

  Anna put down her cutlery and pushed the plate aside. Taking her glass she sipped and then nodded.

  ‘Very well, I think it’s time you told me Peter’s story . . .’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lefkas, November 1943

  Leutnant Peter Muller stood up in the back of the Opel truck. He grasped the wooden side rail in one hand, rested the other on the roof of the cab and stared down the road stretching the length of the causeway linking the mainland to Lefkas. Even though the season had changed, it was a warm day and the sky was cloudless. Behind him sat a platoon from the regiment’s headquarters company, bare-headed and in good humour as they talked and joked over their kitbags piled along the bed of the truck. Ahead of them were two more trucks, then several motorcycles with sidecars. Behind, the line of trucks carrying the men of the 98th Gebirgsjäger – mountain troops – stretched to the mainland and then along the coast to the north for nearly two kilometres. A pall of dust hung over the road, marking the passage of the formation.

  They were ordered to join the first battalion that had been sent to Lefkas following the surrender of the Italian troops back in September. That was the month in which Mussollini’s fascist government had collapsed and its replacement had immediately capitulated and abandoned their German allies. It had come as no surprise to Hitler and plans had been made to deal with the desertion well in advance. The disarming of the Italian soldiers in Greece had proceeded efficiently, though there had been instances when the Italians had resisted, and paid a high price for their sense of honour. Peter had heard rumours of the massacre of thousands of Italians on the nearby island of Kefalonia. Officially the men were prohibited from making any mention of it but they still talked and so it was an open secret that caused many German soldiers to burn with shame, while others were indifferent to the atrocity, or argued that it was a necessary act.

  Peter had been transferred from an artillery unit based in Normandy. It had been a peaceful posting, far from any of the war fronts, and he had yet to be tested in action. His orders stated that he had been seconded to the 98th Gebirgsjäger until further notice to ‘advise and assist’ Oberstleutnant Josef Salminger. So for the last two weeks he had travelled by train and truck and joined the main elements of the regiment as it completed its relocation to Lefkas. It was only when he reached Greece that he had heard the dark stories about what had occurred after the Italians had surrendered. At first he was reluctant to believe it, but the steady trickle of details from the soldiers he encountered had convinced him of the reality. So it was with a heavy heart that he concluded his journey.

  The view of the houses and church towers of Lefkada and the green hills rising up beyond raised his spirits a little. Ever since he had left the island five years earlier he had hoped to return. But not like this. Not as part of a conquering army. It pained him to return in uniform. Then his thoughts turned to the prospect of encountering some familiar faces. They would be surprised to see him again, and perhaps he might
act as something of a bridge between the local people and the army. If he could do anything to ease the relations between the islanders and the occupying forces then he would.

  ‘Herr Leutnant!’

  Peter turned and saw one of the men with a half-raised hand. ‘What is it?’

  The soldier cupped a hand to his mouth and called out loudly to be heard above the din of the rattling truck and the rumble of the other vehicles. ‘I hear you’ve lived on the island. Is that right?’

  Peter nodded. ‘A few years back.’

  ‘So what are the women like? Any different to the hags in the rest of Greece?’

  ‘No different.’ Peter grinned. ‘Just more wrinkled and unfriendly. And their men will cut your throats if you even think of touching their women. Pray the Italians have left some of their whores behind. You’ll find nothing of interest amongst the Greek women, I promise you.’

  But he was thinking of Eleni. Beautiful Eleni who had stolen his heart when he had been a teenager. What would she look like now? Would she be married and have infant children clutching her knees as she cleaned up after them and some surly husband? The image was so unlikely it made him smile to himself. No, not Eleni. She was better than that. More ambitious. He looked forward to seeing her and telling her of all the things he had seen since they had parted. If only she did not resent him for being German.

  It would be different with Andreas, if he was still living with his father. He recalled that Andreas had wanted to serve in the navy. If so, then by almighty and merciful God, Peter prayed that Andreas had emerged from the conflict unscathed and had returned home to live in peace. If so, then the three of them could make good on the promise they had made to each other when they had been parted.

  Five years on, and more worldly, Peter looked back at that moment with a certain detachment, but still desired that the promise be fulfilled.

  The vehicles trundled past the old Venetian fort that had once guarded the approaches to Lefkas and crossed the bridge on to the last stretch of road leading to the town. Peter could see the familiar sprawl of buildings along the harbour front and the close ranks of the fishing boats. Anchored further out lay the sleek grey lines of an E-boat with a Kriegsmarine flag rippling lazily from the radio mast. Another flag flew from the staff rising above the centre of the town and after a moment’s recollection Peter guessed that it must be flying over the prefecture. He eased himself back down on to the wooden bench and gratefully took a slug of the rough wine from the bottle passed to him by one of the men.