A Man Without Breath

‘It’s as you can see,’ I said. ‘All of the victims so far have been shot in exactly the same way. And I do mean exactly – to within a few centimetres, from very close range, and at the same protrusion at the base of the skull. Nearly all of the exit wounds are between the nose and the hair-line. Undoubtedly, the NKVD men who carried out this particular special action had done this many times before. Indeed they’d done it so many times that they had even perfected where and how the bodies would fall into the grave. In fact you can say with absolute certitude that no one was allowed just to fall in like a dead dog. There are maybe twelve layers of bodies in this grave. The heads of those in each row seem to be resting on the feet of the men below, and there was nothing about this that was not subject to thought and planning. When all of the men were dead, or at least shot, tons of sand were bulldozed on top, which helped to compress the bodies into one large mummified cake. Even the decomposition process appears to have been perfected by the NKVD. The fluids leaking from the bodies seem to have formed a kind of airtight seal around the cake. Finally, birch trees were replanted on top of the grave. It’s really very methodical, and our biggest problem as far as exhumation is concerned has been the surface water – from melted snow – that has flooded the graves and which is why things now smell so bad. A few weeks ago you could have stood here and noticed a girl’s perfume from thirty metres away. Now, as you can no doubt judge for yourself, it smells like the deepest pit in hell.’

Blobel nodded, but the smell didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

‘Yes, it does look extremely well-organized down there,’ he admitted. ‘I used to be an architect and I’ve seen foundation works that weren’t made as well as this grave. Surprising really. One wonders how something so neat was ever discovered.’ He paused. ‘As a matter of fact, how was it discovered?’

‘It would seem that a hungry wolf dug up a thigh bone,’ I said.

‘D’you really believe that?’

I shrugged. ‘It hadn’t occurred to me to believe anything else. Besides, there are plenty of wolves in these woods.’

‘Seen one?’

‘No, but I’ve heard a few. Why? Have you an alternative theory, sir?’

‘Yes. Looters. Local Ivans hunting for something of value. A watch or a wedding band – even a gold tooth. In my experience Slavs will steal anything, even if that means digging up a few dead bodies to do it. I’ve seen it before, in Kiev. But there’s nothing new about that, of course. People have been robbing graves since the time of the Pharaohs.’

‘Well, they’d have been wasting their time here. We’ve not found much in the way of burial treasure for the afterlife on these poor fellows. I’d say the NKVD relieved them of anything valuable.’

‘That’s standard practice with the communists, isn’t it? Redistribution of wealth.’

Blobel smiled at his own little joke. It was better than mine had been, but I wasn’t much in the mood for smiling – not with my stomach feeling the way it did.

‘Tell me, Captain Gunther, are you going to burn the corpses?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘The politics of the situation are very delicate and would seem to rule that out. That’s what I’ve been told by the ministry. So we’ve decided to leave that particular decision to the Poles themselves. They’re due here tomorrow. More than likely it seems that they’re going to have to be reburied. For now, anyway.’

‘All of them?’

I shrugged. ‘Not my decision, thank God. I’m just a policeman.’

‘I’ve heard that before.’ Blobel smiled. ‘Still,’ he added, ‘burning them isn’t so easy, either. Especially when the corpses are damp. Believe me, I know. And of course it’s such a waste of precious gasoline and firewood. But even when you’ve burned them down to almost nothing, there’s still the ash to dispose of. That has to be covered up, too. And, what’s more, there’s so little time to do things properly.’

‘Oh? Why’s that?’

‘The Russians are coming, of course. In less than six months this whole area will be overrun. And you can bet your last mark that if you don’t burn these fucking bodies down to a layer of cinders the Russians will do their damnedest to prove that we murdered them all.’

‘You’ve got a point there.’ I spat; it was that or retch. The smell was really getting to me now – that and the conversation. ‘Seen enough?’ I asked him.

‘Yes, I think so. You’ve been most helpful.’

‘That is a comfort.’

Blobel smiled again. ‘Well, I can’t stay here chatting, I have to catch a plane.’

‘Leaving so soon?’

He nodded. ‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Need a lift to the airport?’ I was anxious to make sure I was rid of him before the arrival of the Polish delegation.

‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘It’s not a problem. Where are you going to now?’

‘Kiev. Then Riga. And then back to Kulmhof. Or Chelmno, as the locals call it.’

‘What’s in Kulmhof?’