A Man Without Breath

‘It is. But I never liked that name very much. When I was a girl living in Spain I decided I much preferred to be called Ines. It’s what my mother wanted to call me. Don’t you think it’s better?’

‘Actually it’s getting better every time I think about it. I think it suits you. Like that fur and the Carat you’re wearing.’

All the way into Smolensk I kept Ines amused with my conversation, and her bright smiles and easy laughter were like a kind of prize in my eyes: when I spoke to her, it was as if there was no one else in the world.

We reached the outskirts of the city, and at the roadblock on the Peter and Paul bridge we showed our papers to the field police. By now my association with Lieutenant Voss meant that they were beginning to recognize me, but seeing Ines Kramsta with her legs crossed in the front seat of the Mercedes gave them a thrill.

‘Watch it boys, she’s a doctor, and it’s castor oil for both of you if you don’t let us through.’

‘I’d drink anything right now,’ confessed one of the bloodhounds.

‘Mind me asking where you’re going, sir?’ asked the other.

‘The doc wants to see the cathedral. Saint Luke is the patron saint of doctors.’

‘Yes, well see if he can’t be persuaded to look out for a couple of sentries in the field police while he’s at it.’

‘We’ll certainly do our best,’ said Ines.

There wasn’t much to do in Smolensk at night if you didn’t want to try the pleasures of the brothels or the local cinema, and the Cathedral Church of the Assumption was full of devout Russians and quite a few almost as devout German soldiers. You could tell they were devout by the fact that some of the Germans were praying to Our Lady and Saint Luke, but that might just have been the fact that our position in southern Russia was becoming critical – Soviet forces were now pushing west and threatening to isolate Army Group A in the Caucasus in the same way as the Sixth Army had been encircled at Stalingrad. One way or another there was quite a lot to pray about, if you were a German. I guess the Russians were praying their cathedral might still be standing when the Germans pulled out of Smolensk. They had quite a bit to pray about, too. Either way God was going to have to choose sides and choose soon: the godless communists or the blaspheming Germans. Who would be God with a choice like that?

Inside, standing in front of the iconostasis, we were both silent for a long while, and gradually silence gave way to reflection. With so much gold around there was plenty of that to be found. I had to admit, the cathedral was beautiful, and it wasn’t just the gold that made me appreciate it. It reminded me a little of the Berlin Cathedral Church on Unter den Linden and going there at Easter with my mother. Every cathedral does that to me, which is why I tend to keep away from them. I guess Freud would have called it an Oedipus complex, but me, I think I just miss my mother.

‘They say Napoleon liked the cathedral so much he threatened to kill any French soldier who stole anything off the iconostasis,’ I said quietly in her ear.

‘That’s dictators for you. Always threatening to kill someone.’

‘Why do people want to be dictators anyway?’

‘Not people. Men. And have you noticed how they always claim to love art and architecture?’

‘Maybe so, but I happen to know that Hitler didn’t bother to look at this cathedral when he was here a few weeks ago. At least, not from the ground. He might have had a good look at it from the air.’

‘Then he missed a wonderful experience.’

‘Amen to that. You know I never had a date with a girl in a cathedral. I think maybe I should have tried it before now. Being here with you almost makes me believe in God.’

‘I think the incense is going to your head.’

‘Maybe you’re right. I just had the megalomaniacal idea of trying to annex you for the Greater German Reich.’

‘I think it’s time you drove me back to Krasny Bor.’

‘What, and miss the Kremlin in the moonlight?’

‘There’s always tomorrow night. If you want to. Besides, Professor Buhtz likes to start his forensic work first thing.’

‘The early bird catches the worm, huh?’

‘In my line of work there’s always that possibility. But it’s more likely the other way around. There’s not much escapes worms. Believe me, you can tell a lot from them. That’s one of my forensic specialties: tissue degeneration. How long a body has been dead. That kind of thing.’

‘You’re right. I’d better drive you home.’

‘Hey, I thought you liked my perfume, Gunther.’

‘Formaldehyde number one? Oh, I do like it. But I have to get some rest, too. I’m taking a girl to see the Kremlin in the moonlight tomorrow night.’