St Kilda Blues (Charlie Berlin #3)(107)
‘Do you want to call him back?’
‘He said he’d call us back in an hour. It’s just on midnight back home but apparently he’s staying up to study for a test tomorrow.’
‘That’s not the same kid who’d never do his homework no matter what I threatened him with, is it?’
‘He’s not a kid any more, Charlie, that’s for sure.’
Berlin was about to remind Rebecca of what Lazlo had said about the boy being a man one day, but included in that was his comment about Sarah so he stopped himself. He glanced down at his watch but Rebecca had noticed.
‘Tell you what, Charlie, why don’t you finish your breakfast and then go and sort out this Scheiner business. You don’t need me for that and I’ll just wait here for the call. The sooner you find out what you need to know the sooner we can head home.’
***
When he stepped out of the hotel and into the chill morning air twenty minutes later he was instantly conscious of the wind on his ears. He realised he had left his hat upstairs in their room but the Hilton’s brown-coated doorman had already waved a taxi forward and opened the back door. The doorman glanced at the address written on the card in Berlin’s gloved hand and spoke to the driver as Berlin climbed into the back seat.
Eichborndamm was located in the French-controlled sector of the city. The taxi took them to a red-brick, two-storey building stretching down a long block on a wide, tree-lined street. The street must have looked great in summer but now the trees were bare, giving it a somewhat sombre look. Berlin decided the wintry look would always be appropriate given that number 179 was the location of the Wehrmacht Information Office for War Losses and Prisoners of War. A porter at the main gate spoke briefly to the taxi driver and then directed him to an entranceway, where he dropped Berlin off.
There were a number of people already sitting in the reception area, mostly elderly women. Berlin waited his turn and his inquiry produced an English-speaking clerk who limped up to the counter and asked how he might be of assistance. Berlin unfolded a carbon copy of his original letter of inquiry.
‘I sent this from Australia in September last year. As I happened to be in Berlin I wondered if I might be able to see where you are with my request.’
The clerk smoothed out the creases in the letter on the desktop before reading it. He nodded his head several times and ran his right index finger slowly under Berlin’s name and then Gerhardt Scheiner’s and pursed his lips. He looked up finally.
‘I can look into this as you wish Herr Berlin, but it may take time, I’m afraid. Can you perhaps come back later?’
Berlin looked at his watch. ‘Later when? I’m afraid we have limited time in your city and it’s just one name.’
‘This I understand, of course. However, I must point out that we are here responsible for the records of over 18 million Germans who served in the war and we have many items for these soldiers, over 100 million. He looked over to the waiting area where the elderly women were seated and lowered his voice. ’Every day you understand we have letters from wives and mothers and children asking if there is news of a loved one. On the Ostfront, the Eastern Front, the Red Army took over 700 000 prisoners after Stalingrad and many of these men are still today missing and the Soviets tell us nothing.’
Berlin looked at the line of waiting women and turned back to the man behind the counter. ‘Please excuse my rudeness, I do apologise.’
The clerk held up a hand and then pushed a notepad and ballpoint pen across the counter. ‘If you have a number where I might leave a message I shall see what can be achieved.’
Berlin wrote down the telephone number of the Hilton and his name and room number and handed the pad and pen back.
Outside on the street he realised he should have asked to use the phone to call Rebecca, but there was a phone box on the next street corner so he walked to it. His ears were stinging from the cold and he was starting to regret not going back for his hat before he left the hotel. A lady passing with a child in a stroller stopped and helped him to select the correct coins for a local call. The dial tone confused him for a moment but then he figured out what was what and the efficient receptionist at the Hilton put him through to their room.
‘Peter?’
Berlin smiled at the sound of her voice. ‘It’s just me. I thought he would have called by now.’
‘He did but it was an awful line. He was going to try again, that’s why I thought it was him. You left your hat here by the way.’
‘My ears remind me every time I step outside. I’ll get off the phone in case Peter is trying to get through. These record people might take a while so I thought I’d go for a wander, unless you want me to come back.’
‘No, you go and have a look around and maybe call in later. If I don’t hear from you after I speak to Peter I might go and take some more shots of the city. That’s if the weather holds off. See if you can buy yourself an umbrella if it rains. And maybe a hat.’
‘Okay. And when you talk to Peter, give him my ...’ He was about to say ‘best’ but at the last minute changed his mind. ‘Give him my love. And I love you too.’ Charlie Berlin had decided when you loved someone you should say it out loud and as often as possible, before it was too late.
FIFTY-FIVE
The taxi stopped at the end of a long street and the driver pointed down the road.