The Odessa File

‘Hamburg?’ said Miller. ‘You mean it’s right here in Hamburg?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘Well, it’s Riga I’m interested in.’

Dorn made a moue.

‘Oh, I see. The German Jews. Well, that’s the pigeon of the SAG’s office right here.’

‘If there had ever been a trial, or even an arrest, of anyone who had been guilty of crimes in Riga, it would have been here in Hamburg?’

‘The trial would have been,’ said Dorn. ‘The arrest could have been made anywhere.’

‘What’s the procedure with arrests?’

‘Well, there’s a book called the Wanted Book. In it is the name of every wanted war criminal with surname, first names and date of birth. Usually the SAG’s office covering the area where the man committed the crimes spend years preparing the case against h

im before arrest. Then when they are ready they request the police of the State in which the man is living to arrest him. A couple of detectives go there and bring him back. If a very much wanted man is discovered, he can be arrested wherever he’s discovered, and the appropriate SAG’s office informed that he’s being held. Then they go and bring him back. The trouble is, most of the big SS men are not living under their own names.’

‘Right,’ said Miller. ‘Has there ever been a trial in Hamburg of anyone guilty of crimes committed in Riga?’

‘Not that I remember,’ said Dorn.

‘Would it be in the cuttings library?’

‘Sure. If it happened since 1950 when we started the cuttings library, it’ll be there.’

‘Mind if we look?’ asked Miller.

‘No problem.’

The library was in the basement, tended by five archivists in grey smocks. It was almost half an acre in size, filled by row upon row of grey shelves on which reposed reference books of every kind and description. Round the walls, from floor to ceiling, were steel filing-cabinets, the doors of each drawer indicating the contents of the files within.

‘What do you want?’ asked Dorn as the chief librarian approached.

‘Roschmann, Eduard,’ said Miller.

‘Personal index section, this way,’ said the librarian and led the way along one wall. He opened a cabinet door labelled ROA - ROZ, and flicked through it.

‘Nothing on Roschmann, Eduard,’ he said. Miller thought.

‘Do you have anything on war crimes?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said the librarian. ‘War-crimes and war-trials section, this way.’

They went along another hundred yards of cabinets.

‘Look under Riga,’ said Miller.

The librarian mounted a step-ladder and foraged. He came back with a red folder. It bore the label ‘Riga – War Crimes Trial’. Miller opened it. Two pieces of newsprint the size of large postage stamps fluttered out. Miller picked them up. Both were from the summer of 1950. One recorded that three SS privates were on trial for brutalities committed at Riga between 1941 and 1944. The other recorded they had all three been sentenced to long terms of imprisonment. Not long enough, they would all be free by late 1963.

‘Is that it?’ asked Miller.

‘That’s it,’ said the librarian.

‘Do you mean to say,’ said Miller turning to Dorn, ‘that a section of the State Attorney General’s office has been beavering away for fifteen years on my tax money, and all they’ve got to show for it is two postage stamps?’

Dorn was a rather establishment figure.