'The Killing of Gentle People' by Michel Henri (best pdf ebook reader .TXT) 📖

secreted into their clothing for safekeeping, was stolen.
SS Commandant Mercedes had all the stolen money and gold delivered to his office by his private Jewish slaves, Heinz Stein and me, Abraham Golden. We were charged by Commandant Mercedes to conceal the cash from the other SS guards who would come looking for it. If they found any we would be kicked and beaten by our Commandant. If the guards did not find any then we would get a beating from them.
Our job was to count and bag the cash before letting it be delivered to the secret Nazi banking accounts in Switzerland.
The gold and silver trinkets were sold inexpensively to the SS guards as a sweetener, in case of problems which SS Commandant Mercedes thought he might encounter in the future.

It was trouble-free for the Commandant, with help from Heinz and myself to feather his own nest.
He accomplished this very well, as we were both terrified of his mad rages and his beatings.
All the Jewish slaves who worked for him as money clerks would just disappear one by one, thus assuring him of his privacy to do what he wanted with his ill-gotten gains.
Only Heinz and myself stayed alive, working in that money office.
We worked as a team, taking care of each other, sharing our stolen food and water, and protecting each other as best we could from our viscous and drunken Commandant.
We very rarely left that office.
We had dug out part of the floor in a corner and made it into our sanctuary. We both fitted into it perfectly. It was just behind a counting table which when laden with the stolen jewellery was very heavy and a no-go area, so no-one touched it.

1945: Liberation
In 1945 the Allied Forces entered the death camp and released us.
The Doctors cared for us and tried their best to make us healthier. But by that time we were psychologically destroyed, and physically we had become old men with no future but with a mind full of grim memories.
Inspector Victor Mercedes, as he was now known, was a strong man, over six feet tall. In his hometown his neighbours thought of him as a gentle giant and a good family man.
The local people there had no knowledge of what had transpired in the Auschwitz-Birkenau death camp in Poland, or that he had been a high SS Commandant.
His wife died after the birth of his last daughter, and as a family they were very close and kept their secrets of the war close to their chests. This was very important for two reasons. One, avoiding the authorities when the death camp was liberated; two, because the gentle giant could instantly turn into the malicious psychopathic individual he really was.
Inspector Victor Mercedes work on the case ‘The Killing of Gentle People’ had lasted over five years with little or no success, and had opened up the anger hidden inside the mind of this

psychopathic monster. At the same time as he felt growing frustration at seeing his expert reputation was going down the drain, both the politicians and the public were asking for his resignation.
This situation unleashed closeted inner anti-Semitic traits which he found very hard to cover up.
As an addition to his own specialist team, Inspector Mercedes had the forensic force of Interpol to

call on for help. But still the ‘Killing of Gentle People’ case was going nowhere.

At his best, he would just give a lecture to a captive audience of anyone who would listen saying:

“How do you think this criminal disaster impacts on the rest of the world? This is a bad moment for the glorious German nation. All people think about in this modern age are things they can touch and see. What they need to do is to take a good look inside themselves.”
Sergeant Becky Gold just stared into space, as she had heard this rhetoric before many times,
and knew every word.
“I’m stuck with this bloody case and I’m getting nowhere, do you hear me? I said, do you hear me,
Sergeant? Just nowhere! Adolph Hitler, our glorious Fuehrer brought the people death, pain, and
destruction but they loved him for it. He would have sorted this out in no time at all. Heaven
knows how long l can take this situation. Do you know that the city of Berlin; gave the Jewish
people sanctuary, and it was filled with them. I am Chief Inspector Victor Mercedes. Do you hear
me, Sergeant? Chief Inspector Victor Mercedes! I am theoretically the very best person for this
kind of assignment. Yet fifty-seven people have been murdered in and around Germany. This is
now fifty-eight! All have been shot, then left where they fell. Not one bloody clue! Sergeant Gold:
are you listening to what l am saying! Do you hear me!”
Turning away from the Sergeant and mumbling to himself, he said:
“Gold! That’s a good name, they tell me. Well, I will be fine when l have drunk myself to sleep
tonight! Yes I’ll be fine! Sergeant, do you care?”
This rhetoric and rambling went on and on.


At his worst the Inspector would pick on anyone arrested who was found to be Jewish, and that
went for his own police staff as well.
Three hundred officers had been dispersed into the killing areas with instructions directly from
The Inspector to use any force necessary, then to follow up any shred of information they obtained
from informants.
All investigators had to report to Police head-quarters immediately if any linking evidence were
found, however small that evidence should be.
Inspectors Mercedes had his office at Police head quarters fitted out in dark oak panels. His staff
said it matched his personality.
The centre point was a large hand-carved table standing right in the middle of the large room.
Rumour had it that the table was worth a small fortune and originally belonged to Wagner,
Hitler’s favourite composer.
A wealthy Jewish family purchased the table from Wagner family before the atrocities started
during the Holocaust. In1940 some families were robbed of all their wealth and then murdered
by the Nazis. This beautiful table just disappeared, only to turn up years later in the Inspector’s
office.
Inspector Mercedes never sat at the magnificent table. When asked why not he always
laughed, saying:
“It was one of the spoils of war!”.
He preferred to work on a smaller desk at the side of the dark panelled room by the large double
glazed window.
The light from the large window lit up the dark panels of the room.
This seemed to have a soporific effect on the Inspector which calmed him down. He also left his
office door open so he could see and hear everything that was going on in the outer duty room,
helping him to keep tabs on his officers and on any visitors to the police station.
Inspector Mercedes shouted for his Sergeant, who had walked out of the office during his
customary rhetoric.

“Sergeant Becky Gold! I need you in here now, quickly!” He waited a moment,
then shouted again at the top of his voice:
“I said, now, for Gods sake! Not next week! Can you hear me, Sergeant Gold?”.
Sergeant Gold walked quickly into the office and over to the desk by the window with an
noticeably businesslike approach. She was carrying a folder of new information on the case.
Sergeant Becky Gold herself was a stunning woman with long dark red hair, full red lips and
the perfect cheekbones. She stood at a height of five feet seven, her body slim and athletic, her
breasts large. All this made her an object of lust and lewd comments amongst some of her fellow
officers, and the Inspector’s disrespect and lechery was at the forefront.
“So sorry, Inspector! But we’ve just received details of another killing with the same MO as the
killing of gentle people.”
The Inspector put his big hands over his face, then stood up at his full height of over six feet five.
He was a big towering man. His face had suddenly turned bright red as if he had been drinking or
was having a heart attack.
“What in a pigs’ bladder is happening in our glorious Germany; Sergeant Gold? Can you explain it
to me?” He paused for a moment, keeping his eyes on Sergeant Gold’s ample breasts.
“No, you can’t! You are just a tart and should be having babies, washing up and looking after a
man. Look, we have Islamic terrorists bombing and killing their own people all around the world.
You Jewish people and the Arabs are still fighting, and here we have some mad person or persons
or even terrorists killing our gentle German people. Sergeant: l ask you once again, what the
bloody hell is going on? With your stupid university degree can you explain it to me?”
“No sir! But for you information my degree was a First with Honours. And this may be the lead we
have been looking for!”.
“Ok, clever Sergeant Gold! Sit down and talk, just you and me!”
Immediately doing as she was told, Sergeant Gold sat down and put her hands in her lap over the files, in a submissive position.
“Coffee, and make it quick!” shouted the Inspector.

Fumbling with her files Sergeant Gold went to get up from the seat.
“Not you, damn it Becky! Surely they can get the bloody coffee. Now what did you say this lead
was all about? Explain it to me! Come on, get on with it!”
“Well, we have just had word that a woman has been shot outside her home. Her name is Helga
Krolle. She was thirty five years old. The duty officers think that you may know the name Krolle.”
The Inspector, looking puzzled, repeated the name:
“Helga Krolle! No, l don’t think so, Sergeant. Why would they think l would?”
“Maybe the name Josef Krolle, sir?” The Sergeant waited for the answer.
“No, l just said no! How many bloody times do l have to say it to you? l am told women have as
many brain cells as men. NO, NO, NO is what l said and NO is what l meant! Got it now,
Sergeant Gold?”
Sergeant Gold stayed quite for a few moments, then in a passive tone said:
“Or SS Officer Josef Krolle and the Auschwitz-Birkenau death camp. Does that mean anything
to you, sir?”
The Inspector moved over to the big table, banging his fist hard on the edge, then began shouting
out once more “Coffee! Damn you lot to hell, l ordered coffee, a year ago!”
Turning sharply, and with a viscous whisper he looked into the Sergeant’s eyes like a cobra about
to strike. “Damn it! You too, Sergeant Becky Gold! I know what you are suggesting! So get to the
bloody point! Do not pussy foot around with me. Say it as it is! The myth is everything, but its
nothing! Nothing! Do you hear me this time?”
The Sergeant calmly poised herself and replied: “Well, sir, we have been checking all the dead victim’s families, as you said, in order to ascertain if there is a link from that angle. You know,
if anyone shot had a family member working at that death camp. Well, it would seem that there is.” She briefly paused then asked:
“Are you ready for this, sir?”
The Inspector sat down at