“And if that doesn’t work?” He shook his head. “Not all of the plenis here are German. Just the majority. And I did remind the major of this fact. However, he’s of the opinion that a German had the best motive to kill Gebhardt.”

“True.”

“Major Savostin has a low opinion of German moral values but a high opinion of our capacity for reasoning and logic. Since a German had the best motive for the murder, he thinks it seems reasonable that we should have the most to lose if the killer is not identified. Which he believes is now the best incentive for us to do his job for him.”

“So what are you telling me, sir?”

“Come on, Gunther. Everyone in Krasno-Armeesk knows you used to be a detective at Berlin’s Alexanderplatz Praesidium. As the SGO, I’m asking you to take charge of a murder investigation.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Maybe none of this will be necessary. But you should at least take a look at the body while I parade the men and ask the guilty man to step forward.”

I walked across the camp in the stiffening wind. Winter was coming. You could feel it in the air. You could hear it, too, as it rattled the windows of Gebhardt’s private hut. A depressing sound it was, almost as loud as the noise of my own rumbling belly, and I was already reproaching myself for not exacting a price for my forensic services. An extra piece of chleb. A second bowl of kasha. No one at K.A. volunteered for anything unless there was something in it for him, and that something was nearly always food.

A starshina, a Blue sergeant named Degermenkoy, standing in front of Gebhardt’s hut, saw me and walked slowly in my direction.

“Why aren’t you at work?” he yelled, and hit me hard across the shoulders with his walking stick.

Between blows I explained my mission, and finally he stopped and let me get up off the ground.