I don’t know what this nonsense is all about, I don’t write for pleasure this is an inconvenience. Although this Smith fellow, or is it Schmidt? I’m not sure, he apparently wants to sell books. This is annoying, I could be down in my basement working. I have, shall we say a client waiting. It won’t hurt him, that’s my job. Actually it will do him good, he will for a moment forget what pain is all about. Enough of this Gejammering, sorry whining I have to promote my part in the book. If nobody read it they’d never find out what a jolly fellow I am. Hmm, where was I? Yes, me. It’s all about me, I am the driving force here they are all afraid of me, even my son Otto. Let me make my position clear, I am what I am. You may think of me as a vile, sadistic torturer, what is the modern term? Yes, Serial Killer. Schutt, I was a professional killer, an SS Colonel. I lost count of the people who have crossed my path and died.
What am I doing in Australia, working with gangsters in Kings Cross? Enjoying myself, that’s what. I am a very wealthy man but I have needs, those needs are best served when I take someone apart a little at a time. I know what I want and how to get it, it is these fools who think they can get away with stealing without inviting me in. I don’t need their money, I need their pain and suffering. I love it when it is all over and they think I am merciful, fools, nothing says goodnight like a bullet to the head.
I digress, a little about me, I was born in Berlin in 1910 of good parents, following my father into his trade as a watchmaker. Even as a small boy I needed to know how things worked. My parents thought it cute until they found me in the cellar disecting Frau Herschel’s cat. I joined the SS in 1934 finding my niche in the camps, by 1939 my potential was realised and I became an officer. The defining moment in my life occured on the Russian front, I located a fortune in gold and artefacts belonging to the regime of Csar Nicholas. I had tortured a Red Party member for information on his comrades, instead he gave me the location of something more interesting, gold. My superiors were not happy with their cut and I found myself posted to the 36th Waffen Grenadiers, in command of a regiment of misfits. I use the term lightly, they were the dregs of the prisons civilian and military, murderers, rapists, molesters, mental patients, Russian and Ukranian volunteers. Ahh what a fine collection of killers they were.
My wife died in the bombing of Berlin, I was given leave to find my son and organise a nurse for him. I took the opportunity to visit my superiors while I was there and from early 1944 myself and a company of my best men began a new assignment, rob France blind. We stripped Chateaus and stately homes of their wealth and art, those who didn’t assist us, well by then I’d found a useful tool. An oak rack hidden away in a basement for centuries, beautifully constructed and designed to be taken down for transportation. I have someone on it now, a stupid little man from the suburbs who thinks he can get away with stealing from my friend. Where was I? Yes, one of my greatest finds was the banker for the French Resistance, he broke eventually but that is another story. I must get in the ear of this Smith fellow and tell him of the journey to the Spanish border after D-Day. Yes what an adventure, a fortune in gold earmarked for Switzerland, the intrigue, betrayal and death plus the journey in later years to find what had been buried. How did I get it to Australia? When big money talks, the right people listen.
I must go, I hear Otto calling for me. I cannot miss the ending, ahh the pleasure of watching them die.