The Bormann Testament (11 page)

Chavasse shrugged. “Play the cards as they fall, but whatever happens, one of us must get to Hamburg. Steiner’s going to assassinate Hauptmann at Nagel’s reception for the peace conference delegates.”

“Oh, my God,” Anna said. “Hauptmann! He’s a good man, one of the finest men in Germany.”

At that moment, a dog howled suddenly from the direction of the causeway leading to the castle. A little later, the sound came again, muffled by the mist, but definitely coming nearer.

Hardt turned quickly, his eyes somber. “Steiner has set the dogs on us. I saw them early this morning when they brought me here. Three black-and-tan Dobermans, trained to kill. We don’t stand a chance.”

“We do if we split up,” Chavasse said. “One of us can lead the dogs off while the other two get away. Somebody must go to Hamburg.”

“Whom do you suggest?” Hardt inquired ironically.

“I’m in better shape than you are. I could probably lead them a longer dance.”

“But you’d be a damned sight more useful in handling these people when you get to Hamburg,” Hardt said.

Chavasse started to protest, but Anna caught him by the hand and pulled him round to face her. “Mark’s right, Paul. You are the only one who can save Hauptmann’s life and that is the main thing now.”

Behind them a door banged, and when Chavasse turned, Hardt was gone. They could hear him crashing his way through the fir trees, making no attempt to hide the noise of his progress, and then there were confused cries as the search party from the castle heard him. A moment later, the dogs started to howl, and as Chavasse and Anna listened breathlessly, the sounds faded into the distance and they were alone.

H
e’s quite a man,” Chavasse said out of the silence.

Anna nodded. “I found that out a long time ago. Where do we go from here?”

“Back to the inn,” he said. “There’s always the Volkswagen. With any luck, we can be on the way back to Hamburg in fifteen minutes.”

She shook her head gravely. “I’m afraid not, Paul. Fassbender drove the car to the castle. I saw it in the courtyard when they took me in.”

He frowned for a moment as he considered possibilities, and then he came to a decision. “We’ll still go back to the inn. There’s a chance Fassbender is with the search party and they’re going in the opposite direction, but we’ll have to hurry.”

He led the way outside and they plunged into the wood. After a few moments, they came to the path that they had originally followed to the lake, and Chavasse took Anna by the hand and started to run.

There was no sign of movement from the inn, and only the thin spiral of blue smoke from one chimney indicated life. They paused in the fringe of fir trees at the edge of the yard, and then Chavasse squeezed her hand and ran across to the back door, half-crouching. He opened the door quickly, pushed Anna through, and followed her, closing it behind him.

They were standing in a large, stone-flagged kitchen. The old woman was bending over the sink, scrubbing out a pan, and she turned and looked at them vacantly. “You didn’t come in for lunch,” she said.

Chavasse smiled gently. “No, we went boating on the lake and had an accident, as you can see. Is Herr Fassbender about?”

She shook her head. “He went to the castle. He said he wouldn’t be back until nightfall.”

“Is anyone else here?”

She looked bewildered. “But why would there be anyone else here,
mein Herr
?” She turned back to the sink and her pans, muttering to herself and shaking her head.

Chavasse opened the far door and pushed Anna through into the stone-flagged passage. “A good thing for us the old girl’s a simpleton.”

Anna nodded. “What do we do now?”

“You can go straight upstairs and change into some dry clothes,” he said. “Be as quick as you can and then look for Fassbender’s room and see if you can find me something suitable. We’re about the same size.”

“What about you?” she said.

“I’ve got some telephoning to do.” He smiled and pushed her gently toward the stairs. “Hurry it up, angel. We’ve got to get out of here as fast as we damned well can.”

When she had gone, he went behind the reception desk and put a call through to London. The operator promised to ring him back and he replaced the receiver and went into the bar, where he helped himself to a double brandy and a packet of cigarettes.

He shivered with pleasure as the brandy spread through his body in a warm tide. He decided to have another one, and was just finishing it when the phone rang.

He lifted the receiver and waited, and after a while Jean Frazer’s voice crackled over the wire. “Brown & Company here. Can I help you?”

“This is Cunningham speaking,” Chavasse told her. “I’d like a word with Mr. Taylor if he’s available.”

“Just a moment, please, Mr. Cunningham,” she said calmly.

A moment later, the Chief ’s voice sounded in his ear. “Taylor here—is that you, Cunningham? How’s business?”

“Booming!” Chavasse said. “In fact, I could use some help. Can you do anything? It’s rather urgent.”

“It’s nice to know things are going so well,” the Chief said, “and I’ll certainly do what I can. Where can you be reached?”

“I’ll be at the Atlantic with Sir George,” Chavasse said. “I’ll try and hang on there until eight, but I can’t make it any later than that, I’m afraid.”

“That should be fine,” the Chief said. “We’ve a very good local contact, name of von Kraul. I’ll see if he’s available.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing him,” Chavasse said. “Now I’m afraid I’ll have to go. Things are moving pretty fast at the moment.”

The Chief ’s voice didn’t change. “Well, that’s nice to know, Cunningham. We’ll have to see about a bonus for you when you come home. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

There was a click at the other end of the line and Chavasse grinned and replaced his own receiver. He felt a lot happier. One thing about the Chief—he was completely reliable. If he said he’d see to something, it got done.

He looked up the number of the Atlantic Hotel in the telephone directory and asked for Sir George Harvey. It took them ten minutes to find him, and they finally located him in the famous Long Bar.

He sounded a little irritated at being dragged away from his drink. “Harvey here—who’s speaking?” he barked. Chavasse told him and Sir George’s tone changed at once.

“My dear chap, I’ve been wondering what had happened to you.”

“You said you’d be willing to help me at any time,” Chavasse said. “That all I had to do was call you. Does that still go?”

“Naturally!” Sir George said brusquely. “I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean.”

“Then leave the hotel at once,” Chavasse said. “Get into your car and take the main road to Lubeck. About twenty miles out of Hamburg, you’ll come to a signpost on your left, pointing the way to a place called Berndorf. I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“Is this really important?” Sir George asked.

“It’s a matter of life and death,” Chavasse told him, “and I’m not being melodramatic.”

“I’m on my way,” Sir George said, and his receiver clicked into place.

Chavasse went upstairs and found Anna in their bedroom, laying out a tweed suit, underwear, and socks on the bed. “I’ve even managed a pair of shoes. I hope they fit.”

He started to strip his wet clothes and she toweled his body briskly. “I’ve been in touch with Sir George Harvey,” he said. “He’s going to pick us up at the Berndorf signpost on the main road.”

“What do we do when we reach Hamburg?” she asked as he dressed quickly.

“We’ll drop you at your apartment,” he said. “I’ll go on to the Atlantic with Sir George. I’ve been in touch with London. They’re arranging for a German intelligence man called von Kraul to meet me there—do you know him?”

She shook her head, “So far, we’ve tried to stay out of their way.” She cleaned his battered face with a wet washcloth as she talked, and covered the slash across his right cheek with sticking plaster.

“That’s partly why I want to leave you at the apartment,” he said. “The less von Kraul knows about Israeli underground groups working in Germany, the better. Another thing. If Mark manages to elude the chase, that’s where he’ll try to contact you.”

“Do you think he stands a chance?” she said.

Chavasse shrugged. “There’s always hope. In this heavy rain, it will be difficult for the dogs to follow his scent, and the mist should help him a lot.”

“I hope and pray he comes out of it safely,” she said, and there was a poignancy and depth in her voice that he found curiously disturbing.

“You think a lot of him, don’t you?” he said gently.

She nodded. “I should—he’s my stepbrother. We’ve always been very close.”

For once, he could think of nothing to say, and they went downstairs in silence. From several coats hanging in the hall, he selected a thigh-length, waterproof hunting jacket for himself and a green Tyrolean hat. He helped Anna into an old and shabby trench coat that was far too large for her, and they left.

They followed the road out of the village, walking in silence, and he felt curiously depressed. It was a feeling difficult to analyze, but probably caused by too little sleep for too long. Every muscle in his body seemed to be aching and his face pained him intensely.

After they had gone a couple of miles, he paused. “I think we’d better go through the trees for the rest of the way. Just in case they happen to be patrolling the main road.”

She nodded without speaking, and they left the road and walked through the trees, brushing aside the rain-soaked branches of the firs. Chavasse saw the hunting lodge first, and beyond it the white gleam of the road. As they approached, he realized that the place was derelict; the door hung on one hinge and the windows gaped sightlessly.

He checked the time. It was just after four-thirty. It was unlikely that Sir George would arrive before five. “We’ve got about half an hour to spare,” he told Anna. “We might as well stay here. The main road is only fifty or so yards away.”

“Just as you like, Paul,” she said listlessly, and preceded him through the door.

It had that peculiar musty smell usual to such places, composed of dampness and leaf mold. Anna sat down on the windowsill and Chavasse gave her a cigarette.

For a little while, they smoked in silence and she gazed out of the window, an expression of great sadness on her face. After a while, Chavasse said, “Anything the matter?”

She shook her head. “Not really, nothing I could put my finger on.” She turned and smiled at him, looking suddenly absurdly young in the old trench coat.

He grinned. “That coat’s far too large for you.”

She nodded. “It was made in England. I noticed the label when I put it on. I wonder how it came to be hanging on that peg at the inn.”

He shrugged. “Probably left by some tourist a long time ago.”

“I think that’s one of the saddest phrases in the English language,” she said. “A long time ago. On me it has the same effect as a bugle sounding taps. Lights out, you’re through, it’s all over.”

There was a terrible pathos in her voice, and he dropped his cigarette and caught hold of her arms. “Anna, what is it? You’ve never talked like this before.”

“I’ve never felt like this before,” she said. “I’ve been watching you, Paul. The way you react to danger, the way you always have an answer for every emergency, that utterly ruthless streak so essential to success.” She shook her head. “You’ll never change, Paul. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. All those things we discussed—the things we said we’d do after this is all over—they were just a pipe dream.”

He gripped her arm fiercely, bitter anger rising inside him. “But I
can
change,” he said. “I promise you, Anna. When this job is finished, I’m getting out of the game for good.”

She touched his face gently with her fingers and shook her head. “No, you won’t, Paul. You and I, this hunting lodge, everything we’ve gone through in the last few days—none of it has any reality. One day, you’ll look back on it all and it will simply be something that happened a long time ago.” She laughed lightly. “What was that line in one of Marlowe’s plays?
But that was long ago and in another country.
”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her against him, and then he heard the unmistakable sound of a car slowing down in the road.

She tried to pull away from him and said gently, “I think we’d better go now, Paul. That sounds like Sir George.”

He tried to bring her back into his arms, but she braced herself to resist him, hard and unyielding. After a moment, he shrugged and released her. She turned without a word, and he followed her out of the hunting lodge and through the trees toward the road.

T
hey drove very fast on the way back to Hamburg. Anna huddled in a corner of the rear seat, eyes closed, while Chavasse and Sir George talked.

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this,” Chavasse said.

Sir George snorted. “Rubbish, my dear fellow. As I told you before, I’m glad to help. I must say you look rather the worse for wear.”

Chavasse grinned. “I’m afraid I haven’t been mixing in very friendly company.”

“Any new developments in the Bormann affair?”

Chavasse nodded. “I’ve managed to find out that Bormann himself died several months ago. As for the manuscript, apparently Muller’s sister has it.”

“Have you got a line on her?” Sir George said.

“I’m afraid not,” Chavasse told him. “In any case, there are more important things to worry about at the moment. I’d like you to drop Miss Hartmann at her apartment first, then we’ll carry on to the Atlantic. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging to meet a German intelligence man in your suite. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not in the least,” Sir George said. “Things must be getting warm if you’ve decided to call in the Germans.”

Chavasse nodded. “This is something else I’ve uncovered and some extremely big people are involved. Under the circumstances, I’m afraid I can’t discuss it with you until I’ve seen this man from German intelligence. It’s really something which directly concerns them.”

“I quite understand,” Sir George said cheerfully. “After all, the formalities must be observed and Continentals are always so damned touchy. Just remember, I’m always willing to do everything I can.” He sighed. “I shall be sorry when it’s time to go home, Chavasse. I’ve rather enjoyed this little trip.”

Chavasse eased his aching body into a more comfortable position. He closed his eyes and thought about Anna and what she had said. Was it really true? Was he in fact a sort of twentieth-century mercenary who enjoyed the game for its own sake? There was no answer. He wasn’t even sure that to be that kind of man was such a bad thing.

He was still thinking about it when they entered the outskirts of Hamburg. Sir George drove straight into the center, crossed the Alster by the Lombardsbrucke, and Chavasse directed him from there. It was almost a quarter to six when they turned into the quiet side street and halted outside Anna’s apartment.

She was still dozing when Chavasse got out of the car and opened the rear door. When he touched her arm, she opened her eyes at once and gazed blankly at him, and then she smiled. “I’m sorry, I’m so tired I could sleep for a week.”

She turned to Sir George. “May I add my thanks to Paul’s? I don’t know what we’d have done without your help.”

He held her hand for a moment, admiration on his face. “You’re an extremely courageous young woman. It’s been a pleasure and a privilege to serve you.”

She colored deeply and got out of the car without saying anything, and Chavasse walked to the door with her. “I want you to sit tight until I come back,” he said. “It might be late, because I’ve got to get this Hauptmann business sorted out.”

She suddenly looked very tired. “I don’t think I could go anywhere even if I wanted to.”

He kissed her lightly on the mouth. “That’s just something on account. Once all this is settled, we’re going to have a serious talk about the future—understand?”

She was too tired to argue. “If you like, Paul.”

She went up the steps to the front door. As she opened it, she turned and smiled and the smile seemed to get right inside him, filling him with an aching longing to hold her in his arms. For a moment or two, he stayed there staring up at the door after she had closed it, and then he went back to the car.

“A very remarkable young woman,” Sir George said as they drove away. “Pretty into the bargain.”

“She’s all that and more,” Chavasse told him.

Sir George smiled. “Do I detect a hint of romance in the air?”

Chavasse nodded. “I certainly hope so. I intend to get out of this game altogether when this Bormann affair is satisfactorily concluded.”

“Very sensible,” Sir George said approvingly. “You can’t last forever.”

It was a sobering thought. Chavasse considered some of the people he had known during his five years with the Bureau. It was a universal human failing to think that you were cleverer than the next man or that it couldn’t happen to you.

But how many intelligent, resourceful people had he known who had failed to return from one assignment or another? One of these days it would be his turn, because sooner or later, everybody made a mistake. It was sound logic to get out while he was still ahead of the game. He was still thinking about it when they reached the Atlantic.

Sir George had a suite on the second floor of the hotel. As they went up in the elevator, he glanced at his watch anxiously. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you on your own to meet this German intelligence chap. I’ve got an appointment for seven. I’ve hardly got time to change into evening clothes.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Chavasse and he said, “Are you going to this reception that Kurt Nagel is giving for the delegates?”

Sir George raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s right. How did you know?”

“I read about it,” Chavasse told him.

“I think the conference as a whole owes its success to Nagel more than to any other man,” Sir George said as he unlocked the door of his suite. “Do you know anything about him?”

Chavasse shook his head. “I can’t say I do, but then I’ve been rather out of touch with the German scene until these last few days.”

Sir George told him to help himself to a drink, and disappeared into the bedroom. Chavasse examined the bottles on the side of the table, poured a brandy, took a cigarette from a silver box, and settled into a comfortable chair. He was about to pick up a newspaper when the telephone rang.

When he lifted the receiver, he recognized Anna’s voice at once. She sounded excited. “Paul, is that you?”

“What is it?” he demanded. “Has something happened?”

“About ten minutes ago, the porter brought a package up to my apartment,” she said. “It was delivered by mail this morning. When I removed the outer wrapper, I found it contained a letter and another sealed package.”

With a sudden elation, he knew what the answer to his next question would be before he put it to her. “Let me guess—the letter was from Katie Holdt.”

“Right first time,” Anna told him. “She says that she’s had to go away for a while and asks me to look after the package for her. Obviously, my time at the Taj Mahal wasn’t wasted after all. If I read or hear of anything happening to her, I’m to post the package to the authorities at Bonn.”

“Needless to say, you’ve already opened it,” Chavasse said.

She laughed. “Of course I have. Bormann’s handwriting covers more than four hundred closely packed pages. It should make very interesting reading. Shall I bring it over?”

“No, sit tight where you are,” he said. “I’ve still got this Hauptmann business to handle. Von Kraul hasn’t arrived yet. I’ll be with you as soon as I can possibly make it. In the meantime, you have that sleep you were talking about.”

She chuckled. “Nothing doing. I’ve never felt so wide awake in my life. I intend to curl up on the sofa with a good book until you get back.”

He replaced the receiver and turned to find Sir George standing just inside the room, adjusting his bow tie. “Presumably, that wasn’t for me?” he said.

Chavasse shook his head. “It was Anna. Believe it or not, the manuscript has turned up.”

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Sir George said. “How did that happen?”

Chavasse explained about Katie Holdt. “I suppose she got into a panic and decided to clear out for a while. Leaving the manuscript with Anna would seem like good insurance against being killed by the opposition if they caught up with her. She could always pull the old bluff about the authorities getting the manuscript automatically if anything happened to her.”

“Yes, I suppose that explains it.” Sir George pulled on his overcoat and sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to go to this damned affair just when things are getting exciting. I hope you’ll let me have a peep at the manuscript before it goes to the authorities.”

“I think we can manage that all right,” Chavasse told him.

“Well, I really must rush,” Sir George said. “Don’t be afraid to ring room service for anything you need.”

When he had gone, Chavasse poured himself another drink. He was filled with a feeling of tremendous exhilaration. The job was as good as finished. Getting the manuscript back to London was simply a matter of routine. There only remained the Hauptmann affair. Admittedly, it would have to be handled by German intelligence, but he still had a deep personal interest in seeing that Steiner and Nagel got what was coming to them. At that moment, a buzzer sounded sharply and he crossed to the door and opened it.

The man who faced him looked to be in his early fifties. He carried a walking stick in one hand and was wearing a dark blue overcoat with a fur collar. His face was round and benign, the flesh pouching a little beneath the eyes and chin as if from overeating. The rimless spectacles completed the picture of a reasonably average-looking German businessman. Only the eyes, shrewd and calculating and never still, gave him away to the trained observer.

“Herr Chavasse, I believe?” he said in German. “I am Colonel von Kraul.”

“How did you recognize me?” Chavasse said as he closed the door after the German had entered.

Von Kraul sat down in one of the easy chairs. “We have a dossier on you in our files. I’ve heard a lot about you. That’s why I came at once after our mutual friend spoke to me from London on the telephone. I trust I haven’t wasted my time.”

“You can judge for yourself,” Chavasse said grimly. “How important would you say Heinrich Hauptmann is to the future of Germany?”

Von Kraul was lighting a long, black cheroot. He hesitated for a fraction of a second and then continued with what he was doing. When the cheroot was burning to his liking, he said, “Hauptmann? No man is indispensable. But in German politics at the present time, Hauptmann comes closer to it than anyone else I know.”

“He’s going to be assassinated at nine-fifteen tonight,” Chavasse said.

For a long moment, von Kraul gazed steadily at him, and then he sighed and looked at his watch. “It is precisely seven o’clock. That gives us two and a quarter hours, Herr Chavasse. I suggest you tell me all you know as quickly as possible.”

Chavasse got to his feet. “Do you know a man called Kurt Nagel?”

“The steel magnate?” Von Kraul nodded. “A very well-known figure in Hamburg life. He’s extremely wealthy and a great philanthropist. As a matter of fact, he’s giving a reception tonight for the peace conference delegates.”

“To which Hauptmann has also been invited to make a speech,” Chavasse said.

For the first time, von Kraul’s calm deserted him. “Are you trying to tell me that
Nagel
has something to do with this business?”

Chavasse nodded. “He’s a key man in the Nazi underground. I don’t know how large his organization is, but I can tell you who his two right-hand men are. A physician named Kruger, who runs a clinic in Blankenese, and a Hamburg police inspector named Steiner.”

Von Kraul got to his feet and walked across to the table on which the bottles were standing, and poured himself a large brandy with a steady hand. He drank it down in one easy swallow and then stared reflectively into the empty glass. “From anyone else, I would have regarded such a story with incredulity. It is lucky for you,
mein Herr,
that your name is Paul Chavasse.”

“Lucky for Hauptmann, you mean,” Chavasse said.

Von Kraul went back to his chair. “How exactly does the killing take place?”

Chavasse closed his eyes and let his mind wander back to the room in the castle at Berndorf in which Muller had died. It was an old trick and one that had served him well in the past. “I’ll try to remember Nagel’s exact instructions,” he said, and after a moment, started to speak.

When he had finished, von Kraul sat in the chair, hands folded across the handle of his walking stick, and gazed at the opposite wall. After a while, he said, “Steiner will be there on his own. You are sure of that?”

Chavasse nodded. “That’s the essence of the whole plan—simplicity.”

“And a simple plan may be thwarted just as simply,” von Kraul said. “Is that not logic, Herr Chavasse?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Von Kraul shrugged. “I was thinking that we do not want an unsavory scandal, particularly one which suggested that the Nazis were still active and powerful. Such things are meat and drink to our Communist friends.”

“I’ll go that far with you,” Chavasse said, “but where does it get us?”

“To the grounds of Herr Nagel’s house at Blankenese,” von Kraul said. “It seems to me that two determined men could handle this affair. Are you interested?”

Chavasse got to his feet, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re too damned right I’m interested.”

“Then I suggest we be on our way.”

As he stood, Von Kraul said, “You know, there are considerable gaps in your story, and I am a man with a naturally tidy mind. I would be very interested in knowing how you first became involved with Nagel and his friends.”

Chavasse was in the act of pulling on the hunting jacket he had taken from the inn at Berndorf, and he smiled. “Now, surely you know better than to ask me a thing like that, Colonel?”

Von Kraul sighed. “After all, we are supposed to be allies. How much simpler it would be if we were completely frank with each other.” He held open the door. “Shall we go?”

His car was a black Porsche, and he handled it more than competently as they moved through the heavy traffic in the center of the city and crossed the Alster by the Lombardsbrucke.

Chavasse glanced at his watch. It was just after seven-thirty, and he turned to his companion and said, “How long will it take us to reach Nagel’s place?”

Von Kraul said, “Twenty minutes, perhaps even thirty. Certainly not longer.”

Chavasse made a quick decision. “I’d like to call in on a friend, if you don’t mind. Just to let her know I’ll be a little later than I said.”