The Grave of Truth (26 page)

‘And so I was,' Andrews said. He walked to the desk and stood looking down at Holler. ‘But I felt it was time you and I had a meaningful discussion about the special relationship between our Agency and your Service. Before it gets to a higher level.' He pulled a chair forward and sat down without being asked.

‘You've been holding out on us, Holler,' he said. ‘Washington isn't going to like that.'

Chapter 7

It was Kesler who made the call to the Walthers' house in Hamburg.

‘My name is Aaron Levy,' he said. ‘May I speak with Frau Walther, please?' Franconi was beside him in the public booth. He saw Kesler frown. ‘Oh, she's not? Oh, dear. She told me to call her about some jewellery. Can you please tell me where I can get in touch with her? It's very important, I have a client who won't wait.'

At the other end of the line, Minna's housekeeper hesitated. Jewellery—surely her lady wasn't selling anything? But Levy was a Jewish name and all the dealers were members of the Chosen Race, as she described them to herself.

‘Hello, hello,' Kesler shouted into the phone; he grimaced and whispered an aside to Franconi: ‘She's not there. I think we've been cut off—oh, yes, yes, I thought we'd been disconnected. Thank you. Hotel Kaiserhof—you don't know when she'll be back—I'll contact her there then. Thank you. Good day.' He turned to Franconi. ‘She's in Munich—the last place I wanted to go. The woman didn't know when she was coming back.'

‘What about Steiner?' asked Franconi.

‘Paul said he'd be with her,' Kesler scowled, and shouldered his way out of the booth. ‘I want to get everything finished as quickly as possible,' he went on. ‘But I don't fancy going back to Munich. I've been seen and I could be recognized.'

They began to walk along the sunny street, two sober-suited men in earnest conversation. Franconi still wore the hat, which bothered him. He hated having his head covered. They drove their rented car out of the public car park, and set out for a drive. It was a warm day, and they took a route that brought them in sight of the sea. They stopped and watched the shipping in the Elbe.

‘I'll go,' Maurice said. ‘I'm not known. I'll settle the two of them and get out on the first flight. We'll meet in Geneva.'

‘No, no, I won't do it like that,' Kesler said. ‘I wouldn't have a moment's peace worrying about you. We'll go together and I'll stay low and wait for you. And promise me you won't take any risks.' He put his hand on Franconi's shoulder. ‘Remember how much you mean to me.'

‘I will,' Maurice Franconi said. ‘Don't worry, Stanis. We're going to have our money and our house in Tangier. Leave the two of them to me.'

They decided not to check into a hotel together in Munich. Kesler went to a guest-house, and Franconi, armed with his briefcase and hand luggage, booked into a businessman's hotel where he merged perfectly into the background. Both used aliases and forged passports. The boarding house registered Mr Levy, resident in Antwerp, and the hotel accepted Maurice as an Italian from Milan. They didn't meet for dinner that night, and neither slept properly for worrying about the other. In the morning, Maurice telephoned Kesler. ‘I've checked with the Kaiserhof. They're both there.'

‘What are you going to do?' Kesler asked.

‘Go in tonight. They have rooms on the same corridor.'

There was nothing Max could do about it; Minna had refused to go to West Berlin. He had tried persuasion, even resorted to the ruse of making love to her. She had surprised him by the vehemence of her refusal to listen to his arguments or to let him touch her. ‘I'm not leaving Munich now,' she said. ‘Holler knows something, that's why he wants to get rid of us. I said it and I meant it. He used Sigmund to do his investigating for him, and Sigmund died because of it. He's not going to fob me off now. I have as much right to know whether the child was really murdered or not—and if he was, why isn't the investigation over? You have a right, too; you came here to find out the truth and you're being frightened off because Holler wants to keep it to himself.'

‘I'm not being frightened off,' Max interrupted angrily, ‘because I believe Holler when he says we're in danger. He told me to take you away for your own safety. And it makes sense. Sigmund, Helm, Schmidt, Kramer—they can't leave us alive if they had to kill the others. We know too much, darling, don't you see? We've been following Sigmund's lead, and we've got even further than he did, because you found out that Gretl Fegelein was dead. It's the end of the road—you said that yourself, when you came back.'

‘You want to give up?' she asked him. ‘You've had your question answered, so now you'll sleep in peace—is that all it meant to you?'

‘Stop trying to needle me, Minna,' he said. ‘I'm not worrying about myself. I'm ready to stay behind and get what I can out of Holler, if only you'll go. I don't care if bloody Eva Braun had triplets, if it means you're in danger!'

He stopped and they stared at each other; he realized what he had said a few seconds later than she did.

‘Not triplets.' She came and caught hold of him. ‘Not Hitler and Eva Braun,' she said. ‘But a son and a daughter, Janus and Jana, That's what the code Janus means.'

They stood locked together. He felt her tremble, as if from excitement. ‘And the girl is still alive,' Max said.

‘She must be,' Minna said slowly. ‘That's why Holler has taken the initiative.' There was something in her eyes which Max had never seen before. ‘I've got to find her,' she said. ‘Sigmund gave his life for this. I've got to carry it through for him.'

‘I thought you loved me,' he said. ‘But it's still him, isn't it?'

‘No.' She shook her head, then reached out and touched his cheek. ‘But what I feel about you doesn't change my love for him and what he tried to do for Germany. There's been so much treachery, so many lies. Albert Kramer, his great friend—the people Holler knew would try to stop him finding anything detrimental to the Nazis, the men who killed him and the people who sent them. If you really love me, you'll help me now.'

‘Oh, Christ,' Max said desperately, ‘I'd go to hell and back if you asked me. But think, my darling. What good is a girl to anyone? She'd never be a focal point for people like Kramer—they wouldn't follow a woman.'

‘She could have a child,' Minna said. ‘And the world has changed; you're thinking of the old Germany, but the Nazi attitude to women doesn't apply any more. Children, Church and Kitchen. What kind of a woman is she? What kind of monster does a monster breed?'

He didn't answer. He put his arm around her and tried to draw her close again. Her body was stiff, unresponsive.

‘Will you help me find her?' she asked him.

Max Steiner had never believed in premonitions. He was impervious to superstition. But fear swept over him as he looked at Minna and knew that because he loved her so much, he was going to act against his instincts.

‘If that's what you want,' he said. She put her arms round his neck and kissed him. They made love, and for a time he slept. When he woke she had gone to her own room. He had a feeling that what she had done was a reward.

Maurice Franconi had booked a table for dinner in the hotel restaurant. He had a drink in the bar first; he seated himself in a corner where he could see the doors. He felt unaccountably nervous, infected by the alarm of Kesler. He had worked out his plan, taking care of the smallest detail. He had gone up in the lift to the second floor and marked out the rooms numbered 47, 48. There was no one in the corridor; it was the hour when most people were in their rooms before going down to the bar or going out. He had noted the type of lock, and felt confident of picking it without any difficulty. And the weapon he carried was Kesler's deadly cyanide pen. He had come down by the stairs, so that route was familiar to him; washed his hands in the cloakroom, and bought a newspaper from the bookstall in the foyer.

He drank one vodka and lime, making it last; he watched the couples who came into the bar, looking for a tall blonde woman and a dark man. He saw several who might have been his target, but didn't quite fit the description. He recognized Minna Walther and Max Steiner in the dining room. They had a table by the window, and he was across the room from them, sitting close to the serving door at a table allotted to non-residents when the restaurant was full. He ordered a light dinner; drank some white wine, and watched the man and woman he was going to murder. His observation was completely impersonal. As human beings they held no dimension for him beyond a target that had to be assessed and sighted correctly. He didn't form an opinion of Minna as a woman; he didn't like women on any level, even the most superficial. Max he judged in terms of strength and alertness, should anything go wrong. Their relationship was obvious; he saw the way the man reached out for her hand, and lit her cigarettes. They might well be in the same bed when he broke in.

‘I've cabled my Director,' Curt Andrews said, ‘so there's no way you can keep this under wraps. It's not a West German problem any more.'

Holler had hardly spoken; Andrews found his silence disconcerting. The air was hazy with cigarette smoke, and the ashtray in front of him was full of stubs.

At last he looked at Andrews. ‘The daughter of Adolf Hitler is a world problem, not an exclusive for your department to use for American advantage. That is, if she really exists.'

‘Don't try and bullshit me,' Andrews snapped. ‘Mühlhauser told me the boy was killed, but nobody's found the girl. Or even knew she existed. It's my guess Gretl Fegelein kept her with her and took her to the convent?'

‘And what possible problem can she represent if that is true?' Holler asked. ‘I believe she's become a nun, and that, Herr Andrews, is the best possible solution for us all.'

‘Oh, sure,' Andrews sneered. ‘A bride of Christ, eh? What happens if she jumps over the wall sometime—maybe she doesn't know who she is, and she finds out and decides she's had enough of convent life.… If we've figured out what Janus means, then so will the Russians. And just how long do you think she'll stay behind that wall?'

‘As long as I decide to keep her there,' Holler said. ‘I give you my word, and I'll say the same to your Director, that the woman will never come out into the world. As for the Russians—you can leave that to me.'

Andrews shifted one big leg over the other. ‘I might be content to do that,' he said flatly, ‘but my Director won't. Nor will the Intelligence services of the other NATO countries. And we're duty-bound to inform them of what we've discovered. Just as you should have informed me, Holler, under the terms of our mutual aid agreement.' He shook his head. ‘You withheld information, and that's an official complaint. I have an instruction from Washington. You'd better see it.'

Holler picked up the telex. He read it, folded it and handed it back. ‘And will this satisfy you?'

‘I won't know until I can judge the situation for myself,' Andrews said.

‘And supposing,' Holler said quiety, ‘I tell you to mind your own business and get the hell back to Washington?'

Andrews grinned contemptuously. ‘You can try, my friend, but I don't think your Chancellor will be very happy when he hears about it. You're tied up pretty tight with us, Holler. Either you go along with the official request in that telex or I take the first plane to Bonn. I personally don't mind which way it plays.'

Holler appeared to be considering. He watched Curt Andrews's foot, in its polished slip-on shoe, swing backwards and forwards while he waited. He was trapped and he knew it. He would have to accede to the request made in the telex. Andrews had played it very cleverly. But not as cleverly as Holler intended to do. No trace of resentment showed on his face as he looked at the American.

‘You have a right to the information; but I'll have to get authorization from my government to protect myself.' He stood up in dismissal. Andrews didn't move.

‘How long will that take?'

‘I should have an answer within twenty-four hours, maybe sooner,' Holler said.

Andrews got to his feet. ‘Just so long as we don't find the lady's disappeared,' he said.

‘We haven't yet established that she's there,' Holler reminded him.

‘Then the sooner we find out the better,' Andrews said. ‘I'll call you tomorrow.'

They didn't shake hands; Holler came to the door and opened it for him, and they nodded to each other like adversaries. Holler came back to his desk and sat down. He reached for the telephone and made the call to Max Steiner which Andrews had interrupted. There was no reply from his room or from Minna's; Holler checked with reception. Yes, they were still in the hotel and hadn't given notice they were leaving. Holler murmured a rare obscenity to himself. He knew who had refused to take his warning and his advice. Minna Walther wouldn't leave; he remembered her determination and the reminder of how he had used her husband, and how as a result Sigmund had died. There was no mistaking the loyalty and the strength of purpose in her; stronger than fear for her own safety and for the safety of the man she had taken as a lover. Yet not strong enough to keep her faithful to her husband's memory for a decent interval. Holler had married when he was in his twenties. His wife had saved herself when he was arrested by applying immediately for a divorce. He had never trusted a woman enough to marry for a second time.

He made an internal call. He had to protect Minna Walther and Max Steiner in spite of themselves. Then he put through a call to the Chancellor's office in Bonn and activated the scrambler.

The community of the Immaculate Conception were in the chapel for Benediction when the message came through for Reverend Mother Katherine. She knelt in the front pew, with two senior sisters on either side of her; the twenty-two sisters and three novices were ranged at her back, the six lay helpers last of all. The replacement for Father Grunwald was slightly older, and much less agile. He went through the service very slowly and reverently, and the morning Mass took ten minutes longer. Mother Katherine bowed her head in adoration at the Elevation of the Host, and the silvery tones of the nuns rose in the traditional hymn of praise. O Sacrament most Holy, O Sacrament Divine. For the first time in many years, Mother Katherine was unable to stop the tears filling her eyes. Love of God had blotted out pain and softened hatred into understanding; in time it would finally emerge as forgiveness. The penance she had chosen for herself had become harder as time passed; she tried to repress the memories awakened by the visit of her childhood friend that morning. No one had spoken her real name or reminded her of her father for many years. His image swam through the tears; a stern but gentle man, a tender husband and father; her mother had adored him, her elder brothers had both been killed with Rommel's Afrika Corps, and the family, reduced to three, had clung closer together in their grief. She was said to resemble her father; in the days when she looked in a mirror, she had tried hard to find him in her own reflection, but without success. And if she searched too long, then that other image would surface in her imagination, as it had done in nightmares as she was growing up. The struggling figure on the end of a wire noose.… Hatred had nearly unbalanced her mind; the Roman Catholic faith had offered sanctuary against a world where materialism was the new religion. The doctrine of reparation for the sins of others by a life of prayer and service showed Freda von Stein where sanity and purpose lay. She had taken her final vows in the Mother House in Salzburg. Ten years later she was sent to Munich and found that the past she had tried to escape was locked in with her. She blinked back the tears and concentrated on the hymn.