The Leader And The Damned (20 page)

'Britain and Germany would have joined hands as equal partners in the crusade against Bolshevism. Moscow would no longer exist. My only reason for attacking France was to clear my rear before the great campaign against Stalin. And no one seems to understand why I acted as I did..'

Hitler was speechless at the thought. They continued walking in silence for several minutes. In places the track was thick with moss and spongy to the tread - as though they moved on the edge of a swamp. The smell of damp, moisture-laden pines filled their nostrils.

They were about to turn back to return to the compound. Hitler had started speaking again when the sound of the rifle crack came. Lindsay saw the bullet embed itself in a tree trunk well to the right of the track. Snow fell to the ground. Hitler was on his left. The Englishman spoke quickly.

'Fuhrer, please return with all speed to the Wolf's Lair. I will try and locate the assassin..'

'The bloody cowardly swine! They can't even shoot straight..'

Hitler turned on his heel and walked back the way they had come, shoulders erect like a marionette, not varying his pace. Lindsay waited five minutes after the silhouette of the Fuhrer vanished, standing motionless, listening. Hitler thought he had survived yet a further attempt on his life. Lindsay knew better. The bullet had been aimed at himself. It had shot past well clear of the German leader.

Arriving back at the first checkpoint he was put under arrest. 'For complicity in the attempted assassination of the Fuhrer..'

Christa Lundt approached the but where Lindsay was confined. An SS guard with a machine-pistol moved in front of the door as she held the tray of covered dishes.

'No admittance. Herr Gruber...'

She stared straight at the SS man, her manner cold and contemptuous. Her voice was sharp and cutting.

'This is his lunch. By order of the Fuhrer! You want to find yourself on the Eastern front? You have five seconds to get out of my way..'

The guard hesitated. Indecision was written all over his face. Christa began to turn away. The SS man moved swiftly to one side, so shaken by her reference to Russia he forgot to check the contents of the tray. She indicated that he should open the door.

'You have the manners of a pig,' she commented. 'Close the damn thing behind me..'

Lindsay was stretched out on the sofa, reading a newspaper. He jumped up and cleared a table for her to put down the tray. She sat down on the sofa, her voice low.

'Start eating while it's still hot. Now, what's all this nonsense about your trying to kill the Fuhrer?'

'That Gestapo bastard.' Lindsay lifted off the covers. Veal with potatoes. He was famished. He ate and talked between mouthfuls. 'Gruber alleges he searched my but while I was away in the forest. He produced a set of photographic copies of the latest military directives. Says he found them hidden. Underneath the mattress in the bedroom here. What a brilliant hiding-place!'

'The latest directives? I could disprove that. You'd need access to a copying device...'

'That isn't all. This veal is good..' Lindsay forked more into his mouth. Always eat at every
 
opportunity. Number One instruction in the Ryder Street training manual. 'Gruber alleges I led the Fuhrer into a trap, an assassination attempt..'

'The Fuhrer doubts that,' Christa interjected. 'Gruber wanted to fly you straight back to his place in Berlin. The Fuhrer said "No". The furthest he'd allow Gruber to go was to confine you to your but until the incident has been investigated.'

'That's something.' Lindsay wiped his mouth with the napkin she had brought and looked at her. 'You'd better know - Gruber is trying to tie the two of us into this thing together. He's sent a teleprinter message to Berlin for your complete file.'

'Oh, my God!'

The blood had drained from Christa's face. She wrapped the slender fingers of one hand round the wrist of the other - as though clutching an invisible manacle. Lindsay, still cautious, watched her while he poured coffee from a metal pot. When he spoke his tone was casual.

'Is there something incriminating in that file?'

'Gruber could make it incriminating.' Suddenly she recovered her self-possession. 'It records people I have known in the past, people who have come under suspicion since I was last vetted. My ex-fiancé, Kurt, especially He was despatched to the Eastern front. No one knew he was my fiancé — only that he was a close friend.'

'Suspected members of the underground? Kurt, too?'

She nodded. Her calm was almost unnerving. 'Now you know why I might need an escape route. I was last vetted ages ago..'

'The situation here is complicated,' Lindsay remarked. 'Complex situations can be exploited. What do you know about Gustav Hartmann? There is something odd about the Abwehr man. As an ally he may be persuaded to neutralize Gruber — the Gestapo detest the Abwehr and the feeling is reciprocated. Also, Hartmann is much cleverer.

'I still do not see how you can get Hartmann to help us.' She sounded irritated, frustrated. Christa Lundt was either one of the world's great actresses, or was telling the truth. 'In any case,' she continued with concern, 'you are in a bad position yourself...'

'As the Fuhrer would say in a difficult situation, it is time for a little luck to come to our aid …'

She was back again in less than an hour, closing the door carefully, then looking round the room and gesturing a question with both hands as she scanned the other closed doors.

'We are quite alone,' Lindsay told her.

'Then I have the most marvellous news!' Throwing caution to the winds she ran forward and sat close to him on the sofa. Clasping both his hands, she moved her face close to him. 'The Fuhrer has just taken one of his lightning decisions. Everyone, including Bormann, was astounded. He does that - to keep even those closest to him off balance, and for security reasons. Ian, we are all to leave immediately for Obersalzberg! Hitler is temporarily moving his headquarters to the Berghof!'

'How soon is immediately?' Lindsay asked. 'Within two hours! There is a railway siding... 'I've seen it...'

'The train is already there. Oh, Ian, it is so luxurious! And you are to come with us. The Fuhrer regards you as his one possible link with the peace party in England. A little luck - that is what you said we needed!'

As they sat together on the sofa the relationship between them was becoming highly charged. Their tremendous relief at the prospect of leaving the Wolf's Lair was releasing their inhibitions. Lindsay made an effort to keep his mind on practical problems.

'When will your file arrive from Berlin?'

'Tomorrow at the earliest. The girl in charge of records is a friend of mine. She will delay it as long as possible - here..'

'When is the earliest that file could reach the Berghof?'

'Five days after we leave the Wolf's Lair. And Gruber is coming with us.' The enthusiasm left her voice. It was, after all, only a short-lived reprieve, Lindsay reflected. He was half-convinced now that Christa was genuine — a link with the anti-Nazi faction.

'I suggest you don't worry,' was as far as he dare go.

She still held his hands. She leaned forward slowly and her lips brushed his own, lightly at first. Then her arms were round him and she pressed her mouth hungrily against his, her well-formed breasts firm against his chest. Slowly, with surprising strength, she bent her back down on to the sofa, pulling him with her. The tempo of the embrace quickened. His left hand located the buttons down the side of her skirt and unfastened them deftly. 'Yes, yes, yes!' she gasped. She held on to him fiercely — as though he were her only contact with safety. Lindsay ended it.

'Any moment someone can walk in on us...'

After she had gone he opened the carton of cigarettes she gave him as a parting gift. He thought about a dozen things as he lit one, marshalling his thoughts into some sort of order.

The Berghof... by train
. That meant their ultimate destination was probably Salzburg — from there a motorcade to the mountainous retreat. Salzburg! On the main line to Munich...

Munich!
The agreed rendezvous with the mysterious Paco — who had the power to get him across the frontier into Switzerland. All he had to do was to exploit the rivalry between the Gestapo and the Abwehr to hold them both in check. Mere child's play! Like bloody hell. Lindsay's mind churned as he packed the case Christa had brought him.

At least he had discovered answers to the two questions Ryder Street was concerned about. But what had shaken him was his recent walk in the pine forest. He had the overwhelming impression the Fuhrer was acting out a part - that of the Fuhrer.

On the surface Hitler was Hitler, the man he had conversed with at length in Berlin before the war. But every movement of his hands, his way of walking, his changes of expression - all had a certain exaggeration. Like an actor overplaying. Lindsay was trying to absorb a major shock. He was convinced he had been in the presence of a double, a
doppelgänger
...

Still half in a mental trance, he snapped the catches shut on his case. When someone rapped on the outer door he nearly jumped out of his shoes.

'Who is it?' he called out.

'Hartmann..'

'You may come in..'

Lindsay's voice and manner were arrogant and confident, anything but that of a prisoner suspected of God knew exactly what. The grey-eyed German came in, closed the door and looked at the suitcase.

'You are ready for the long journey, I see..'

'Just how long? And what route do we take, for God's sake - to get from the swamps of East Prussia to the Alps of Bavaria?'

'That is classified information. I wish I knew why you made this hazardous trip. No one really knows, I'm sure. Yet..'

'That is
not
classified information,' Lindsay responded while the Abwehr officer perched himself on the sofa. 'I came solely to establish links between the Fuhrer and certain powerful elements in Great Britain who foresee Russia as the real enemy...'

The German crossed his legs, took out his pipe and lit it, tamping the tobacco with his index finger. His eyes never left the Englishman's face as he took his time replying. Lindsay sensed he was in the company of one of the most experienced interrogators in the Third Reich.

'And who are these powerful elements you speak of?' he eventually enquired:

'That
is
classified information also. Ask the Fuhrer

Keep the replies short. Don't elaborate - above all don't get drawn into the trap of conversing freely with Hartmann. On the surface the German seemed a kindly man, more like an intelligent civil servant than a member of one of the most ambiguous organizations in Hitler's Germany.

'This nonsense about your being involved in an assassination attempt.. Hartmann paused, giving the Englishman time to make some comment. Lindsay remained silent, lighting another cigarette from the pack supplied by Christa.

'You appear to be on good terms with Christa Lundt,' Hartmann remarked, switching the topic without warning.

'She's curious about me because I'm British, I suppose...'

'She has also become very attached to you since your arrival. I have found out she kept very much to herself before that.'

'If you say so.'

Hartmann stood up and smiled. 'We are fencing. I gain the strongest impression you have been trained to resist any form of interrogation...'

'Wouldn't you be wary if you had people like Gruber prowling about?' Lindsay flashed back. 'Not that I equate you with the Gestapo...' It was the Englishman's turn to study the other man's reaction. Hartmann paused in the act of knocking out his pipe in an ashtray, looking up at Lindsay from beneath his bushy eyebrows. Some kind of message passed between them, something unfathomable.