The Leader And The Damned (37 page)

Paco counted out a large pile of banknotes. Picking up the key, she gestured for Lindsay to follow her. Bora and Milk preceded her up the stairs. She waited until they were alone at the end of a long corridor before speaking.

'Bora, we're catching the 4.30 am train from the Sudbahnhof to Graz - so get what sleep you can. No problems on the way here?'

'Our cab broke down - his scrap metal engine exploded. We walked two miles. This murdered soldier worries me. By morning the area could be swarming with Gestapo...'

'So, we're catching the earliest train we can. Go to bed, Bora.'

'Lindsay followed Paco along the narrow, bare- boarded corridor to Room 17. It was larger inside than he'd expected - dim light filtered through the un-curtained window. He went across and looked out. The view was restricted - a blank wall opposite, a thread of an alley below. He closed the curtains carefully and Paco switched on the light, a naked bulb the equivalent of forty watts.

Paco sank on to the edge of the large bed. 'Thanks for keeping quiet about those two thugs we met - they must be the men who killed that soldier. The receptionist would have been alarmed. And Bora would have had a fit..

'You gave that receptionist enough money. I was amazed. We can trust him?'

'The price of secrecy. We can trust our money. Funny, isn't it, for that amount we could have stayed at the Sacher.

'Why didn't we? This place is quite a dump.'

'Lindsay, you've stopped learning again. If by any quirk of fate they've traced us to Vienna they'll check the top hotels first - the places where the Baroness Werther would stay at. To say nothing of the problem of registration. And here we're a stone's throw from the Sudbahnhof. I'm dog-tired - get me the suitcase out of that big wardrobe...'

The furnishings were simple - primitive might have been a better word. A large wardrobe with a door which didn't close properly, a cracked mirror. The large bed with varnish peeling off the headboard. A cracked wash-basin which exuded a peculiar aroma if you stood too close. He placed the case on the bed and sat at the top with the case between them.

'We're peasants from now on,' she said. 'We change into our new clothes before we sleep - then if we have to leave quickly by the fire-escape we're dressed. It's at the end of the corridor ….'

Dropping from fatigue, Lindsay changed into the outfit Paco had chosen for him - a thick shirt with a worn collar, a pair of green corduroy trousers which had been repaired many times and a heavy, shabby

jacket.

Paco was quicker and by the time he had changed she was in bed under the down quilt and fast asleep. Wearily he climbed in the other side, careful not to disturb her and lay down. Closing his eyes, he slipped into blessed oblivion.

It was 3 am. At SS headquarters in Vienna all the men seated round the table could hardly keep their eyes open except for one. Gustav Hartmann seemed tireless and capable of going on for ever without

sleep.

Gruber was holding forth. By his side sat his new colleague, Willy Maisel, a thin-faced man of thirty with a thatch of dark hair who had a considerable reputation for shrewdness.

'This Englishman and the subversives have now killed a German soldier near the Sudbahnhof!' He was working himself up into an excited state. 'This is the second time they have murdered..

'Oh, for God's sake, interrupted Colonel Jaeger, 'don't get so bloody theatrical. Certainly not at this hour.'

By his side Schmidt lifted his eyes to heaven and flung a pencil down on the table. In the brief silence the noise was like a pistol shot.

'The evidence points in another- direction,' ventured Willy Maisel. 'We have precise descriptions of the two assailants, both youths who sound to me like deserters. Nothing at all to do with Wing Commander Lindsay and his friends.'

'Thank you for your support,' Gruber said nastily. 'At least I have taken some positive action, which is more than anyone else could claim, I suspect...'

'Oh, what action is that?' Hartmann enquired jovially.

'Gestapo agents and their network of paid informants are at this moment checking all the top hotels in the city. This pseudo-Baroness likes to live well, the murdering bitch...'

'Good for you,' Hartmann replied with a straight face. 'I'm sure tying up your forces on that mission will prove highly profitable.'

'I'm declaring this meeting closed.' Jaeger stood up and shoved his chair back against the wall with a hard kick of his boot. 'I want some sleep. We'll start again in the morning...'

Schmidt strolled over to Hartmann, glancing back at the table to where Gruber and Maisel still sat with their heads together. The SS officer waited until they were in the corridor before he asked his question.

'Do you think Gruber knows what he is talking about - this obsession with the Sudbahnhof?'

'Maisel is the clever one,' Hartmann replied cryptically. 'He supplies the brains, Gruber the brute force.

A perfectly balanced Gestapo team. They should go far!'

'Which means you're evading my question,' Schmidt remarked without malice as they continued along the corridor.

'The Sudbahnhof is a working-class area - one of the really poor districts. Good night...'

Schmidt watched the Abwehr man disappearing down a flight of steps. He suspected Hartmann had been giving him a clue - but he was too exhausted to work it out.

'Wake up, Lindsay, you lazy slug. You've had hours of sleep!'

Lindsay's head was full of cotton-wool. He opened his eyes as Paco shook his shoulder again. He felt he had just gone to sleep. Would it never stop - this pushing on and on and on? Christ, he wished they'd been able to make Switzerland.

'What time is it?' he asked as he sat up and forced his legs out of bed.

'Four o'clock. Train leaves in thirty minutes. Get something inside you. I brought breakfast up.'

Breakfast was one slice of dark bread which tasted like sawdust sprinkled with charcoal. There was a chipped mug containing some liquid he couldn't identify. Sitting at a small table he looked at Paco.

She was wearing a faded head-scarf tied under her chin which hid her blonde hair. A heavy bolero-style jacket and a cheap skirt which billowed out completed the new ensemble. It made her look plumper.

He finished the bread and swallowed the rest of the liquid. The battered old suitcase stood on the floor. He gestured towards it.

'We take that?'

'Yes, you carry it. We change clothes again when we arrive at the refuge in Graz. Any talking needed at the station you leave to me. I've already got our tickets. Ready?'

'No! So let's go...'

He picked up the working man's cloth cap and pulled it down over his forehead. The clothes felt strange - and not only from sleeping in them. The material was stiff and unyielding. He had picked up the case when he caught sight of himself in the cracked wardrobe mirror.

'I haven't had a shave...'

'I want you whiskered, you clot! You're a peasant. Some people can't think of the simplest things...'

'Oh, stop your nagging, for Christ's sake!'

'That's better,' she told him. 'I want you alert. We go out by the fire-escape - the receptionist says a policeman is watching the front entrance...'

The fire-escape was a rusted contraption clinging precariously to the side of the rear of the building. It led down into the narrow alley Lindsay had seen from the bedroom window when they had arrived.

'I don't like the look of this …'

'Go on!' she hissed.

One of the metal treads gave way under his weight, then stabilized at a slant. Bora and Milic were waiting for them in the alley. Lindsay noticed Bora also carried an ancient suitcase. Both men were clad in peasant garb. Paco pushed past them and Lindsay followed her out of the alley into the open.

Smoke. In the pre-dawn atmosphere the whole district appeared to be shrouded in smoke. It was the relics of the overnight fog. They passed the silhouettes of slum tenements and then he had his first glimpse of the grim building which was the Sudbahnhof. More like a prison than a railway station.

Stooped figures like ghosts drifted towards the building. He followed Paco inside the booking-hall where more figures huddled in the cold, formed queues behind the ticket windows. They went through the door on to the platform. A train stood waiting with destination plates attached to the coaches: Graz. At this moment he saw Gruber, the Gestapo chief from the Berghof.

'Do as I tell you and don't bloody argue...'

Lindsay grabbed Paco by the arm and held on tightly. She was compelled to stop and he knew she was furious. He didn't care. Gruber! Suddenly he was alert. The taste of his filthy breakfast was forgotten. He glanced both ways along the crowded platform.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' she whispered.

'Keep still a minute!'

He kept hold of her arm, forcing her to do his bidding. Two youths who had been strolling towards him stopped in their tracks. They were the youths who had attacked him with an iron pipe. Lindsay, sensing Gruber's closeness to his left, stared hard at them.

The one who had run away saw him first, said something to his companion, who then also stared back at Lindsay. They turned away. They began to run, knocking down an old woman in their haste. It became a commotion.

'
Halt!
' Gruber's voice, a harsh shout. 'Halt, I say - or we fire!'

Gruber rushed straight in front of Lindsay, a Luger in his right hand, followed by two more men also holding pistols. The three men stopped, aimed their weapons. Lindsay counted six shots. One of the youths flung up both hands like an athlete at the winning tape and crashed forward on to the platform. The second youth screamed, stopped, grabbed his left leg and sank down on one knee.

'Come on! Now!'

Lindsay hustled Paco aboard the train, glanced back, saw Milic and Bora close behind, and pushed Paco along the corridor. She found an empty compartment and sank into the corner seat next to the corridor. He closed the door as Bora and Milic moved on to another compartment.

'That was Gruber of the Gestapo,' Lindsay said quietly, heaving the case on to the rack. 'He questioned me before we escaped from the Berghof …'
 
No point in telling Paco about the existence and location of the Wolf's Lair. 'Those two thugs thought I was going to point the finger at them. They saw me, they saw Gruber - Gestapo written all over him. They panicked - as I hoped. The perfect diversion for us. Any comment?'

He sat down and she leaned her head back and studied him. Her breasts were heaving as she struggled to get her breath back. She smiled.

'You really have learned fast, haven't you, Lindsay?'

It was all over Vienna in no time - the news that the Gestapo had shot one of the two murderers of a German soldier and had the other in custody. Gruber saw to it that the triumph was broadcast. This put the Gestapo one up against the SS and the Abwehr. What he did not foresee was that within twenty-four hours this would bring Hartmann to Gestapo headquarters where the surviving deserter was to be interrogated.

Hartmann had no difficulty in persuading the officer on duty to give him access to the prisoner. He simply waved Bormann's document under his nose.

At that moment Gruber was preoccupied in his office trying to get through to the Berghof.

'I am Major Hartmann,' the Abwehr officer informed the deserter who was lying on a bed in a cell with his leg bandaged. 'You realize your position? You will be tried and sentenced on the evidence of the soldier who survived your brutal assault...'

'It was Gerd who killed him...' the youth protested.

'If I am to help you,' Hartmann interrupted, 'you must tell me what happened at the Sudbahnhof. I cannot understand why you panicked. No one had seen you...'

'The man and the girl had spotted us...'

The youth stopped as though he had said too much. Hartmann leaned forward as he raised a warning finger.

'I am short of time. I am the Abwehr. Once I leave here you are alone - with the Gestapo. What man, what girl?'

'The previous night we stopped them near the Sudbahnhof. The funny thing is they were dressed so differently I might never have recognized them at the station - but the man kept staring at me...'