“Ah, no!” answered the Director. “She’s gone home to prepare for you. But I have a surprise waiting outside for you.”
“A surprise?” The former SS man looked puzzled.
They had reached the entrance hall of the British Military Hospital, where Dingle, Jones and Ritchie were waiting.
“Ah! My colleagues are here to say goodbye to you.”
The three men smiled and shook hands with Mueller. Then the Director took him by the arm, led him to the door and pointed outside.
Mueller followed the line of the big man’s finger and saw the Mercedes with the girl standing beside it. The girl saw them in the doorway and waved.
Mueller looked uncertainly at the Director.
“Is it? No! It can’t be.”
The Director was smiling.
“Is it? Kristen?” the German whispered the name.
“She has your papers,” said the Director. “The car will take both of you to the airport.”
Mueller, tears streaming down his face, ran towards the car.
“There’s touching,” said Jones. “Brings a lump to my throat it does. I suppose the bastard has paid for his crimes after nearly thirty years on the run.”
“There is only one way that bastards like him can ever pay for their crimes, Mr. Jones,” said the Director acidly.
The Welshman looked puzzled.
“I thought it funny that you should turn him loose, sir; but I suppose you had to strike a bargain with him.” He shrugged. “Still, that daughter of his is something though. I wouldn’t mind…”
“Mr. Jones, you suppose too much,” snapped the SS(0)S chief. “That girl is not Mueller’s daughter. She’s an Israeli agent… and the plane they will be boarding at Tempelhof will be making its first stop at Tel Aviv.”
Jones gaped. “But… but what about Frau Mueller? She was with the girl…”
“Hilde Mueller is glad to see the back of her husband. There is a man she wants to marry. She agreed to co-operate with us and the Israelis… in return for our silence.”
“God! What a filthy trade we’re in,” said Jones with feeling. “The poor bugger. He ran out of here just now, thinking he was free.”
“Poetic justice I call it,” put in Dingle. “That’s just what that ‘poor bugger’ did to thousands of Jews before and during the war. Only he led them to the gas chambers.”
“Thank you James,” said the Director. “I’m glad the whole of my department hasn’t gone soft. Now call my car somebody. I’d better pay my respects to our friends in Abteilung Eins before we go home.”
*
“Pleased to have been of help, Director,” said the Inspector. “But there’s just one thing before you go.”
“What’s that?” The Director’s bushy eyebrows shot up interrogatively.
“The list. The Federal Government would like a copy. So much better if we deal with our own dirty linen, don’t you think?”
“Good grief! Isn’t anything secret any more,” shouted the big Englishman. “I’ll get a few hundred copies run off for anyone who wants them.
“But first, can someone send a cable for me?”
*
In Tel Aviv, the Israeli Intelligence colonel tore open the envelope and read the cable. It said: The time for vengeance, 5:30.
The colonel looked across the desk at the major.
“We’d better get down to the airport. Mueller is coming in at five-thirty.”
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A Time for Vengeance Page 12
