Angel in Jeopardy: The thrilling sequel to Angel of Vengeance (Anna Fehrbach Book 4)

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘But you . . . I will have to tell them everything.’

  ‘I thought you might say that. You understand that I cannot permit that to happen.’

  His face seemed to freeze as she opened her shoulder bag and took her own capsule from the special compartment in which she kept it. She also took out the Luger she had placed in the bag before leaving her apartment. ‘You may use my pill.’

  ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘It is the only way out.’

  ‘You wish me to kill myself. Are you going to kill yourself?’

  ‘I think one of us needs to survive, for the sake of MI6, and while I do not wish to appear arrogant, I cannot help feeling that I am more valuable to that organization than you.’

  ‘And you do not think the Gestapo will arrest you also?’

  ‘Not if you are not here to testify against me.’

  ‘And what do you think Edda will do? Or do you intend to kill her too?’

  ‘Edda is of no consequence to me. I have convinced Dr Goebbels that in accusing me of involvement in your treason she was acting from sheer jealousy.’ She pushed the pill across the desk with her gun muzzle.

  ‘I absolutely refuse to do such a thing. Kill myself? My God!’

  ‘If you refuse,’ Anna said, ‘then as an SD officer I will place you under arrest, and we will sit here until the Gestapo arrive. Do you know what they will do to you, Luigi? They will attach an electrical clip to your penis and put another up your ass, and turn on the current. Believe me, it is the worst possible experience. I know. It happened to me once, if not exactly like that, of course, as I am not a man.’

  Bartoli stared at her with his mouth open.

  ‘But very briefly,’ Anna explained, ‘a matter of a few seconds. They were punishing me, you see – not attempting to get information. But I estimate that if it had lasted for even a minute I would have gone mad and said anything they wished me to say. And when you have done that, then they will hang you. There will not be a drop. You will be hoisted from the floor, slowly, and left to kick your life away, while they poke fun at you. You will be naked, you see, and you know what happens to a man when he is hanged. There is no possibility of you surviving arrest. Only the certainty of several hours of agony followed by a humiliating death. I am offering you a quick and painless alternative.’

  Bartoli licked his lips. ‘You can sit there and say things like that to me, after we have been comrades for so long?’

  ‘I do not think we have ever been comrades. And you may recall that two years ago, when Edda got me embroiled with the Abwehr, I told you to get rid of her. Instead you married her. But for that stupid mistake, you would not be in the position you now find yourself. Now time is running out. Use the capsule, or I will take it back and hand you over to the Gestapo.’

  A last stare, then he picked up the capsule. A tear trickled out of his eye as he placed it in his mouth. Then he took a long breath, his eyes dilated, and he fell forward across his desk. Number twenty-five! Anna waited a few moments, then replaced the gun in her bag, dried her hands on her handkerchief – she was dripping sweat – and picked up the phone. She gave the number of Gestapo Headquarters. ‘This is the Countess von Widerstand. Put me through to Reichsführer Himmler.’

  There was no hesitation nowadays; everyone knew who the Countess von Widerstand was.

  ‘Anna? Is something the matter?’

  ‘Herr Reichsführer,’ Anna said. ‘I have a problem.’

  Just Good Friends

  ‘What a terrible thing,’ Himmler said, holding Anna’s hand. ‘A nest of vipers, in our very bosom! Do you know that when we searched Bartoli’s house, we found some very sophisticated radio equipment? The man has been a spy for ages.’

  ‘This equipment . . .’ Anna held her breath.

  ‘Oh, yes, we immediately monitored it. We didn’t have a call sign, but we listened, and sure enough a message came through. It really was somewhat confusing. Our experts say it came from London, not Italy. That doesn’t make sense, does it? On the other hand, when we decoded the transcript of the Morse message it was in English. But as for what it meant – all about someone named Belinda being contacted – have you ever heard of anyone named Belinda?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Well, no matter. He, or she, is not going to be contacted now. All thanks to you. You are a quite remarkable young woman.’

  ‘I really had nothing to do with it,’ Anna protested.

  ‘You are too modest.’

  ‘No, truly,’ Anna said. ‘Dr Goebbels suggested I go to see Bartoli, because he knew I was acquainted with him, and his wife had made this accusation against him. Dr Goebbels only said I should inform him of his wife’s action and observe his reaction. Well, I was absolutely amazed when, no sooner had I finished speaking, he clapped his hand to his mouth, I thought he was coughing for a moment, then I realized what was happening. I tried to stop him, but it was too late. He never actually admitted anything.’

  ‘But don’t you see, Anna – the fact that the moment he learned of his wife’s accusation he committed suicide is a confession of guilt?’

  ‘Ah,’ Anna said, ‘yes. I never thought of that. But if the radio link is with London, it proves that Frau Bartoli’s accusation was simply jealousy, as Dr Goebbels and I both suspected.’

  ‘Absolutely. But it is amazing what can emerge from the most careless action. In her fit of jealousy, this woman uncovered a vast spy plot.’

  ‘What will happen to her?’

  ‘I think she had better go to Ravensbrück. She is obviously a troublemaker. I mean, accusing you of having had an affair with her husband . . .’ He peered at her. ‘You didn’t, did you?’

  ‘Of course I did not.’ Anna bristled with indignation. ‘Can you imagine me and that . . . that . . .’

  ‘No, I cannot imagine it,’ Himmler agreed. ‘I apologize. Tell me, ah . . . Dr Goebbels didn’t make any improper advances, did he?’

  ‘Dr Goebbels behaved like a perfect gentleman when I was in his office.’ Which, she reflected, he had done, according to his interpretation of the word.

  ‘One hears these rumours . . . Well, Anna, you have done very well. As always. My congratulations. I think you could take the rest of today off. Yesterday must have been a considerable ordeal for you.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ And think about Belinda, she thought. But whoever was coming was surely going to be intelligent enough only to use the word to her. As for von Steinberg, tonight . . .

  *

  ‘Mr Andrews is here,’ Amy said, disapprovingly. She was fully aware of Clive’s futile attempts to contact his American opposite number.

  ‘Here?!’ Clive stood up. ‘Bring him in.’

  ‘Mr Bartley can see you now, Mr Andrews,’ Amy announced, using her boom-boom voice.

  ‘Joe!’ Clive said. ‘How good to see you. What brings you across the Atlantic?’

  ‘Sarcasm never did become you.’ Joseph Andrews’s voice was a slow Southern drawl. His entire demeanour suggested a relaxed, contented view of life which fitted his tall, rather thin body and strongly aquiline features, but Clive had known him, and from time to time worked with him, for several years before the war, and had always had the highest regard for his ability and pragmatic determination. He also knew that when the famous Wild Bill Donovan had been charged by President Roosevelt with setting up the enigmatic and top secret Office of Strategic Services, Joe Andrews had been one of his first recruits, out of the FBI.

  But he had never been particularly happy at having to share Anna. It had been forced on him, after Anna had had that confrontation with the NKVD operatives in Washington two years previously. That had made a complicated situation into a jigsaw puzzle with every player holding a different piece. To the Germans Anna was their prize agent, utterly loyal because of the hold they had on her family. To the Russians she was an international assassin employed by the SD, to be killed on sight. To the British she was their prize agent. But to the Americans, who
had had to be informed of her MI6 connection to obtain their aid in getting her out of Russia, she was merely a double agent, with no guarantee which side was her favourite. And then she had gone and committed mass murder on American soil, her victims being nationals of a country that the United States, if not yet at war herself, had elected to support in every possible way short of war. For all his efforts, Clive had an idea that Anna could have wound up on Death Row had not Joe Andrews himself fallen head over heels in love with her while smuggling her out of Russia in 1941. Joe had persuaded Donovan that she would be more valuable working for the Stars and Stripes as well as the Union Jack rather than sitting in an electric chair. But there was a limit.

  ‘Sorry I couldn’t take your calls,’ Joe said. ‘We figured it’d be better to see you.’

  ‘And it took you six weeks to get around to it. Sit down.’

  ‘There were problems.’ Andrews lowered his lanky frame into the chair before the desk. ‘I’m not quite sure what’s bugging you. Anna does work for us as well as you, you know.’

  ‘What is bugging me,’ Clive said, ‘is that you have virtually blown her cover.’

  ‘Oh, come now, old buddy. We put one of our most reliable people in touch with her. I would say that Johannsson is a hell of a lot safer than your Bartoli.’

  ‘And this Steinberg, and his group?’

  ‘Let me fill you in on that. We have had our agents planted in Germany since well before we got into this business, as I’m sure you understand. Their job was to watch, listen and report, but also to encourage anti-Nazi opinions. So Johannsson, using his cover as a Swedish journalist, joined a group of intellectuals who were meeting privately to discuss various situations as they arose.’

  ‘Intellectuals,’ Clive remarked, disparagingly. ‘Don’t you suppose one of them might have been a Gestapo spy?’

  ‘If he was, or she, there has been no evidence of it. We’re not going to get anywhere without taking the odd risk.’

  ‘Not with Anna’s life.’

  ‘Anna risks her life every day she’s in Germany.’

  ‘And you’re happy to shorten the odds.’

  ‘No. But this could be too big to overlook. These people have come to the conclusion, obvious to you and me, maybe, but not to the average German, that the Reich can no longer win this war. But they are also aware of the declaration issued at Casablanca by Roosevelt and Churchill, that they will only accept unconditional surrender. However, this group feels it only applies to Hitler, and that if he were to be removed from office, the Allies might be more amenable.’

  Clive gave a short laugh. ‘As you say, Joe: intellectuals. And you have allowed them to involve Anna? As the person to do the job, I suppose. Regardless of what happens to her afterwards. You’re still remembering the Lubyanka. Do you seriously suppose you can get her out of a Gestapo cell? Or even Ravensbrück?’

  ‘Keep your shirt on. No one’s talking about assassinating Hitler. He is simply to be forced to resign his position as Führer.’

  ‘For God’s sake. Do you or your intellectual friends have any idea of what you are playing with? So why is Anna involved, if it is not a killing job?’

  ‘She is involved because the idea is to replace Hitler with Himmler. Don’t you see: the adherence of Himmler, commander of all the German police and secret services, would guarantee the success of the coup. And Anna works for Himmler, and is, as we understand it, just about his closest and most trusted aide. Believe me, no one in that group has the slightest idea that Anna is anything more than a dedicated member of Himmler’s staff, but Johannsson has suggested that she is also a dedicated German, who can be persuaded that the country can be saved from the worst by her boss, with her at his side.’

  ‘And you have allowed this farce to develop?’

  ‘Well . . . it could be dynamite.’

  ‘Oh, certainly. And result in an explosion that could blow Anna out of sight. Have you had a response from her?’

  ‘No, that’s the point. We know she has seen Steinberg, but according to Johannsson the best he could get out of her was that she would consider his proposal. That was some time ago. She did say that she would like a further meeting with Johannsson, who of course identified himself to her as one of our people, but he wanted a further directive from us before agreeing to see her again. As I say, these people know nothing about her, and they are terrified of betrayal.’

  ‘Simply because she didn’t jump up and down and clap her hands and shout “I’ll do it, I’ll do it”? Anna is too sensible for that.’

  ‘But from your messages I gather she’s referred the matter to you.’

  ‘When last we were in contact, she knew nothing more than that your man Johannsson wanted her to meet with Steinberg.’

  ‘But they met five weeks ago.’

  ‘That’s right. But she doesn’t trust Bartoli any more than you do. She’s asked for a private contact. We first of all had to find such a person, then give her some rudimentary training, and then arrange for a safe entry into Germany.’

  ‘Did you say “her”?’

  ‘Anna is more inclined to trust women than men. Anyway, she already knows this agent.’

  ‘And when does this woman get to Germany?’

  ‘Actually, she should arrive today.’

  ‘With what instructions?’

  ‘Simply that she should contact Anna, hear what she has to say, and come straight back to England.’

  ‘And what do you suppose Anna is going to say?’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea. But I don’t think she is going to be happy with the situation. Just as I am not happy. With respect, Joe, you guys are amateurs. This isn’t a game, whatever the novelists pretend. This is life and death, and the death can be extremely unpleasant. To have put Anna in such a position is both diabolical and unethical and, above all, unprofessional.’

  ‘OK, OK. As you keep telling me, we’re fighting a war. And we’re not really risking her. We have a couple of their people under lock and key back home. If something were to go wrong we’d simply do a swap. We’d lose her as an agent, but she would be out of it.’

  ‘Oh, good God Almighty. You simply don’t have a clue, do you? You people are living in some romantic Hollywood-inspired never-never land where the good guys always come out on top. Joseph, don’t you realize that whenever she regards the situation as unacceptably risky, Anna has a cyanide capsule in her mouth and if she ever feels she is in a position that cannot be resolved by either force or charm she will bite the capsule and be dead in thirty seconds.’

  Andrews stared at him with his mouth open. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘I am always serious where Anna is concerned.’

  ‘Holy shit! What are we to do?’

  Clive looked at his watch. ‘Go and have lunch. There is nothing we can do, until Belinda gets back.’

  *

  Belinda was on deck as the ferry from Malmö rounded the headland and entered Lübeck Harbour. She was both excited and apprehensive. Of course, her adventure hadn’t actually started yet; it would not begin until she set foot on German soil. But just to be a part of what she had always heard described as the Great Game was exhilarating. And she was actually looking forward to meeting Anna again, and as an equal. Obviously she was aware that she lacked Anna’s beauty and charisma, not to mention her lethal skills, but always in the past she had felt that Anna had regarded her as nothing more than a necessary appendage, to keep Clive’s bed warm when she wasn’t available. But now she would have to accord her the respect due to another agent, and one vital to her own success.

  She gazed at the considerable amount of bomb damage done to the seaport, particularly it seemed in the docks area, as the ferry nosed alongside the wharf. Warps were thrown and secured, and the gangway was run out. Belinda picked up her valise – she was only planning to spend two nights in Germany – and joined the queue, her shoulder bag nestling against her side. It was her business to be as inconspicuous as possible
, so she wore a quiet blue suit over a white blouse, low-heeled shoes, and a slouch hat. The line moved slowly forward, the head of it crossing the dock to disappear into the Customs and Immigration building, where the windows, obviously shattered, were boarded up. There were two policemen on the dock, but they looked utterly bored.

  Belinda followed the line into the doorway and the gloomy interior lit by dim electric bulbs, where inevitably there was a long, low counter, on which each set of bags was being placed, while at the far end of the room there were two men, wearing lounge suits but very obviously also policemen. They watched the line of new arrivals, but equally without great interest.

  Belinda arrived before one of the immigration officials and presented her passport. She was aware that her pulse had quickened, but did not feel that it was showing in her face. ‘Claudia Ratosi,’ the officer said. ‘Italy is in the south, Fräulein.’ He had noticed the absence of a wedding ring.

  ‘I have been in Sweden on business,’ Belinda said, pleased with the evenness of her voice.

  ‘What is your business?’

  ‘Clothes.’

  ‘You have come to Germany to buy clothes?’ He seemed surprised.

  ‘I am actually on my way home,’ Belinda explained. ‘But I am going to Berlin for a few days.’

  ‘To buy clothes.’

  ‘No, to sell clothes. I am a saleswoman for an Italian couturier. So I am going to see Signor Bartoli, of Antoinette’s Boutique. Perhaps you have heard of him? Then I am going on to Milan.’

  The officer nodded, and stamped her passport. ‘I will wish you good business, Fräulein.’

  Belinda passed down the line to Customs, opened her valise. She had no doubt that the customs officer had overheard the exchange, but she was not concerned: MI6 had fitted her out with a folder of dress designs, and another of material samples.

  ‘You say these are for Antoinette’s Boutique in Berlin?’ He had a somewhat loud voice.

  ‘No, no,’ Belinda said. ‘They are for Signor Bartoli to look at, and hopefully place an order.’

  He nodded, closed the case, and scribbled on it with a piece of chalk. ‘Next.’