Anna opened the door and entered a sparsely furnished office; another open door led to what might have been a waiting room. Behind her, the chauffeur closed the outer door, this time locking it.
‘The Countess von Widerstand, Herr Bochner,’ Tobler said.
Bochner, who had been seated behind the desk, stood up. He was a tall, heavy man, who vaguely reminded her of the Russian commissar Ewfim Chalyapov. That was a sufficient cause for her to dislike him, even if she had not been conditioned to dislike all Gestapo personnel on sight.
‘Countess,’ he said. ‘Please sit down.’
Anna sat in the straight chair before the desk, her shoulder bag dangling against her right side. Bochner returned behind the desk, Tobler stood beside him, and the chauffeur stood against the door; she could have been back in Geneva. ‘Your goon suggested that you would tell me what this is all about.’
‘My goon. Ah, ha. That is an Americanism, is it not? I do not think the lady likes you, Tobler.’
‘But I like her, Herr Bochner.’
‘Well, you will have to be patient. There are three of us.’
So that’s how you would like it to be, Anna thought. It did not encourage her to feel any sympathy for him. ‘You still have not told me why I am here,’ she pointed out.
‘You are a very arrogant woman.’
‘Well, of course I am. I am the Countess von Widerstand. Have you never heard of me?’
‘I have heard the name.’
‘When last did you work in Germany?’
‘Three years ago.’
‘Ah. But someone told you I was coming to Sweden.’
‘We were informed by Herr Werter of the Lübeck office.’
‘Ah,’ Anna said again.
‘I believe that you have met Herr Werter?’
‘Indeed I have. And he told you of me.’
‘He said you are employed by the SD, but in what capacity he is not quite sure. He felt that your activities were suspicious, and suggested that we keep an eye on you while you are in Stockholm.’
‘So you have been following me,’ Anna said, pleasantly. ‘And I was unaware of it. I congratulate you. So what have you found out?’
‘You had lunch with Count Bernadotte the day before yesterday, and again today.’
‘And this is of interest to you?’
‘On your first meeting with Count Bernadotte you handed him a sealed envelope. Today he gave you an envelope back. I think we need to see what is in that envelope.’
‘What makes you think that it is of the least interest to anyone except me?’
‘Well, Countess, would you not say that coming all the way to Stockholm to exchange letters with Count Bernadotte, in preference to merely using the post office, is suspicious? And when it is taken in conjunction with your meeting with a man who apparently flew in from England just to see you and then flew out again – well . . .’
‘It is very unfortunate that you found all of this out,’ Anna said. ‘But again I congratulate you on your diligence. However, I’m afraid I must refuse either to show you the contents of Count Bernadotte’s letter, or to answer any more questions.’ She stood up. ‘So if you will excuse me . . .’
‘You are not going anywhere, Countess, until you have satisfied us’ – he grinned – ‘in every possible way. It is not often that we have the privilege of entertaining such a handsome woman.’
Anna glanced at the door.
‘You cannot get out. Nor is there any use screaming; these offices are sound-proofed. And there is no one in all Stockholm has any idea that you are here. Except Count Bernadotte. But as you have a seat booked on tomorrow morning’s train to Malmö, he will not expect to hear from you again. If anyone else is interested, you will simply have disappeared on your walk back to your hotel.’
‘Suppose I had elected to be driven back?’
‘Then we would have had to force an entry to your hotel room. But this way is much more convenient for us.’
‘Of course it is. You must consider this your lucky day. May I ask one more question before you start enjoying yourself?’
‘What is it?’
‘Is your secretary going to have a go at me too? I do not see her.’
‘My secretary only comes in for a couple of hours every morning. By that time, you will no longer be here.’
‘You have been so co-operative,’ Anna said, ‘in telling me everything I need to know. Well, in all the circumstances, I suppose I had better give you the letter.’ She opened her shoulder bag and put her hand inside.
‘That is a very sensible decision,’ Bochner agreed. ‘But you do realize that, after everything that has been said, we are not going to let you go without interrogating you.’
‘I was sure of it,’ Anna said, bringing up the Luger and shooting him in the chest, then turning the gun on the other two men before either could react. Tobler died instantly, shot in the heart. The chauffeur, hit in the stomach, and clearly in great pain, still managed to reach for his gun, but Anna shot him through the head before he could use it.
Bochner, hit on the right side of the chest and spewing blood, was grasping for the desk drawer. Anna stood above him. ‘I don’t know anything about Gestapo training methods,’ she said, ‘but in the SD one of the first essentials we have to learn is: always search a suspect the moment he, or she, is arrested. But it’s too late for that, for you.’
She shot him again in the chest, sending him back to the floor, then went to the chauffeur, took the pistol from his hand and shot the dying Bochner in the forehead. Then she wiped the pistol clean of her prints, and placed it back in the chauffeur’s hand, making sure the fingers were tight enough to leave their prints. Next she did the same for her own gun, wiping it clean before placing it in Bochner’s hand. She looked around the room, but there was no trace of her presence to be seen. She let herself out, closing the door behind her, went down the stairs, and walked back to the hotel.
In her room, she ordered supper and a bottle of wine all to herself, then sat and gazed at Bernadotte’s letter for some moments. But steaming it open would be highly risky. She had no doubt that whatever was in it would come out, eventually. Twenty-eight, she thought. And had a hot shower.
Crisis
‘Hm,’ Himmler commented, studying Bernadotte’s letter. ‘Hm.’
‘Not bad news, I hope, sir,’ Anna said.
It was late at night and she had just regained Berlin, after an all-day journey from Stockholm, highlighted by the expression on Werter’s face when she had stepped off the Malmö ferry and given him her brightest smile. But he was someone to be dealt with later. More immediately, her late arrival had meant getting Himmler out of bed, and he was even less prepossessing than usual, in his striped pyjamas and tousled hair – such as there was of it.
He raised his head. ‘Did Count Bernadotte discuss my letter with you?’
‘No, sir, he did not. He merely said that he would provide a written reply. But it took him two days to do so.’
‘Yes. These Swedes are damnable people, so dour, so pessimistic. Still, they are the best we have.’
‘The best for what, sir?’ Anna asked innocently.
‘For whatever we need them for.’ He went to the sideboard and poured two balloons of cognac, gave her one. ‘You had no trouble?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Hm.’ He sat down and threw one leg across the other. ‘I received a quite startling report from our Stockholm embassy this afternoon.’
‘Sir?’ As she knew what was coming, she was prepared for it.
‘Did you know that we maintain a Gestapo office in that city? In fact we do in most neutral cities. It is illegal, of course, and so they operate under a variety of disguises. These are generally known to the local police, but as long as our people do not break the law they are tolerated.’
‘And the Stockholm office has broken the law?’ Anna allowed herself to look anxious.
‘It is difficult to say. The Stockholm
office no longer exists.’
Anna sipped her brandy. ‘I do not understand, sir.’
‘There was a three-man staff, with a Swedish secretary. Apparently, when the secretary went in this morning, she found our three agents all dead.’
‘Good Lord! But how?’
‘It would appear that they shot each other.’
‘Sir?’
‘Two of them were holding guns. The police have recovered the bullets and they are undergoing ballistic tests now, but there can be no doubt that they all came from the guns held by two of the dead men.’
‘What a terrible thing,’ Anna commented. ‘Have the police a theory on what might have happened?’
‘No. As I said, although our people were operating as trading agents, the Swedes knew who they were, which is why they immediately reported the incident to the embassy, presumably in the hope of obtaining some relevant information; but they could offer no explanation.’
‘Perhaps they quarrelled over a woman,’ Anna suggested.
‘What, all three of them?’
‘Well, two may have quarrelled, and the third attempted to interfere.’
‘My God, what is this country coming to? These people are supposed to be the best we have. Still, as long as you were not in any way involved . . .’ He peered at her.
‘I did not go near any of our people in Stockholm, Herr Reichsführer’ – which was no lie: they had come near her. ‘You gave me the impression that my mission had to be secret.’
‘Well, of course. And you have, as always, carried it out without a hitch. You are a treasure. I only wish Bernadotte had found it possible to be more positive. Still . . . Now you go downstairs to bed. I wish to see you first thing tomorrow morning on a very important matter.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Anna drained her glass and stood up. ‘Heil Hitler.’
As no one had known how long she would be in Sweden, there had been no car waiting for her, and she had caught the train, which was why it had taken her so long to regain Berlin. So at least she did not have Essermann hanging round her neck. But she suspected that relief was only going to be temporary. If she seemed to have unloaded her responsibility for the murder of Hitler, and thus any risk of involvement, she had accumulated a new problem: Werter. As he had been the one who had alerted the Stockholm office to her visit, when the news reached him that that entire staff had been wiped out, he would have to be very thick indeed not to wonder if there wasn’t a connection. Perhaps she should have told Himmler the truth. She had only been carrying out his orders that no one should learn the contents of those so-mysterious letters, and he could have no idea of the more important point: that no one could be allowed to know of Baxter’s visit. And to further muddy the water, he was obviously about to send her off on another jaunt. Well, she thought, a couple of days in the company, and hopefully the arms, of Henri, would be a very pleasant relief.
Birgit was in bed, but scrambled up to greet her mistress, wearing striped pyjamas reminiscent of Himmler’s though far more attractive. ‘Oh, Countess, I am so glad you are home.’
As she was always greeted like this, Anna did not regard the maid’s enthusiasm as exceptional. But she asked, ‘Have you got us settled in?’ The little apartment certainly looked comfortable enough.
‘I have done my best. Your sister was here, yesterday.’
‘What?’
‘She apparently found out that we are living in this building, and wanted to see you.’
‘What about?’
‘She did not say.’ Birgit peered at her. ‘She is your sister?’
‘Yes,’ Anna agreed. ‘Well, no doubt she’ll come back if she has something on her mind. I am very tired and so I am going to bed.’
Was this another looming problem? she wondered, as she slid beneath the sheet. But it could keep. Himmler’s problem, whatever it was, came first.
*
‘Good morning, Anna. Sit down.’
Anna lowered herself into the chair before the desk.
‘Now, this conspiracy business . . .’
Oh God, she thought. She had assumed that was buried.
‘You are aware that there can be no doubt that the Allies are poised to carry out an invasion of France.’
‘I know they have been building up forces, sir. But surely they cannot yet be ready for such an undertaking.’
‘My information is that that they are entirely ready. The whole south of England has been turned into one vast armed camp. It seems certain that they are waiting only for the end of the winter with the promise of good weather in the Channel. So it may happen as soon as Easter. Certainly our army commanders expect it before the end of May. I do not understand about these things, but it seems that it will depend on the moon and the time of dawn and the correct tide. Obviously, we intend to smash them when they come, but we must do everything to make sure of this.’
Smash them when they come, Anna thought. Is that why you are negotiating so anxiously, and at the moment unsuccessfully, with Bernadotte? and why you are frantically moving as much money as possible out of Germany?
Baxter had given no indication that an invasion was close. But he would not, even to her; whatever his kind words, she knew he had never fully trusted her. But that was irrelevant, if they were actually coming, if the end of this nightmare in which she lived, and which had been going on now for six years, was actually in sight.
Himmler had been studying her. ‘I know that it is an immense concept, Anna,’ he said, ‘which is why we must take all possible steps to make sure it ends in a victory for the Reich. If we can meet this invasion, and smash it, it will throw their plans back at least a year, and by the end of this year all our secret weapons will be operational.’
‘Yes, sir.’ She had heard so much about these secret weapons, but all she had been able to discover for certain was that they involved the new kind of bomb she had described to Baxter. In any event, her ability to remit information to London had ended with the demise of Bartoli, and since then her English masters had been more interested in the plot against Hitler than in any information about possible secret weapons she might have been able to obtain.
‘That is why it is necessary for us to consider the possibility of there being a conspiracy amongst the high military command in a serious manner.’
‘I thought we had dismissed it as fantasy.’
‘No, no, Anna. You convinced me that Freddie von Steinberg could have had nothing to do with it. But I have been keeping track of things. That is my job, eh? – gathering straws in the wind; and some of these straws have been remarkably solid. There can be no doubt that Beck is up to something.’
Oh, my God! She thought. ‘But . . .’
‘Why haven’t I arrested him? I will tell you why, Anna. It is because the information I have received convinces me that there are quite a few serving generals involved. What do you think the Führer would say if I placed half of the Wehrmacht’s commanding officers under arrest? What would the Wehrmacht say? Would they fight to the last drop of their blood to defeat the Allies if they felt their generals were not wholeheartedly with them?’
‘What a terrible situation,’ Anna muttered. She was not thinking only of the Wehrmacht, or its officers. He did not seem to realize that Hitler was thinking along the same lines.
‘Exactly.’
‘May I ask, Herr Reichsführer, how many people know of your suspicions?’
‘Well, of course, quite a few people know that I am keeping Beck, and certain other people, under surveillance. But no one knows exactly why.’
‘But you have told the Führer?’ She held her breath.
‘No, I have not. He has more than enough on his plate without being worried by talk of a conspiracy, whether real or imagined. Besides, if there is a conspiracy, how do I know which of my people is involved. I have confided only in you, Anna, because I know that you are absolutely trustworthy.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Anna said, remembering that Shakespeare had ha
d his character Puck, in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, reflect: What fools these mortals be.
‘But I realize that you cannot carry out an investigation of this magnitude entirely on your own. However, your assistants must be absolutely as trustworthy as yourself. I assume you have total confidence in Essermann?’
‘Ah . . .’ But if she was going to have an assistant, Hellmuth was certainly the best prospect. ‘Yes, sir. I do.’
‘Then I will appoint him to be your aide. But you will also need a secretarial assistant who must be equally trustworthy.’
‘I will find one, sir.’ Even if she had no idea who it could be.
‘Do not worry. I have the very person. Your sister.’
‘What?’
Himmler raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t you trust your sister? Wouldn’t you like to have her working with you?’
‘Of course I would like that, sir. But in a project of this magnitude . . . She has no experience.’
‘She will learn from you. There could be no better teacher. I must tell you, Anna, that she has, so far, proved something of a disappointment.’
‘Sir?’
‘She seems to have a streak of – what shall I say? – squeamishness that you entirely lack. You remember your first big assignment? – that fellow Bordman?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You were told to seduce him, and you did it so successfully that he married you.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Tell me, what did he do to you, that first night? Or, ha, what did you do to him?’
‘I did nothing to him, sir, except to make it plain that I would neither slap his face nor scream for help if he made advances. I was a virgin.’
‘So, what did he do to you?’
‘He fucked me, sir.’
‘How?’
It was Anna’s turn to raise her eyebrows.
Himmler flushed. ‘I mean, was it strictly – well, the missionary position?’
‘The first time, sir.’
‘He did it more than once on your first night?’
Angel in Jeopardy: The thrilling sequel to Angel of Vengeance (Anna Fehrbach Book 4) Page 24
