Angel in Red: The thrilling sequel to Angel From Hell (Anna Fehrbach Book 2)

by Christopher Nicole

  *

  Bartoli beamed at her. ‘Seeing you always makes the day brighter, Countess.’

  Anna reflected that he had made a good recovery from the snubbing she had administered the last time they had met. ‘As you always bring me back to reality, Signor Bartoli.’

  He gave one of his gulps and ushered her into the fitting room, dismissing various females and closing the door. ‘If you would be so kind . . .’

  Anna removed her dress and petticoat and waited. The new dress was actually complete, and was even more garish than she remembered. But it fitted very well, although Bartoli found it necessary to bob about with pins and a piece of chalk. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘this will do very nicely.’ His face was close to her breasts. ‘When do you leave for Moscow?’

  ‘A week today.’

  ‘London is interested in anything you may be able to tell them about either current Nazi–Soviet relations, or current Soviet thinking. From what you said, this last is your prime objective, is it not?’

  ‘Yes. You realize that I am being posted for what may be a year. I do not think I shall be allowed to return to Berlin during that time. After a year my information may be out of date.’

  ‘You will be contacted in Moscow.’

  ‘By someone discreet, I hope.’

  ‘I understand so. Your contact will be known to you as you both are known to Belinda.’

  Anna stared at him, feeling the blood rushing into her cheeks from her suddenly pounding heart. Could it be true?

  Bartoli had been so close he might well have heard the quickened heartbeat. Now he stepped back and studied her. ‘You are upset. Is the news reassuring, or alarming?’

  It is both, Anna thought. To see Clive again! But they would have to be so terribly discreet. ‘It is reassuring, Signor Bartoli. You may inform London that I understand the message and anticipate a profitable relationship with my contact.’

  ‘Of course. And the dress?’

  ‘I am sure it needs something else doing to it. If you can complete the work by next Friday, I would like to hear from you. If you cannot, I would burn it.’

  ‘It is an expensive dress, Countess. My women have put in a lot of work on it.’

  ‘So send the bill to my apartment. Ciao.’

  The rest of the day passed in a dream. They had not only contacted her, but they were sending Clive!

  But before then she had to accommodate Meissenbach. Almost she felt like telephoning to tell the secretary she had a stomach upset and would have to cancel their assignation. In fact both her mind and her body were in such an agitated state that that would not be such a lie. But she had to control herself.

  *

  It was a three-hour journey to Prague, and she shared the first-class compartment with two officers, who naturally wanted to flirt. She put them off by telling them she was going to spend the weekend with her uncle, who was Chief Secretary to the Governor-General. But it was all change in Dresden, and when she joined the Prague train they had disappeared. She was alone in her compartment, while people filed up and down the corridor, but the train had already pulled out of the station before anyone came in. She recognized him as a man who had actually passed her door three times while going to and fro looking for a seat. Now he raised his hat as he entered the compartment. ‘Am I permitted, Fraulein?’

  ‘Certainly, sir.’

  He was an elderly gentleman, at least to her – certainly over fifty. His hair was grey, he wore horn-rimmed spectacles and a short beard. His three-piece suit was excellently cut, his shoes polished. He wore a gold watch chain across his ample stomach. His expression was benign. She put him down as a senior civil servant, a prosperous businessman or, most likely of all, a university professor. But incongruously, over his left arm was draped a topcoat, on a blazing-hot late July afternoon. Nor did he have any luggage. And her instincts warned her that he had actually been looking for her, and making sure that she was alone, before joining her.

  But, whatever he was after, she was content to let him make the first move; it was in any event less than an hour to Prague. So, having given him a polite smile, she resumed looking out of her window.

  He carefully placed his topcoat on the seat beside him and, having seated himself opposite her, he addressed her in an incomprehensible language.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘I do not speak Bohemian.’

  ‘That was Moravian,’ he pointed out, reverting to German. ‘You are not Czech?’

  ‘I was born in Vienna, sir.’

  ‘Ah. You are very young, and very attractive, to be travelling alone.’

  Anna sighed. ‘I am going to spend the weekend with my uncle. He is meeting the train.’

  ‘Of course. He is with the . . .’ He was clearly choosing his words with care. ‘The German government?’

  ‘I believe so,’ Anna said carelessly.

  He realized she was not going to answer any of his questions, at least in that direction, and lapsed into silence for the next fifteen minutes. Then he asked, ‘You have been to Prague before?’

  ‘This is my first visit.’

  ‘Ah! It is the most beautiful city in Europe.’

  ‘I am looking forward to seeing it,’ Anna acknowledged. She had no extensive acquaintance with any European cities save Vienna, Berlin, London and, briefly, Rome during her flight from England. But she did not think she was being unduly patriotic when she still placed Vienna at the top of the list.

  ‘It will be in sight when we top that hill. Did you know that, like Rome, Prague is built on seven hills? On either side of a river. There!’ He pointed out of the window into the still-bright evening; it was just coming up to half past seven. ‘The Vltava! Do you see all the bridges? And the spires? Prague is known as the city of a hundred spires, but actually there are many more than that.’

  Anna smiled. He was so obviously a proudly patriotic Czech that she murmured, ‘It is stupendous.’

  The train was slowing. The man got up and picked up his topcoat with the same care as he had placed it. Anna also rose, smoothed her dress, straightened her hat, and lifted her small weekend valise down from the rack. Then, as he appeared to be waiting for her to lead the way, she opened the compartment door and stepped into the corridor, aware that he was immediately behind her. As they moved towards the exit, where several other people were already waiting, he suddenly held her arm, and she felt the steel ring of a gun muzzle being pressed into her ribs. ‘I am truly sorry, Fraulein,’ he said into her ear very softly. ‘Just do as I wish, and I will endeavour not to hurt you.’

  ‘What do you wish?’ she asked without turning her head. She could not undertake immediate action because of the risk to the lives of the other passengers.

  ‘Just to meet your “uncle”. I am sure he is not alone.’

  The train had stopped. The passengers disembarked one by one. Anna and her captor were last off, and there, some twenty feet away, stood Meissenbach alongside two other men, in plain clothes but with Gestapo virtually written all over them.

  ‘Introduce me,’ the man said, still holding her close.

  The people who had disembarked in front of them had moved to either side, greeting friends or relations, casting anxious glances at the clearly important trio who were waiting; presumably the Chief Secretary was known by sight to a good many people. The immediate vicinity was clear. ‘I do not know your name,’ Anna said.

  ‘You may call me Herr Reiffel.’

  ‘Herr Reiffel,’ Anna said, and stepped to one side. As she did so, she dropped her valise and stamped down with the high heel of her shoe, at the same time swinging right round, delivering a back-handed blow with the edge of her hand to Reiffel’s neck.

  Chapter Four – A Necessary Tragedy

  Reiffel fired, even as he gasped. The angle was not right for a killing blow, but he lost consciousness and fell to his knees. Anna, now standing over him, kicked him in the ribs and, as his body went flaccid, stooped to take the pistol from his hand. />
  There were several shots, and she stayed on her knees while she watched one of the Gestapo agents go down, and saw two men standing at the far end of the platform, both carrying pistols. They were surrounded by people, but she never doubted her skills. She levelled the automatic she had taken from Reiffel’s hand and fired four times. Each of the two men received two bullets in the chest before they could determine that it was the woman firing at them. They both went down.

  People were screaming and running in every direction, and the station was rapidly filling with both uniformed police and German soldiers. Anna looked down at the man at her knees. He was groaning and gasping for breath, his hands clutching his stomach. He was, as she had surmised, a Czech patriot. As, no doubt, were his two accomplices. So they were all basically on the same side. But she had destroyed them. Because she could not risk anyone ever learning the truth of her? Or in self-defence? Or had it been to save Meissenbach and her mission to Moscow? Or simply because she was so trained to kill she had reacted instinctively?

  Meissenbach crouched to put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Anna!’ he said, gasping. ‘My God, Anna! You saved my life. How . . .?’

  Anna had already decided that the best way to avoid over-exposure was to revert to the innocent-girl act, if that were possible. ‘Please, Heinz, take me away from here.’

  ‘Of course, my darling.’ His arm tightened and he raised her to her feet.

  ‘Ahem!’ said a uniformed officer standing in front of them. ‘If you will permit me, Herr Meissenbach.’ Very gently he removed the pistol from Anna’s hand.

  ‘This man . . .’ Anna began.

  ‘Oh, he will tell us what he was about, Fraulein,’ the officer said. ‘His accomplices are unfortunately dead. That was remarkable shooting.’

  ‘I closed my eyes,’ Anna murmured, ‘and just kept firing.’ The officer looked as if he wanted to scratch his head, but he resisted the urge. ‘And that man,’ Anna hurried on, looking at the fallen Gestapo agent. ‘Is he . . .?’

  There were several people round him as well. His partner looked up. ‘He is hit, but he will survive. You saved our lives as well, Fraulein.’

  ‘I just closed my eyes,’ Anna protested again.

  ‘I would like to have a word with you, Fraulein,’ the officer requested.

  ‘When the Countess has recovered,’ Meissenbach said severely. ‘Stand aside.’

  The crowd parted and he picked up the valise and assisted Anna to the back of the platform, several of the policemen falling in around them. They emerged on to the street, which was also crowded with excited people. The car door was opened, and Anna collapsed on to the seat, Meissenbach beside her.

  ‘Did I really kill two men?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, too thoughtfully, in her opinion.

  ‘We were leaving the train and this man suddenly pushed his pistol into my back and told me to walk him past your guards. I knew he was planning something terrible. So I just, well . . .’

  ‘Closed your eyes and went berserk,’ Meissenbach suggested. ‘But in a most professional way. Do you do this often?’

  ‘Well of course I do not. I have never had a gun thrust into my back before.’ Which was not absolutely true; she had dealt with the Gestapo agent attempting to arrest her in London in exactly the same way.

  ‘And if this news gets around,’ Meissenbach said, ‘as it certainly will, I very much doubt that anyone will ever push a pistol into your back again. There is a great deal about you, young lady, that I feel I should know.’

  ‘Is that not why I am here?’

  ‘I was not thinking sexually.’

  His tone suggested that he might have some difficulty in thinking of her sexually ever again. But that might not be a bad thing . . .

  *

  The car swung into the grounds of Prague’s Hradcany Castle, where several men and women were waiting for them; obviously the police at the station had telephoned ahead. ‘Are you all right, Herr Secretary?’ someone asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Meissenbach replied. ‘Thanks to the Countess von Widerstand.’

  Anna gave them a shy smile. ‘Do you think I could change my clothes?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Of course. Frieda, take the Countess to the apartment we prepared for her.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Eight o’clock. Will you join me for dinner at nine?’

  ‘Yes. I would like that.’

  She followed Frieda, who had taken charge of the valise. The woman was somewhat angular, her yellow hair secured in a tight bun, and had sombre features. She wore skirt and blouse and low-heeled shoes. ‘I am sorry your arrival in Prague was so distressing, Countess.’

  ‘So am I. Do things like this happen often?’

  ‘I’m afraid the Reich is much hated here.’ They had climbed a flight of stairs and proceeded along a wide corridor. Now she opened a door. ‘But to attempt to assassinate the First Secretary . . . well, that is outrageous. There will be repercussions. Can I get you anything, Countess?’

  ‘I should like a bath.’

  ‘The bathroom is beyond that door. Shall I draw it for you?’

  ‘Thank you, but I can manage.’

  Frieda peered at her. ‘Are you all right, Countess? Such an experience.’

  ‘I will be all right,’ Anna said bravely.

  The woman did not look convinced, but she nodded and left the room. Anna ran the water; the bathroom was clearly shared with another bedroom, but she locked the intervening door. Then she undressed. There will be repercussions, she thought. How little that woman knew. But however much she regretted what she had had to do, she could have no doubt that it was the only thing she could have done while remaining Anna Fehrbach in the eyes of her German masters. How they would react was another matter.

  She soaked in the bath and nearly nodded off; she was far more exhausted than she had realized, and now that the flow of adrenaline was starting to slow she felt absolutely drained.

  ‘Anna?’

  She sat up. Shit! She had not locked the outer door. ‘I am in the bath. I will be out in a moment.’ There was a short towelling gown hanging on the door. She wrapped herself in this, released her hair, and returned to the bedroom.

  Meissenbach was standing at the window, looking out. Now he turned to face her. ‘Forgive me, Anna. I did not mean to intrude.’

  ‘I did not realize you were so . . .’

  ‘I have General Heydrich on the line.’

  ‘So quickly?’

  ‘The news of what happened was wired straight through to Berlin. He wishes to speak with you.’

  Anna looked left and right.

  ‘There is no telephone up here. You must come down.’

  ‘Just give me a few moments to get dressed.’

  ‘Anna, General Heydrich is on the line. Now.’

  Anna sighed, and allowed herself to be escorted down the stairs and into an office, causing every head they passed to turn and look at her exposed legs and bare feet; they could tell that she was naked under the robe. She picked up the phone on the desk and held the receiver in the other hand. ‘Herr General?’

  ‘Anna! What has happened?’

  ‘I had to shoot a man. Well, actually two men. To stop them killing Herr Meissenbach.’

  ‘I was told a third man was involved.’

  ‘Yes. But I didn’t have to shoot him.’

  ‘Anna, was not Meissenbach guarded? Were there no police on the platform? Did they not shoot anybody?’

  ‘Well, no, Herr General. There were only three assassins.’

  ‘And with all those policemen present as well as his guards, you were left to do the shooting?’

  ‘Well . . . I suppose I reacted the quickest.’

  ‘As you always do. But Anna, we do not wish the Russians to get the idea that we are sending them a professional assassin. It might just put this fellow Chalyapov off.’

  Anna looked over the phone at Meissenbach, who, while clearly enjoying the view, was also clearly listeni
ng: Heydrich had a penetrating voice.

  ‘I will do my best to hush the business up,’ the general went on. ‘But as it happened in front of a few hundred people that may be difficult. However, I would be much obliged if you would refrain from shooting anybody else without orders from me. Now tell me this: I understand you left the train in the company of the third man, with a pistol held to your back. How did this happen?’

  ‘He joined me in my compartment.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing. He made polite conversation. But there was something suspicious about him. I am sure he had been looking for me before joining me. And when the train stopped he pulled this gun and made me escort him towards Herr Meissenbach. I then realized his intention, and stopped him.’

  ‘And his two accomplices. You say he was looking for you? How did he know who you were?’

  ‘I do not know, sir.’

  ‘Well, I wish you to find out. As of now you are in charge of the investigation as an officer in the SD. I will inform the local Gestapo. But remember, no more shooting.’

  Anna continued to look at Meissenbach, whose face was expressionless, but whose brain was clearly working very fast. ‘And as regards anyone who might have been there, sir, and wishes to know more about it? Or me?’

  ‘Whoever that may be, from the Governor-General down, refer him to me.’

  The phone went dead.

  Meissenbach was now looking decidedly apprehensive. ‘I think you heard what he said,’ Anna suggested.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘I need to know everyone you told that I was coming. Everyone, please. I will go and dress and join you for dinner.’

  *

  Dinner was set in a small private room. A single waiter served champagne and was then dismissed; it was a cold table.

  ‘You look enchanting,’ Meissenbach said, bending over Anna’s hand. ‘You are enchanting. Will you . . .?’

  Anna moved her finger to and fro. ‘You heard the General, Heinz.’ She served cold meat on to her plate, added salad and sat down.

  Meissenbach did the same, sitting opposite her and pouring them each a glass of wine. ‘But you are not coming to Moscow as my assistant.’