The Black Baroness

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘The time has come, Stefan, when we must discuss plans. I shall have to leave here in a day or two—as soon as I can get a plane—for England. What do you intend to do?’

  Kuporovitch smiled. ‘Now that I am a free man once more I can hardly wait until I get to Paris; but the devil of it is that I have no passport. What are the intentions of Madame la Comtesse?’

  ‘It would be unwise for her to remain here long. The Germans are so thorough that solely as a matter of routine von Einem will have reported our arrival in Oslo. It may take a week or two passing through the files of petty officials, but sooner or later the Gestapo will learn where she’s got to.’

  ‘Does that matter now that she is in a neutral country?’

  Gregory grinned. ‘You don’t know the Gestapo, my friend. They’re quite capable of kidnapping Erika or arranging one of their jolly little motor-car accidents in which she would be knocked down and killed. Besides, as we told you on the tramp, by the merest fluke we happened to come into possession of the German war plan. They’ve followed it step by step so far, and Norway is the next on their list. Her life would not be worth a moment’s purchase if she were still here when they staged an invasion.’

  Erika drew slowly on her cigarette. ‘What d’you suggest then?’

  ‘Stage 7 of the plan lays it down that Sweden is strong enough to require a separate operation, so she should be left for the time being, but that Norway and Denmark can be taken over together. Sweden would then be entirely isolated and so in no position to resist whenever the Germans consider it convenient to take control there. The plan then passes to Stage 8, which concerns Holland and Belgium, and no further mention of Sweden is made at all. As it’s quite on the cards that the Germans will be content to absorb Sweden’s entire exports without actually walking into the place for some considerable time, I suggest that Erika should move there.’

  The Russian raised his dark eyebrows. ‘But surely she will be just as liable to secret attacks from the Gestapo in Sweden as she would be here?’

  ‘No. Here she had to disclose her true identity to get into the country. My suggestion is that she should quietly slip away from Oslo and cross the border at some place up-country; then she could settle in Sweden, under an assumed name, until I can make arrangements for her to sail to America.’

  ‘America!’ Erika exclaimed. ‘But, darling, once there I may not be able to get back, and I just can’t live unless I’m to have some hope of seeing you again before many months are past.’

  Gregory sighed. ‘We’ll talk of that later, my sweet. Your immediate safety is the most important thing. It shouldn’t be difficult for you to keep out of trouble in some small Swedish town, even without a passport, for the next few weeks, and my idea was that Stefan could go with you.’

  ‘But I have no wish at all to go to Sweden,’ the Russian protested. ‘It is to see Paris again …’

  ‘I know.’ Gregory interrupted swiftly; ‘but you didn’t let me finish. Without a passport you haven’t got a hope in hell of getting to France, but the British Government owes me a bit for services rendered so I mean to try to get you a passport and entry permit to France at the same time as I get them for Erika to the United States. In the meantime you can take care of each other.’

  ‘Ah, in that case’—Kuporovitch waved his cigar—‘I shall be delighted to place myself at the disposal of Madame la Comtesse.’

  ‘That’s settled, then,’ said Gregory. ‘Let’s pay the bill and go up to bed.’

  Kuporovitch accompanied them only as far as the lift, since now that he was back in civilisation he had other ideas as to how he meant to spend his evening.

  Very reluctantly the following morning Gregory and Erika got up at eleven o’clock and went out into the clear, frosty air of the Norwegian capital. Since he was staying at the hotel as a German, they went to Cook’s, where he was able to produce his British passport, and he managed to secure a seat on the air liner which would be leaving for London two days later—Friday the 22nd; after which they bought a number of things that would add to their comfort and some new clothes to make themselves more presentable.

  Uli von Einem lunched with them and, preserving the same discretion as on the day before, forbore to inquire into their private concerns but gave them the latest war news that had come through the German Legation. The Finns were submitting peaceably to the terms which the Russians had imposed upon them. The uncaptured portion of the Mannerheim Line was being rapidly evacuated and Soviet troops had already taken over Finland’s ‘Gibraltar’ on the island of Hangoe, so Russia was now the unchallenged mistress of the Northern Baltic. That was the price that Germany had had to pay to keep her eastern neighbour quiet while she dealt with her enemies in the West. On the other hand, Hitler and Mussolini had met on the Brenner Pass the previous Sunday. No details had been allowed to leak out about the matters discussed there, but it was understood that the meeting had proved highly satisfactory. One presumable result had been the withdrawal of Italy’s support from Rumania so that King Carol had been compelled to lift the ban on the Rumanian Iron Guard, which was definitely a victory for the Nazis. Gregory took it all in with the glib appreciation which might have been expected from a German officer, and it did not add to his satisfaction about the way in which the war was going.

  He had already scanned the latest English papers to reach Oslo so was more or less au fait with the situation. The big news item was that an Indian fanatic had assassinated Sir Michael O’Dwyer and succeeded in wounding Lord Zetland, Sir Louis Dane and Lord Lamington before he was overpowered, but otherwise old England seemed to be jogging along as though the war were just a rather remote and tiresome business. The British Union, the Nordic League, the Peace Pledge people, and all sorts of other dangerous bodies composed of rogues, cranks, half-wits and actual traitors were still allowed complete liberty to publish as much subversive literature as they liked and to advise cowards how to evade military service on the plea that they were conscientious objectors.

  One had only to glance at the small news items in the National Press to see how a weak-kneed government was being intimidated by a handful of irresponsible M.P.s into permitting Hitler’s Fifth Column in England absolute freedom to contaminate thousands of misguided idealists and so immensely weaken Britain’s war effort. Gregory would have liked to have been given Gestapo powers in the Home Office for half a day. He would have signed the death warrant of every spy caught red-handed since the beginning of the war, had them shot in the courtyard and published photographs of their bodies to intimidate the others. He would then have made both the Fascist and Communist Parties illegal, locked the Home Secretary up in one of his own asylums, retired every permanent Civil Servant over the age of fifty and departed with reasonable confidence that the younger men who remained would have got their bearings in a week and settled down to the job of making Britain safe from her internal enemies.

  When lunch was over Erika went off to have a permanent wave, and Gregory spent the afternoon in a state of gloomy depression. It was bad enough that he would so shortly have to leave her, without this awful feeling that a gang of woolly old men were letting Britain drift into the gravest danger.

  That night they dined alone and went to Oslo’s best musical show, where in spite of the fact that they did not understand Norwegian, they were able to forget for a few hours the separation which so soon was to render them even more miserable.

  On the Thursday they did not get up until lunch-time; their last lunch together until neither knew when. In the afternoon, in a desperate effort to forget themselves again, they hired a car and a guide and drove round the principal sights of the Norwegian capital, but by cocktail-time they were gazing forlornly at each other over their glasses, with hardly a word to say.

  For dinner Kuporovitch joined them. They had seen little of him during the past two days. Perhaps he would really have done them better service if he had remained with them as much as possible to cheer them up, but realising
how little time they had together he had tactfully left them to themselves and amused himself with a glamorous blonde whom he had met in a dance-club on his first night in Oslo. But it was necessary that their final arrangements should be made, as Gregory’s plane left early on Friday morning.

  To Gregorys’ relief he found that the Russian was a much more capable companion than the stout-hearted but unimaginative young airman, Freddie Charlton, who had accompanied him on his travels through Germany, Finland and Russia. Kuporovitch had spent such time as had not been occupied in playful dalliance with the glamorous blonde in thinking out the details of the plan that Gregory had outlined two nights before.

  He proposed to accompany Erika as her deaf-and-dumb uncle and had already booked accommodation for them at a hotel in Flisen, a small town about seventy miles north-east of Oslo and only about fifteen miles from the Swedish border. After Gregory’s departure they would leave Oslo by the eleven-fifty train, sleep at Flisen and hire a car for a week. During the next few days they would make several motoring expeditions as though seeing the sights of the country, in order to carry out a careful reconnaissance of the frontier, which, as Norway and Sweden were on the most friendly terms, must be very lightly guarded; then it should not prove difficult to drive to an unfrequented spot one night, abandon the car and slip over the border. Having arrived in Sweden he suggested that they should make their way to the university town of Uppsala, where they were not likely to run into any foreign diplomats who might know Erika by sight, but which, owing to the nature of the town, included in its inhabitants many foreign teachers and students whose presence would render them inconspicuous while living there quietly. As soon as they were settled in they would send Gregory their address by air mail and await his further instructions. He then handed Gregory a slip of paper with the names under which he proposed they should travel, and three copies of a passport photograph of himself that he had had taken.

  ‘Bless you,’ smiled Gregory. ‘It’s great that you should have thought all this out already. Erika had a passport photograph taken yesterday, so all that remains is the question of money. You had most of mine off me in Kandalaksha and Erika hasn’t got any, so by the time I’ve settled the bill here we shall be pretty well stony.’

  Kuporovitch shrugged. ‘I have plenty; all my savings in foreign currency that I brought out of Russia as well as the six thousand marks which I changed for you. I’ll see to that side of it.’

  ‘Thanks. Whatever you pay out on Erika’s behalf I’ll refund when you get to France. If they won’t let me send cash from England, I’ve got quite enough pull to fix a trip to Paris and meet you with it there.’

  Erika sighed. ‘Oh, Stefan, how lucky you are. If only I could go to Paris, too. As it is, I suppose when you two meet I’ll be on my way to America.’

  Gregory looked across at her with sudden intentness. ‘There’s time to reconsider your decision yet, darling. Why the hell can’t you be sensible and let me get you a permit to enter England as a refugee from Nazi persecution?’

  She swallowed hard but shook her head. ‘No, dearest, it’s no good. Because my country has fallen into the hands of a set of unscrupulous blackguards that doesn’t make me any the less a German. I can’t accept the hospitality of England or France while your friends and mine are killing one another.’

  For a long time they were silent. The fine wine remained almost untasted in the glasses and they ate perfunctorily, hardly noticing the rich dishes which were placed before them. Kuporovitch did his best, but after one or two false starts even the jovial Russian gave up any attempt to make it a jolly party.

  Gregory could have coped with most situations but this was beyond him. He and Erika were perfectly free; nothing compelled her to remain in Norway or him to leave it; they could both change their minds at the last moment, but he felt certain now that she would not change hers and he knew quite well that he would not change his. The very fact that their coming separation was self-imposed seemed to make it ten times harder, but a force that was stronger than either of them had them firmly in its grip and was tearing them apart just as surely as diverging currents would carry two pieces of driftwood in different directions.

  This was their last night together, perhaps for years, perhaps, in the uncertainties of war, for ever; yet instead of savouring every moment of it they were sitting there tongue-tied and speechless. He felt that he was letting Erika down appallingly badly—after all, it was always up to the man to make the running—yet for the life of him he could not bring himself to be even normally cheerful—let alone entertaining.

  Erika knew just what he was feeling and her heart went out to him. Like him, she would have done anything to be able to recall their mood of the night on which they had first abandoned themselves to their wild passion for each other; but she was wise enough to know why that was impossible. Then they had just been a very beautiful woman and a damnably attractive man, both of whom were highly experienced in the art of love; two born pagans, who openly boasted that they had always taken with greedy hands all the joys that the gods had given them; but they had hardly known each other. Two brief meetings, with an interval of a few weeks between, had lit the flame of desire in both of them; each knew that the other was courageous, unscrupulous and clever, but no more, and after that night, but for a far deeper attraction, their interest in each other might soon have exhausted itself. That had been passion; this was love. And where Passion is given to those whom the gods love as a glorious plaything, Love is a harsh taskmaster. They could have parted after that night with no regrets and a lovely memory; they could only part now, after they had come to know each other so well, with an actual physical pain that seemed to grip them in the pit of the stomach and rend each separate heart-string. To have pretended anything else would only have been a hideous attempt at play-acting which Erika could not have borne. She was terribly glad that Gregory did not attempt it.

  From a glance at the clock she saw that it was already half-past nine. In less than twelve hours Gregory would have left her. She was not greedy for the caresses he had lavished on her in the previous nights, because her passion was temporarily numbed by her acute despair, but she wanted desperately to lie in his arms while he comforted her, to cling close to him in every moment that was left to her and gather all the strength she could for their separation. So she thrust back her chair and said:

  ‘You’ve got to make an early start tomorrow, darling. I’m sure Stefan will forgive us if we desert him.’

  Kuporovitch smiled sympathetically. ‘Please. I can take care of myself, and I’ll settle the bill. I shall see you both in the morning.’

  Gregory nodded his thanks and followed her out into the lounge. At one table a little group of people were sitting drinking coffee and liqueurs. There was a very handsome dark girl of about twenty-three among them. She had a well-modelled, full-lipped mouth, fine, regular features, a strong, determined chin and large, lustrous brown eyes. On seeing Erika her eyes widened and she stood up.

  Erika smothered an exclamation of annoyance as the dark girl hurriedly left the table and came towards them. This was the last moment she would have chosen to exchange meaningless gossip with her best friend—let alone a woman who was only a casual acquaintance—but there was no escape. The girl seized both her hands impulsively and exclaimed:

  ‘My dear! How absolutely marvellous to see you! I thought—I thought …’ Her voice tailed off as she glanced uncertainly towards Gregory.

  Erika introduced them, ‘Oberst-Baron von Lutz—Fräulein Paula von Steinmetz,’ and asked: ‘What did you think Paula? You can speak quite freely in front of the Colonel-Baron.’

  Paula extended her hand to Gregory with a gracious smile, upon which he clicked his heels, bowed from the waist and kissed it in the approved manner of the Prussian officer; then she turned back to Erika.

  ‘I thought that after the Army revolt last November the Nazis had passed a sentence of execution on you.’

  ‘They di
d,’ smiled Erika; ‘but, as you see, they haven’t carried it out yet.’

  ‘The swine gave me ten years because I hid my brother Oscar, the one who is a Captain of Uhlans; and they’re holding him as a hostage for my good behaviour’, Paula said quickly. ‘They’ve done the same sort of thing with any number of girls I know. There are at least forty of us here in Oslo; but as they passed the death penalty on you I was afraid that you had been pig-headed and refused to play.’

  ‘How are you finding life here?’ asked Gregory amiably.

  She shrugged. ‘Naturally, I hated the idea at first, but it’s much more fun being here than in Germany now there’s a war on, and they give me plenty of money, I’m rather sorry for the poor Norwegians, but, after all, in the long run it’s going to be much better for them that they should succumb to Hitler’s secret weapon instead of having a long war in which lots of the poor dears would get killed—isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ smiled Gregory. ‘That’s a very sensible way to regard matters. You and Erika could do more damage between you and the armoured division, any day.’

  ‘What a charming way of putting things.’ Paula’s lovely dark eyes swept over Gregory’s lean face with approval. ‘Will you both lunch with me tomorrow? You must—I insist. I’ve got the sweetest apartment—No. 97 Universitätsgarten.’

  Erika hesitated for a second, then she said quickly: ‘May I telephone you in the morning?’

  ‘Of course.’ Paula squeezed her arm, flashed another dazzling smile at Gregory and added: ‘I must fly now; I’ve got a little Major man in tow who is in command of one of the forts outside the harbour. But I shall expect you both at one o’clock so don’t dare to telephone and say that you’re not coming.’

  Having smiled ‘Goodnight’ Gregory and Erika walked in silence towards the lift, and it was only as they were going down their corridor upstairs that she said bitterly: ‘I never knew Paula intimately, but she comes of a decent family, and it makes me almost physically sick to think that a girl who is really one of us should have sold out to the Nazis.’