The Bavarian Gate

by John Dalmas

  After lunch, Hansi showed Anna and Montag a picture of a man, obese and middle-aged. After having Montag study it, he took them by cab to a small park not far away, where he pointed out a building across the street and down half a block. Speaking English, he directed Anna's attention to a 3rd-floor window. "That's his office. He's probably there right now. I know him well, and his secretary even better. He's an underworld associate of mine, a barrister who sometimes provides me with useful connections. Have Mr. Monday give it a try, then I'll drop in on him."

  In an undertone, Anna briefed Montag as if he'd understood none of it, then showed him the man's picture again. "I want you to frighten this man, Kurt. Frighten him very badly."

  Macurdy stared at the picture, then at the window, then closed his eyes. After two or three minutes, he nodded without speaking. Hansi crossed the street and walked briskly down the block to the building. Some minutes later they saw him returning; as he approached, he looked almost gleeful.

  "It worked!" he said in English, and clapped Montag on the shoulder. "I asked to see him, and when his secretary buzzed, he didn't answer. She hesitated before she went to his door, as if she'd heard something peculiar. When she looked in, she backed away for a moment before stepping inside and closing the door.

  "When she came out, she was pale as a ghost, and said he couldn't see me just then. I pretended to be upset. 'When did Chas start giving me the cold shoulder?' I asked her. 'We're supposed to be buddies!' She told me he was sick, and to 'please go now.'

  "So I left, but stopped outside the door and listened. I could hear her on the phone, urgent and upset—something about a doctor."

  Hansi turned again to Montag, shook his hand, and congratulated him softly in German. "You did well! If der Führer were here, he'd shake your hand himself!"

  Montag's lips moved as if mumbling silently, never looking at Hansi's face.

  Hansi shook Anna's hand too, and spoke in English again: "I admit I had my doubts, but he did it, and without you, he'd never have gotten here. This mission will be a major coup, I'm sure of it, and you're as vital to it as he is. You are a remarkable woman!"

  While Hansi was speaking to Anna, Macurdy had looked up, and what he saw startled him—Hansi's aura reflected a sexual intention toward her. He found himself offended by it.

  * * *

  Hansi took them back to his apartment then. He had arrangements to make, he said. Meanwhile they would sleep in his spare bedroom. Then he left, and to kill time for both of them, Anna read to Montag again.

  * * *

  Bahn prepared much the same meal for tea and supper as for lunch, leaving Macurdy wondering whether it was his larder or his skills that were limited. Hansi returned late and said little, as if preoccupied, and disappeared into the room he shared with Alice Gwynne. By then Anna had tired of reading aloud, and there being little else to do, she and Macurdy went to their room and also got ready for bed. From Bahn, Anna had gotten a pallet, sheets, and blanket for Montag. As usual, he would sleep in his underwear, which now at least were clean, while Anna had a nightgown sent by Alice.

  She had turned on a tiny night light, installed because of the blackout curtains, turned off the table lamp and sat down on one of the two chairs. Macurdy took the other, and they talked quietly. In German; if anyone was listening at the door, they wouldn't catch words, but they'd probably recognize the language. Anna asked what Macurdy had beamed to his test target, and grimaced when he told her: an image of the man's face, an image that would not be banished, with worms coming first from the nostrils, then the mouth, then the eyes.

  Then she told what she'd learned with her telepathy. Some he'd observed for himself, in demeanors and auras: Bahn had changed from hostile—probably his normal state in new situations—to bored and indifferent. Alice Gwynne had changed from suspicious to friendly. And Hansi had designs on Anna's body. He was no longer an uncertain adolescent; now he considered any attractive female a sexual target.

  "Despite sleeping with Alice Gwynne," Anna added, somewhat bemused. "And Alice is exceptionally attractive, wouldn't you say?" She paused. "Of course, Lieutenant Schweiger is, too. They make a handsome couple."

  Macurdy said nothing. Hansi had been a good-looking kid, but gawky. Maturity had filled him out, and increased his self-esteem. And his sexual ambitions.

  "When do we notify Grosvenor Square?" Anna asked. "Schweiger intends to keep us here, keep close control of us. He's afraid we will do something foolish. Also, something may happen that he will recognize you."

  For a moment, Macurdy didn't answer. There was still another consideration, more important than rounding up this Abwehr ring, and time was limited.

  "Does he know the invasion date?"

  "He was thinking about that on our way back from your little demonstration. There had been a specific target date—May 1st—but it was abandoned some time ago. Now they expect it at the beginning of June. Apparently it requires moonlight. And the Allies are bound to worry about dangerous information leaking, so they'll want to move at the earliest date possible."

  Macurdy couldn't help remembering the snafus in Algeria and on Sicily. Both had turned out all right—the Sicilian drops had been remarkably effective despite everything that had gone wrong—but this was so much bigger! So much was riding on it! So many lives would be invested!

  "We'll act as soon as possible," he said.

  "Good." Anna yawned. "Goodnight, Kurt. I'm going to bed."

  He watched as she stepped to the bed, lay down and pulled the cover over her, then he lay down on his pallet across the room. Hansi considered Anna sexually desirable, he thought, and he was right. She was not actually pretty, but her features were pleasant. Attractive. And despite Berta's appraisal, she was not scrawny, just small. Wiry perhaps. Wiry might be exciting in bed.

  From across the room, Anna spoke in an undertone. "Kurt?"

  "Ja?"

  "Come and sit by me. I have things to tell you."

  With a sense of unease, he went to her bed and sat on the edge. She sat up, holding the covers to her shoulders. Her aura told him she was sexually aroused.

  "We are a strange pair," she murmured. "I read minds, or in your case moods, and you read auras. We do not easily keep secrets from one another."

  He nodded, saying nothing, recalling how neither of them had discerned the other's intention to turn themselves in.

  "I have not had much affection in my life," she went on, "particularly in recent years. I have had to be very watchful, very guarded, avoid friendships. At times I have been horribly lonely." Her voice dropped to a whisper. In English. "Curtis, I want you to hold me. Make love to me."

  He stared at her in the darkness, feeling both dismay and desire.

  "Your conscience is troubling you,"

  "Yes."

  "If your Mary knew the situation we're in, would she feel deeply aggrieved if...?"

  He knew the answer to that: She'd feel hurt, if she knew, but she'd also understand and forgive; before too long it would be almost forgotten. But would that excuse him?

  He tried to make out Anna's features in the dark. "Have you ever had a man?" he murmured.

  Anna chuckled softly. "A man? When I was fourteen, there was my cousin Steffan, who probably weighed forty-five kilos. He was also fourteen, and had been seduced by a woman. His parents had a summer place in Pommern, on the Baltic coast, and that July we went there with them, Papa and Mama and I. On the second day, Steffan asked me to hike in the forest with him. I knew what he wanted of course, but it sounded exciting, so I went."

  She chuckled again. "In fact, we took walks in the woods each day for three days. Then our parents became suspicious. They didn't accuse us of anything, but Papa and Mama and I went home early." She sighed theatrically. "But have I had a man? No. Only a boy." She giggled then. "Though I'm lucky I didn't get pregnant."

  She slipped a hand inside Macurdy's shorts then, and for a moment froze. "My God, Curtis," she whispered. He turned and threw back
the covers. She was naked, had pulled off her gown beneath it before she'd called him over.

  And suddenly Anna was unsure. "I don't want you to feel guilty," she murmured.

  He didn't answer. He'd feel guilty all right; he knew it. But he would also make love to her. As he took off his shorts, she lay back, and crouching on the bed, he began kissing her.

  * * *

  After each had used the bathroom, Macurdy lay down on his pallet. Anna already lay curled in bed awaiting sleep. Where, he asked himself, was the strength of will he'd shown when he'd been married to Varia, and Melody had tried repeatedly to seduce him over the months? With Berta he'd been able to rationalize, and with Rillissa he'd had little choice, but he could easily have said no to Anna, and she wouldn't have been upset with him. She'd even offered him grounds for refusing. Guilt. He felt enough of that, for sure.

  So what now, Macurdy? he asked himself. What about tomorrow night? And the next? Another reason to complete this mission quickly. What were the benefits of delay? At best a few more underlings reeled in.

  Abruptly he sat up. Call headquarters now, he told himself. Use the phone here. If anyone tries to stop you, kill them.

  Then answered, easier said than done. To support his Montag role, he'd deliberately brought nothing more than a pocket knife, in case they were searched. He could, of course, take Anna's Beretta, if it came down to it. Pulling on shorts and trousers, he cloaked himself, then slipped barefoot into the hallway and down it to the living room. The phone table was by the day bed, where Bahn lay sleeping in flowered pajamas, the phone twenty inches from his head. Macurdy turned back down the hall to Hansi's office, where he'd seen another.

  By light from the hallway, he found the office light switch, turned it on, closed the door softly, and stepped to the desk. There by the phone was a thick file folder titled Operation Overlord (3). Was Operation Overlord the code name for the invasion? Reaching, he picked up the folder instead of the phone.

  He'd hardly looked inside it when the door opened and Hansi peered in, Luger in hand, frowning uncertainly, not seeing through the cloak. Macurdy froze—and the folder tilted, papers spilling onto floor and desk. Hansi's eyes widened.

  "Montag!" he hissed. "What is this? You're a damned spy!"

  "Ja, fur Reichsführer Himmler! There are reports you've been turned, that you gave away Captain Streicher."

  "You lie. Who would..." Hansi stopped in mid-sentence. "I know you!"

  "That's right." Macurdy straightened, speaking American. "I'm the man who saved your life at Severtson's camp. The friend who took you and your suitcase to the depot when you left Nehtaka."

  Hansi stared without speaking, confused by the mixture of coincidences, and by Macurdy seeming to materialize before his eyes. Suddenly his pistol was too hot to hold, and reflexively he flung it from him with a loud cry. Macurdy pounced, striking him powerfully in the forehead with the heel of his hand, and letting him fall, went for the gun. Aware of heavy running in the hallway, he snatched it from the floor—to him it wasn't hot—then jumped behind the metal desk. A gun fired multiple slugs into the file cabinet, desk, wall, and Macurdy popped up to fire the heavy Luger once. Bahn, crouched in the doorway, rose almost upright, then toppled, and behind him a woman screamed. Macurdy scrambled, dove, slid on the waxed oak floor to the open door, on his side, gun ready. Alice Gwynne stood wild-eyed in the hallway, a pistol in her hand. He fired at her leg, and she fell heavily, grabbing it with both hands, screaming again.

  Anna, Beretta in hand, was peering out the bedroom door, then scampered naked into the hall and picked up Alice's gun.

  "That's all of them," Macurdy said to her, and getting up, stepped to the phone. Probably everyone else in the building is headed for the phone too, he thought. With one eye on the unconscious station chief, he dialed the confidential OSS number. "Hansi," he murmured while he listened to the phone ring on the other end, "I'm really sorry it came to this. But goddamn it, your dad was right."

  PART FOUR

  The Spoiler

  32

  A Captive for the General

  The OSS duty officer got Von Lutzow on the line within a minute or so. Von Lutzow said he'd have a team on the way within ten minutes. He didn't notify MI5—British counterespionage—till after his own people were well on their way.

  The bobbies arrived well before any of them, of course— soon after Macurdy was off the phone. Anna answered the door. By then she'd dressed; even had her shoes on. Macurdy had tied Hansi's wrists and ankles with electric cord, and begun to work on Alice Gwynne's thigh wound. He told the bobbies a team from MI5 was on its way; actually they weren't, but they soon would be. As additional police arrived, they cordoned off the place, and after a few perfunctory questions, left him and Anna alone. Their functions did not include interfering with intelligence agencies.

  Nonetheless, when the OSS team pulled up in front, led by Von Lutzow, the police lieutenant in charge wouldn't let them enter the building till MI5 arrived. That was fine with Von Lutzow; he'd just wanted to arrive first, to cover Anna, and of course Macurdy. When MI5 got there, they were welcome to Hansi and Alice, the corpse of Bahn, and everything they might find in the flat. Then, in the care of Von Lutzow, and with another lieutenant from MI5, Macurdy and Anna rode off in an army staff car for middle of the night debriefs. The custody of Anna was never brought up; probably the lieutenant didn't know his office wanted her. And with copies of the debriefs in hand, they had little grounds for demanding she be turned over to them. She was, after all, on the OSS payroll.

  * * *

  With the debrief finally over, Macurdy went to bed and slept till after midday. The duty officer had him wakened in time for lunch, and to shower and shave for an interview with "the general."

  Macurdy had never seen Wild Bill Donovan, who was gone a lot, but during training he'd heard stories about him, some no doubt apocryphal. They'd included World War One exploits and the Medal of Honor; he'd been a regimental commander noted for his boldness. Overall, Macurdy had gotten an image of a short, stocky, charismatic dynamo who could absorb a book in an hour and discuss it in detail, who believed in exercising his creative imagination and enthusiasm, and letting his people exercise theirs. Within limits, of course, but the limits were broad. He also had a large tolerance of eccentricity.

  He recruited men on the basis of their self-confidence, a degree of daring, and established skill in some demanding and relevant area, even if only athletic. Usually they brought with them a competence in one or more useful foreign languages. Then they were thoroughly trained, and within their mission orders, given a large degree of operating independence. Some lacked judgment, some accountability, and more than a few humility, but as a covert operations organization, the OSS was a good outfit.

  And Donovan was its father, its founding genius.

  So Macurdy looked forward to the interview. He had no real notion of what it would be like, or what Donovan would want him to do, but he knew exactly what he intended to ask for and get.

  The commander stood up when Macurdy entered, and shook his hand. His white hair was parted just off center and crookedly, as if he hadn't used a mirror, and he was older than Macurdy had expected. But at age 61, his blue eyes were sharp, his grin genuine, and his aura reflected a rare combination of aggressiveness and patience.

  "I just read your debriefs," he said "Last night's, and the earlier one on the Voitik Project. Major Von Lutzow is very strong on you, thinks you're better than Wheaties. I also read his report on your airborne history. Remarkable! Remarkable! I wanted to know you myself before we assign you anything further."

  Even given the general's reputation as a reader, Macurdy wondered when the man had found time for all that. The debriefs were thick, and the latest, he suspected, were still only handwritten.

  "And you knew Oberleutnant Schweiger as a boy! Makes one believe in destiny! You recommended leniency for him. Why? He'd been made welcome in America, then turned on her. And against family
pressure, you said."

  "He was a good kid," Macurdy answered, "but didn't know much. And I saved his life earlier that year, so I feel kind of responsible for him."

  Donovan didn't look convinced, but he dropped the matter. "What do you recommend we do with Anna Hofstetter?" he asked.

  "She's a functioning telepath," Macurdy answered, "and they're supposed to be really rare; at least those who can do it at will. She's also smart, experienced, knows German and the Germans, including the SS, and hates the Nazis. She'd be valuable as hell in an outfit like this, especially in internal security. Especially if people don't know what she can do."

  Lips pursed, Donovan let his gaze slide away in thought, then returned it to Macurdy. "The debrief of your Weutische mission includes things some people find hard to believe. How would you answer them?"

  "I'd offer to light their cigarette," Macurdy answered wryly. "Or—would you turn around a minute and look at the bookcase behind you? There's something I didn't include in either debrief. Something that can make the rest of it more believable."