“I'm fine, too. Don't worry.” He dragged himself to his feet.
“I don't like this place,” she said.
“Me neither,” said Otto. “Let's go.” He took her hand. It felt hot and clammy.
He wanted to look at Leni, but right now he felt he couldn't meet her eye.
CHAPTER 27
KEMPTEN EXPRESS
They had just minutes to retrieve their packs. They clambered aboard the train as the platform guard blew his whistle and the train pulled out of the station. They managed to find a six-seater compartment to themselves and within five minutes of departure the train guard had come and punched their tickets. Now they could sit back and relax – at least for the next hour. Not that Leni was in the mood to do any such thing. She sat opposite Otto, glaring at him.
“How many more times do you want me to apologise?” Otto muttered. They'd pulled the blinds down on the side windows and door, hoping this might deter anyone from joining them in the compartment.
“A few more times,” Leni said acidly.
“All right, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. It was just . . . we were there in Munich and I thought—”
“No, Otto, you didn't think. You just chose to please yourself, regardless of the risks.” Leni knew he had been up to something, but she'd never have believed he could have done something so stupid and dangerous.
“What's Otto done wrong, Leni?” Angelika was sucking on a boiled sweet.
“He hasn't done anything wrong,” said Leni.
Angelika looked confused. “Then why are you cross with him?”
“All right, he did something silly, a bit like you leaving me in the museum.”
“Oh,” said Angelika. She looked at Otto. “So we're both in trouble.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Otto.
“Don't change the subject,” countered Leni.
“Who's changing the subject? What happened at the museum, Leni?”
“All right, Angelika went missing for a little bit, but it was fine. So don't even try to equate that with what you did.”
“I wasn't going to.” Otto folded his arms and looked out of the window.
The train had got up a good head of steam and was well out of the suburbs of the city. It clattered along, past fields filled with ripening corn, orchards and smallholdings just beginning to fill up with the season's bean, tomato, pepper and courgette plants. Further on were fields of hops and vineyards beginning to leaf. Only the grey-and-green military trucks towing field guns in long convoys on the dusty roads spoilt the rural landscape.
Angelika rested her head against Leni's shoulder, and closed her eyes. They'd been on their feet since the early hours with just a few snatched minutes of sleep on the goods train.
“Well, what happened?” Otto arched his eyebrows in Angelika's direction.
“That wasn't my fault,” said Leni defensively.
“If you say so.”
“Oh, let's just drop the whole thing,” said Leni, feeling there was nothing more to be gained.
“Fine by me,” said Otto.
The three of them sat in silence for a while, the heat building. Leni felt Angelika gradually relax against her and her head become heavier on her shoulder. When she was sure that the girl was asleep, she whispered, “You made us come to Munich just so you could see if your family was still there.”
Otto shook his head. “Of course not. Going to Munich was the right thing to do.”
She said nothing, deciding to let him stew. She knew she was right.
“If it had been in Vienna, wouldn't you have wanted to visit your home?” he said, eventually.
“I knew it,” said Leni, quietly.
“Well, wouldn't you? I bet you would.”
“Don't you dare say that to me. I wouldn't take any risks that would endanger my life or yours. And you should do the same. How else can we trust each other?”
Otto's face was flushed, his forehead beaded with sweat. Leni suddenly realised he was on the verge of tears.
“You're right, Leni, it was stupid, it was selfish and it was pointless. They're gone, they're never coming back and I'm never going to . . .” His voice broke and he stopped.
“It's all right, it's all right,” Leni said, feeling terrible. She hadn't meant to upset him like this.
Otto shook his head. His mouth was set. “I promise it won't happen again,” he said, struggling to control his voice.
Leni wanted to reach over and take his hand but she didn't want to disturb Angelika. “I know, I know,” she said.
Otto blew out his cheeks and stared out of the window. Leni decided to change the subject as quickly as possible.
“I haven't told you why Angelika ran away.”
“Why did she?” Otto looked back at her.
“She saw this house on the way to the museum and then went back to look at it.”
“What kind of house?”
“Just a building, but it was covered in swastikas and banners.”
“What street was it on?”
“Prinzregentenstrasse.”
“Was it an office building? The Gestapo headquarters are on Prinzregentenstrasse.” Otto was looking interested now.
“No, it looked like an apartment building.”
Otto's eyes widened. “Then it's Hitler's personal residence in Munich. That's the only other place of importance on that street.”
Leni felt her heart thump. “She said she'd been inside, when she was very little, at Christmas time.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Why would she lie?”
The two of them sat quietly for a moment.
“Who is she?” Leni asked at length.
“I don't know, and I don't want to know. Our job is to get her out of here in one piece as quickly as possible, not to start being detectives.”
“But you must be curious.”
“No. Curiosity is bad for you,” he said, but Leni could see he was.
The door to the compartment slid open. A middle-aged woman in a dark wool suit stood in the doorway.
“Is anyone sitting there?” She pointed with her umbrella to the empty seat beside Leni.
“No, it's free,” said Otto, standing like a well-brought-up young man. “May I help you with that?”
“No, thank you, I am perfectly capable.” The woman lifted a small leather valise on to the rack above the seat and sat down next to Leni.
Otto and Leni looked at each other. Around the woman's neck on a piece of black ribbon was a Mother's Medal. A small blue-and-white enamel cross with the Swastika in the middle, it was awarded to mothers on a special day in May. But more importantly, as far as Otto and Leni were concerned, she was wearing a dark-blue cuff on her left sleeve. It bore the title “Reichsfrauenschaft”, identifying the woman as a national staff member of the Nazi Party. They were sharing the compartment with a professional busybody.
The woman settled in for a minute or two, then slowly cast her eyes over Otto, Leni and the still-sleeping Angelika.
“So tell me,” she began, “what are three children doing all alone on a train?” She didn't wait for an answer. “Don't tell me, you're running away from home.” And she smiled at them, conspiratorially.
CHAPTER 28
DISCOVERY
From the helicopter, Heydrich could see the farmer sitting in his hay cart and looking as though he was about to have a heart attack when the Flettner dropped down into his field. The field was already full of army vehicles, and black-uniformed SS troops had fanned out in search formation.
Once on the ground, Heydrich jumped out of the helicopter and marched across to the farmer, whose eyes were still wide with shock.
“Show me,” he said.
Five minutes later they were beneath the tree, staring up at the severed lines and shredded parachute canopy. A junior officer ran towards him with Otto's dirt-covered flying suit and helmet. Heydrich examined them carefully. American-made but issued to
the RAF. As he'd thought, British agents.
“Order your men to search the whole area.” He turned to the farmer. “The Reich is grateful. I will notify your local leader of your good service.”
The farmer raised his arm in salute.
Heydrich made his way back out of the wood. Both his Mercedes and a detachment of troops for his personal use had arrived.
“So now we know where they came from and where they landed,” he said to the junior officers that had gathered around him. “I suspect there is more than one operative. Logic would suggest a man and a woman, so that they can travel as a family. The question is: where are they now?”
At that point, a young lieutenant raced across the field towards them on a motorbike. He skidded to a halt beside the briefing party and ran across to Heydrich.
“Sir, the photographic prints that you requested from the Berghof.”
Heydrich flipped open the envelope and looked at the thick sheaf of photographs of the girl. They were all the same, the most up-to-date picture of her, taken the previous year, fifty copies still damp from the processing. She was a pleasant-looking child, round-faced and smiling, her hair in pigtails like his own daughter. She was wearing traditional Bavarian dress. The photograph had been taken against a plain white background, most likely the convent's walls.
“Distribute these to the officers. This is the girl we are looking for.”
“Sir! SS General Müller from Innsbruck.” His driver was holding up the limousine's phone. Heydrich strode across, took the handset.
“Müller? I hope you have some positive news?”
“What I am about to propose sounds incredible, but I ask you to consider it carefully.” Müller's voice was calm and collected, denoting his police background. The radio line was bad, but Heydrich was keen to hear what this bloodhound of an investigator had to say.
“Go on.”
“We've taken statements from every conceivable person in Rosenheim, Prien and Stock. Yes, there were tourist couples visiting Herreninsel yesterday but no one sticks out. Furthermore there were no tickets purchased at any of the surrounding railway stations by a couple with a child.”
“So what? They could have taken a car, a series of cars.”
“And yet none has been reported stolen in the last twenty-four hours, and no one can remember an unknown couple arriving in one in any of those places.”
“They could have hidden it up a lane or a farm track?”
“Perhaps, but here is another possibility. Railway employees at Prien remember a teenage boy and girl buying tickets yesterday for Stock. Unknown teenagers. There was an altercation with some youths from a local club of the NSFK. Then at Stock, a girl and boy of similar descriptions bought tickets to visit the palace on Herreninsel. It was in the afternoon, the last tour of the day. The ferry crew can't recall them coming back. There is a Hitler-Jugend summer sailing camp in Stock, but all the children are accounted for. But a girl did go into the local chandlers and buy twenty metres of rope.”
“Go on.” Heydrich was listening intently, catching the edge of excitement in Müller's clipped voice. They hadn't found the rope that had been used to climb out of the convent window. Probably sitting on the bottom of the lake, he thought.
“This morning, the ticket seller at Rosenheim station sold three tickets to Innsbruck to a young man probably aged around fifteen or so. The first available departure of the morning.”
“And do their descriptions match those of the previous day?”
“More or less, sir.”
Heydrich drummed his fingers on the car. “And what do the railway people at Innsbruck tell you?”
“It would seem that they got off before Innsbruck. The ticket collector here is positive three children of these descriptions did not come past the barrier.”
Heydrich could feel the hairs on his neck prickling. The day before, flying low between the two islands, he'd buzzed a little sailing dinghy. It had had a red sail, he recalled. And there had been two teenagers, a girl and a boy, in the boat. Late afternoon, early evening. Could it have been them?
“Herr Reichsführer,” continued Müller, “I realise what I am proposing seems unlikely—”
“How many stops did the Innsbruck train make?” Heydrich interrupted.
“About half a dozen, sir, it was the slow train.”
“Question every person at those stations. Someone must have seen something.”
Heydrich tossed the receiver back to his radio operator and made his way back to the waiting officers.
“Show me those overalls again.”
One of the officers held up Otto's flying suit.
“On the small side, wouldn't you say?” Heydrich said, thoughtfully.
It seemed too unlikely. But when one considered it further, there was the most devilish cunning to such a strategy. Three children travelling together, when logic dictated that two adults would have taken the child. England had its fair share of displaced German children whose parents had either fled with them or had them sent abroad. It was risky, dangerous, a wild gamble on the part of the British. And yet . . . why not? As a child Heydrich had read Sherlock Holmes. The detective's famous axiom came to mind now: “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”
He looked at his officers. They were waiting expectantly. Yes, he was inclined to believe Müller.
“Send word to all units that we are now looking for three children: a teenage girl and boy, and the child.”
CHAPTER 29
TOO MANY QUESTIONS
“Yes, that's right, I remember your school very well,” beamed the matronly mother in the railway carriage. “The headmaster was a Herr Schuler when I was there. Do you know him?”
Otto nodded, even though he hadn't the slightest idea who Herr Schuler was. The woman had not stopped asking them questions from the moment she had sat down. He exchanged another quick glance with Leni. She too was being subjected to all manner of queries. It felt more and more like an interrogation.
The woman had started by asking them where they were going, and had been satisfied with their story about their visit to their godmother in Bregenz. Then she had asked them where they were from.
“Salzburg,” Otto had said confidently.
“Salzburg? How interesting,” the woman had replied.
She had herself spent a couple of years in the city training to be a teacher. Of course, now she had left that behind and worked for the Party, but she had happy memories of the city and proceeded to question them about it in great detail. Her knowledge appeared to be encyclopaedic, but so far Otto and Leni seemed to be holding their own. Just.
“Now, tell me this,” she continued, looking first at Leni and then at Otto. “I recall there were two lovely old bakeries by the school, Joseph's and . . . what was the name of the other? Let me think . . . Schekter's, that was it.” She smiled. “Which was your favourite?”
Otto frowned, appearing to think about it. “Well, they were both good.”
“Come along, young man, you must have had a preference.”
Otto mentally flipped a coin. “Schekter's.”
The woman smiled again. “Ah, yes, I do believe their strudl was the best.”
“If you'll excuse us, meine Frau, we must be getting off at the next station.” Otto looked at Leni hard. He was getting nervous now of this woman; there was something snake-like about her.
“Yes, we must,” Leni hurriedly backed him up, and gave Angelika a gentle shake. Sleepily, the little girl opened her eyes.
“But you are travelling to Bregenz. You don't need to change until Kempten,” the woman said.
“That's right, but . . .” Otto racked his brains for a reason.
“A friend of our family's lives at the next stop,” Leni jumped in.
“And we have a gift from our mother for her,” Otto finished.
Angelika was now fully awake and listening in, her forehead creased in a fro
wn.
The woman looked at Leni. “You know, young lady, I am sure you have a Viennese accent.”
“Really? You must be mistaken,” said Leni. “Come along,” she said to Angelika, “we're getting off.”
“And what is your name?” the woman asked Angelika.
Leni and Otto shot each other another anxious glance.
“Caroline,” Leni said, just as the little girl opened her mouth. “Her name is Caroline.” She prayed Angelika wouldn't contradict her.
Otto stood up and pulled the packs down off the rack. He slipped his over his shoulders. He could feel the tension rising.
“Young man, wait.”
“We have to go, madam, please.”
The woman suddenly got up and stepped in front of the compartment door, blocking their path. The three children froze.
“What is she doing?” said Angelika, turning to Otto then Leni in confusion.
“What am I doing?” The woman's voice was cold. “I'll tell you what I am doing. I am ordering you to sit down and remain seated whilst I call the guard.”
This was bad.
“I don't understand,” said Leni. Otto could see she was fighting rising panic. “What have we done wrong?”
“You don't understand?” The woman was clearly starting to enjoy the situation now. “Well, I don't understand, either. I don't understand how you could prefer Schekter's to Joseph's when no such bakeries exist.” She smiled back at them triumphantly.
There was a long moment of silence. Then Otto lunged forward, shoving the woman away from the door with all his strength. She was taken by surprise and fell heavily on to the seat. Otto pulled the door open, and Leni and Angelika dived out after him into the corridor.
“How dare you touch me like that!” The woman was struggling to get back on her feet. She grasped the door frame with her hand for support.
Otto grabbed the handle and slammed the door back on to her fingers. He heard her howl with pain as he raced after the others. He reached them in the interconnecting partition between two carriages. The steel floor plates were sliding under their feet.
Otto glanced around the wall of the partition. There was the woman! She was stumbling down the corridor after them, clutching her injured hand.
Hitler's Angel Page 12
