The Bormann Testament

by Jack Higgins

  “What about Muller?” she said.

  “Muller won’t be going anywhere ever again,” he told her.

  They paused outside the door of the room in which Hardt was imprisoned, and Chavasse tried the key that he had taken from Hans. The door opened noiselessly to reveal Hardt sitting on the edge of the bed, head in hands.

  He looked up slowly and an expression of amazement appeared on his face. “How the hell have you managed this?”

  “I had to get a little violent,” Chavasse told him. “How do you feel? Well enough to make a move?”

  “I’d walk to China to get out of this place.”

  “No need to go to extremes,” Chavasse said. “If we can successfully negotiate the main hall and reach the cellars, our troubles are over. They keep a launch down there in an underground cavern with direct access to the lake.”

  “And what about Muller?”

  “I’ve just spent the last hour with him,” Chavasse said. “Steiner and Hans laid it on a bit too thick during the last beating. I was alone with him when he died.”

  “Did he tell you anything?” Hardt asked.

  Chavasse nodded. “Apparently, Bormann died some months ago. Muller was just trying to make himself a little cash on the side.”

  “And the manuscript?”

  “That’s genuine enough,” Chavasse said. “His sister’s looking after it. She’s the one we’ve got to find now.”

  He took Anna’s hand and led the way out of the room and along the gallery. The hall was completely deserted, the only sound the peaceful crackle of the logs in the great fireplace. He smiled reassuringly to the other two and they began a cautious descent.

  When they were halfway down the staircase, one of the doors was flung open and Steiner entered the hall. He was lighting a cigarette, the match in his cupped hands, so that for a moment he did not see them, and then he looked up and an expression of astonishment appeared on his face.

  As Chavasse turned and started to push Anna back up the staircase, Steiner pulled out a Luger and fired. The bullet chipped one of the marble pillars at the head of the stairs and Chavasse pushed Anna forward and followed her, half-crouching.

  They ran along the gallery, Hardt at their heels, and Steiner fired again. They plunged down a narrow flight of stairs and entered a lower corridor with a door at the end of it. When Chavasse tried to open it, he found that it was locked.

  “We passed a door on the left,” Hardt said, and he turned and went back the way they had come.

  The door opened to his touch and they entered into what looked like a servant’s bedroom. At that moment, Steiner paused at the top of the flight of stairs and fired along the corridor. Chavasse slammed the door shut and pushed the bolts into place, securing it for the moment.

  “Now what do we do?” Hardt demanded.

  Chavasse moved across to the window and opened it. The waters of the lake splashed against the stone wall of the castle twenty feet below them. He turned to Hardt. “It’s only about a hundred yards to the shore. Do you think you could swim that far?”

  “Sink or swim—what does it matter in a situation like this?” Hardt said simply.

  “And you, Anna?” Chavasse said.

  She smiled. “I’ve been swimming all my life.”

  At that moment, Steiner kicked on the door. “You’d better come out of there,” he bellowed angrily.

  Chavasse made a quick gesture toward the window, “After you two,” he said, “and good luck.”

  Hardt went first and then Anna. As Chavasse pulled himself up onto the sill, Steiner fired several times through the door. Chavasse took a deep breath and jumped.

  He hit the water with a solid, forceful smack and surfaced almost immediately. It was bitterly cold and he was aware of Anna floating beside him. “Are you all right?” he gasped.

  She nodded and gulped. “Fine.”

  Hardt was already disappearing into the mist as they struck out after him. As the castle disappeared from view, Chavasse heard a sudden, impotent cry of rage and a bullet sang over the water, and then they were alone in a dark world that seemed to enclose them completely.

  They swam together in a triangle, with Hardt leading. He looked very white and strained, and Chavasse gasped, “You managing all right?”

  Hardt spit out a stream of brown lake water and managed a tired grin. “My arm doesn’t feel too good, but don’t worry. I’ll reach the shore.”

  Chavasse turned to look at Anna, and heard the engine of the launch shatter the silence with a roar as it emerged from beneath the castle. They kept on swimming, increasing the stroke as the launch passed them nearby, and then returned again.

  They moved together and stopped swimming, treading water as they listened, and then the launch seemed to be right on top of them and its roaring filled their ears.

  “Down!” Chavasse gasped desperately, and they ducked under the water.

  He felt himself thrash about helplessly like a fish in a net, and then he erupted to the surface, lungs bursting.

  Anna appeared first and Hardt a little later and they huddled together, tossed about by the turbulence, and listened as the sound of the launch died away in the distance. After a while, Chavasse nodded and they started to swim again.

  The boathouse loomed out of the mist five minutes later, and they waded through the shallows and mounted the slipway. The wooden doors were not locked and Chavasse opened them and they passed inside.

  Anna slumped down onto a pile of old sacks and pushed a damp tendril of hair back. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so cold in my life.”

  Hardt ran a hand wearily across his face. “What do we do now?”

  Chavasse shrugged. “Play the cards as they fall, but whatever happens, one of us must get to Hamburg. Steiner’s going to assassinate Hauptmann at Nagel’s reception for the peace conference delegates.”

  “Oh, my God,” Anna said. “Hauptmann! He’s a good man, one of the finest men in Germany.”

  At that moment, a dog howled suddenly from the direction of the causeway leading to the castle. A little later, the sound came again, muffled by the mist, but definitely coming nearer.

  Hardt turned quickly, his eyes somber. “Steiner has set the dogs on us. I saw them early this morning when they brought me here. Three black-and-tan Dobermans, trained to kill. We don’t stand a chance.”

  “We do if we split up,” Chavasse said. “One of us can lead the dogs off while the other two get away. Somebody must go to Hamburg.”

  “Whom do you suggest?” Hardt inquired ironically.

  “I’m in better shape than you are. I could probably lead them a longer dance.”

  “But you’d be a damned sight more useful in handling these people when you get to Hamburg,” Hardt said.

  Chavasse started to protest, but Anna caught him by the hand and pulled him round to face her. “Mark’s right, Paul. You are the only one who can save Hauptmann’s life and that is the main thing now.”

  Behind them a door banged, and when Chavasse turned, Hardt was gone. They could hear him crashing his way through the fir trees, making no attempt to hide the noise of his progress, and then there were confused cries as the search party from the castle heard him. A moment later, the dogs started to howl, and as Chavasse and Anna listened breathlessly, the sounds faded into the distance and they were alone.

  CHAPTER 11

  He’s quite a man,” Chavasse said out of the silence.

  Anna nodded. “I found that out a long time ago. Where do we go from here?”

  “Back to the inn,” he said. “There’s always the Volkswagen. With any luck, we can be on the way back to Hamburg in fifteen minutes.”

  She shook her head gravely. “I’m afraid not, Paul. Fassbender drove the car to the castle. I saw it in the courtyard when they took me in.”

  He frowned for a moment as he considered possibilities, and then he came to a decision. “We’ll still go back to the inn. There’s a chance Fassbender is with the search
party and they’re going in the opposite direction, but we’ll have to hurry.”

  He led the way outside and they plunged into the wood. After a few moments, they came to the path that they had originally followed to the lake, and Chavasse took Anna by the hand and started to run.

  There was no sign of movement from the inn, and only the thin spiral of blue smoke from one chimney indicated life. They paused in the fringe of fir trees at the edge of the yard, and then Chavasse squeezed her hand and ran across to the back door, half-crouching. He opened the door quickly, pushed Anna through, and followed her, closing it behind him.

  They were standing in a large, stone-flagged kitchen. The old woman was bending over the sink, scrubbing out a pan, and she turned and looked at them vacantly. “You didn’t come in for lunch,” she said.

  Chavasse smiled gently. “No, we went boating on the lake and had an accident, as you can see. Is Herr Fassbender about?”

  She shook her head. “He went to the castle. He said he wouldn’t be back until nightfall.”

  “Is anyone else here?”

  She looked bewildered. “But why would there be anyone else here, mein Herr?” She turned back to the sink and her pans, muttering to herself and shaking her head.

  Chavasse opened the far door and pushed Anna through into the stone-flagged passage. “A good thing for us the old girl’s a simpleton.”

  Anna nodded. “What do we do now?”

  “You can go straight upstairs and change into some dry clothes,” he said. “Be as quick as you can and then look for Fassbender’s room and see if you can find me something suitable. We’re about the same size.”

  “What about you?” she said.

  “I’ve got some telephoning to do.” He smiled and pushed her gently toward the stairs. “Hurry it up, angel. We’ve got to get out of here as fast as we damned well can.”

  When she had gone, he went behind the reception desk and put a call through to London. The operator promised to ring him back and he replaced the receiver and went into the bar, where he helped himself to a double brandy and a packet of cigarettes.

  He shivered with pleasure as the brandy spread through his body in a warm tide. He decided to have another one, and was just finishing it when the phone rang.

  He lifted the receiver and waited, and after a while Jean Frazer’s voice crackled over the wire. “Brown & Company here. Can I help you?”

  “This is Cunningham speaking,” Chavasse told her. “I’d like a word with Mr. Taylor if he’s available.”

  “Just a moment, please, Mr. Cunningham,” she said calmly.

  A moment later, the Chief ’s voice sounded in his ear. “Taylor here—is that you, Cunningham? How’s business?”

  “Booming!” Chavasse said. “In fact, I could use some help. Can you do anything? It’s rather urgent.”

  “It’s nice to know things are going so well,” the Chief said, “and I’ll certainly do what I can. Where can you be reached?”

  “I’ll be at the Atlantic with Sir George,” Chavasse said. “I’ll try and hang on there until eight, but I can’t make it any later than that, I’m afraid.”

  “That should be fine,” the Chief said. “We’ve a very good local contact, name of von Kraul. I’ll see if he’s available.”

  “I’ll look forward to seeing him,” Chavasse said. “Now I’m afraid I’ll have to go. Things are moving pretty fast at the moment.”

  The Chief ’s voice didn’t change. “Well, that’s nice to know, Cunningham. We’ll have to see about a bonus for you when you come home. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

  There was a click at the other end of the line and Chavasse grinned and replaced his own receiver. He felt a lot happier. One thing about the Chief—he was completely reliable. If he said he’d see to something, it got done.

  He looked up the number of the Atlantic Hotel in the telephone directory and asked for Sir George Harvey. It took them ten minutes to find him, and they finally located him in the famous Long Bar.

  He sounded a little irritated at being dragged away from his drink. “Harvey here—who’s speaking?” he barked. Chavasse told him and Sir George’s tone changed at once.

  “My dear chap, I’ve been wondering what had happened to you.”

  “You said you’d be willing to help me at any time,” Chavasse said. “That all I had to do was call you. Does that still go?”

  “Naturally!” Sir George said brusquely. “I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean.”

  “Then leave the hotel at once,” Chavasse said. “Get into your car and take the main road to Lubeck. About twenty miles out of Hamburg, you’ll come to a signpost on your left, pointing the way to a place called Berndorf. I’ll be waiting for you there.”

  “Is this really important?” Sir George asked.

  “It’s a matter of life and death,” Chavasse told him, “and I’m not being melodramatic.”

  “I’m on my way,” Sir George said, and his receiver clicked into place.

  Chavasse went upstairs and found Anna in their bedroom, laying out a tweed suit, underwear, and socks on the bed. “I’ve even managed a pair of shoes. I hope they fit.”

  He started to strip his wet clothes and she toweled his body briskly. “I’ve been in touch with Sir George Harvey,” he said. “He’s going to pick us up at the Berndorf signpost on the main road.”

  “What do we do when we reach Hamburg?” she asked as he dressed quickly.

  “We’ll drop you at your apartment,” he said. “I’ll go on to the Atlantic with Sir George. I’ve been in touch with London. They’re arranging for a German intelligence man called von Kraul to meet me there—do you know him?”

  She shook her head, “So far, we’ve tried to stay out of their way.” She cleaned his battered face with a wet washcloth as she talked, and covered the slash across his right cheek with sticking plaster.

  “That’s partly why I want to leave you at the apartment,” he said. “The less von Kraul knows about Israeli underground groups working in Germany, the better. Another thing. If Mark manages to elude the chase, that’s where he’ll try to contact you.”

  “Do you think he stands a chance?” she said.

  Chavasse shrugged. “There’s always hope. In this heavy rain, it will be difficult for the dogs to follow his scent, and the mist should help him a lot.”

  “I hope and pray he comes out of it safely,” she said, and there was a poignancy and depth in her voice that he found curiously disturbing.

  “You think a lot of him, don’t you?” he said gently.

  She nodded. “I should—he’s my stepbrother. We’ve always been very close.”

  For once, he could think of nothing to say, and they went downstairs in silence. From several coats hanging in the hall, he selected a thigh-length, waterproof hunting jacket for himself and a green Tyrolean hat. He helped Anna into an old and shabby trench coat that was far too large for her, and they left.

  They followed the road out of the village, walking in silence, and he felt curiously depressed. It was a feeling difficult to analyze, but probably caused by too little sleep for too long. Every muscle in his body seemed to be aching and his face pained him intensely.

  After they had gone a couple of miles, he paused. “I think we’d better go through the trees for the rest of the way. Just in case they happen to be patrolling the main road.”

  She nodded without speaking, and they left the road and walked through the trees, brushing aside the rain-soaked branches of the firs. Chavasse saw the hunting lodge first, and beyond it the white gleam of the road. As they approached, he realized that the place was derelict; the door hung on one hinge and the windows gaped sightlessly.

  He checked the time. It was just after four-thirty. It was unlikely that Sir George would arrive before five. “We’ve got about half an hour to spare,” he told Anna. “We might as well stay here. The main road is only fifty or so yards away.”

  “Just as you li
ke, Paul,” she said listlessly, and preceded him through the door.

  It had that peculiar musty smell usual to such places, composed of dampness and leaf mold. Anna sat down on the windowsill and Chavasse gave her a cigarette.

  For a little while, they smoked in silence and she gazed out of the window, an expression of great sadness on her face. After a while, Chavasse said, “Anything the matter?”

  She shook her head. “Not really, nothing I could put my finger on.” She turned and smiled at him, looking suddenly absurdly young in the old trench coat.

  He grinned. “That coat’s far too large for you.”

  She nodded. “It was made in England. I noticed the label when I put it on. I wonder how it came to be hanging on that peg at the inn.”

  He shrugged. “Probably left by some tourist a long time ago.”

  “I think that’s one of the saddest phrases in the English language,” she said. “A long time ago. On me it has the same effect as a bugle sounding taps. Lights out, you’re through, it’s all over.”

  There was a terrible pathos in her voice, and he dropped his cigarette and caught hold of her arms. “Anna, what is it? You’ve never talked like this before.”

  “I’ve never felt like this before,” she said. “I’ve been watching you, Paul. The way you react to danger, the way you always have an answer for every emergency, that utterly ruthless streak so essential to success.” She shook her head. “You’ll never change, Paul. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. All those things we discussed—the things we said we’d do after this is all over—they were just a pipe dream.”

  He gripped her arm fiercely, bitter anger rising inside him. “But I can change,” he said. “I promise you, Anna. When this job is finished, I’m getting out of the game for good.”

  She touched his face gently with her fingers and shook her head. “No, you won’t, Paul. You and I, this hunting lodge, everything we’ve gone through in the last few days—none of it has any reality. One day, you’ll look back on it all and it will simply be something that happened a long time ago.” She laughed lightly. “What was that line in one of Marlowe’s plays? But that was long ago and in another country.”