Angel of Vengeance: The thrilling sequel to Angel in Red (Anna Fehrbach)

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘No, the other one. The one who came before Mr Andrews. Wasn’t he English?’

  Anna frowned. Birgit had never dared question, or even mention, any of the other men who had drifted through her life. So much so that she had never considered the possibility that the maid might be doing some private thinking. Birgit had accepted that the death of Hannah Gehrig’s daughter Marlene in Moscow had been suicide: she had had no idea that Marlene had been another who had come too close to the truth. Nor had she pursued the matter of Pieter Schlutz. Of course, by the time she had come home that day all trace of what had happened had been removed, but she did know that she had left the man handcuffed and at the mercy of her mistress.

  Now suddenly she had become a menace. But Anna was reluctant to consider getting rid of her. She refused to believe that she was either cold-blooded or vicious. As she had told Donovan, she believed that she was fighting a war; that it was a very private war was her business. And in wars, people got killed. Those were enemies. It was difficult to regard Birgit as an enemy.

  But if she was not to be disposed of, she had to be taken on board, in so far as it was possible, and it would involve lying. But Anna had long discovered that just about any lie will be accepted if it is big enough and plausible enough: she had been living nothing but a lie for the past three years. So, watching the woman in the mirror as Birgit piled her hair on the top of her head, she said, ‘Yes, Mr Bartley is English. Do you know what I do, Birgit?’

  ‘You work for the SD, Countess.’

  ‘And do you know what the SD does?’

  ‘No, Countess.’

  ‘But you know it is a government department?’

  ‘Yes, Countess.’

  ‘Well, I can tell you, in the strictest confidence, that the business of the SD is the gathering of information, about other governments, and what they are doing, or planning to do. To accomplish this, we have to have agents placed in important positions all over the world, gathering information, and it is my business to visit these agents and receive the information, and take it back to Reichsfuehrer Himmler.’

  Birgit’s eyes were as big as saucers. ‘You have met the Reichsfuehrer?’

  ‘My dear Birgit, I have met the Fuehrer himself. But the Reichsfuehrer is my boss.’

  ‘And Herr Bartley is one of your agents? And Herr Andrews?’

  ‘Yes.’ Anna’s mind, always inclined to be mischievous when given the opportunity, could not help but have a mental giggle at Clive’s reaction were he to know how she was labelling him.

  ‘You must like them both very much,’ Birgit said slyly.

  ‘That goes with the job. We must keep them happy.’

  ‘Do you think I could become an agent for the SD?’

  ‘Who knows? If you are good, I will mention the matter to the Reichsfuehrer.’

  ‘Ooh, Countess.’

  Anna stood up and studied her jewellery; tonight she was wearing a pearl choker instead of her crucifix. And the looming crisis seemed to have been averted, hopefully forever. ‘That looks very nice.’ She turned her head at a knock on the door. ‘See who that is, will you? If it’s from the Ambassador, tell him I’m coming right down.’

  She checked her evening bag, and then Birgit returned bearing an enormous bouquet of flowers, mainly roses. ‘From the Ambassador.’

  ‘Oh, good lord! He’s a married man!’

  ‘And there’s a note.’ She was obviously dying to open it.

  Anna took the envelope and sat down to read it. I will find you in Madrid. I am an old school friend named Judith. Belinda.

  *

  Anna suddenly felt very cold, and then equally very hot.

  ‘Are you all right, Countess?’ Birgit asked anxiously.

  ‘Yes,’ Anna said. ‘It is a rather extravagant personal compliment, that is all.’ She opened her handbag, took out her gold lighter, and set fire to the note, dropping it into an ashtray.

  ‘Countess?’ Birgit was aghast.

  ‘I do not think it is a sentiment the gentleman would wish to be broadcast,’ Anna said.

  Then it was necessary to go down to dinner, and be the beautiful sophisticate everyone expected, charming men and women alike with her smile and her air of innocence. Her brain was spinning, in the short term wondering which of the Embassy staff was the British agent who had delivered the note.

  But the longer term was the more thought-consuming. She was going to be contacted, and not by Clive. But if they were taking such a risk it had to be something of the most vital importance. Essermann was now at her elbow, where he spent the entire evening. He was not actually seated next to her at dinner, but opposite her, watching her every move. Was this physical attraction merely him obeying his orders to protect her, or was it suspicion? But that was paranoia. The point was that he obviously had no intention of letting her out of his sight.

  As they were leaving at dawn the next morning she had every excuse to retire early. She did not really expect to sleep, but the bed seemed to sway to and fro as her bunk on the ship had done, and she had had sufficient wine to dull her senses, and awoke perfectly fresh at five, in time to have a bath and breakfast before going down.

  Birgit was of course in a state of high excitement, obviously dying to ask if her mistress had made contact with her secret admirer, but not daring to raise the subject.

  They again travelled in two cars, both Mercedes saloons. Birgit and Udermann were in the front vehicle, Essermann and Anna in the rear, sitting together in the back seat. ‘I’m afraid it is an all-day drive to Madrid,’ Essermann explained. ‘But it is interesting countryside, and we shall stop for lunch.’

  Anna inclined her head. Much as she was telling herself that it would be pointless and perhaps dangerous either to speculate or anticipate, she could not help wondering what the next few hours would bring. America had been a different world to anything she had known. That even included her encounter with the NKVD. That apart, the overwhelming sensation had been one of living in an utterly confident society for the first time in her life. They knew that with a vast ocean to either side of them, and the strength to dominate either of their immediate neighbours, to north and south, they were totally secure from the problems of the rest of the world. Even in non-military matters, as Joe had pointed out, they had all the natural resources, save perhaps for fringe necessities like tin or rubber, and all the food that they required. They feared no one, and thus had no need to hate anyone.

  What a contrast to Europe, she thought. Even the Nazis, so apparently powerful, were driven by fear. They had climbed on to the back of a tiger, and whipped the beast into movement. Now they dared not halt that forward momentum, much less attempt to dismount, because if they did the beast was liable to turn and devour them.

  ‘A brown study,’ Essermann remarked. ‘Did you have a difficult time in the United States?’

  ‘I would not say so,’ Anna replied. ‘I got what I wanted. What Reichsfuehrer Himmler wanted,’ she added for good measure.

  ‘Then perhaps you are unhappy at the thought of returning to Germany.’

  She turned her head. ‘Why should I be unhappy about that, Herr Essermann? Germany is my home.’

  ‘Of course. Do you not think that as we are to be close companions for the next two days, we could drop the formality? My name is Helmuth. And you are . . .’

  Here we go again, she thought. ‘I am the Countess von Widerstand, as I think you know.’

  He had been inclining towards her, his hand sliding across the seat. Now he jerked upright, and the hand was withdrawn, while his features froze.

  Anna smiled at him. ‘I really do not wish to hurt you, or you career, Herr Essermann, but I think that you should know that I am the personal property of Reichsfuehrer Himmler.’

  Now he seemed to coagulate. The rest of their journey was a silent affair. But Anna could not control her growing tension as they approached the capital, simply because she had no idea what to expect. It was surprisingly cold when they reached
their hotel, just on dusk, and she put on her sable, which she had discarded for the journey. ‘Madrid is quite high up,’ Essermann explained, and having apparently decided to make the best of a bad job, added, ‘Will you join me for dinner?’

  ‘Certainly. If you will give me time to have a bath and change my clothes.’

  ‘That is not a problem. The Spanish eat very late. Shall we say, eight o’clock in the bar, for an aperitif?’

  ‘That sounds delightful.’ Anna entered the foyer, where Birgit was waiting for her. ‘Do we have to check in?’

  ‘No, no,’ Essermann said. ‘That is taken care of. Udermann!’

  His aide stepped forward with a key.

  ‘And my maid?’

  ‘I have mine already, Countess. I am across the hall.’

  ‘Well, then, eight o’clock, Herr Essermann.’ She turned towards the lifts, and was checked by a shout.

  ‘Anna! Anna Fehrbach! What brings you to Madrid?’

  The woman hurrying towards her was approximately her own age, not very tall but decidedly elegant, with rounded features and red-gold hair, which, like Anna, she wore long. Her clothes were expensive, and she carried a very small dog in her arms. And she was speaking German.

  ‘Judith?’ Anna asked. ‘Can it be you?’

  ‘It is so good to see you, after so long.’ Judith kissed her on the cheek, while the dog nuzzled her breast. ‘You’ll never guess who I bumped into the other day. Belinda! You remember Belinda?’

  ‘I do indeed,’ Anna said. ‘But . . . what are you doing here?’

  ‘I asked you the same thing, remember?’

  ‘Ahem,’ Essermann remarked.

  ‘Ah,’ Anna said. ‘This is Herr Essermann. Herr Essermann, allow me to present Fraulein—’

  ‘No, no,’ Judith said. ‘I am married. Did you not know? It was in all the papers. I am now the Countess de Sotomayer.’

  ‘How lovely for you,’ Anna said. ‘And your husband?’

  ‘He is somewhere around. He is joining me here for dinner. Anna! You must dine with us. Carlos would love to meet you.’ She lowered her voice into an arch whisper. ‘But I must warn you, he’s in real estate and can be a bit of a bore. He’s certain to try to sell you something.’

  ‘Sounds exciting,’ Anna said. ‘I’d so like to meet him. I’m sorry, Helmuth, you will have to excuse me for this evening. But we can have lunch and dinner together tomorrow on the train. I will see you in an hour, Judith.’ She patted the dog on the head, smiled at the flabbergasted Essermann and hurried to the lift.

  *

  She was still panting when she gained her room. Clive was here after all, and in an hour she would be with him. She did not suppose they would be able to do more than talk, unless they were very fortunate, and of course it was only a few weeks since they had last been together, but as she never knew how long they would be separated each time, each time they could see each other was a bonus.

  I am in love, she thought, kicking off her shoes, and then wondered if he was also having it off with the rather glamorous young woman who was pretending to be his wife.

  A tap on the door and Birgit came in. ‘Ah, Birgit, did you have a nice drive?’

  ‘It was very boring, Countess. That man Udermann hardly said a word.’

  ‘His boss was rather uncommunicative too,’ Anna agreed, which was somewhat unfair on Essermann, she thought. She then frowned as she remembered that Birgit knew Clive by sight. Birgit appeared to have entirely accepted her explanation as to their relationship, but to see him again so soon, and in such surroundings . . . On the other hand, Birgit should not be in either the hotel bar or the main dining room. It was still a risk, though. ‘Run me a bath, would you?’

  ‘Yes, Countess.’

  She hurried into the bathroom. Anna undressed and followed, to stand in the doorway. ‘I hope you are being well looked after.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Countess. It seems a very comfortable hotel.’

  ‘And what about your dinner?’

  ‘Udermann wishes to take me out. He claims to have been in Madrid before, often, and to know a very nice restaurant.’

  ‘I hope you accepted.’

  ‘Well . . . I don’t really like him.’

  ‘It pays to get on with SD agents.’

  ‘Have I your permission, Countess?’

  ‘Of course you do. Ah.’

  There was a rap on the door. Anna had anticipated this. She wrapped herself in the towelling bathrobe supplied, which came to just below her thighs, and herself opened the door. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘I wish to speak with you,’ Essermann announced, his gaze drifting down to her exposed legs.

  ‘Well, that is obvious,’ Anna pointed out, and stepped back. ‘I hope you are not going to let my bath water get cold.’

  Essermann entered the room and closed the door. ‘You are welcome to take your bath, Countess. We can talk while you do so.’

  ‘I must say,’ Anna remarked, ‘you deserve ten out of ten for perseverance. But I do not think that would be a good idea. I am sure the Reichsfuehrer would not approve.’ She sat on the settee and crossed her knees, the bathrobe riding up. Essermann sat opposite; she reckoned he could just about see her pubic hair. ‘So what is it you wish to say?’

  ‘I cannot permit you to fulfil this dinner engagement with that woman.’

  Anna raised her eyebrows. ‘You cannot permit? Are you my superior officer?’

  ‘You are my responsibility.’

  ‘My safety is your responsibility. I am hardly going to be at risk in the middle of a crowded restaurant when dining with an old friend.’

  ‘The woman is an impostor.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Well, Countess de Sotomayer. What sort of a name is that?’

  ‘I have no idea. She may well be an impostor, at this moment. But I know she was at school with me. We were the best of friends. To snub her now would be both rude and suspicious. Anyway, the best way to find out if she is an impostor is to have dinner with her.’

  ‘But don’t you realize, Countess, that if she was at school with you, she will know that your family, and yourself, were arrested in 1938, and will want to know what happened and why you are now apparently a wealthy socialite?’

  ‘Of course she will not. Judith is a year older than me, and she left school, and indeed Austria, in 1937. She may wish to know what it was like, what happened, after you people moved in, but I can easily handle that.’

  ‘I do not like it.’

  ‘Then I suggest you stop thinking about it. Birgit?’

  The maid had appeared in the bathroom doorway. ‘Your bath is ready, Countess.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Anna uncrossed her legs and stood up.

  Essermann stood also. ‘I shall have to put this in my report.’

  ‘Of course. You must put in your report everything that you think necessary. I will see you in the morning, Herr Essermann.’

  *

  He was, of course, in the bar when she entered, but at a table by himself on the far side of the room. In any event, she had eyes only for Clive, who was seated with his ‘wife’, and rose as she came towards them.

  ‘Fraulein Fehrbach.’ He bent over her hand. ‘How nice to meet you.’ He spoke German. ‘Judith has told me so much about you. You’ll take a glass of champagne?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  There was a bottle in the ice bucket on the table; beside it was a folder, lying on top of a briefcase. Anna sat down; Clive poured, and sat beside her. Judith smiled at them both.

  ‘Judith tells me you may be interested in buying real estate,’ Clive said, continuing to speak German; there were people seated quite close by and waiters drifting to and fro. ‘I have some very good properties here. Would you like to look at them now, or after dinner?’

  Anna could tell that he was very tense, which was unusual for Clive. ‘I think I would like to look at them now, Count.’

  ‘Well, then . . .’
He opened the folder, spread it in front of her.

  Anna sipped her drink and scanned the page. There were two properties advertised, with exterior photographs. But the text, commencing with the first one, had nothing to do with property.

  Adolf Hitler will be fifty-three next April, and we are informed that he is not in the best of health. You may be able to confirm this. Anna recalled the pill-taking ceremony at the Wilhelmstrasse and the banter that had gone with it. Whether this is true or not, our source informs us that he is being pressured by his advisers to name, and install, a successor. Since the defection of Hess, this successor has been assumed to be Goering, but Goering is in even worse health and is also a drug addict. Goebbels would seem ideal, but the fact that he is a cripple rules him out as the leader of a nation of Aryan supermen. Thus it must be Himmler. But we are informed that Hitler recognizes Himmler as an essentially uncertain man, capable of carrying out orders, but not of giving them. We are reliably informed that Hitler is inclining towards Heydrich.

  Anna raised her head. Clive was gazing at her. ‘You may have an opinion on that too,’ he said. Anna resumed reading.

  This cannot be permitted to happen. We identify Heydrich, thanks in part to your reports, as the strongest, most clear-headed, ruthless and therefore dangerous man in the Nazi regime. Were he to be given supreme power the consequences could be catastrophic. We are thinking in particular of his role in devising this so-called Final Solution.

  We are informed that this appointment may well be made when Heydrich returns from his Prague mission, probably this coming summer, and of course, when he is back in Germany, surrounded by his people, he is virtually untouchable. Save perhaps by you. But we are reluctant to sacrifice you, at this time. How nice to be needed, she thought. Therefore his elimination must take place before he leaves Prague. We wish you to engineer things so that you join him there. We do not wish you to endanger yourself. A picked team is being sent from England, who will contact you via the Belinda code. Your task will be to provide them with whatever information they need as to Heydrich’s movements and timings. That is all you need to do. You may grieve most whole-heartedly when he is dead. Until then, good fortune. Belinda.