Angel of Doom (Anna Fehrback Book 5)

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘And I am so happy,’ Johann said. ‘To have found you again. We will wait for you.’

  They were escorted to one of the cars, and driven off. The major had been waiting patiently. He sat beside her in the back of the second car. ‘Is there a crisis?’ she asked.

  ‘Is there not always a crisis, nowadays, Countess? You do not remember me.’

  She turned to look at him, but in the gloom his face was indistinct. ‘You will have to forgive me, Herr Major.’

  ‘I do not blame you; we last met more than four years ago. I escorted you to the SS training camp at Görzke. You were not very sociable.’

  ‘Gunther Gutemann,’ Anna said.

  ‘You do remember!’ He was pleased.

  ‘I remember the names.’

  ‘Ah, yes. You suggested that they did not go together.’

  ‘You must forgive me. I was very tense that morning.’

  ‘I remember. You quarrelled with Dr Cleiner, and had to leave in disgrace.’

  ‘But as you see, I am still here. Is he still there?’

  ‘I do not know. But I should think it is probable.’

  Cleiner, Anna thought. The bastard who had almost made her ashamed of her body, almost, and who had commanded her to shoot an innocent man – her first ever victim – just to prove to him that she could kill. He was not important enough in the Nazi hierarchy to hate, but she knew if she ever encountered him again she would destroy him. While this man . . . he had indeed escorted her to the camp, but he had also remained there throughout her week’s training, watching her in every state of undress and in some very stressful situations. No wonder he was pleased to see her again.

  ‘You have not yet told me what this crisis is,’ she remarked.

  ‘As I said, there are so many it seems that you can take your pick. But I know that Herr Himmler commanded that you should be taken directly to him on landing.’

  Shit, she thought. On the other hand, there was no need to be agitated; he always wanted to see her immediately she returned from a mission to Switzerland. In any event, he could not possibly know of Udermann as yet, so she would be able to get in first on that subject.

  ‘I was wondering,’ Gutemann ventured, ‘have you eaten?’

  ‘No,’ Anna said. My God, she thought, she had not had lunch either. Now she thought of it, she realized that she was starving.

  ‘Well, then, after you have reported to the Reichsführer . . .’

  Why not? she wondered. He was obviously very keen, no doubt activated by his memory, and the alternative was her underground apartment, and Birgit, and the tumult that was raging in her brain, the failed escape attempt, her inability to contact Laurent and tell him what had happened, the fact that Clive, and Belinda, would be in Switzerland, probably tomorrow, to collect her, the thought that this time tomorrow, or indeed, right now, she should be safe, and this ongoing torment be for ever behind her.

  ‘Or does the Reichsführer require you to stay with him for a while?’ Gutemann asked.

  ‘No,’ Anna said. ‘He does not require me to stay with him. If you are prepared to wait a few minutes, Major Gutemann, I would be delighted to dine with you.’

  *

  ‘Countess!’ Albrecht, Himmler’s burly servant-cum-bodyguard, as always seemed delighted to see her. But this was mainly because of the perks that were involved. Anna gave him her shoulder bag, watched him empty the contents. As usual he inspected the pistol with great care, opened the chamber, and sniffed it and the barrel. ‘This gun has not been fired.’

  ‘Should it have?’

  ‘Well, it makes a change. You have had a quiet trip.’

  ‘Actually, no,’ Anna said. ‘But I was given no opportunity to use my weapon.’

  He raised his eyebrows at her peculiar choice of words, but was also puzzled by something else. ‘Where is your travelling bag, and the attaché case?’

  ‘My valise, and the case,’ Anna said, with complete honesty, ‘are in Lucerne. I had to leave there in rather a hurry.’ Which was again the absolute truth, save for the inclusion of the word ‘had’. ‘I am sure, if you were to ask him, that the Reichsführer will explain it to you.’

  He was more interested in completing his search. ‘Then, if you would be so kind.’

  Anna knew the drill, stood facing the wall, resting her hands on the wood, felt his hands moving over her body. They unbuttoned her jacket and quested inside, taking the opportunity to caress her breasts, before moving down her hips to raise her skirt and go between, sliding his hands up the insides of her thighs to touch the hem of her camiknickers. As with Stefan, she knew how he longed to do more, but dared not, less because he feared her skills – he had never seen her at work, even in training – than because he knew that she belonged to his boss.

  ‘Don’t you get tired of this?’ she asked, as he stepped away and she was able to smooth her skirt and button her jacket.

  ‘One could never get tired of you, Countess.’

  ‘You say the sweetest things.’ She opened the door and went into the apartment.

  ‘Anna!’ As it was still fairly early in the evening, Himmler was fully dressed, although in a dinner jacket rather than uniform; at least she was spared the sight of him in his usual striped pyjamas. ‘I have been so worried.’

  ‘About me, Herr Reichsführer?’ She used her most dulcet tone.

  ‘Well . . . do you know that those Red bastards have managed to cross the Vistula?’

  ‘I did know that, sir.’ Now was the time to fire the first shot. ‘In fact, I encountered them.’

  ‘What? But . . . they crossed south of Warsaw. That is a long way from Posen.’

  ‘That may be, sir. But we ran into a patrol on our way back from the internment camp. That I am here at all is only thanks to the gallantry of Major Udermann.’

  ‘My God!’ Himmler went to the sideboard, poured two balloons of brandy and gave her one. ‘What happened?’

  ‘As I said, it appeared to be a patrol, perhaps half a dozen men. But they had motorbikes, and clearly intended to overtake us.’

  ‘There was no help around?’

  Anna sat on the settee and sipped her drink. ‘No, sir. The road was deserted. So Udermann stopped the car, and he and the driver got out. They were both armed. He then told me to drive on and reach Posen, no matter what. I felt I should stay and help him, but—’

  ‘Thank God you did not. You could have been killed. What happened to them? Udermann and the driver?’

  ‘I do not know, sir. I heard shots behind me as I drove away. But I fear the worst.’

  ‘Damnation! As you say, he was a very gallant officer. But at least you got away. You reached Posen without trouble?’

  ‘There were delays, but nothing important. I can tell you, I was so happy to find those Messerschmitts waiting for me. Although I have no idea how they got there.’

  ‘I sent them,’ Himmler said proudly, and sat beside her. ‘We had received so many reports of Russian air activity, I could not risk your being shot down.’

  ‘May I ask how you knew I would be in Posen on that day?’

  ‘Ah! Udermann telephoned from Berne to tell me that you were a day early. At least a day early.’ He peered at her. ‘Why were you a day early?’

  ‘I had completed my business in Lucerne, sir. Our business. And I was in a hurry to get out of Switzerland and my parents out of Poland.’

  ‘And they are all right?’

  ‘They were a little shaken by our unexpected adventure. I don’t think they had ever been under fire before. But they are all right, yes. May I ask where they are being taken?’

  ‘To a safe place. You say our business in Switzerland has been completed?’

  Anna wanted to scream at him, but she said, ‘Yes, sir.’ Her business, at any rate, even if she could not be there. ‘Here is the receipt.’

  He studied it, then nodded. ‘Excellent. You are an absolute treasure. Now, I am sure that you must be very tired after such an ordeal. G
o home and have a good night’s rest. The Führer wishes to see you as soon as he has returned to Berlin. That will be in a few days’ time.’

  Anna gulped. ‘Sir?’

  ‘It is to be an official meeting of the General Staff. Or does that disappoint you? Perhaps you are expecting another summons to his bed?’

  God forbid! she thought. But . . . what had she to do with OKW?

  ‘Although,’ Himmler went on, ‘he may well wish the use of your peculiar services. He really is very fond of you, and, well, since the explosion he is not functioning properly.’

  He has not functioned properly for a very long time, Anna thought.

  ‘His left arm appears to be paralysed and he suffers from a twitch. But there is nothing the matter with his brain.’

  If there was, you would not recognize it, Anna thought: there is too much wrong with your own brain.

  ‘He remains extremely angry,’ Himmler went on. ‘I have never known him so angry. The first of the important conspirators are to be hanged next week. He wishes them strung up on piano wire, so that they strangle slowly. And do you know, he has commanded that they should not be allowed belts for their pants, so that as they writhe these will slowly slip down. Have you ever seen a man hanged, Anna?’

  ‘No, sir.’ Anna drained her brandy glass to avoid being sick.

  ‘It affects the, well, the physical functions. You know what I mean?’

  ‘A man being hanged slowly, erects, momentarily, when the pressure is applied to his spinal column,’ Anna said.

  ‘Ah . . . yes.’ He finished his own goblet, took both glasses to the bar to refill them. ‘Would you like to attend the executions?’

  ‘Thank you, sir. But no.’

  He gave her the glass. ‘Because you have seen too many men erect, eh? Ha ha.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ Anna agreed.

  ‘But in any event, the Führer has commanded that the executions should be filmed, so that he can study them at his leisure. I am sure he will let you look at the film.’

  And I have had sex with that, Anna thought. Her shudder was entirely genuine.

  ‘You are tired,’ Himmler said again, sympathetically. ‘Well, as I said, you rest up and await the summons. There are great things afoot.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Anna put down the still full glass and stood up. ‘My parents—’

  ‘I have said, they will be placed in absolute safety.’

  ‘May I not see them?’

  ‘You have just seen them, Anna. You know they are well. And you have my word that they will remain well.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Anna accepted defeat, for the moment. ‘Thank you, sir. Good night.’

  *

  ‘Well, that did not take too long.’ Gutemann was waiting for her in the downstairs lobby. ‘Now, for dinner, I know the very place.’

  ‘Ah . . .’ Anna rested her hand on his arm. ‘I really do not feel like eating right now.’ As for sex, she thought, I would vomit all over you.

  ‘But . . .’ He was looking both shattered and bewildered.

  ‘I must be more tired than I had thought.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Listen. Ask me again in a couple of days, and I would love to dine with you. And . . . get to know you better.’

  ‘You will?’ Now he was delighted. ‘But now . . .?’

  ‘I would like you to take me to Gestapo Headquarters, so that I can go to bed.’

  And weep, she thought.

  *

  ‘Herr Laurent?’ Clive Bartley stood before the desk in the Geneva office. ‘Clive Bartley.’

  ‘Of course. And this is . . .?’

  ‘Belinda Hoskin. My aide.’

  Laurent shook hands with each of them, while they surveyed him, taken aback by his youth, as he also seemed surprised that Clive should be accompanied by a woman; they had just flown in, from France and Belinda was not looking at her best. Even if she had been assured – and she had observed for herself – that the Luftwaffe no longer had the aircraft to disrupt the Allies’ activities in Normandy much less operate further south, she disliked flying as much as Anna. ‘Do sit down.’

  Clive placed two chairs before the desk, and he and Belinda sat together. ‘So, where do you have Anna hidden? And her parents, I presume.’

  ‘Sadly,’ Laurent said, ‘I do not have her hidden anywhere. Or her parents.’

  Suddenly there was an atmosphere of hostility from the two Britons. ‘Would you explain that?’ Clive asked. ‘We understood that you were assisting her.’

  ‘I was,’ Laurent agreed. ‘And I would hope to do so again. But at this moment I do not know where she is.’

  ‘On the telephone, she said she would be here, with you. And you confirmed that.’

  ‘Yes, I did. But all I know is what she told me. Two days ago she flew to Poland to remove her parents from their internment camp. She was to return here that same night. But she never came.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Belinda said.

  ‘I do not think there is any reason to assume that something has happened to her,’ Laurent said. ‘I understand that you are her controller at MI6, Mr Bartley?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Would I, therefore, be correct in assuming that you have worked with her for several years?’

  ‘You would be correct.’

  ‘Therefore you must know that Anna can take care of herself. Have you ever seen her at work?’

  ‘Have you?’

  ‘Not in so many words. I have seen, or know of, the evidence of her work, when she regards it as necessary.’

  ‘You are thinking of here in Geneva last year.’

  ‘That is correct. She sat exactly where you are sitting now, as cool as a cucumber, the epitome of innocent beauty, and she had just killed two men.’

  ‘She had killed them the previous night,’ Clive said, absently.

  Laurent raised his eyebrows. ‘You knew of this?’

  ‘I had spent the night with her.’

  Belinda blew a very loud raspberry.

  Laurent looked from one to the other. ‘You mean, you killed those men?’

  ‘No, I did not. Anna had killed them before I arrived.’

  ‘But . . . the bodies were found in the apartment the next morning.’

  ‘Well, she couldn’t get rid of them, you see.’

  ‘And you mean, you—’

  ‘What we did, or did not do, Herr Laurent, is none of your business. What I am trying to tell you is that I am fully aware that Anna can take care of herself in virtually any situation.’ He recalled the six NKVD agents in Washington, who had surely supposed that they held all the high cards, with a naked Anna their prisoner. ‘But I am also aware that when she says she is going to do something, she does it. Therefore, if she told you she was returning to Switzerland two nights ago, and she did not, something fairly catastrophic must have happened.’

  ‘To Anna? My God! But I have heard nothing.’

  ‘Would you have heard anything?’

  ‘Well . . . no.’

  ‘Right. So let’s consider the alternatives.’

  ‘If something has happened to Anna . . . I could not bear the thought of that.’ It was, actually, an upsetting thought. Although, of course, it might also solve a great many problems.

  ‘At least we seem to be on the same wavelength in one direction, at any rate,’ Clive said. ‘So let’s consider. She went to Poland. I assume by a German aircraft?’

  ‘She was to pick it up in Berne.’

  ‘Berne is not a very big airport. Can you check and make sure that a German plane left there two days ago?’

  ‘I have already done that. I went to Berne myself to meet her return flight.’

  ‘Which never arrived. Right. She was going to Poland? Where in Poland?’

  ‘Posen. My God! The Russians are across the Vistula.’

  ‘Three days ago, yes. According to their last communiqué the crossing was made well south of Warsaw. Posen is well to the west. They cannot possibly have got up there in the
next twenty-four hours.’

  ‘But they have air superiority.’

  Clive sighed. ‘Yes. That is a possibility. All we can do is wait, and hope. How does she get in touch with you?’

  ‘She doesn’t.’

  ‘What? But . . .’

  Laurent had to choose his words carefully; he had no desire for his arrangement with Himmler to be known to the British Secret Service. ‘For the past year I have been handling certain business matters for Herr Himmler. You know of him?’

  ‘Of course I know of him,’ Clive snapped.

  ‘Then you will know that he is the second most powerful man in Germany. As you are Anna’s controller, you will also know that she is his personal assistant. In that capacity she brings me certain . . . items, that need to be dealt with.’

  ‘What items?’

  ‘I am sorry, Mr Bartley, those are confidential.’

  ‘Between you and Himmler. You are admitting that you are a Nazi sympathizer.’

  ‘I suppose, when one is at war, it is an asset to be simplistic about these matters. I am a businessman, Mr Bartley. I perform certain functions for my clients. It is not my business to enquire into either their politics or their religion. I am sure that, shall we say, if you were to go to a bank in England to open an account, you would not be asked if you were a Protestant or a Roman Catholic, and be refused if your religious principles did not agree with those of the manager.’

  ‘We are talking about the Nazis, not religion.’

  ‘And they are objectionable to you because Great Britain and Nazi Germany are at war. Switzerland is not at war with anyone.’

  Clive glared at him in frustrated anger, and Belinda decided it was time to abandon ethics in favour of practicality. ‘So Anna comes to you with various messages or whatever from Himmler. But you must know she is coming?’

  ‘I am informed, by the Reichsführer’s office,’ Laurent agreed. ‘Never by Anna personally. For her to attempt a personal message would be far too risky.’

  ‘But she comes regularly.’

  ‘No. She comes whenever Himmler requires her to. We have only met four times in the past year.’

  ‘But on those brief occasions you appear to have struck up a considerable rapport,’ Clive said, acidly.