Angel of Doom (Anna Fehrback Book 5)

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘She has learned to trust me, yes,’ Laurent agreed, proudly.

  ‘As she is now trusting you with her life.’

  ‘I shall not fail her.’

  ‘But you can’t help her, either.’

  ‘Oh, behave, Clive,’ Belinda said. ‘No one can help Anna unless she wants to be helped. It’s time to decide what we’re going to do. Which means getting to grips with certain facts.’

  Clive glared at her, but she merely smiled at him. ‘One: it is possible that Anna did run into the Russians, or a Russian aircraft, in which case she is either dead or in their hands. In which case there is not a lot we can do about it.’

  ‘Do you know what they would do to her, if they captured her?’ Clive asked.

  ‘You can tell me about it, some time. That does not alter the fact that if that has happened, there is still nothing we can do save weep. However, possibility number two is surely equally likely, that for some reason her plans had to change, and instead of coming back here she had to return to Germany.’

  ‘You mean she might have betrayed herself?’ Laurent asked.

  ‘Anna does not betray herself,’ Clive snapped.

  ‘Well, then, that someone else betrayed her. Although,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘as far as I am aware, she had confided her plan to no one.’

  ‘Except you,’ Clive pointed out.

  There was another exchange of glares.

  ‘I do think,’ Belinda remarked, ‘that we would make more progress if we concentrated on the business in hand.’ She might have been addressing a board meeting at her magazine office. ‘So, if we exclude point one from our calculations, and assume that Anna is back in Berlin, surely the first thing we need to do is contact her and find out the situation.’

  ‘And how are we supposed to do that?’ Clive enquired.

  ‘For God’s sake! Before this thing came up, weren’t you sending me to Germany to see her. So, back to square one.’

  ‘You can do this?’ Laurent asked.

  ‘I have done it before.’

  ‘But how do you reach her?’

  ‘I know where she lives.’ She could not suppress a flush. ‘I have stayed there.’

  Laurent looked at Clive. Who was also looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I suppose in the circumstances . . .’

  *

  ‘Anna!’ Adolf Hitler said, advancing towards her. ‘My dear Anna!’

  Always in their past meetings he had seized both her hands to squeeze them. Today he used his right hand only; as Himmler had warned, his left arm hung immobile at his side, its fingers from time to time twitching uncontrollably. But that was symptomatic of the whole. She had last seen him only a fortnight before, when she had shared his bed . . . the night before he had been blown up. She had never known a fully fit Führer; by the time she had been forced to enter his intimate circle he had already been existing on pills, and giving every evidence of the premature ageing brought on by his lifestyle, the amount of responsibility he had taken upon himself, and the quack medicines to which he subjected his body. But there had never been anything identifiably wrong with him.

  Now she looked at a wreck. Apart from his left arm, his left leg trailed as he walked, his entire body seemed to have shrunk – he was, in any event, several inches shorter than her – and constantly trembled, and his face, still pitted and cut from bomb fragments, also twitched spasmodically while both his hair and his moustache were singed. Only the eyes, at once mesmerizing and demonic, gleamed with their old fervour. ‘My Führer,’ she said. ‘I have been so worried.’

  He squeezed her fingers. ‘Am I not indestructible? This event has proved that to the world. Just as it has proved to the world that here in Germany we have a woman who can take her place on the same stage as well as any man. You know these gentlemen?’

  Still holding her hand he turned to face the room. Anna’s brain had already been tumbling as she had indeed met several of the men present. Keitel, the epitome of a Prussian junker with his close-cropped hair, his moustache, his military expression. Jodl, narrow-faced and anxious. Goering, red-faced and overweight, his uniform a mass of ribbons and stars. Guderian, very much a soldier’s soldier. Several other staff officers she could not immediately name. But neither Himmler nor Goebbels, to her relief, were present.

  But Hitler apart, her acquaintance with these men had always been at an entirely social level, nor had she ever been inside the huge conference room at the Chancellery, with its map-covered tables. And she had been given no indication as to the reason for her presence.

  She could only be patient. ‘I think I do, my Führer.’

  ‘Well, they all know you, at least by repute. Gentlemen, I give you the Countess von Widerstand, our latest secret weapon.’

  Anna gave him a startled glance, then had to submit to having her hands clasped by each man in turn, following which they formed a circle round her; she found herself thinking of Daniel. But most of the expressions were simply mystification. They had no more idea of what their leader intended than did she. Or what he had meant.

  Hitler continued to stand beside her. ‘As you know, Countess,’ he now explained, ‘our soldiers in the field have been having a difficult time. They are being forced to retreat, in the east, in the south, and now in the west. This is of course a temporary situation. Our new secret weapons, our V-2 rockets, which are twice as fast and have twice the range of the V-1, and will deliver twice the payload on English cities, are ready to be deployed. Our latest invention, the snorkel, will enable our submarines to remain underwater for as long as they wish, as their air will be constantly renewed. Our new King Tiger tanks are coming off the production line in ever increasing numbers. While our Messerschmitt 262 will soon be ready for combat. It is jet propelled, and is twice as fast as anything the Allies possess. It will revolutionize air warfare and regain for us total command of the skies. So you see, it is only a matter of months before we turn the tide of the war.’

  He paused to beam at them all. Anna could not resist a quick glance at the various faces; none was looking entirely convinced.

  ‘However,’ Hitler went on, ‘while eventual victory is assured, it is not always obvious to the man in the field, and as I have said, I am aware that morale is suffering due to our soldiers being repeatedly forced to retreat. Thus the countess.’ He raised her arm. ‘Due to her exploits in combating the subversive elements who have recently attempted to overthrow the Reich, the countess has become a household name. But very few of our troops have ever seen a picture of her, much less her in the flesh. I am thus appointing her to a position I have just created. The countess is now our Minister of Morale.’

  He paused to stare at them; they were looking even less convinced. He turned back to her. ‘Your duties, Countess, will consist of touring our military units. You will appear in person before our troops.’ He allowed himself a smile. ‘I am not suggesting that you get too close to any of them, no matter how much they might wish it. But you will let as many as possible see you in the flesh. Speak with as many as you can. You are the epitome of glorious German womanhood, of everything that our soldiers are fighting for, of everything they will one day return to.’ Another brief smile. ‘Not everyone they return to will be as beautiful as you, but every man carries a dream in his mind and in his heart. You are that dream.’

  For a moment no one spoke, then Guderian ventured, ‘Is there not a chance that some of our people may know that the countess is not a German, my Führer?’

  ‘The countess was born in Vienna, General. I also was born in Austria. Are you suggesting that I am not a German?’

  Guderian gulped, and the rest of the officers clapped.

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen. This meeting is now ended. Anna, you will come to my office.’

  Anna felt as if she were in a dream as she followed him along the gallery, past the saluting SS guards. There was no one else in the office, and he sat behind his desk, gesturing her to a chair. ‘You do not look happy
with your appointment,’ he remarked.

  Happy, she thought. She had had only two priorities, one to find out where her parents were now being held, the other to find some means of contacting Laurent and putting him, and thus Clive, in the picture. If she could not do that, they might well suppose her dead or captured by the Russians. Either way, they would have to write her off. Would Clive ever do that? She did not believe that he would, in his heart and mind. But if she disappeared beyond his reach, there could be no doubt that Baxter would close her file. And Donovan. She couldn’t be sure about Joe Andrews.

  But suddenly she realized that if she was going to be given maximum publicity, it would be sure to get back to London, as well as Geneva, and they would at least know that she was alive, even if at the moment beyond contact. But . . . if she was being sent to ‘entertain’ the front line troops in France, was there not also the possibility of her being taken prisoner by the Allies? But that was not a practical solution, as it would mean abandoning her parents.

  Hitler was waiting for a reply. ‘I am overwhelmed, my Führer,’ she said.

  ‘You have merely to be yourself to succeed. A look at your face will inspire most men. Now. You will need a staff.’

  ‘Yes, sir. May I ask, does the Reichsführer know of my appointment?’

  ‘I have not told him yet. I will do so this morning. Does this concern you?’

  Concern me? she thought. He will not be a happy man, as he will see me slipping further away from his control. ‘No, sir. It is simply that at least one of the people I would like to take with me works in his office.’

  ‘Indeed? Who is this?’

  ‘My sister Katherine.’

  ‘You never told me you had a sister.’

  ‘I am sorry, sir. It did not occur to me that it might be important.’

  ‘Is she anything like you?’

  ‘She is very like me, my Führer, save that she is two years younger.’ And the resemblance is only physical, she thought, not where it matters.

  ‘And you say she is working in the Reichsführer’s office? As what?’

  ‘As my assistant, sir. She is SD.’

  ‘How extraordinary.’

  ‘She played an important role in the detection of the conspiracy.’

  ‘Did she, indeed? I must meet this young lady. However, I quite understand that you would like to have her with you, and so you shall.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. There is also my maid, Birgit.’

  ‘Your maid. Yes, of course, a lady must have her maid. But I was thinking more of a personal escort. A bodyguard. I am sending Martin with you, in any event.’

  ‘Sir?’ Anna was aghast. She had never met Martin Bormann, but on her first visit to Rastenburg, she had been warned by one of the secretaries that the one mistake she could make would be to get on the wrong side of the shadowy figure of whom so little was known. What was known was that Bormann was a man with no military or political rank, who appeared to have no special talents, but who was close to the Führer, although invariably lurking in the background, and whose advice Hitler apparently always accepted. ‘Is that necessary, sir? I mean, I know how important he is to you, to the military situation . . .’

  ‘Yes, he is important. Which is a reflection of the importance I attach to your mission. And he can only be with you for a couple of weeks, just to make sure everything goes well. After that, you will be on your own, although the various commanding officers will be informed of your schedule and of your duties and will be required to offer you every facility. However, what I also wish you to have is a personal bodyguard, someone to be with you at all times to make sure of your immediate safety and also to handle any difficulties that may crop up. You say your sister is SD? That should mean that she is proficient in weapons.’

  ‘She was certainly trained to use them, sir. But I do not believe she has ever fired a shot in anger.’ One could hardly count the execution she had been required to carry out to prove her proficiency. And after she had qualified, having failed in her first assignment of seducing a Turkish diplomat – when he had tried to sodomize her she had run screaming from the room – she had been saved from the disgrace of being sent to an SS brothel simply because she was the sister of the famous Anna. But her duties had from then been strictly secretarial. She had never had the ‘benefit’ of working for someone like Heydrich.

  ‘Hm,’ Hitler commented. ‘Pity. Obviously, the man who is appointed must be someone you find congenial.’

  Anna appeared to consider, but she had already made her choice. ‘May I suggest Major Gutemann?’

  Hitler frowned. ‘Do I know this man?’

  ‘I should not think so. But I have known him for four years.’ Which was stretching a point, as she had not met him between the summer of 1940 and his sudden reappearance a couple of weeks ago.

  ‘I see. Is he your lover?’

  She did not suppose he was jealous, simply curious. ‘Certainly not, sir.’ At least yet. While she had fulfilled her promise to have dinner with him, she had refused to allow him to come down to her apartment, and as the apartment was situated in the Gestapo Headquarters he had been unable to press the point. But she had no doubt that he was desperate to get together with her, and there could be no brighter prospect of intimacy than undertaking a tour together . . . certainly after they had unloaded Bormann.

  ‘I will have him seconded,’ Hitler said. ‘Now, it will take a couple of weeks to set things up for you. So you can have a rest, eh?’ He turned as the door opened. ‘Martin! The very man! You have not met the Countess von Widerstand.’

  ‘Countess!’ Bormann bent over her hand. He was shorter than she, as were so many men, and was entirely unremarkable in either feature or body, with lank, thinning dark hair, a bland face, and a solid figure. He wore a black uniform, but without insignia, and even that failed to lend any personality to his appearance. Nor did he appear to find anything compelling in her, which was very unlike most men. Now, after his perfunctory greeting, he straightened and turned to Hitler. ‘There is important news from Warsaw.’

  ‘Don’t tell me it is under attack?’

  ‘Ah . . .’ Bormann glanced at Anna.

  ‘I have no secrets from Anna,’ Hitler said.

  Bormann did not look pleased. ‘There has been an uprising.’

  ‘What? You mean the Jews are at it again? I thought we had got rid of all the Warsaw Jews.’

  ‘This is not the Jews, my Führer. It is the Poles. The report says that the entire population of the city has risen, that they are well armed, and control large areas. This has happened, because they have learned that the Russians are very close.’

  Anna watched Hitler’s face slowly become crimson with white blotches. Oh, my God, she thought. She had been present when he had had one of his fits before, and although it had not been directed against her, it had still been terrifying to experience.

  ‘The situation could be serious,’ Bormann went on, seeming to ignore the suggestion of an incipient explosion. ‘Because the Russians are close; they are just across the river in Praga.’

  ‘Swine!’ Hitler shouted. ‘Bastards from the pit of hell,’ he shrieked. ‘Seeking to stab us in the back.’

  To Anna’s consternation he fell forward on to his knees and then on to his face. She immediately dropped to her own knees to see if she could help him, but felt Bormann’s hand on her shoulder. She looked up, and he shook his head, then jerked it to indicate that she should rise.

  He had apparently experienced these outbursts sufficient times before to know that they were not as serious as they looked, and indeed, after rolling about for a few moments, screaming unintelligibly and tearing at the carpet with his fingers, the Führer suddenly sat up, and then rose, straightening his tunic. Then he sat behind his desk and wiped foam from his lips. ‘I wish them destroyed,’ he said in a quiet voice, apparently unembarrassed by what had happened. ‘Every last Pole in Warsaw. Men, women and children. I wish the city razed to the ground. Tell G
uderian to detail two Waffen SS Panzer divisions to the task.’

  ‘With respect, my Führer, the Waffen SS are heavily engaged with the Soviets across the river south of the city.’

  ‘They can be replaced on a temporary basis for this purpose. An example must be made of Warsaw, so that no other city thinks of revolting against our rule. What of Paris, eh? What of Stülpnagel?’

  ‘General von Stülpnagel has committed suicide, sir.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  Bormann glanced at Anna. ‘Evidence was supplied that he was one of the conspirators, but he killed himself before he could be arrested. He has been replaced by General Choltitz.’

  ‘Choltitz?’

  ‘He is absolutely reliable, sir.’

  Hitler’s cheeks were becoming inflamed again, and Anna feared another outburst. But Bormann remained calm. ‘This tour that the countess and I are to undertake . . .’

  ‘Ah, yes. You must undertake the tour, Anna. I wish you to begin in the East, but do not go near Warsaw until this business is sorted out. I do not wish you to be in any danger from some Polish madman.’

  ‘Yes, my Führer.’

  ‘But you will have to do without Martin. I need you here.’ He addressed Bormann. ‘Get Guderian in here. And Himmler.’

  Bormann hurried from the room.

  ‘Meanwhile,’ Hitler said, ‘you can assemble your staff. Your sister and this fellow . . . what did you say his name was?’

  ‘Gutemann, sir. I will need authority.’

  ‘You have it. Refer anyone who questions your requirements to me.’

  *

  Anna closed the door of her office behind her and went through to Records. ‘We are going on a trip,’ she announced.

  Katherine looked up in alarm. ‘Going where?’

  ‘Various places. I will tell you when the time comes. I just wanted you to know. We need to travel light, but we are also required to look glamorous. Select what clothes you think you will require and I’ll have a look at them. I had better inspect your entire wardrobe.’

  Katherine licked her lips. ‘This trip . . . for how long will we be away?’