Angel of Doom (Anna Fehrback Book 5)

by Christopher Nicole

  Oh, shit, Anna thought. This man is too bright for his own good. ‘I’m afraid I don’t read Swedish,’ she confessed.

  ‘Of course you do not. Well, it appears that we could be facing another mysterious murder case. A man was found dead in his apartment yesterday afternoon. He was a Swede, named Lars Johannsson, and he appears to have been rather a strange fellow, who kept very much to himself. He was reputed to be a journalist, but no paper has admitted employing him. He also appears to have been fairly well-to-do, but no one has any idea where his income arose. And to cap it all, he was naked when he was found, and he had been killed by a single shot through the head. There is to be a post-mortem today, but the police are fairly sure that the bullet in his head came from a Luger automatic pistol, and also that he had had a sexual discharge shortly before his death. I hope you do not mind my mentioning these rather indelicate matters.’

  ‘I do not mind in the least. All of this is in the newspaper? Your police must be very cooperative with the press.’

  ‘Very little was in the newspaper,’ Bernadotte said. ‘I spoke with the detective in charge of the case. Would you like a cup of coffee?’

  ‘I would love a cup of coffee.’

  ‘And a brandy, perhaps?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He signalled the waiter. ‘I have ordered Hine Antique,’ he said. ‘Only the best for the best. You would not care to comment on what I have just said?’

  ‘Would you care to comment on why you called the police in this matter? Am I about to be arrested?’

  ‘Why should you be arrested?’

  They gazed at each other, and the coffee and brandy was brought.

  ‘My interest was aroused,’ Bernadotte said, ‘because of the extreme professionalism of the case. The police think it was a love affair that had turned sour. But of course their horizon is limited. And even they are surprised by the fact that there is no sign of anyone else having been in the apartment. Not a fingerprint, not a trace of who might have been there. If that was a crime of passion, the lady seems to have got over it very rapidly and very efficiently. Almost as if she had done that sort of thing before.’

  Anna drank coffee. ‘And you are certain it was a lady? Could it not have been a homosexual lover?’

  ‘I suppose it could. But the police do have a lead.’

  Anna put down her cup.

  ‘One of the other tenants in the building, returning from her morning’s shopping, encountered a woman just leaving. According to the police surgeon, this would have been very soon after Johannsson was killed.’

  ‘So they have a description of a possible suspect?’

  ‘Unfortunately not, from their point of view. This woman’s face was entirely concealed behind dark glasses and a scarf, and her hair was out of sight beneath her hat. All they have is that she was unusually tall, and was wearing a full length dark coat and a matching hat. The witness thinks these were both genuine fur, but she cannot be sure. So they do not feel they are any further ahead.’

  ‘And you did not offer an opinion?’

  ‘I preferred not to. I would appreciate hearing your opinion, though.’

  Anna finished her coffee and regarded the balloon of brandy. She understood that she could be in very deep trouble indeed. But this man had struck her from their very first meeting as genuinely wanting to be her friend. And nothing more than that. For her, this was unique. Of course he had been attracted to her by her looks and her personality, her charisma, but the attraction had been that of one outstanding human being for another, not of a man for a woman. If that was genuine, he could prove to be the most valuable friend she had.

  Did she dare? But in view of the almost entirely accurate deductions he had already made, did she have any choice? She drew a deep breath. ‘The three men that were killed last year were Gestapo agents.’

  ‘And you shot them all, with three bullets?’

  ‘I fired four shots, actually.’

  ‘I see. Please forgive my innocence, but if you work for Himmler, aren’t you Gestapo yourself?’

  ‘No, sir. I am SD. I do not like the Gestapo.’

  ‘I’m glad you said that. But . . .’

  ‘The SD is even worse? I can’t deny that, in certain directions. But we do not usually go in for torture.’

  ‘Only for killing. Forgive me. But whether you like the Gestapo or not, you are basically on the same side. So weren’t you, well . . . stepping out of line?’

  ‘They arrested me when I left the restaurant that afternoon, and took me to their office. They wanted to know what was in the letter you had just given me. The Reichsführer had instructed me that no one was to read that letter. But they also intended to amuse themselves. I did not like that.’

  ‘And they had no idea who you were, and more important, what you are. That was clearly unfortunate for them. And Johannsson? Was he also Gestapo?’

  ‘No.’

  Bernadotte waited.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Anna said. ‘I would prefer not to go into that.’

  ‘Because he was your lover?’

  ‘Johannsson was not my lover, Count Bernadotte. I thought he was my friend, and I was under the impression that he had some important information for me. So I accompanied him to his apartment, whereupon he drugged and raped me. I regard that as the lowest form of human behaviour. He also informed me that he had been sent to kill me.’

  ‘And he also had no idea of who or what you were.’

  ‘He should have had. A lot of men make the mistake of seeing me only as a woman.’

  ‘Well, you can’t really blame them. I would be very interested in knowing exactly what part he played in your life, before you ended his.’ He gazed at her, but she merely sipped her brandy. ‘Not possible?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir. You know too much about me already. May I ask what use you intend to make of your knowledge?’

  ‘I intend to make no use of it, except in so far that it may enable me to help you.’

  ‘Why should you wish to do that? I am a self-confessed murderess, and I serve the most wholly bestial regime that has ever existed.’

  ‘The fact that you can say that is reason enough. But at the same time it distresses me in equal measure, that someone like you should find herself in such a position. I told you in January that if I could ever help you, I would like to do so. I will repeat that now.’

  ‘I will remember those words with gratitude, sir. But I do not think it is possible.’

  ‘Well, you know, I have an idea about that. You have a communication for me.’

  Anna opened her bag and handed him the envelope.

  ‘Would you forgive me if I read this immediately?’

  ‘I would like you to.’

  She sipped her brandy very slowly as she watched him slit the envelope with his unused butter knife, extract the two sheets of paper, and scan them. Then he folded them again, replaced them in the envelope, and put it in his breast pocket. ‘As before, I assume that you have no knowledge of what he says?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘Well, I think you should know, that your master is endeavouring to arrange a separate peace with the Western Allies. If they are prepared to negotiate, he is prepared to overthrow Hitler and seize power before the Russians get into Germany.’ He gazed at her. ‘You do not appear to be shocked.’

  ‘I have suspected that that is what he has had in mind for a long time. Do you think the Allies will be prepared to negotiate? With him?’

  ‘Frankly, no. But he is virtually begging for my assistance. He wishes me to visit him in Germany so that we can discuss the matter. I would say that he is a very frightened man.’

  ‘You would be right.’

  ‘Is he your lover?’

  ‘Himmler? Good God, no.’

  ‘Yet you work for him, with utter loyalty.’

  Can I tell him the truth? Anna wondered. But however much she liked this man, that would be an unacceptable risk. Certainly until she had seen C
live. ‘I have no choice.’

  He studied her. ‘Another brandy?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ She looked at her watch. Three o’clock. ‘I must be going. Thank you for a lovely lunch. I hope my company wasn’t too indigestible.’ She stood up. ‘May I assume that you will have an answer for me in the next couple of days?’

  ‘Your company was, as always, unforgettable, and I will give you my answer now. Tell Herr Himmler that if he will give me a place and a date, I will come to Germany to meet him. But I need him to give me a few weeks to sound out various Allied contacts of mine.’

  ‘I’m sure he will be delighted with that answer.’

  ‘Good. Now you must tell me the hold he has on you.’

  ‘I cannot do that.’

  ‘Yes, you can, Anna. If I am going to help you, I need that information.’

  ‘I have told you that you cannot help me.’

  ‘And I know that I can. Listen to me. We are both agreed that Herr Himmler is a very frightened man. He wants only to save his own skin. And he believes that I am the only man who can help him accomplish that. This letter is couched in terms of desperation. Well, I have absolutely no desire to help him. I believe he deserves everything he might be going to get. But if I tell him I will do everything I can, well . . . quid pro quo, would you not say?’

  ‘And you would do that for me? Why? Do you wish . . .?’ her eyes were enormous.

  He smiled. ‘Much as it might be desirable, I think it would be a mistake, for both of us, were we to sleep together. I am more interested in preserving a unique personality, for as long as is possible.’

  Anna continued to stare at him for several seconds. Then she sat down again.

  *

  Bernadotte’s car dropped Anna in the hotel forecourt. She thanked the driver, went into the lobby, and to the desk for her key. She had drunk more than she had intended for lunch, and that, combined with what had happened, had her feeling quite light-headed. Not for the first time she had placed the fate of her family, her future, her life, in the hands of a man she felt she could trust. But she had done that with Joe Andrews.

  ‘There is a gentleman to see you, Countess,’ the clerk said.

  Anna turned, her right hand instinctively dropping to the catch for her shoulder bag . . . and gazed at Clive, who had been sitting on the far side of the room, and now stood up. Her knees felt weak as she went towards him: it was well over a year since last she had seen him.

  He held her arms and kissed her on the forehead. ‘You said four o’clock.’

  Anna looked at her watch; it was nearly five. ‘My God! I’m sorry. Lunch took longer than I expected.’

  ‘Lunch being with whom?’

  ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

  There was a lift attendant, and they could do no more than gaze at each other, although Clive did say, ‘You grow more beautiful every time I see you.’

  She blew him a kiss, and a moment later they were in her bedroom and she was in his arms. He took off his hat and then hers and kissed her forehead, her eyes, her nose, her chin, each ear. Then he kissed her mouth, slowly and deeply. ‘I thought I had lost you.’

  ‘I’m not that easy to lose.’

  ‘You don’t know the truth.’

  Anna released him and took off her coat and scarf, then her gloves. ‘I’m finding it out, the hard way.’

  Clive also removed his coat. ‘Will you tell me?’

  ‘I have an awful lot to tell you.’ She sat on the settee. ‘But I’d like you to tell me first. Like what exactly our American partners are up to.’

  He frowned as he sat beside her. ‘You know about that?’

  ‘Isn’t that why you put Belinda through the wringer again, so that she could warn me?’

  ‘But she never got to you.’

  ‘True.’

  He held her hands. ‘But at least the bloody Yanks didn’t get to you, either. Let me put you in the picture.’

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’d love a cup of tea. But . . .’

  Anna got up and rang room service. ‘I seem to remember they do a very nice currant bun,’ she said, and ordered some with the teas. ‘I had rather a boozy lunch,’ she explained.

  ‘But –’ he scratched his head – ‘Anna, your life is in danger. Aren’t you interested in that?’

  Anna sat beside him again. ‘I am very interested in that. But it is yesterday’s news, literally. At least for the time being.’

  ‘You’ve lost me. You mean you’ve heard from Joe? And he managed to warn you?’

  ‘I have heard from Joe,’ Anna said. ‘Indirectly. Through Johannsson.’

  ‘Johannsson? But he was sent to kill you.’

  ‘I know. He told me.’

  ‘Good lord! But he didn’t. Thank God there are some decent people left in the world.’

  There was a knock on the door. Anna got up and opened it, and the maid placed the tray on the table. ‘Thank you,’ Anna said, and closed the door again. ‘I don’t suppose she understood me. Very few of these people speak English. I’ve forgotten: one lump or two?’

  ‘Two. Anna—’

  ‘And you must try one of these buns.’ She handed him the cup and saucer and a plate.

  ‘For God’s sake, Anna, this is serious. Deadly serious.’

  ‘I know,’ she agreed, again sitting beside him with her own cup and plate. ‘We have to decide what we are going to do about it. What you are going to do about it.’

  ‘Yes. I think I need to know, firstly, exactly what Johannsson told you.’

  ‘Eat some of your bun,’ Anna recommended. ‘You’ll love it. Johannsson didn’t tell me a lot. He did a lot, though. He drugged me, and when I was unconscious, he raped me. Unfortunately for him, he spent so much time enjoying himself that the drug wore off sooner than he had expected. He was about to start killing me when I woke up.’

  Clive appeared to be choking on a currant.

  ‘Drink some tea,’ Anna recommended.

  He did so.

  ‘He was going to shoot me full of insulin,’ Anna explained. ‘That is difficult to tell from natural causes at first sight.’

  ‘But . . . oh, Jesus!’

  ‘Yes,’ Anna said. ‘I shot him. I would probably have shot him even if he had not been about to poison me.’

  ‘The police . . .’

  ‘Know that a tall woman in a dark coat and hat was seen leaving Johannsson’s apartment shortly after he died. The woman’s face was concealed behind a scarf and dark glasses, and her hair was also concealed by her hat. They also apparently have no idea what Johannsson does, or did, for a living. So they are a little short of a motive.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘I have friends apart from MI6 or the OSS. Now, you knew this was going to happen.’

  ‘Yes,’ Clive said, miserably. ‘We knew some months ago that Washington had come to the conclusion that you had sold us all down the river. That’s why we sent Belinda to warn you. But at that time they were talking only of arresting you when the war is over.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Joe told me.’

  ‘And you accepted that?’

  ‘I said, Billy and I felt we had ample time to warn you not to surrender to the Americans. But then back in October, we discovered they actually intended to eliminate you to prevent you being put on trial and revealing things the Administration felt would be embarrassing.’

  Anna refilled their cups. ‘Joe told you this, did he?’

  ‘No he did not. He knew we wouldn’t accept it. We have a man in the OSS headquarters in London.’

  ‘With friends like your two lots, enemies really are superfluous. And you say this was in October?’

  ‘We’ve been busting a gut ever since trying to get to you. As I told you, we even got your friend Laurent into the act. He felt it would be too dangerous for him to enter Germany, but he said he had an absolutely reliable man who would contact you.’


  ‘You told Henri that the Americans were out to kill me?’

  ‘No. We couldn’t risk being that trusting. The message was that you should not, under any circumstances, allow Johannsson to get too close. We didn’t identify Johansson’s employers.’

  ‘I wonder what he made of that? Not that it matters. As I said, his man, whoever he was, never showed. So tell me what happens now.’

  ‘I can understand that you’re unhappy with the situation . . .’

  ‘I think you should say that again,’ Anna suggested. ‘So that we can both die laughing.’

  ‘We can sort it out.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘The important thing is that the Yanks must not find out that we know what they have in mind. Now, who knows that you are in Stockholm?’

  ‘This hotel staff, obviously. And Folke Bernadotte.’

  ‘Would he be the friend you mentioned?’

  ‘Yes. And he is a very good, very faithful friend.’

  ‘You seem to have one of those stashed in every country in Europe.’

  ‘If you are going to be juvenile about this, Clive, I think the best thing you can do is catch your plane back to England.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He put down his cup to hold her hands. For a moment her fingers remained tense, so much so that he almost thought she would pull away from him. Then they relaxed. ‘I’ve been beside myself with worry these last two months. I imagine you have too.’

  ‘Not in the same way. I didn’t know what was happening. Now I need to know what happens next. You’re my controller.’

  ‘Right. So . . . we can’t confront the Yanks. They hold all the high cards. But if your friend Bernadotte is as reliable as you claim, and the Stockholm police really do not have any idea what Johannsson did for a living, it’s going to take them a while to find out what happened to their boy. Obviously he belongs to a branch of the OSS here, and they’ll start making enquiries when they don’t hear from him, but if they don’t know you were here when he died they can’t make the connection. By definition, secret agents have secrets about their personal life.’ He grinned. ‘I should know. I’m one of them, remember?’