Angel of Doom (Anna Fehrback Book 5)

by Christopher Nicole

  There was a pillow on the bed, and she propped this under her head as she lay down, drawing her pistol and resting it on her stomach. She closed her eyes, but even if she went to sleep Anna couldn’t see that they could accomplish anything; she would undoubtedly wake up if they tried to reach the bed, and with their hands tied there was nothing they could do even if they got there.

  Almost she felt like screaming in sheer frustration. Apart from the discomfort of sitting on a hard floor in soaking wet clothes, for the second time in a year she had been on the verge of completing her self-appointed task, and for the second time her hopes had been dashed. That had got to be more than just bad luck. It meant that now and always, she had been challenging forces too great for her, had, in the youthful confidence of the skills she had been taught, and indeed had possessed inside herself, cut a bloodstained path through all those who challenged her, with this single objective in view, an end which would have justified all the crimes she had been forced to commit. To be now faced with failure.

  And not just failure. Extinction. Ahead of her lay nothing but weeks of torment, and at the end, a hangman’s noose; she did not suppose the Soviets would grant her the charity of a bullet in the brain. As Olga had said, there was no Joe Andrews, no Clive Bartley, not even an Henri Laurent, to come to her rescue now.

  Goebbels, she thought. She had actually trusted him, had actually been grateful to him. But only he could have betrayed her. He had boasted that he was turning her loose, so that she could wreak havoc amongst the enemies of the Reich, but not so loose that she could simply disappear. He wanted her to sew unrest between the Allies, to be put on trial, not only to cause unrest but to pull the plug on any of his colleagues who might escape the catastrophe. Himmler, certainly.

  If she felt that he had overvalued her importance, he had still ended her chances of survival. But then, he was not going to survive himself, and before he died, he would murder his wife and his children. While she would live a while longer, in torment and despair.

  There was—

  Her head turned as she heard the noise. Birgit heard it too. ‘Countess!’ she whispered.

  But Olga had also heard it, and sat up as the door opened. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded, her hand dropping to the pistol on her stomach. ‘What do you want?’

  There was a phut, and she gave a gasp as the bullet smashed into her chest. The door closed, and the man, wearing a Soviet uniform, moved forward to stand beside the bed.

  ‘Stefan!’ Anna gasped. ‘Stefan!’

  Stefan bent over Olga. ‘She is dead.’

  ‘But how . . .?’

  He knelt beside Anna, laid down the pistol to use his knife and cut her wrists free. ‘I am not as good as you, Anna. But I am better than these people. I train SD agents for combat.’

  She rubbed her hands together; the returning circulation was the most delicious agony she had ever known. ‘But how did you get here?’

  Stefan was freeing Birgit, who was giving little whimpers of pain as she also felt the returning flow of blood into her hands. ‘It was not difficult. The Ivans were so interested in you that I don’t think they even knew I existed. While they were all clustered round you, I climbed on to the top of one of the trucks, and allowed them to drive me here. Now come.’

  ‘Just a minute.’ Anna went to the bed and took Olga’s gun. ‘A Colt automatic,’ she commented. ‘American Army surplus, I suppose.’ She looked down at the woman. ‘That should have been done four years ago.’

  ‘We must hurry. The truck is outside.’

  ‘The guards?’

  ‘We can make it.’

  For the first time she realized that his tunic was stained with blood. When she followed him into the outer room, she saw the two guards, both dead, shot at close range. One of them had had his tunic and cap removed. Birgit gasped, and Anna squeezed her arm. ‘If you scream I’ll hit you.’

  Stefan was standing by the front door, looking out. ‘The perimeter is guarded,’ he said. ‘But if you are willing to risk it, Countess, we can burst our way through. They are not expecting anything from behind them.’

  ‘I am willing to risk it.’

  ‘Countess . . .’

  ‘If you stay here, Birgit, you are going to be killed. After being tortured.’ She checked the pistol she had taken from Olga; it was fully loaded. ‘We are with you, Stefan,’ she said.

  At the end of seven years of torment, she thought, this adorable man was her saviour. Because he adored her. But that, she reminded herself, was her greatest asset.

  Stefan opened the front door, checked the street outside. It was deserted, the village somnolent. The truck, decorated with a red star, was parked by the roadside. ‘Clear,’ he said.

  ‘You in the back, Birgit,’ Anna said. ‘Lie down and stay down, no matter what. Go.’

  They darted across the road and scrambled into the truck. The keys were in the ignition, as Stefan had undoubtedly ascertained earlier. He started the engine and they drove up the street.

  ‘Halt there!’ someone shouted.

  Stefan gunned the engine and the truck surged forward. A shot was fired, followed by several others, and Birgit screamed as bullets tore through the canvas walls. But a few moments later they were out of the houses and bumping along the track leading out of the village.

  ‘The road is not far,’ Stefan said. ‘And then it is only about eight kilometres back to that last checkpoint.’

  ‘But we are going the other way,’ Anna said.

  He turned his head in consternation. ‘But Countess . . .’

  ‘We have not yet completed our mission.’

  He gulped, but when they reached the road, he turned left as instructed.

  *

  An hour’s driving on a deserted but cratered road brought them to the Görzke checkpoint. It was just one o’clock. Lights flashed and orders were barked, while an array of weapons was presented when the truck was identified as being Russian.

  Anna opened her door and stepped down, fluffing out her hair. ‘I am the Countess von Widerstand,’ she announced. ‘I have an urgent message for Dr Cleiner.’

  The lieutenant peered at her. ‘You are the Countess von Widerstand?’

  ‘I know I look a mess,’ Anna agreed. ‘Take me to the doctor and he will identify me.’

  ‘Do you know the time?’

  ‘Does time matter, in warfare? Look, I have come directly from the Führer. Obey me, or suffer for it.’

  He gulped, but did not lack courage. ‘I must look inside the truck. It could be filled with high explosive, or Russian soldiers.’

  ‘Then look, but be quick.’

  He parted the canvas rear shield, and peered at a terrified Birgit.

  ‘My maid,’ Anna explained.

  ‘My apologies, Countess. Open the barrier,’ he commanded. ‘I will provide you with an escort.’

  ‘I know the way,’ Anna said.

  A few minutes later Stefan was driving through those so well remembered gates, into the multiple buildings surrounding the huge parade ground, the squares of sandbags that concealed the firing ranges . . . it was in one of those that she had killed her first victim, at Cleiner’s command. Well, she thought, things have changed. And not only in her situation; she could tell that the camp, which had housed whole detachments of recruits when she had last been here, was just about deserted.

  ‘That is the house,’ she said, and Stefan brought the truck to a halt. ‘Give me your pistol.’

  ‘Countess?’

  ‘You can have the Colt.’ As the Russians had been so happy to capture her they had not searched her, the spare magazine for the Luger was still in her pocket, as her jewellery was still in her cartridge pouch.

  ‘But you mean to shoot somebody?’

  ‘If I have to,’ Anna said equably. ‘You two stay here. I shouldn’t be long.’

  She got down. There was a sentry on the door, and he now advanced, having identified the truck as Russian. ‘Who goes there?’
And then identified the insignia on Anna’s collar. ‘Herr Major? But . . .?’ as he saw her hair.

  ‘I am the Countess von Widerstand,’ Anna assured him. ‘I have urgent business with Dr Cleiner.’

  ‘The doctor is asleep.’

  ‘Then we will have to wake him up, won’t we?’

  He hesitated, but the authority in here voice carried the day, and a few moments later she was facing a somewhat Brunhilde-like figure in a dressing gown and pigtails. ‘Who are you?’ she enquired.

  ‘I am Dr Cleiner’s housekeeper,’ the woman announced. ‘Who are you? And what do you want at this hour?’

  Anna had never been in the doctor’s house before. ‘I am the Countess von Widerstand,’ she told her. ‘I am from the Reichsführer. I have urgent business with Dr Cleiner.’

  ‘You mean we are to leave this place? Oh, thank God for that.’ She turned to the stairs, down which Cleiner was at that moment descending, wearing a dressing gown and slippers.

  He had not changed at all from the last time Anna had seen him, five years previously, remained short and fat, with a bald head and heavy glasses, through which he was peering at her. ‘Anna Fehrbach?’ He was incredulous. ‘You?’

  ‘I know I am not looking at my best, Herr Doctor. But I must speak with you, urgently. I am from Berlin.’

  He licked his lips. Having trained her as a schoolgirl, he knew all of her skills, just as he knew that she had graduated as an assassin. ‘Yes. Well . . .’

  ‘In private, Herr Doctor.’

  He gulped, looked at the holster on her belt. ‘You had better come into my office.’

  He gestured at the door, but Anna said, ‘After you, Herr Doctor. And you, Fraulein, go back to bed.’

  The housekeeper looked at her employer and received a hasty nod. Cleiner went into the office; Anna followed and closed the door. The doctor sat behind his desk. ‘I have served the Reichsführer faithfully and well for the past ten years.’

  Anna stood in front of the desk. ‘And I am sure he appreciates it. Do not be afraid, Herr Doctor, unless you disobey me. I am here to collect my parents.’

  ‘Ah! Your parents.’

  ‘You were ordered to make sure they remained in good health.’ Anna allowed a touch of steel to enter her voice.

  ‘They are in good health, yes. But they cannot be released without authority.’

  Anna felt in her breast pocket and took out the folded piece of paper. ‘I am afraid the ink may have run. I was very wet earlier this evening. But it is legible.’

  Cleiner unfolded the paper. ‘This is signed by Dr Goebbels. He has no authority here.’

  ‘He is Reichsführer Himmler’s superior.’

  ‘I cannot release the prisoners without . . .’ He blinked as he found himself looking down the barrel of Anna’s pistol.

  ‘I promised that you would be in no danger unless you attempted to disobey me.’

  ‘You would not dare.’

  ‘Dr Cleiner,’ Anna said patiently, ‘almost from the moment of our first meeting I formed the opinion that the world would be a better place without you in it. However, I am grateful to you for having taught me everything I know, almost. It may interest you to know that I have now put your lethal training into practice on fifty-three occasions. One more, especially if number fifty-four happens to be you, is not going to cause me loss of a moment’s sleep.’

  He gulped, and muttered, ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I have told you. I want you to pick up that telephone, call whichever barracks my mother and father are situated in, and have them sent here, immediately. Then order a command car to be made ready, with all the petrol that is available, and with two days’ supply of food. And some bottles of water. Make any mistake about this, and I shall blow your brains out.’

  *

  Fifteen minutes later Anna was in her parents’ arms. ‘I never believed this could truly happen,’ Johann said.

  ‘It hasn’t quite happened yet, so let’s move. Come along, Herr Doctor.’

  ‘Me?’ Cleiner cried. ‘I have done everything you wish. The car is being made ready . . .’

  ‘And you are coming with us, for at least a little way. I will release you when we have gone thirty kilometres. Then you can walk back here.’ And I am not going to kill you, she thought, after promising herself that pleasure for so long. But she was on her way to freedom, and was turning her back on her past. That was as big a dream as any.

  ‘Thirty kilometres?’ he protested. ‘You expect me to walk thirty kilometres?’

  ‘You are not that decrepit. Come along.’

  ‘I must get dressed.’

  ‘We have not time for that. You will come as you are.’

  ‘In my nightclothes?’

  ‘Modesty does not become you. It is cold, but not freezing. If you do not like this idea, I will take you sixty kilometres away, but if I do that, you may well be overtaken by the Russians before you can get back here. Out.’

  Cleiner swallowed and stumbled from the house. The housekeeper had returned to bed as instructed; by the time she woke up, Anna reckoned they would be beyond pursuit, not that this establishment had anything to pursue them with.

  ‘Countess,’ Stefan said, ‘you are unique. But I always knew that.’ He surveyed the command car. It was very crowded, with the Fehrbachs and Birgit in the back seat, and Cleiner in the front beside Anna and himself.

  ‘The doctor will be leaving us soon,’ Anna pointed out.

  ‘And we will be with the Americans within twenty-four hours.’

  ‘We are not going to the Americans.’

  ‘What? But—’

  ‘They wish to place me on trial as a war criminal.’ If they let me get that far, she thought. ‘So we are going south, to Switzerland.’

  ‘Switzerland?’

  ‘Switzerland?’ Birgit cried.

  ‘I have friends there.’

  *

  Early on the second morning they ran out of petrol. They had had a comparatively peaceful journey, as the south of Germany had not yet become a serious war zone; the Russians were apparently concentrating on Berlin, and the Americans, although their planes constantly roamed overhead, had not yet moved down here except in patrols, which could be easily evaded. Now Stefan got out and gazed at the car in disgust. He had, in fact, been growing more and more morose as they moved south, despite the fact that Anna had honoured her promise and allowed him to share her blanket. But she could understand that with neither of them able to have more than a dip in a cold stream, and now lying on the hard ground, while it might seem terribly romantic in the abstract, was not an ideal way to have sex in reality. And he had to be exhausted as he had been doing the driving.

  Now he said, ‘Well, this is it. We have nowhere to go.’

  Anna pointed into the morning; the mist was thinning as the sun rose. ‘What do you think those are?’

  He squinted. ‘Mountains?’

  ‘Those are the Alps, Stefan. Switzerland. They can’t be more than forty kilometres away. We can walk it.’ She looked at her mother and father. ‘Can’t we?’

  ‘If there is freedom at the end of it,’ Johann said.

  ‘Well, then, the sooner we get started the better. Pack up the food, Birgit.’

  ‘You are abandoning the Reich, Countess.’

  ‘Well, of course I am. I thought you realized that. There is nothing for me here, any more. Nothing for any of us.’

  ‘Because you are not German. Because you are not a Nazi. I don’t believe you have ever been a Nazi.’

  Anna stared at her in consternation. She had never expected a mutiny from Birgit. ‘You wanted to surrender to the Americans,’ she pointed out.

  ‘I never wanted to surrender to anyone,’ Birgit said. ‘I came with you because you told me to. I cannot desert the Reich, desert my Führer.’

  Anna regarded her for some seconds, then looked at Stefan, who was watching her. His pistol was still tucked into his belt, but he knew better than to attem
pt to use it, against Anna. ‘Are you going to shoot us, Countess?’

  Anna sighed. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You saved my life. And I like to think that you were both my friends, once upon a time. Go back to your Führer. Or to the Americans, or wherever you wish. You can take half the remaining food.’

  She watched them trudge into the morning and disappear over the last rise behind them. Then she turned to her mother and father. ‘Let’s take that walk.’

  *

  ‘Your powers of deduction are really remarkable, Mr Bartley,’ Laurent said.

  ‘You mean you agree with me that she will almost certainly come here, in preference to attempting to reach our forces in the north?’

  ‘Whether I agree with you or not is immaterial. The point is that she is here.’

  ‘Thank God for that. Well, take me to her and we’ll be out of your hair.’

  ‘I’m afraid it is not that simple. Anna is under arrest.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She is thought to be the woman who is suspected of the murder of the two Gestapo agents here in Geneva, in July 1943.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake. Surely they can’t make that stick? And what do you mean, thought to be? You said she has been arrested.’

  ‘Yes. You see, she crossed the border, with two other people. She was wearing the uniform of a German major, which was suspicious. So she was detained. She is travelling under the name of Anna Fehrbach. That is also the name of the people with her, from whom I imagine she adopted the identity. As I say, her disguise made the border guard suspicious, and when they telephoned for instructions, they were told to hold her for investigation.’

  ‘If they don’t know she is the Countess von Widerstand, there should be no problem securing her release. Let’s go.’

  ‘I don’t think we can do that.’

  ‘What’s stopping us?’

  ‘Well, you see, she did kill those men.’

  Clive stared at him. ‘I thought you had something going for her. In fact, she told me that you were in love with her.’

  ‘It is very easy to be in love with Anna, physically, as I am sure you know, Mr Bartley. Unfortunately, circumstances, I will admit beyond her control, have had a considerable effect upon her character, her personality. It is difficult to see her ever living a normal life.’