by Alex Gerlis
‘What are you up to, Wagner?’ Steiner pulled his hand away from the other man’s.
‘I’m on the run, Wolfgang – surely you are too? I can’t return home, and apparently my name’s on wanted lists in Poland and Hungary. They say I’m a war criminal – can you believe that? I never fired a gun, not once! I’m desperate for money. I thought Munich might be safer, but Christ, Wolfgang… it’s like the whole world’s changed.’
‘It has, Gustav.’
‘How come you’re in Munich?’
‘Same reason as you, I imagine.’
‘Please – can you help me?’ Wagner was holding Steiner’s arm with both hands. He looked as if he was on the verge of tears, his face lined and unshaven, his eyes hooded and bloodshot. ‘If I had money, I could buy papers to get me to Spain. I’ve heard there are people there who can help us; I even have an address in Bilbao.’
Steiner began to pull away from him, but stopped as a thought occurred to him. ‘I can help you, Gustav, of course I can… a loyal comrade, a good National Socialist. You see that bar there?’ He was pointing across the road at Bar 1860, the ‘6’ hanging at an odd angle. Most of its windows were boarded up, but the lights were on inside. ‘Meet me in there at four tomorrow afternoon and I’ll have money for you – enough to get you to Spain, and I think I may have the name of someone who can help get you there. I may even join you!’
‘That would be wonderful, Wolfgang. Imagine, just like old times!’
* * *
Steiner waited until eight o’clock before arriving on Neuhauser Strasse, where one of the few buildings in the street unscathed from Allied bombing had become the Red Cross Club for US Army officers.
He joined a couple of dozen other Germans strung out along the street either side of the entrance to the club. Some were begging for money, others selling cigarettes or themselves. Steiner felt his heart pounding as he watched the officers entering. Most arrived in groups, busy talking to each other and ignoring the Germans.
He moved away from the others, and after half an hour an officer approached on his own, pausing close by to light a cigarette. Steiner moved fast.
‘Excuse me, sir, but I have valuable intelligence here for the United States Army!’
The officer looked startled and stepped back, but not before Steiner had handed him an envelope.
‘What the hell is this?’
‘Films, sir, photographs of important documents that will be of interest to the United States. Please hand it to a senior officer.’
‘Hang on, pal, how the hell do I—’
‘Your intelligence people will want to evaluate the films first. I will come to your headquarters tomorrow morning.’
‘Wait, who are you?’ The American looked at him as if he was mad.
Steiner was already moving away. ‘I will be there tomorrow morning. The name I will give is on the envelope.’
* * *
Wolfgang Steiner had thought long and hard about the best way to approach the Americans. His original plan had been to turn up unannounced at their headquarters, but he’d worried they’d ignore what he had to say and would either send him away or arrest him. He decided the best way to be taken seriously was for them to somehow be aware of who he was and what he had to tell them before he arrived.
The American headquarters in Munich was in the south of the city, in the old Reichszeugmeisterei building on Tegernseer Landstrasse. Within moments of arriving there the following morning, Steiner knew his gamble had paid off. No sooner had he given his name at the guard post than he was taken aside and asked to wait as an officer made a telephone call. Within five minutes he was sitting in a carpeted office on an upper floor facing a smiling American officer who introduced himself as Major Tom Barrow. He’d even been asked if he’d like coffee.
The major’s desk was covered in photographs, Barrow tapping them as he spoke. ‘Where did you get these from?’
Steiner showed him his identity papers and his Parteikanzlei pass. He explained that he was a senior Nazi Party official who had had access to thousands of documents. ‘I realised early in the war that should matters not turn out in our favour, I would need something to protect myself, so I began to photograph documents that I believed might turn out to be of interest to the Allies in the event of their winning the war. I saw them as my insurance policy. The four films I handed over last night, which I’m pleased to see you’ve had developed, are just samples. I have more.’ He took out the other four rolls of films from his pocket and passed them to the officer.
‘Is that all you have?’
Steiner laughed and leaned back in his chair. ‘No! I have another two hundred and ten rolls. Each one has thirty-six exposures and each film covers at least three documents, so you can work out how much material I have. And I promise you it’s all valuable intelligence: look at what you already have – a list of scientists at Peenemünde, Nazi Party members with accounts at a Swiss bank… there’s much more just like that and even better. There are notebooks too, filled with information. I think it’s what you call a treasure trove, isn’t it?’
‘And where is this treasure trove, as you put it, Steiner?’
‘If you’re interested in it, then we can come to an arrangement.’
Major Barrow watched him carefully, clearly trying to work out whether to believe him. ‘You’re taking a hell of a risk, aren’t you?’
‘Of course I am, but it’s a calculated risk – I’m confident you’ll be interested enough in what I have to give you.’
‘From what you tell me, you were a very senior Nazi official.’
‘I was, and I don’t deny I was a member of the Nazi Party, but I can assure you I’m certainly not one of those war criminals you seem to be so interested in. I was a bureaucrat – a senior one certainly, but no more than that.’
‘And I’m to believe that you’re now prepared to turn against the people you worked for and were clearly so loyal to?’
‘The war’s over, Major: I think the saying is “every man for himself”, is it not?’
‘And what’s in it for you, Steiner?’
‘I want money, obviously, and I also want a guarantee of immunity from prosecution for anything in connection with my work for the Reich. I also want a guarantee of anonymity with regards to this material.’
The major was busy making notes.
‘There is something else. I have a son, Friedrich. He worked for the Gestapo and is wanted by the British: they’re hunting him across Europe. I’ll only hand over the rest of the material if I can have an assurance in writing from the British that he is no longer wanted by them. I have also been involved in an escape route called the Kestrel Line, which they are also investigating. I want them to stop doing that.’
Barrow carried on writing and said he was sure he could sort that out. They discussed arrangements for handing over the rest of the films and the notebooks and for Steiner to receive his assurances.
‘I just hope I can trust you, Steiner.’
‘I guessed you’d say that, Major. I can offer you a war criminal as proof. Go to Bar 1860 on Sendlinger Platz at four o’clock this afternoon and you’ll find a man called Gustav Wagner waiting there. Look him up: you’ll find he’s wanted for war crimes in Poland and Hungary.’
Chapter 24
Austria and Italy, December 1945
GENEVA, WEDNESDAY
PRINCE EYES ONLY
CONFIRM MYRTLE CARTER & HAROLD HAMILTON CROSSED CHANNEL MONDAY. TRAIN CALAIS TO GARE DU NORD, PARIS. MOVEMENTS OVERNIGHT UNCLEAR BUT SPOTTED GARE DE LYON TUESDAY. TRAIN TO GENEVA WHERE THEY REMAIN. WILL ADVISE RE ONWARD JOURNEY. STOP.
BARTHOLOMEW, GENEVA
KLAGENFURT, THURSDAY
BARTHOLOMEW, GENEVA ONLY
ACKNOWLEDGE RECEIPT OF COMMUNICATION WEDNESDAY RE CARTER/HAMILTON. AWAIT ADVICE RE ONWARD MOVEMENTS. CAN BE CONTACTED THROUGH FIELD SECURITY SECTION VILLACH. STOP.
PRINCE
* * *
It was, in Prince’s
opinion, a classic case of overkill.
As a non-military man, he’d not voiced his opinion at the time, but it seemed clear there’d been far too many men involved in the raid on the house just north of Sattendorf. Major Stewart was in charge, and he’d brought half a dozen of his Field Security Section along from Klagenfurt. They joined the dozen men from the FSS base in Villach plus a company of ninety New Zealanders from one of their infantry battalions. When you added in the Slovenian partisans who’d insisted on coming along, as well as Hanne and Prince, it was well over one hundred people.
And they found nothing.
The house was empty.
Major Stewart stomped around it muttering, ‘I see the birds have flown,’ and Prince had to explain the historical reference to Hanne.
‘May I make a suggestion, Major?’
Stewart glared at him, giving the impression he’d very much rather he didn’t. ‘If you must, Prince.’
‘I am a police officer, as is Hanne. We ought to treat this place like a crime scene. Now that we’ve established no one is here, having so many people tramping around the house will get in the way of our investigation.’
‘So what do you suggest?’
Prince suggested that a platoon of New Zealanders remain to guard the property and its perimeter, while he and Hanne would examine the house with the help of half a dozen men from the FSS. The others should search the grounds of the house and the woods and fields beyond it.
They spent the rest of that day and most of the following one combing through the house. It was evident that at least two people had been staying there and had probably left the day before the raid. There were no other clues.
Frau Egger was questioned, insisting she’d been hired as a cleaner and had never met anyone at the house. It was something she’d made up. She’d been trying to impress people, she said.
‘I wanted people to see me as more than a cleaner. Now the war’s over and I’m no longer a Blockleiter, I feel… humiliated.’
‘What about being approached by a man from Vienna, and your story that very important people stayed at the house?’
Frau Egger shrugged. ‘Who told you that?’
‘You seem to have been telling half the town. You also said there was an armed guard at the house.’
‘That’s nonsense, of course there wasn’t.’
‘I saw armed guards there.’ Hanne had moved closer to Frau Eggers, who looked nervous and picked up her handbag as if preparing to leave. Hanne made it clear she wasn’t going anywhere. ‘Either you start telling the truth or you’ll be charged with aiding a fugitive, and the only place you’ll be cleaning then is your prison cell!’
After a little weep, Frau Egger assured Hanne and Prince that she’d been forced into the job and she wanted them to understand she was as much a victim as the Jews claimed they were.
‘Two men stayed at the house: one of them had just one arm and was German, though I’ve no idea where he was from other than he wasn’t Bavarian – I’d recognise that accent. He never gave me his name. The other one was younger and he had that Viennese accent that sounds as if they’re giving you instructions. He even asked me if I had a daughter who’d want to come and work there, can you believe that?’
She stopped and had another weep. ‘You promise I’m not going to be arrested?’
‘I don’t know, Frau Egger, you’ve still not told us very much. What about the guards?’
‘Two of them, also Germans. What else can I say?’
‘Far more than you’ve done so far, if you want to stay out of trouble.’
Frau Egger dabbed her eyes with a crumpled handkerchief, which she then used to wipe her nose. ‘One day I heard the man with one arm call the younger one Friedrich: they didn’t realise I was in the next room. Just Friedrich, no other name. Is that good enough?’
‘What happened to them? How come the house was empty?’
‘You won’t find them, you know.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘All four of them left: the man with one arm, the younger one he called Friedrich and the two guards. One afternoon they told me they were leaving that night and I was to give the place a more thorough clean the next day and that I’d have to let myself in. They were wearing mountain clothing and special boots. That’s why I say you won’t find them: they’ve gone over the Alps!’ Frau Egger leaned back defiantly and allowed a thin smile to cross her face.
* * *
‘But Richard, you heard what that woman told us – they’ve crossed the Alps. Why are we sitting here in Villach drinking tea? You English are so… cautious!’
‘Because another telegram has come through from Bartholomew – look.’
TURIN, FRIDAY
PRINCE EYES ONLY
ADVISE CARTER & HAMILTON TRAVELLED THURSDAY GENEVA TO TURIN, ITALY. CURRENTLY STAYING IN APARTMENT IN VANCHIGLIA DISTRICT. FIELD SECURITY SECTION TURIN ASSISTING. SUGGEST YOU JOIN TEAM IN TURIN URGENT. STOP.
BARTHOLOMEW, TURIN
‘When did that arrive?’
‘While we were with Frau Egger. So we were right all along: their destination is Turin. Maybe the idea is to hold them there until they can arrange their escape by sea. We’ll set out first thing in the morning.’
Prince woke early the following day and noticed that Hanne was sitting on the side of the bed, her head in her hands.
‘Are you all right?’
She turned to face him. In the half-light he could just make out a smile and the glistening of perspiration on her brow.
‘I don’t feel too good, Richard. I think it may be something I ate last night.’
‘We hardly ate anything last night.’
‘Maybe that’s the reason.’
‘Don’t forget you had typhus not that long ago. Have you been remembering to take the tablets?’
She responded with the irritated look she always used whenever he asked her that question and told him to go back to sleep and not worry. I’ll be fine.
His head had barely hit the pillow when there was a knock at the door and a voice announcing that there was a telegram for them, marked urgent.
VERONA, SATURDAY – URGENT
PRINCE EYES ONLY
CARTER & HAMILTON LEFT TURIN LATE FRIDAY NIGHT. ROUTE UNCERTAIN BUT NOW MOVING EAST FROM VERONA. STOP.
BARTHOLOMEW, VERONA
Hanne frowned. ‘They’re moving away from Turin? But that makes no sense… Maybe they’re heading to Genoa.’
‘Wrong direction: we’ll have to stay here and wait to hear from Bartholomew. Let’s hope his men don’t lose them.’
‘What about asking the Slovenians to help us?’
‘Stewart’s not keen on them: apparently the official British line is that they’re a nuisance. And I’m told we don’t trust Tito.’
‘Tell me, Richard, if we catch Friedrich Steiner, what will happen to him?’
‘I imagine we’ll put him on trial somewhere.’
‘The Slovenians would kill him.’
‘Do you approve of that? As police officers we’re meant to believe in the rule of law.’
Hanne laughed. ‘I think those rules were suspended during the war, don’t you? I just think it would be… cleaner to let the Slovenians deal with him. They seem smarter than our lot, to be honest. They know this area. We may need their help.’
‘Let’s decide when we know where we’re heading.’
‘We need to hope Friedrich and the other man are making for the same place as Carter and Hamilton.’
The answer came on the Sunday morning.
TRIESTE, SUNDAY – MOST URGENT
CARTER & HAMILTON ARRIVED TRIESTE EARLY SUNDAY MORNING. LAST SEEN ENTERING BUILDING ON VIA DELL’ISTRIA. CURRENT WHEREABOUTS UNCERTAIN. REQUEST YOU TRAVEL TO TRIESTE IMMEDIATELY. MEET FSS BASE VIA SAN LAZZARO. STOP.
BARTHOLOMEW, TRIESTE
VILLACH, SUNDAY
FOR: BARTHOLOMEW, TRIESTE ONLY
ADVISE WE ARE DEPARTING VILLACH IMMEDIATELY TO M
EET YOU AS INSTRUCTED. STOP.
PRINCE
* * *
Hanne had made her way to a bombed-out building close to the banks of the Drava. The floor was covered in mud, debris and the remains of dead birds. Marija and Jožef were leaning against a wall, the glowing ends of their cigarettes moving up and down in the gloom.
‘Are you sure?’ Marija asked.
‘Yes, I’m sure. I told them I needed a few minutes to clear my head. I’m taking a big risk telling you all this, so I want you to promise you’ll be careful and make sure you’re not spotted, all right?’
The cigarettes bobbed up and down. ‘What about Steiner?’
‘You get Steiner, but whoever else we find you leave to us – even it’s Martin Bormann.’
‘Very well, but your husband – what does he make of this?’
‘I think he understands. It’s just that he doesn’t want to be told too much.’
‘What do you know about Trieste, Hanne?’ Marija said.
‘Not much, other than looking at the map yesterday. It’s an Italian port and it isn’t too far from here.’
‘It’s as much a Slovenian city as it is an Italian one. From the centre of Trieste to the Slovenian border is just five miles.’ Jožef had moved out of the gloom and was now standing in front of Hanne. ‘We Slovenes suffered terribly there during the war. The Italians treated us badly enough, but it became far worse when the Germans occupied the city in September 1943. The bastards even built a concentration camp there, you know.’
‘Risiera di San Sabba,’ said Marija. ‘Thousands of Slovenes, Jews and political prisoners were murdered there. Many more were sent from there to the death camps.’
‘Our partisans captured the city on May Day,’ continued Jožef. ‘Marija and I fought in that battle. But the Germans would only surrender to troops from New Zealand. They knew what we’d do to them.’
