by Jack Higgins
“Yes, he’s quite a man.” The Chief sighed. “It’s a point worth remembering, that all Germans weren’t members of the Nazi Party, any more than all Hamburg police inspectors in any way resemble Steiner.”
Chavasse nodded slightly without replying. He had never felt so tired in his life, and he closed his eyes for a moment and tried to relax. He was like a hairspring that had been wound up too tightly and was taking its time in running down.
He fought against the feeling of fatigue, and as he opened his eyes, the Chief looked up from the report and closed it. “Taking it all in all, I think things might have been a lot worse.”
“I’m glad you see it that way,” Chavasse said. “After all, we didn’t get the manuscript and Bormann was dead anyway.”
“But you did save Heinrich Hauptmann’s life,” the Chief pointed out, “and you cleaned out a pretty nasty nest of rats. I wouldn’t be too depressed about things.”
He selected a cigarette from the silver box on his desk and went on. “It was a damned shame about the girl – this Anna Hartmann, I mean. She must have had all the guts in the world.”
Chavasse shook his head slowly. “There was more to it than that – much more. She suffered from a virtue few people are cursed with – complete integrity. On top of that… she was in love with me.”
Now that he had said it, he found that his hands were shaking slightly. He got to his feet, crossed to the window, and looked out into the garden. A light wind tapped against the glass and a single leaf spiraled down into the damp grass, leaving the plane tree in front of the window bare.
Behind him, the Chief said softly, “So it was like that, was it?”
Chavasse turned slowly. “When I entered this office, I intended to hand you my resignation.”
“And now?” the Chief said.
Chavasse smiled, and that slight, rather boyish smile illuminated his entire face. “Now, I think I’d like that holiday you promised me.”
When the Chief spoke, he sounded relieved. “That’s more like it. For a moment there, you had me worried.” He chuckled. “You’re overtired, that’s what it is. I know it hasn’t been much fun handling two tough assignments one after the other, but now you can get away from everything for six weeks or so and relax. Soak up a little sun. They say Bermuda is nice at this time of year.”
Chavasse raised his eyebrows. “No expense spared to keep the help happy, eh?”
The Chief smiled. “See Jean on your way out. Tell her where you want to go and she’ll arrange the tickets for you.” He sighed and picked up a file. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to rush through an official report on this affair. The Foreign Secretary is having dinner with the Prime Minister tonight and the old boy wants to know all about it.”
He opened the file and picked up his pen, and Chavasse went back into the other office.
Jean Frazer was standing at the filing cabinet, and she turned with a slight smile of inquiry on her face. “Got what you wanted?”
He nodded. “I think you could say that.”
She picked up a memo pad. “Where’s it to be – Bermuda?”
He shook his head briefly. “You can telephone El Al. Book me a seat on their first flight out to Tel Aviv in the morning.”
As he crossed to the outer door and opened it, Jean Frazer said blankly, “But why Israel?”
He turned and smiled at her. “There’s a hill I’d like to climb just outside a place called Migdal on the Sea of Galilee. A promise I made to a friend a long time ago.” And he closed the door gently.
A long time ago? As he went down the hall, he smiled and shook his head, because already she seemed close to him again.
***
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