"Perhaps there's another way to get Beaumont away from you."
"How?"
"The ODESSA is loathed here in Germany. Word to the proper people could result in his removal. You'd never have to reach the British yourself, never have to risk Baldwin's name coming to light."
"Could that be arranged?"
"Unquestionably. If Beaumont's really an ODESSA agent, a brief message from the Bonn government to the Foreign Office would be enough. I know any number of men who could send it."
Relief swept over Holcroft. One more obstacle was being removed. "I'm glad we met. . . that you're you and not somebody else."
"Don't be too quick to make that judgment. You want my answer. Will I join you? Frankly, I — "
"I don't want your answer yet," interrupted Noel. "You were fair with me, and I have to be fair with you. I'm not finished. There was tonight."
"Tonight?" Kessler was disturbed, impatient.
"Yes. The last couple of hours, in fact."
"What happened . .. tonight?"
Noel leaned forward. "We know about the Rache and the ODESSA. We're not sure how much they know about Geneva, but we're damned sure what they'd do if they knew enough. We know about the men of Wolfsschanze. Whoever they are, they're crazy — no better than the others — but in their own strange way they're on our side; they want Geneva to succeed. But there's someone
else. Someone — something — much more powerful than the others. I found that out tonight."
"What are you saying?" The tone of Kessler's voice did not change.
"A man followed me from my hotel. He was on a motorbike and stayed with my taxi across Berlin."
"A man on a motorbike?"
"Yes. Like a damned fool I led him here. I realized how stupid that was, and knew I had to stop him. I managed to do it, but I never meant it to happen the way it did. He was no part of the Rache, no part of the ODESSA. He hated them both, called them butchers and clowns...."
"He called them . . ." Kessler was silent for a moment. Then he continued, regaining part of the composure he had lost. "Tell me everything that happened, everything that was said."
"Do you have any ideas?"
"No. . . . Not at all. I'm merely interested. Tell me."
Holcroft had no difficulty remembering it all.. The chase, the trap, the exchange of words, the gunshot. When he had finished, Kessler asked him to go back to the words he and the man in the black leather jacket had said to each other. Then he asked Noel to repeat them again. And again.
"Who was he?" Holcroft knew that Kessler's mind was racing ahead of his. "Who are they?"
"There are several possibilities," said the German, "but obviously they're Nazis. Neo-Nazis, to be precise. Descendants of the party, a splinter faction that has no use for the ODESSA. It happens."
"But how would they know about Geneva?"
"Millions stolen from the occupied countries, from Wehrmacht payrolls, from the Finanzministerium. All banked in Switzerland. Such massive manipulations could not be kept completely secret."
Something bothered Noel, something Kessler had just said, but he could not put his finger on it. "But what good would it do them? They can't get the money. They could only tie it up in the courts for years. Where do they benefit?"
"You don't understand the hard-core Nazi. None of you ever did. It's not merely how he can benefit. It's of
equal importance to him that others do not benefit. That was his essential destructiveness."
There was a sudden, loud commotion outside the booth. A single crash, then several; followed by a woman's scream that triggered other screams.
The curtain across the booth was yanked aside. The figure of a man loomed suddenly in the open space and plunged forward, falling over the table, his eyes wide and staring, blood streaming from his mouth and his neck. His face was contorted, his body wracked with convulsions; his hands lurched over the surface of the table, gripping the sides between Holcroft and Kessler. He whispered, gasping for air, "Wolfsschanze! Soldaten von Wolfsschanze!"
He raised his head in the start of a scream. His breath was forced out of him, and his head crashed down on the table. The man in the black leather jacket was dead.
26
The next moments were as bewildering to Noel as they were chaotic. The screaming and the shouting grew louder; waves of panic spread throughout the pub. The blood-soaked man had slipped off the table and was now sprawled on the floor.
"Rudi! Rudi!"
"Herr Kessler! Come with me!"
"Quickly!" yelled Erich.
"What?"
"This way, my friend. You can't be seen here."
"But he's the one!"
"Say nothing, Noel. Please, take my arm."
"What? Where? ..."
"Your briefcase! The papers!"
Holcroft grabbed the papers and shoved them into the case. He felt himself being pulled into a circle of onlookers. He was not sure where he was being taken, but that it was away from the dead man in the black leather jacket was enough. He followed blindly.
Kessler pulled him through the crowd. In front of Kessler was the manager, parting the bodies in their path, the path that led to a closed door beneath and to the left of the staircase. The manager took a key from his pocket, opened the door, and rushed the three of them inside. He slammed the door shut and turned to Kessler.
"I don't know what to say, gentlemen! It's terrible. A drunken brawl."
"No doubt, Rudi. And we thank you," replied Kessler.
"Natürlich. A man of your stature can't be involved."
"You're most kind. Is there a way outside?"
"Yes. My private entrance. Over here."
The entrance led into an alleyway. "This way," Kessler said. "My car's on the street."
They hurried out of the alley into the Kurfürsten-
damm, turning left on the sidewalk. To the right, an excited crowd had gathered in front of the pub's entrance. Farther on, Noel could see a policeman running up the street
"Quickly," said Kessler.
The car was a vintage Mercedes; they climbed in. Kessler started the engine, but did not idle it. Instead, he put the car in gear and sped west.
"That man ... in the jacket ... he was the one who followed me," Holcroft whispered.
"I gathered as much," answered Kessler. "He found his way back, after all."
"My God," cried Noel. "What did I do?"
"You didn't kill him, if that's what you mean."
Holcroft stared at Kessler. "What?"
"You didn't kill that man."
"The gun went off! He was shot."
"I don't doubt it. But the bullet didn't kill him."
"What did then?"
"Obviously you didn't see his throat. He had been garroted."
"Baldwin in New York!"
"Wolfsschanze in Berlin," answered Kessler. "His death was timed to the split second. Someone in that restaurant, outside the "booth, brought him to within feet of our table and used the noise and the crowd to cover the execution."
"Oh, Jesus! Then whoever it was . . ." Noel could not finish the statement; fear was making him ill. He wanted to vomit.
"Whoever it was," completed Kessler, "knows now that I am part of Geneva. So, you have your answer; for I have no choice. I'm with you."
"I'm sorry," said Holcroft. "I wanted you to have a choice."
"I know you did, and I thank you for it. However, I must insist on one condition."
"What's that?"
"My brother, Hans, in Munich, must be made part of the covenant."
Noel recalled Manfredi's words; there were no restrictions in this respect The only stipulation was that each family had one vote. "There's nothing to prevent him, if he wants to."
"Hell want to. We are very close. You'll like him. He's a fine doctor."
"I'd say you were both fine doctors."
"He heals. I merely expound. . . . I'm also driving aimlessly. I'd ask you out to my house, but under the
circumstances I'd better not."
"I've done enough damage. But you should get back as soon as you can."
"Why?"
"If we're lucky, nobody'll give your name to the police, and it won't matter. But if someone does — a waiter or anybody who knows you — you can say you were on your way out when it happened."
Kessler shook his head. "I'm a passive man. Such thoughts would not have occurred to me."
"Three weeks ago they wouldn't have occurred to me, either. Let me off near a taxi stand. I'll go to my hotel and get my suitcase."
"Nonsense. I'll drive you."
"We shouldn't be seen together anymore. That's asking for complications."
"I must learn to listen to you. When will we see each other, then?"
"I'll call you from Paris. I'm meeting with Von Tie-bolt in a day or so. Then the three of us have to get to Geneva. There's very little time left."
"That man in New York? Miles?"
"Among other things. I'll explain when I see you again. There's a taxi on the corner."
"What will you do now? I doubt there are planes at this hour."
"Then I'll wait at the airport. I don't want to be isolated in a hotel room." Kessler stopped the car; Holcroft reached for the door. "Thank you, Erich. And I'm sorry."
"Don't be, my friend Noel. Call me."
The blond-haired man sat rigidly behind the desk in Kessler's library. His eyes were furious, his voice strained and intense as he spoke.
"Tell me again. Every word. Leave out nothing."
"What's the point?" replied Kessler from across the room. "We've gone over it ten times. I've remembered everything."
"Then we shall go over it ten more times I" shouted
Johann von Tiebolt. "Thirty times, forty times! Who was he? Where did he come from? Who were the two men in Montereau? They're linked; where did all three come from?"
"We don't know," said the scholar. "There's no way to tell."
"But there is! Don't you see? The answer's in what that man said to Holcroft in the alley. I'm certain of it I've heard the words before. It's there!"
"For God's sake, you had the man." Kessler spoke firmly. "If you couldn't learn anything from him, what makes you think we can from anything Holcroft said? You should have broken him."
"He wouldn't break; he was too far gone for drugs."
"So you put a wire to his throat and threw him to the American. Madness!"
"Not madness," said Tennyson. "Consistency. Holcroft must be convinced that Wolfsschanze is everywhere. Prodding, threatening, protecting. . . . Let's go back to what was said. According to Holcroft, the man wasn't afraid to die. What was it? '. . . I am prepared. We are all prepared. We will stop you. We will stop Geneva. Kill me and another will take my place; kill him, another his.' The words of a fanatic. But he wasn't a fanatic; I saw that for myself. He was no ODESSA agent, no Rache revolutionary. He was something else. Holcroft was right about that. Something else."
"We're at a dead end."
"Not entirely. I have a man in Paris checking on the identities of the bodies found in Montereau."
"La Sureté?"
"Yes. He's the best." Tennyson sighed. "It's all so incredible. After thirty years, the first overt moves are made, and within two weeks men come out of nowhere. As if they'd been waiting along with us for three decades. Yet they do not come out in the open. Why not? That is the sticking point. Why not?"
"The man said it to Holcroft in the alley. 'We can put that fortune to use.' They can't get it if they expose Geneva's sources."
"Too simple; the amount's too great. If it was money alone, nothing would prevent them from coming to us — to the bank's directors, for that matter — and ne-
gotiating from a position of strength. Nearly eight hundred million; from their point of view, they could demand two thirds. They'd be dead after the fact, but they don't know that. No, Erich, it's not the money alone. We must look for something else."
"We must look at the other crisis!" Kessler shouted. "Whoever that man was, tonight, whoever the two men were in Montereau, they're secondary to our most immediate concern! Face it, Johann! The British know you're the Tinamou! Don't sidetrack that any longer. They know you're the Tinamou!"
"Correction. They suspect I'm he; they don't know it. And as Holcroft so correctly put it, they'll soon be convinced they're wrong, if they're not convinced already. Actually, it's a very advantageous position."
"You're mad!" screamed Kessler. "You will jeopardize everything!"
"On the contrary," said Tennyson calmly. "I will solidify everything. What better ally could we have than MI Five? To be certain, we have men in British Intelligence, but none so high as Payton-Jones."
"What in the name of God are you talking about?" The scholar was perspiring; the veins in his neck were pronounced.
"Sit down, Erich."
"No!"
"Sit down!"
Kessler sat. "I won't tolerate this, Johann."
"Don't tolerate anything; just listen." Tennyson leaned forward. "For a few moments, let's reverse roles; I'll be the professor."
"Don't push me. We can handle intruders who won't show themselves; they have something to hide. We can't handle this. If you're taken, what's left?"
"That's flattering, but you mustn't think that way. If anything should happen to me, there are the lists, names of our people everywhere. A man can be found among them; the Fourth Reich will have a leader, in any event. But nothing will happen to me. The Tinamou is my shield, my protection. With his capture, I'm not only free of suspicion, I'm held in great respect."
"You've lost your senses! You are the Tinamou!"
Tennyson sat back, smiling. "Let's examine our as-
sassin, shall we? Ten years ago you agreed he was my finest creation. I believe you said the Tinamou might well turn out to be our most vital weapon."
"In theory. Only in theory. It was an academic judgment; I also said that!"
"True, you often take refuge high up in your cloistered tower, and that's how it should be. But you were right, you know. In the last analysis, the millions in Switzerland cannot serve us unless they can be put to use. There are laws everywhere; they must be circumvented. It's not as simple as it once was to pay for a Reichstag, or a block of seats in Parliament; or to buy an election in America. But for us it is nowhere near as difficult as it would be for others; that was your point ten years ago, and it is more valid today. We are in the position to make extraordinary demands on the most influential men in every major government. They've paid the Tinamou to assassinate their adversaries. From Washington to Paris to Cairo; from Athens to Beirut to Madrid; from London to Warsaw and even to Moscow itself. The Tinamou is irresistible. He is our own nuclear bomb."
"And he can claim us in the fallout!"
"He could," agreed Tennyson, "but he won't. Years ago, Erich, we vowed to keep no secrets from each other, and I've kept that vow in all matters except one. I won't apologize; it was, as they say, a decision of rank, and I felt it was necessary."
"What did you do?" asked Kessler.
"Gave us that most vital weapon you spoke of ten years ago."
"How?"
"A few moments ago you were quite specific. You raised your voice and said I was the Tinamou."
"You are!"
"I'm not."
"What?"
"I'm only half of the Tinamou. To be sure, the better half, but still only half. For years I trained another; he is my alternate in the field. His expertness has been taught, his brilliance acquired; next to the real Tinamou, he's the best on earth."
The scholar stared at the blond man in astonishment ... and with awe. "He's one of us? Ein Sonnenkind?"
"Of course not! He's a paid killer; he knows nothing but an extraordinary life-style in which every need and appetite is gratified by the extraordinary sums he earns. He's also aware that one day he may have to pay the price for his way of living, and he accepts that. He's a professional."
; Kessler sank back in the chair and loosened his collar. "I must say, you never cease to amaze me."
"I'm not finished," replied Tennyson. "An event is taking place in London shortly, a gathering of heads of state. It's the perfect opportunity. The Tinamou will be caught."
"He'll be what?"
"You heard correctly." Tennyson smiled. "The Tinamou will be captured, a weapon in his hands, the odd caliber and the bore markings traceable to three previous assassinations. He will be caught and killed by the man who has been tracking him for nearly six years. A man who, for his own protection, wants no credit, wants no mention of his name. Who calls in the intelligence authorities of his adopted country. John Tennyson, European correspodent of the Guardian."
"My God," whispered Kessler. "How will you do it?"
"Even you can't know that. But there'll be a dividend as powerful as Geneva itself. The word will go out, in print, that the Tinamou kept private records. They haven't been found, and thus can be presumed to have been stolen by someone. That someone will be ourselves. So, in death, the Tinamou serves us still."
Kessler shook his head in wonder. "You think exot-ically; that's your essential gift."
"Among others," said the blond man matter-of-fact ly. "And our newfound alliance with MI Five may be helpful. Other intelligence services may be more sophisticated, but none are better." Tennyson slapped the arm of his chair. "Now. Let's get back to our unknown enemy. His identity is in the words spoken in that alley. I've heard them! I know it."
"We've exhausted that approach."
"We've only begun." The blond man reached for a pencil and paper. "Now, from the beginning. We'll write down everything he said, everything you can remember."
The scholar sighed. "From the beginning," he repeated. "Very well. According to Holcroft, the man's first
words referred to the killing in France, the fact that Holcroft had not hesitated to fire his pistol then-----"
Kessler spoke. Tennyson listened and interrupted and asked for repetitions of words and phrases. He wrote furiously. Forty minutes passed.
"I can't go on any longer," said Kessler. "There's no more I can tell you."
"Again, the eagles," countered the blond man harshly. "Say the words exactly as Holcroft said them."
The Holcroft Covenant Page 34
