Authors: The Sands of Sakkara (html)
Sanson aimed out of the window and
emptied the revolver in a rapid volley of shots.
The last thing Weaver saw was the
Arab's djellaba blowing wildly in the wind as the motorcycle skidded, rounded a
corner, and sped away. Then his vision started to go, he felt himself falling,
and everything turned black.
The hospital in the suburbs of
Charlottenburg was a solid looking redbrick building, built at the turn of the
century and set behind high walls. It was just after eleven in the morning when
Haider arrived. Several convoys of ambulances and army trucks were pulling up
in the gravel driveway, soldiers and medics helping to carry in dozens of
injured civilians on stretchers. A staff nurse he recognized came down the
steps, all business, and Haider said, 'More problems, I see.'
'It's those damned British and
American bombers,' she answered scornfully. 'Have they no shame? Most of the
dead and wounded are women and children.'
A medic went past with a badly
bleeding teenage girl, and the nurse left to help. Haider moved up the steps
into the entrance hallway. It was in chaos, ringing with the cries of the
injured and the shouts of medical staff, orderlies running in all directions.
He saw the office down the hall, knocked on the door, and an impatient voice
said, 'Come in.'
A white-coated elderly doctor,
well past retirement age and looking under strain, was sifting through some
files as he sat behind a desk. 'Yes, what is it?'
'I'm here to see about my son,
Pauli Haider. He's a patient in the burns ward.' in 'You'll have to come back.
I've got fifty new casualties on my hands, enough beds for only half, and God
knows where I'm going to put the rest.'
'My apologies, but I thought Dr
Weiss was on duty.'
'Weiss and his family were killed
yesterday evening in the air raids. His home took a direct hit.'
'I'm very sorry to hear that. He
was a good man.'
'Even doctors aren't immune from
bombs, I'm afraid.
Haider, did you say? What exactly
do you want?'
'The matron mentioned yesterday
that Dr Weiss had wanted to see me. But he wasn't on duty and I got no reply
from his home number, so I thought I'd call by in case it might be something
important about my son.'
The doctor sighed, went to a
filing cabinet, and searched until he found the medical report he was looking
for. 'Pauli Haider, almost three years old, transferred from
'That's him.'
The doctor read the report and
shook his head. 'Not too good, is he? He's healing, of course, after the skin
grafts, but most of his body was covered in third-degree burns from the
phosphor bombs, and he's still in pretty bad shape. Injuries like his can take
a long time to heal. And he really needs to get out of this environment. The
Allies have been bombing close to the hospital recently, and the pounding seems
to upset him.
Not surprising really, after his
ordeal in
The doctor sighed again. 'There's a note here about the morphine for his pain
relief. I imagine that's what Dr Weiss wanted to see you about.'
'What do you mean?'
'We barely have enough drugs for
emergency cases right now. We'll have to cut back on his dosage.'
'I've been here every day since my
son was admitted,' Haider said angrily. 'I've seen the kind of agony he's in.
If you do that he's going to suffer even more!'
'A lot of injured civilians are
suffering, Haider, not to mention our troops. Our factories are being destroyed
by the bombing - drugs and medical supplies are posing a problem right now. The
troops get priority for what's available and our allocation has been reduced.
And with these latest raids, we're stretched to the limit. There's nothing I
can do, I'm afraid.'
The phone rang and the doctor
picked it up. 'Yes, damn it!
I'm on my way.' He slammed down
the phone. 'Look, I'm sorry, I'm needed in surgery.'
Haider stormed out of the office
and went up to the second floor ward. It was crowded with new patients. He
found the curtained-offbed in a corner. A harassed-looking nurse stepped out,
carrying a tray of balm and used dressings. 'Oh, it's you again, Herr Haider.
I've just been dressing Pauli's wounds. He's resting now, but you can go in.'
Haider moved behind the curtain.
The little boy was covered from head to toe in bandages, his skin burned so
deeply in places that numerous skin grafts had been needed, especially on his
legs, which had been horrifically charred. Only his face was visible, some of
the tissue bloated and pink and scarred, his eyes closed, the eyelashes seared
away. There were beads of perspiration on his forehead, and even in sleep his
expression was pained.
'Pauli, can you hear me?'
The boy gurgled something, but was
too drugged to make any sense. There was a single chair, and a bowl of water
and a cloth on the locker beside the bed. For a long time Haider sat there,
gently swabbing his son's forehead with the damp cloth, staring at his tortured
face. When he reached out to touch his bandaged hands, the boy moaned in his
sleep. There was something deeply disturbing about having to witness a child in
such horrible pain, and not being able to do anything about it. Haider felt a
wave of anguish sweep over him, and he was close to tears.
A young nurse put her head round
the curtain. 'Are you Major Haider?'
He wiped his eyes. 'Yes.'
'There's a gentleman to see you,
sir. He's waiting downstairs in the visitor's room.'
When he went down, Wilhelm Canaris
was sitting on one of the benches. He wore civilian clothes, a shabby dark
suit, overcoat and hat. He stood and offered his hand.
'Jack, it's good to see you.'
Haider didn't offer to shake his
hand, and Canaris said, 'I can imagine you're hardly pleased to see me. I
believe you met with Schellenberg?'
'What about it?'
Canaris nodded towards the
hospital grounds. 'Would you mind if we walked outside? We need to talk in
private.'
The admiral led the way, down a
pathway between some trees, and when they had gone several paces he said,
'How's your son?'
'What the hell is it to you?'
'My enquiry is genuine, Jack.
Don't take offence.'
'He's not too good.'
'The poor boy. I'm terribly sorry
to hear that.'
'What do you want to see me
about?'
Canaris let out a breath. 'I'd
just like you to know that Schellenberg's plan is entirely his own little
scheme. I spoke with Himmler last night and tried to convince him to reconsider
using you, but it was a waste of time. He's investing a lot in the mission
succeeding. Seems to think it has a good chance of working and you're perfect
for the job.'
'And what do you think?'
Canaris shrugged. 'Does it matter?
It's just another lunatic SD plot. And like you, I've no choice but to go
along. But Himmler's adamant he won't accept failure on this one. The way he
sees it, everything is at stake, and by that he means total victory or defeat.
If the mission succeeds, he'll keep to his word.
He'll give you everything he's
promised, and more.' Canaris hesitated. 'But if you fail-'
'Spit it out, Willy.'
Canaris looked at him. 'I suppose
because of the fact you're American-born, Himmler's a little doubtful about
your absolute allegiance to the Fatherland. That's partly why Kleist and Doring
will be along - to make sure the job is done. If you fail, or don't put
everything into the mission for whatever reason, Himmler assures me you'll
never see your son again. There's also the risk that Kleist or his comrade will
put a bullet in you if you try to shirk your duty.’
A look of anger flashed on
Haider's face. 'The lowdown, evil bastard.'
'It's been said before, and worse,
but to no avail. There's something else. Schellenberg wants you to be the one
to speak with Rachel Stern.'
'Why the hell should it be me?'
'That black uniform of Walter's
tends to put the shivers up most people. Besides that, he seems to think she
may be more receptive if she knows you're involved.' Canaris handed across a
large envelope. 'All her details are in there, including Schellenberg's
proposal, which may help her decide. You're expected at Ravensbruck this
evening, as a guest of the Reichftihrer's office. I'll have one of my drivers
pick you up at seven.'
'Do you know how she's been?'
Canaris saw the concern in
Haider's face. 'These places are never pleasant, but Ravensbruck is not the
worst. And for the last few days Schellenberg has made sure she's been well
looked after, given extra rations, medical attention, and so on. He also tells
me she hasn't been badly treated despite her imprisonment.
It seems one of the senior camp
officers was a former pupil of her father's. Fortunately, he made sure she was
spared the worst and given light duties.' Canaris stopped walking and looked at
the other man. 'Did you love her, Jack?'
Haider glanced away, towards the
hospital grounds. 'God knows. All that seems a long time ago and another life.'
'If it's any consolation, I've
told Schellenberg I want to be kept fully abreast of developments - after all,
you're one of my best men, and I feel a certain responsibility.' Canaris
hesitated, his face troubled. 'One other thing. Walter may be a reasonably
likable rogue compared to some of his SD comrades, but I still wouldn't trust
the little shit an inch.'
'What do you mean?'
Canaris shrugged. 'Call it
intuition, if you like, but no doubt it's years of experience in this
unpleasant business that's sending off warning bells inside my head - I've got
a distinct feeling he may not be telling us the entire story, and that he's up
to something behind our backs. You know how much he delights in his cunning
little plots. It's like an elaborate game with him.’
'Up to what?'
'I'm afraid I haven't the faintest
idea. But you've been warned, so tread carefully.'
Haider slipped the envelope inside
his jacket. 'I'll try to. Do me a favour, Willy.'
'Anything.'
'Take care of Pauli for me while
I'm away. And make sure he's looked after if I don't make it back. Promise me
that?'
'Of course.' Canaris put a hand on
his shoulder. 'Good luck, Jack. That's really all I can say. And try and come
out of this alive and in one piece.'
Ravensbruck concentration camp had
been built in 1935 on Heinrich Himmler's orders, one of the first camps
exclusively for female prisoners. Constructed on a reclaimed marsh, it housed a
variety of political offenders, gypsies and Jews, prostitutes, female
prisoners-of-war, captured Allied agents and resistants.
It was dark and raining that
evening as the Mercedes turned off the
leather trench coat and a slouch hat.
The dark evening clouds were lit
up by flashes of anti-aircraft fire, and parts of
flames.
'A filthy night,' he said to the
driver.
The sergeant glanced round. His
passenger had the look of Gestapo about him in the hat and leather coat. 'And
going to get worse before it gets better, by the looks of it. The Allies have
been bombing us the last three nights. Dangerous times we're living in.'
Haider rolled down the window as
the Mercedes turned off the main road. A sign said Ravensbruck, and there was
another underneath. Entritt Verboten. Entrance forbidden.
At the end of the road was a set
of heavy wooden gates, high barbed-wire runs either side, a sentry command post
beyond.
Haider felt a chill go through
him. For some inexplicable reason his heart was pounding in his chest. A couple
of SS guards wearing rain capes came out, one of them with a leashed Alsatian.
When the Mercedes halted, the sergeant showed their papers and they were
allowed through.
A room had been set aside in a draughty
wooden hut with a table and a couple of chairs. Haider was alone, and the wait
seemed endless as he anxiously tapped his fingers on the table.
He had an odd feeling in the pit
of his stomach, fear and a strange kind of excitement. The door finally opened
and two female SS guards came in, Rachel between them. She looked pale, and
wore a drab, striped camp uniform, her blond hair cut short, but not completely
cropped.
'Hello, Rachel.'
For a moment or two she couldn't
seem to take in his presence. 'Jack-?'
Despite her pallid appearance, she
was still striking, the high cheekbones - the wide, blue eyes, the generous
mouth - and Haider was aware of a sudden unbearable tightness in his chest.
He dismissed the guards. 'Leave
us.'
When the door banged shut, Rachel
stood facing him, silent, and then he slowly crossed the room, put a hand
gently on her cheek. 'My poor Rachel, what have they done to you?'
'I - I can hardly believe it's
you. I'm so glad to see you. So glad.'
It all seemed too much for her. He
saw tears at the edges of her eyes, and in a moment she was in his arms. He was
suddenly conscious of the warmth of her body through the thin material of the
camp uniform, and for several moments they remained like that, holding on to
each other as if for comfort. 'It's all right.
It's all right. Please, sit down.'
He led her to the table and they
sat. 'It's been a long time.
How are you?'
She wiped her eyes. 'Alive. I
suppose that must count for something.'
'Forgive me, but I only just heard
what happened to you and your parents. If I'd known sooner-'
His voice trailed off and Rachel
said, 'Is that why you came to see me?’
'No, that's not the reason. But
I'd like to talk. Do you feel up to it?'
'Talk about what?'
He placed the file on the table in
front of him, opened it, and looked up. 'You've had a hard time of it, by all
accounts. A prisoner here for four years, and your father in
pleasant.'
For a moment she didn't reply, and
then there was an unexpected flash of defiance in her eyes. 'Who are you
working for, Jack? The Gestapo?'
'Hardly.'
She looked at him, noticing the
slouch hat and leather coat.
'The way you're dressed might
suggest otherwise.'
He shook his head. 'A bad choice,
then, I'm afraid. I'm a major in the Abwehr. Military intelligence. I have a
proposition for you, Rachel. Or rather my superiors have a proposition they'd
like me to put to you. How would you like to go back to
He saw the puzzled reaction on her
face. 'Bear with me while I explain. Do you want to see your father again, and
for you both to go free?'
She looked completely taken aback.
'Of- of course.'
'Then I can promise that he'll be
released from
quartered in an excellent private hospital, and receive the services of a top
physician to help regain his health. But best of all, I can promise that you'll
both be freed and allowed to leave
be part of a mission. It's a rather straightforward operation - to gather some
important intelligence information in
No doubt you're unaware, but the city is in Allied hands.'
'I don't understand. What kind of
information?'
Haider shook his head. 'That's a
security matter, and doesn't concern you. All you'd have to do is be part of an
undercover team, on the pretext of being a group of archaeological experts
stranded in
It's as simple as that.
A few days' work at most, and then
you and your father are released.'
'On whose word?’
'On the word of Heinrich Himmler,
Reichsfiihrer of the SS, and Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, the head of the Abwehr.'
She stared at him as if he were
mad, then suddenly laughed.
Haider said, 'What's so funny?'
'I'd sooner trust Satan himself.
You want me to help the Nazis? How can I trust them after what they've done to
my father and me?'
'The answer is you can't. But
let's just say I'm stuck in the same boat. Caught between the Devil and the
deep blue sea.'
'How?'
'A long story that doesn't really
concern you. For now, all you have to do is decide.'
'And what would happen if I
agreed?'
'You'd be released and transferred
to a barracks in
where you'd meet the rest of the group and be briefed on exactly what's
expected of you. Soon after that, we'd be flown to
I'd be lying if I said there
wasn't an element of danger. If you were caught on Allied territory, you'd run
the risk of being shot as an enemy spy. But if everything goes according to
plan, the risks should be minimal. When our mission is complete we'll be flown
back to
After that, you and your father would be set free and put on a ship for
twenty-four hours.'
'And if I don't agree?'
Haider stood very slowly, crossed
to the window. The rain was coming down in sheets. He hesitated before looking
back.
'If you don't, I'm informed you'll
both be shot by morning.'
She stared back at him with no
expression, like a woman who had long used up all her emotional reserves. He
shook his head, his own distaste obvious. 'I'm sorry, Rachel, this is none of
my doing. I'm simply a messenger, and an unwilling one at that.
But if you ask me, a few days in
chance of freedom sounds a lot better than a firing squad. I know you're
wondering if you can believe the promises you've been given. But you'll have to
trust me when I tell you that I have to believe them too.'
'You're really serious about all
this, aren't you?'
'Very. No doubt you wondered why
they gave you extra rations, and the camp doctor seemed suddenly interested in
your health. Now you know. But as I told you, I'm just a messenger.
The fate of you and your father is
beyond my control. Nothing I could say or do would change matters.'
He came back to the table and sat
down. He felt a catch in his throat. 'But there is something I have wanted to
tell you for a long time, if it's any consolation. And whatever you choose, I'd
like you to know.'
'What?'
'Something I never told you
because I knew Harry felt the same way. And because we were always such close
friends, I didn't want to ruin that friendship. But the first time I saw you at
defoudre, the French call it.
The thunderclap. The most potent
kind of love of all.'
She didn't reply. There was a
strained silence between them.
Haider stood, suddenly
uncomfortable, and pushed back his chair. He was conscious of a powerful
emotion welling up inside him as he looked down at her face.
'I'm going to leave you for a
while, and let you think about the offer.'
It was after midnight when the
driver dropped Haider back at the Wannsee cottage. The rain was still coming
down in sheets as he went up the veranda. There was a black Opel sedan parked
on the gravel in front of the house, two leather-coated Gestapo men sitting
inside. Schellenberg's Mercedes was parked next to it, and he was already
waiting in the front room, smoking a cigarette and relaxing on the sofa, the
fire lit and blazing, a glass of champagne in his hand. 'A filthy night, so I
thought I'd make myself at home and help myself to some refreshment. I hope you
don't mind?' He grinned. 'Well, how did it go?'
Haider shook rain from his coat
and said angrily, 'She agreed.
Though it hardly surprises me, the
offer you put to her.'
'The way of the world, Jack.'
Schellenberg seemed excited and got to his feet. He drained the champagne and
put down the glass. 'It really looks like we're on our way. Excellent.'
'I just hope she's up to it.'
'Nonsense. She's in reasonably
good health. And it's too late to find someone else, even if we could. You'll
just have to keep an eye on her, and make sure she does what's expected.
Naturally, I'll give her an
account of the war situation - having been in Ravensbruck, she won't know the
present state of play.'
Schellenberg smiled. 'It'll be a
selective account, of course. Just as much as she needs to know.'
'I want you to do something for
me.'
'What?'
'My son needs morphine. The
hospital says its supplies have been cut. I don't want Pauli to be in any more
pain than he is already. And I'd like him transferred to a hospital outside
there's less bombing.'
Schellenberg nodded. 'Very well.
I'll see what I can do.', Haider flared. 'Don't see, just do it.'
'Temper, Jack,' Schellenberg
snapped back. 'I promised he'd be looked after and I intend keeping my pledge.
What's got into you?'
'Let's just say I'm not overly
fond of your tactics. And you know something? I've got a bad feeling about
this. A very bad feeling indeed.'
'Nonsense. It'll work - it has
to.'
'Another thing. If Rachel Stern
gets out of this alive, you'd better keep to your promise. Otherwise, I'll come
gunning for you, Walter. On my life, I will. Even if it means a firing squad.'
'Harsh words indeed, and I'm not
sure I like your tone,'
Schellenberg answered firmly. 'But
the promise will be kept, you can be sure of that.'
Haider tossed his wet coat on a
chair. 'What happens now?'
'You get to meet your fellow
travellers tomorrow morning.
Seven a.m. at Lichterfeld SS
barracks. The girl will be transferred there tonight. I'll send a driver to
pick you up at six-thirty.'
'Then what?'
'Time is against us, so we need to
move fast. There'll be a rigorous briefing, starting early tomorrow, for
yourself, Kleist and Doring, to explain the plan in detail and go over your
cover story - that should take no more than three days - then you'll have the
following day to all get acquainted. After that - assuming our U-boats or the
Luftwaffe haven't miraculously succeeded in doing the dirty deed for us, and
with Himmler's final approval - you'll be flown to
probably on the same night. A detailed message will be on its way to our
principal agent in Cairo, informing him of our intentions, and with
instructions to obtain what equipment you'll need, and to prepare for your
arrival.'
'It all sounds too rushed to me.'
'Apart from the obvious time
constraints, the long-range weather reports for the Mediterranean regions are
pretty grim. So I want you well under way in case we can't make the drop later.
We simply can't take the risk of having to delay or cancel.'