Glenn Meade (15 page)

Five minutes later he reached
Helen Kane's flat. It turned out to be a neat and tidy two-bedroom affair, with
a tiny kitchen.

There was a drinks trolley with a
couple of bottles and some glasses. When she let him in, she was still in
uniform.

'Jenny, my flatmate, has gone to
Alexandria
for a week.'
She explained that the girl she shared with was a typist at US military
headquarters. 'She met an RAF captain who swept her off her feet. Help yourself
to a drink. I was just going to shower and change.'

When she left the room, Weaver
poured himself a Scotch.

The fire in his neck had become
irritating, and he swallowed two morphine pills, washed them down, and looked
around the flat. There were lots of books on the shelves, mostly on
Egypt
, and some
novels, and he noticed a photograph of an attractive man in naval uniform. The
room was hot, and when Helen Kane came back she opened one of the windows. She
wore a dark blue skirt and a white blouse and her hair was down around her
shoulders. It was the first time Weaver had seen her out of uniform - even at
the party in Shepheard's she had been in khaki - and the change was remarkable.

'What's wrong?' she asked.

'You look different, that's all.'

'You mean I don't look like an
intelligence officer any more?'

'I meant you look… very pretty.'

She blushed. 'Thank you.' She
poured herself a drink and came to sit beside him. 'Do you think we'll find
this Arab spy?'

'We've got to. There's no telling
what he might be up to. He has a radio. With a radio he could be in contact
with
Berlin
,
or with a listening post that relays his messages.'

Weaver put down his glass, looked
at the photograph on the shelf, and before he had a chance to ask she said,
'Peter was my boyfriend. He was on
Crete
when
the Germans invaded, over two years ago. I've heard nothing about him since.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I've got over it, but it took me
a long time.'

'Tell me about yourself.'

She half smiled and Weaver said,
'What's so funny?'

'You, asking me a personal
question like that. It's sort of hard to get used to with all the military
formality of the office. But there isn't much to tell. My father worked in
Cairo
for a British legal
firm, and met my mother. We lived here when I was a child and then moved to
England
.'

'Where's your father now?'

'He died when I was twelve.'

'And your mother?'

'She lives in
Boston
. She eventually married again, a nice
American lawyer.' She smiled faintly, then refilled his glass and handed it to
him. 'Now it's your turn. How did you end up being posted to
Egypt
?'

He found himself telling her about
his time at
Sakkara
, about Rachel Stern and
Jack Haider. There was also something Weaver couldn't ignore, a sexual
chemistry he'd been aware of since the party at Shepheard's. He could see the
firm outline of her breasts through the cotton blouse, and the way her bare,
lightly tanned legs "were crossed excited him. This was wartime, death a
real possibility, and people took their comfort where they could, but he knew
if he stayed longer he might make a fool of himself.

'What's wrong?' she asked.

'Not a thing,' he lied. 'I guess
I'd better be going. Thanks for the drink.' When he stood, he felt dizzy. The
mixture of morphine and alcohol had proved a deadly combination and had gone
straight to his head. He swayed unsteadily on his feet.

'What's the matter?'

'Just a little muzzy, that's all.
I'll find a cab.'

'Maybe you should rest a while.
You lost a lot of blood. I wouldn't like to think of you collapsing in the back
of some cab.

Cairene taxi drivers aren't the
most trustworthy.' She hesitated.

'There's always Jenny's bed if
you'd like to stay.'

He looked at her face. It blurred
in front of him. 'You're… you're sure?'

'Yes, I'm very sure.'

She led him into a large bedroom
with a narrow bed. The room smelled faintly of perfume and there was an unlit
candle by the bedside. She lit it, then helped him take off his jacket. The
alcohol and the pills were still having their effect. He leaned over and made
to kiss her, was surprised when she opened her mouth eagerly.

They kissed for a long time, and
then she said, 'How do you feel?'

'All of a sudden, a lot better.'

She laughed, and something seemed
to spark between them, her eyes smiling invitingly. Weaver put a hand to her
cheek.

'You know what they say about
Egyptian women?'

'No. Tell me.'

'They talk with their eyes. For
centuries, it was the only way a veiled woman could communicate her feelings to
a man, and the habit's deeply ingrained.'

She smiled. 'And what do my eyes
say?'

'Lots of things.' Weaver blushed.
'Some of them unspeakable.'

He gently stroked her face with
his fingertips. 'Something else I noticed. At the party in Shepheard's, Sanson
couldn't keep from looking at you. He and I haven't exactly hit it off, but I
also get the feeling he thinks there's something going on between us.

And he doesn't like it.'

'And is there something between
us?'

'I think that's up to you. Tell me
about you and him.'

'We had dinner a couple of times.
He sent flowers, and seemed a little infatuated. He told me I reminded him of
his wife. She died, you know. On one of those convoys taking officers' wives
back to
Britain
during the flap, sunk by a Uboat.

They hadn't been married long. I
imagine that's why he hates the Germans so much. The devastation he suffered
because of her death probably hardened him to lots of things, and maybe it's
the reason he puts everything into his work. Sometimes it almost seems as if
the war is personal, and he's trying to pay the Germans back for what they
did.' Her voice softened. 'I think it took him a lot of effort to ask me out,
and I truly liked him-'

'But?'

She put a finger to his lips. 'Not
as much as you.'

Her eyes held his. He sat down on
the bed. Slowly, she unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a pair of rounded, full
breasts.

She undid her skirt, which slid to
the floor, and Weaver took in her pale brown skin, her smooth legs, the curve
of her hips. He reached out for her, drew her down to lie beside him, and her
arms went around his neck, her mouth fastening on his lips, as his hands moved
over her breasts and down between her thighs.

As they lay there, she kissed his
chest, sucked his nipples, made small flicking movements with her tongue which
worked their way down his belly and between his. legs, and then he was in her
warm, silky mouth, and she was stroking him gently, his pain forgotten, a warm
feeling of ecstasy spreading through his entire body.

She looked up, brushed a strand of
her hair from her face.

'Well? Do I drive you even a
little crazy?'

'More than that.'

Her eyes met his again. 'Come into
me, Harry.'

For a moment he hesitated, then he
moved on top, looked into her face as he lowered himself into her, and she
moaned softly with pleasure.

It was a frosty morning and still
dark when the Mercedes staff car pulled up outside the commandant's office in
Lichterfeld SS training barracks. As Haider climbed out, he saw Schellenberg
step out of the lighted doorway, his officer's leather coat draped over his
shoulders, a briefcase under his arm.

'Well, you made it, Jack, I see. I
hope you slept well?'

'Forget the small talk. I'm not in
the mood.'

'I take it you're still angry
about not being allowed to see your boy?'

'What the hell do you think?'

'I'm sorry, but it can't be
helped. Right, let's not waste any more time. I have a briefing room organized.
Kleist and Doring are waiting. Colonel Skorzeny himself will be along later to
meet you.'

'Where's Rachel?'

'Asleep in one of the barrack
huts. She's been given medication to help with some extra rest, to build up her
stamina. You can see her this evening.'

'You still haven't told me the
other reason she's so important to the mission.’

'You'll be told before the time
comes for your departure.

Follow me.'

Schellenberg led the way to a
barbed-wire compound, guarded by a dozen SS troops with machine-pistols and a
couple of vicious-looking leashed Alsatian dogs. A sign outside said Strictly
Authorised Personnel. Schellenberg showed his pass and they were allowed
through. Across the compound yard was a long, single-storey redbrick building,
a floodlight over the entrance. Two SS guards with Alsatians were posted
outside, and the men snapped to attention as Schellenberg came forward to
unlock the door.

'Security precautions,' he
remarked as he led Haider inside, then locked the door behind them. 'The
mission's completely top secret, so we can't be too careful. Anyone who tries
to enter without my personal permission will be shot out of hand, if the dogs
don't get them first. Those animals can kill a man in seconds.'

The building was large and basic
inside, and looked like a classroom, with a wooden desk facing three chairs, a
blackboard, and a tiled wood stove in the middle. Two men stood beside it
warming their hands, both wearing civilian clothes. One was in his late
thirties, and very obviously a military man, broad and bullish, with a ravaged
face and a flattened nose. He looked a study in brutality, his dark eyes
hinting at a savage nature. The second man was in his middle twenties, coarse-looking,
with a sharp face and a thin, cruel mouth.

'You already know Major Kleist.
And this young man is SS Feldwebel Doring. Meet Major Haider.'

Kleist was the first to thrust out
his hand. 'Well, Haider, we meet again. The last time was an anti-partisan
operation near
Sarajevo
,
as I recall?'

Haider ignored the offered hand.
'I remember it very well.

And I can't say it's a pleasure
seeing you again. Not after witnessing how you dealt with prisoners.'

Kleist flushed, offended, and his
eyes narrowed dangerously.

'Harsh methods are sometimes
called for in war, Major. You ought to know that.'

'I'm a soldier, not a butcher,
Kleist. Or perhaps you can't understand the distinction? And I hardly call
raping and torturing women an honourable way of conducting a war. Your behavior
disgraced the German uniform. If I had my way, I'd have had you shot.'

Kleist raised his eyes and grinned
maliciously. 'Strange you should have that opinion, considering I ended up
getting a commendation for the operation. But obviously the major doesn't have
the stomach for such work.'

Haider ignored the provocation.
Doring, the Feldwebel, had a sly grin on his face, as if amused by the
proceedings, and Haider took an instant dislike to the man.

'A pleasure to meet you, sir,'
Doring offered.

'Charmed, I'm sure.'

Schellenberg sighed and placed his
briefcase on the desk.

'Right, now that it's quite
obvious you'll all get on like a house on fire, take your seats, gentlemen, and
we'll proceed.'

Schellenberg opened his briefcase,
took out a number of maps, and unfolded a detailed one of northern
Egypt
. 'I'll
give you the exact particulars in a moment, but simply and shortly put, the
structure of your mission is this. You'll be flown to northern
Egypt
and be met by one of our local agents at a
disused desert airfield "who'll help you on your way to
Cairo
, under the guise of an archaeological
group. There, you'll meet with one of our Egyptian agents, who'll accommodate
you in a safe house. From then on, and quickly, mind - we estimate within no
more than three days - you'll do your utmost to discover exactly where
Roosevelt and Churchill are located in the city. We suspect it'll be the Mena
House, but we'll come to that later. Once you manage to confirm the location,
you'll need to come up with a plan that will help us breach the Allied leaders'
security and get close enough to kill them. That done - assuming you've
achieved all of your objectives - the rest is straightforward. You'll radio
Berlin
and we'll send in Colonel Skorzeny and his
paratroops, to rendezvous with you at a small airfield outside
Cairo
, which you'll need to have secured
beforehand.

Once Skorzeny lands, you'll brief
him in detail and transport him and his men to the location where you've
determined Roosevelt and Churchill will be, and help them get past their
security. After that, it'll all be up to Skorzeny to finish the thing, and
you're out of it.

'I hardly need to impress on you
again the importance of this mission to
Germany
's survival. It's absolutely
vital that it succeeds.

No matter what obstacles you
encounter, your objectives will remain firm: to reach
Cairo
and carry out your tasks. Under no
circumstances will you abort, unless personally instructed by me to do so. Is
that understood?'

'How will we keep in touch?'
Haider asked.

'Besheeba, the agent you'll meet
in
Cairo
, has a
radio transmitter. His signals are relayed to
Berlin
via a receiver in
Rome
.
Weather permitting, we can usually communicate with each other within an hour,
two at the most. There's also an alternative listening post in
Athens
, in case of problems.' Schellenberg
jabbed at one of the maps. 'So, to details. The Italians have surrendered, of
course, but our troops still occupy the northern half of
Italy
,
Rome
included, which is less than three hours' flying time to the North African
coast. In four days' time you'll be flown to
Rome
to take up your stand-by position.

Assuming we have confirmation from
Egypt
that everything is
prepared for your arrival, our intention is to land you at a disused RAF desert
airfield, here, near a village called Abu Sammar, thirty kilometers south-west
of
Alexandria
,
at approximately on five hundred hours on the morning of the drop.

'The airfield's no more than a
flat strip of sand, really, but ideal for our purposes. Deserted, apart from a
couple of Bedouin families camped a few miles away, but they shouldn't give you
any trouble. Our agent there has already been given instructions to meet you.
He'll signal your aircraft from the ground and once you land he'll drive you to
Alexandria
.
From there, you'll board the first train to
Cairo
which departs at seven a.m., arriving
in Rameses station just over two hours later. If everything works to plan,
you'll make contact with Besheeba and be taken to a safe house.'

'How do we make contact?' Kleist
asked.

'There's a popular cafe called the
Pharaoh's Garden, directly across the street from the Rameses station. You'll
proceed there as soon as you get off the train, take a table outside, and each
order coffee. One of you will leave your ticket stubs in your hatband as a
recognition signal. A man will engage you in conversation - he'll be wearing a
Panama hat, have a copy of the Egyptian Gazette under his left arm, and a rose
in his buttonhole.'

Schellenberg smiled. 'An old
routine, but then the old ones are always the best. He'll ask you the shortest
way to the
Egyptian
Museum
. You'll tell him
you're going there and can show him the way. We'll go over the precise details
of everything later, including the warning signals, in case you or your contact
feel the meeting is in danger, and an alternative rendezvous is necessary. If
for some reason you don't make the first train, your contact will return at the
arrival time of each successive train due from Alexandria that day, until the
first one the next morning. If you still haven't turned up by then, he'll have
to assume the worst.'

'And what if no one shows up at
the airfield?' Haider asked.

'The man who'll meet you is a
reliable fellow. He has my personal instruction to wait until your aircraft
makes the rendezvous.'

'You still haven't said what
happens if he doesn't show up.'

Schellenberg offered a thin smile.
'Ever the cautious one, Jack. But to put your mind somewhat at rest, and in
case of any extreme obstacles - which I don't anticipate - there'll be a motor
boat waiting here' - he pointed to the map - 'on the Nile delta, 1 just outside
the town of Rashid. The river's a straight run to
Cairo
, about six hours away. Again, details
later.'

Haider checked the map. 'But
Rashid's at least twenty miles from Alex.'

'You're neglecting the point. If
there are difficulties overland, and with desert all around, the river route
offers the only likely alternative to get you to
Cairo
,
and Rashid is one of the nearest points where you can access the
Nile
. Besheeba considers the route a safe bet, should you
run into any problems. We've also arranged for him to supply any equipment
necessary, from weapons to transport, and anything else you'll require.'
Schellenberg smiled. 'I've already given him a shopping list of things you'll
likely need. Three American army trucks, to ferry Skorzeny's men from the
airfield outside
Cairo
.
And a Jeep and military police uniforms for yourself, Kleist and Doring, along
with any necessary transport papers required, which should help you move around
the city with ease while you're setting everything up. I'll go over the list
with you this afternoon.

But there's another reason for the
Jeep and uniforms, which I'll come to presently.'

'Permission to speak, Herr
General.'

'Yes, Kleist.'

'You're certain this Besheeba
fellow can be trusted?'

'Completely - he's a man who's
proved himself very useful, and one of our top agents. He'll have help, of
course - an Arab, a former agent of Rommel's.'

'I never trusted these Arabs,'
Kleist remarked sourly. 'Shifty, the lot of them.'

'He's a reliable fellow, Kleist.
So treat him with respect when the time comes, despite the fact that he's a
mentally inferior class by SS standards. That's an order. Understand?'

'Yes, Herr General.'

'Any more questions? Yes, Doring?'

'What about our air transport,
Herr General? We'll be taking a big risk flying over enemy territory in a
Luftwaffe aircraft.'

Schellenberg smiled broadly. 'I
shouldn't worry about that, it's all been taken care of. In fact, you have an
interesting surprise in store for you when the time comes.'

'And our papers?'

'Each of you will have an
excellent set of forged documents - everything you'll possibly need will be
sorted out before you depart. Jack, you'll be assuming an American identity,
naturally.

Kleist and Doring, you'll be South
African nationals. Fraulein Stern will have papers in the name of a German
Jewess. Unlike other Germans in
Egypt
,
German Jews have not been interned - they're free to go where they please.
Hopefully you shouldn't be bothered too much by the Egyptian authorities. I
understand they're quite lax about such matters as checking papers. But to make
sure you're all prepared, I've arranged for three of my best
counter-intelligence officers to question each of you thoroughly about your
cover stories, and the same with the girl.'

Haider interrupted. 'Back up a
little. It's all very well our agent in
Cairo
procuring these three American army trucks for us to ferry Skorzeny's men from
the airfield after they land and get them close to where Roosevelt and
Churchill will be. But we're talking about a hundred German paratroops in
battle uniform. If for any reason the trucks are stopped at a checkpoint, we'll
be finished.'