Hitler's Secret (8 page)

Otto and Leni’s little sailing dinghy scudded nimbly over the gentle swell. To the south was a cluster of fishing boats, men hauling in their nets, but otherwise there was nothing on the water near them. They were making excellent time and the shore of Fraueninsel was now only a few hundred feet away.

Otto sat in the stern, holding the tiller, with Leni squeezed farther up on the port side. She had the packs with her and the rope stowed beside them. A light breeze filled the sail, and the dinghy’s hull was heeling gently, up on its side.

In front of them was a small cove, the beach covered in large flat stones.
Nearly there,
thought Otto. He felt relief at the prospect of dry land.

Above them came the sound of an aircraft. The drone of a single-engine plane. It grew louder. Otto and Leni shielded their eyes, looking up to the fading blue sky, as the drone
became a whine, higher in range as it drew closer. A fighter plane suddenly filled Otto’s vision, the nose cone painted a bright scarlet. It was not of a type that Otto had ever seen before and it was heading straight towards them, no more than a hundred feet above the water. He glimpsed a pilot in white leather flying helmet and gloves, his mouth open and his teeth bared. The pilot raised a hand and waved, just as the downdraft hit the sail and rocked the dinghy from side to side.

For a moment, time slowed and shifted and Otto was once more back on the beach in Dunkirk with bullets chasing him across the sand and into the sea. He panicked.

“Otto, no!” screamed Leni.

But he was already over the side of the boat and plunging into the lake. The shock of the icy water knocked all the air from his chest. He kicked for the surface and saw that the dinghy was already thirty feet away. He began to swim after it, but it was going too fast. The wind had caught the sail. He could see Leni had scooted to the stern and was gripping the tiller. But she was obviously frightened. Too late he remembered she hadn’t much enjoyed the sailing lessons.

“Pull the tiller towards you until the boat goes into the wind,” he shouted, pushing himself to swim even faster.

To his relief, Leni did as he said. The bow came around and the sail emptied of wind and started flapping. Leni sat down,
waiting for Otto to catch up. As he reached the little boat he grabbed hold of the side and began pulling himself on board. Unfortunately, it was just at that moment that Leni stood up to help him in, leaning over to grab his arm. The dinghy capsized, throwing her into the water beside Otto. The mast and sail sank below the surface, and the hull turned turtle.

Leni coughed and spluttered. “The packs!” she screamed.

Taking a deep breath, Otto dived under the water. He could see the packs just below him, gradually sinking to the bottom of the lake. A very deep lake, he remembered quite suddenly. He tried not to think about Dunkirk, or the feeling of the rope slipping from his hand. He dived after the nearest pack and grabbed it. For a moment he felt it drag him down like an anchor, then he kicked with all his strength towards the surface, pulling the bag behind him, until his free hand found the edge of the boat. His head emerged from the water, and he sucked at the air. Then Leni burst up beside him, making him shout out with surprise.

“Got the other pack,” she gasped. “Can you swim to the beach?”

Otto nodded. Holding the pack with one arm, he kicked for the shore.

A few minutes later they struggled up onto the beach, lugging their waterlogged packs along the dark, silty earth and onto the large stones.

“I’m sorry, Leni.” Otto sat down.

The upturned dinghy had drifted in after them and was banging against the rocks in the shallows.

“I don’t understand. Why did you jump off the boat like that?” She was staring at him with a look of concern.

“It’s just … well, the plane reminded me of something … Something that happened to me.”

Leni nodded, seeming to realize that he didn’t want to talk about it. “Well, that pilot was absolutely crazy. Can you believe he actually waved and smiled?”

Otto got to his feet. “We’d better not stay out here in the open,” he said. The island was small and not so densely wooded as Herreninsel. The outline of the convent’s main buildings could be seen through the trees.

Leni picked up her pack. “You’re right. We need to keep out of sight until nightfall. Head up there to the tree line. We still have enough daylight to dry our things out, with a bit of luck.” Then she stopped. “Oh, no!” she wailed. “The rope, we’ve lost the rope.”

“It’s all right,” said Otto.

“No, it’s not! If you hadn’t jumped like that we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“Look, I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ll think of something, all right? You go up to the woods.”

“Why, what are you going to do?” Leni asked, still fuming.

“Get rid of that dinghy.”

He picked up the biggest stone he could carry and walked back to the boat, then raised it above his head and let it fall. The stone crashed straight through the wooden hull, leaving a large hole. Otto waded out into the water, pushing the boat in front of him, and watched as it filled with water and slowly sank below the surface.

Before the propeller blades had stopped turning, Reinhard Heydrich had already unstrapped and was out of the cockpit. He slid down the wing in his immaculate white flying suit to be greeted by the commander of the
Luftwaffe
’s experimental flight wing.

“What do you think?”

“Incredible, Major. Just incredible. Flying this plane is just as you promised it would be, but more so.” Heydrich was breathless in his enthusiasm. “I thank you for the honor.”

“The honor is the Luftwaffe’s, sir, that you should be one of the first to fly the 190.”

“How many do you have now?”

“The first six were delivered this week. Another twelve by the end of the month. Once we have evaluated them, full production will commence.”

“The sooner the better.”

Heydrich pulled off his flying helmet and ran his hand through his cropped hair. He was nearly six feet tall, with fleshy lips and cold gray eyes. At the age of thirty-seven, he was already head of the RSHA — the
Reichssicherheitshauptamt
, or Reich Security Service — and the most feared man in Germany. He had the power to make any person disappear without a trace.

He took a long swig of water from the metal canteen the major handed to him.

“There is something else I would like to show you, sir, if you have time. It seems as though our factories have something new and exciting for us to test almost every week.”

Heydrich nodded. “I always have time when it comes to new planes.”

They walked back across the airfield towards the line of camouflaged hangars, but just as they reached the first of them, Heydrich’s car, a black Mercedes limousine, sped towards them. It came to a sharp halt, and Heydrich’s driver jumped out and ran across to them, leaving the engine running.

“Urgent message for you from the Führer, sir.”

Heydrich sliced open the telex message and read its contents. He frowned. “You must excuse me, Major. I am required immediately at the Berghof.”

“I understand. Perhaps I can be of assistance? Please follow me.”

Heydrich waved his driver away and followed the major into the nearest hangar. In the middle of it sat a helicopter.

“This is a Flettner Kolibri,” the major said, with obvious pride. “She’s the latest model of the Hummingbird, sir. We’re testing her for the
Kriegsmarine
. She’s ten times more maneuverable than any of our planes. She can land on a Reichmark.”

Heydrich stared. In this he could be at Hitler’s mountain home in less than thirty minutes. How impressive that would seem. The Führer sends for him and he appears almost instantly, like an eagle swooping down from the sky.

“Have your men call the Führer’s security control at the Berghof. Tell them to expect us. It wouldn’t do for me to be shot down, would it?”

Ten minutes later, Heydrich was sitting in the open cockpit beside the pilot, the rotors spooling above them. The helicopter lifted off, rising straight up into the air. It hovered there for a moment, like its namesake, then wheeled about and headed south, slowly climbing into the sky.

Heydrich looked down at Munich. Through his goggles he could just make out, to the north of the city, the concentration camp the SS had built near the town of Dachau. Then it faded from view and he could see the new Autobahns to the south, gray ribbons heading in all directions. Truly, he thought, there was nothing the Reich could not achieve.

It was dark by the time Leni had finished drying out the contents of their packs, checking, then restowing them. The only damage had been to some of their German food rations. She had thrown them away and instead made soup with some Erbswurst pellets, mixing the resulting broth with a tin of beef in gravy. She gave the pot a stir. It didn’t smell too bad.

The sudden sharp snap of a fallen tree branch sent Leni diving away from the small campfire, snatching up the pistol lying beside her pack. She froze and gave a single-note whistle. A moment later it was answered by a three-note response. Otto was back.

By the time she’d poured the soup into their enamel mugs, he was squatting down beside her, his face running with perspiration from the muggy summer night air. She handed him a mug.

“Smells pretty good,” he said, sniffing at it.

“Yes, well, you can cook next time,” said Leni. Otto was already shoveling the soup into his mouth. “So, what did you find?”

Otto stopped shoveling for a moment. “Good news. The walls are low enough to climb and the nuns have gone to bed.” MacPherson had given them precise instructions regarding the convent’s routine, and it seemed the nuns were following it to the letter. “It’s just a short run from the main building to the jetty. You’ll easily make your way there in the dark.”

Leni nodded, relieved. “What about other people on the island?”

“There are a few villas and a small hotel farther along, just as MacPherson said, but I’ve seen no one around.” Otto finished his soup and held out his mug for more. “The only problem is the rope.”

“You think all I’ve been doing is the laundry and the cooking while you’ve been off snooping around?”

“You’ve thought of something?”

“Of course I have,” said Leni, a little exasperated. She spread out MacPherson’s map of the convent, the flames from the small fire giving them enough light to study it. “Here’s the laundry room. If I can get two or three sheets from it, I can cut them up and make a rope.”

“Good idea,” acknowledged Otto. “I was thinking of something similar myself.”

“Oh, really,” said Leni, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, but maybe it’s a bit risky spending too much time there, on the ground floor.”

“That’s why I’m going to make the rope here, in this little store cupboard on the same landing as the girl.” Leni pointed to it on the map.

“It’s going to take you a while,” Otto said. He looked at his watch. “I think we should go now.”

Leni knew he was right. She checked her watch. It was just after ten o’clock. The moon was coming up. It was half full, giving a good light and saving their flashlights.

They quickly made their way through the trees to the walled vegetable garden at the north of the convent. Leni took off her pack.

“Ready?” asked Otto.

Leni nodded, swallowing. “I feel sick,” she said.

“Me, too,” said Otto. “I think it’s your cooking.”

Leni smiled tightly and took some deep breaths.

“I’ll be waiting at the jetty,” Otto went on. “We have to be off the island by three o’clock at the latest. First light is at four.” He looked at the fluorescent hands of his watch. “I have ten-oh-seven.”

Leni looked at her watch. “Check.” She stood there for a moment. “Look, if there’s a problem, I don’t want you to … come and get me. Just make a run for it.”

“There won’t be a problem,” he said firmly.

“But if there is …”

Otto answered by stepping towards her. For a moment Leni thought he was going to hug her, but he just laced his fingers, cupping his hands to give her a boost.

“You’ll be fine,” he said.

She stepped onto his hands and he lifted her up the side of the wall. She swung her legs over the top and landed heavily on the other side, feeling grateful now for the hours of practice on the dreaded wall at Wanborough Manor. Her pack landed next to her with a thud.

“Three o’clock,” she heard Otto hiss.

Otto listened to Leni’s fading footsteps on the gravel. When he could no longer hear them, he struck out down the path by the vegetable garden wall. Then he skirted the low walls of the main building and slipped past the gates, which were closed for the night but not, Otto noted, locked. The island’s isolation clearly afforded enough security — or so the nuns must have thought. A paved path wide enough for a cart led in an almost-straight line through more woodland to the jetty.

There was no one about, just the sound of crickets in the short grass and an occasional bat flitting above him. Somewhere a dog barked. The jetty loomed ahead of him, stretching out into the lake. Fishing boats and launches were tied up along both sides. They scraped gently against each other, their cork fenders groaning quietly. The hotel at the water’s edge
was full of lights and the sound of music, but it was some way from the jetty.

Otto heard Admiral MacPherson’s words in his ear as he stole along, checking each boat:
“You can’t miss it, Otto, it’s a twenty-five-foot launch, blue hull with white superstructure. Good for thirty knots, should get you back to Stock in twenty minutes.”

There it was. A small pennant with the Benedictine symbol was flying from a short flag post on the stern.

Otto jumped on board and made his way forward to the covered cockpit. There was a wooden wheel and, beside it, the red starter button for the engine, together with the throttle lever, and forward and reverse gear stick. He ran his fingers over the chrome fuel, temperature, and pressure gauges. A compass was mounted in front of the wheel. Only the key to the ignition was missing.

Otto set down his pack and burrowed inside it, removing a small leather case. He opened it out and selected a skeleton key from one of a dozen. He tried it in the lock, but it wouldn’t fit, so he selected another and tried again. At least picking the ignition lock would give him something to do while he waited.