The Leader And The Damned (33 page)

'It was a tragedy,' Lindsay replied.

'There is so often one who loves, one who is loved - I think your writer, Somerset Maugham, said something like that.' She changed the subject abruptly. 'I will tell you a little about myself.'

Paco - it was a code-name - was twenty-seven years old. She had been born of an English mother and a Serbian father, a professor of languages at Belgrade University. Educated at the Godolphin, an English boarding-school, she had gone on to a Swiss finishing-school and then returned to Yugoslavia. She was fluent in English, German and Serbo-Croat.

'When Hitler bombed Belgrade both my parents were killed. In one night I became an orphan. No need for sympathy, Wing Commander - it has happened to so many in England also. I joined the Partisans. In Yugoslavia it is almost as common for a woman to carry a gun as a man. And my German is useful - it allows me to operate inside the Third Reich.

'You must have contact with London,' Lindsay suggested.

'There is a limit to what you need to know,' Paco said brusquely. 'But a little information about the people your life now depends on - and equally whose lives may depend on you at a critical time - will help us to work as a team. You know, Wing Commander, I have to point out you are a novice at this dangerous game..'

'I did escape from the Berghof,' Lindsay snapped. 'True.' Her greenish eyes surveyed him. 'I do find

that a most promising omen for the future.' She became stern again. 'Bora. He has killed many Germans and trusts no one. His wife was killed in the bombing the same night as my parents died. But I think he found his natural vocation as a fighter. You would not believe it - he was a furniture-maker, carving fine chairs..'

'You find that amusing, Paco?' Bora, who had been cleaning the machine-pistol, leaned forward, his manner aggressive.

'I find it strange - you use your skilled hands to build complex explosive devices. Once you created, now you destroy..'

'It is the war.'

The girl was not in the least disturbed by Bora's attitude. As she lit a cigarette, Lindsay was struck by the serenity which never seemed to desert her. She stroked her blonde hair, gazing at the- third member of- her group.

'Now Milic here...' Her tone of voice became more affectionate '.. he was a stone-mason who once worked in the quarries. He has no idea what has happened to his wife and two children. They were on holiday in Zagreb when the war came. He is very strong - and very controlled. You follow me?'

'I think so,' Lindsay replied;not looking at Bora.

'So now,' Paco went on, 'we have to move very quickly - to take you out of Germany before the highly-efficient Nazi apparatus has time to get organized. No later than tonight.'

'That's quick,' Lindsay commented.

'I just hope it is quick enough. You may stay here. Milic and I have to go out to see what is happening before we escort you to safety...'

'May I ask where is safety?'

'Switzerland.'

Colonel Jaeger stood with his hands on his hips surveying the scene inside the main station at Munich. A cold wind was blowing, sending pieces of paper scuttering along the rail tracks, chilling everyone. Jaeger was glad of his fur-lined military greatcoat and his deputy, Schmidt, who had just joined him, clapped his gloved hands together.

'All the barricades to Switzerland are manned,' Schmidt informed his chief. 'There is the usual desperate shortage of personnel but they will not slip through by road.'

'Nor by train,' Jaeger affirmed. 'Every train to Switzerland is carrying a special team. They have the Englishman's description, orders to check the papers of all passengers irrespective of that description. We may scoop up other interesting fish in our net...'

He paused and Schmidt followed his gaze. A tall, blonde-haired girl in her late twenties had just been stopped by one of Jaeger's patrols. She wore an expensive leather coat and a fetching black fur cap perched on the top of her head. She glanced across, her eyes met Jaeger's, then she resumed her conversation with the two soldiers.

'She's a beauty,' Jaeger said appreciatively. 'Maybe the lady could do with a little help.'.

He left Schmidt who smiled cynically. The Colonel was noted for his keen eye for attractive women. As Jaeger approached, the two soldiers stiffened to attention and saluted.

'What seems to be the trouble?' Jaeger enquired affably.

'These men are harassing me. ,.' Paco turned her eyes and held Jaeger's in a long look. 'I am the Baroness Werther, the niece of General Speidel..

'I think you can leave this to me...' Jaeger dismissed his men with a curt gesture, his eyes still on Paco as he returned their salute. 'They are looking for an English spy,' he explained, 'so they sometimes show excessive zeal.'

'I look to you like a spy, Colonel?' asked Paco.

'Of course not, Baroness.' Jaeger bowed. The girl really had an instantaneous effect on him and Jaeger regarded himself as something of a connoisseur of the fair sex. Of course, all this Aryan propaganda was claptrap, but the sceptical Colonel began to wonder whether there was a point to it as he continued to stare at this vision.

'Since you have military connections,' he suggested, 'could you possibly join me for lunch so I may, express my regrets in a practical way at the inconvenience you have just suffered? I do have a table permanently reserved at the Four Seasons...'

He waited, somewhat surprised at his impulsive action and even more surprised when he realized he was almost holding his breath for her reply. She looked at him steadily, taking her time while she considered his proposal. It would be a rejection, Jaeger felt sure.

'Is that the real reason why you extend this invitation, Colonel? Simply to express regrets?'

She was holding him on a tightrope of anticipation. It was quite ridiculous but he desperately wanted to get to know her better - and she had thrown him completely off balance.

'It would be an honour,' he said frankly, 'to walk into the Four Seasons graced by your company. Simply lunch - I promise you as an officer..'

'And a gentleman?' She smiled to take the sting out of her playfulness. 'I would be very glad to join you - for lunch...' said Paco calmly.

'Alfred,' Jaeger informed Schmidt, 'this is the Baroness Werther, niece of General Speidel. You will assume command of the operation while we take lunch at the Four Seasons. Good hunting!'

Paco dipped her head a fraction in acknowledgement of Schmidt's bow, her eyes catching briefly those behind the rimless glasses of Jaeger's thin-faced deputy. Something about the man disturbed her.

The Colonel was a buoyant, full-blooded personality who enjoyed life and radiated a warmth of feeling, a man a woman could understand - even if at times he might prove a handful. 'Alfred', she

sensed, was a very different proposition.

'Who was that man you introduced me to?' she asked as Jaeger escorted her from the station to his waiting car.

'Schmidt, my deputy,' Jaeger replied impatiently. 'A good man - but hardly your type. Before the war he was a policeman! Now, in a matter of minutes we can get to know each other better in the comfort of the Four Seasons..'

The little alarm bell at the back of Paco's mind kept on ringing.

It was quite true that in peacetime Alfred Schmidt had been in the police force. Blessed with a sixth sense that the Fuhrer would have appreciated - and a first-rate mind - Captain Alfred Schmidt had been Chief of Police in Düsseldorf.

When the war came on 1 September 1939 his obvious destination was the Gestapo. Schmidt, a man with a wide knowledge of international police forces and security organizations, appreciated some specialist outfit was needed to guard the state. He knew that England had its Special Branch, America the FBI, and so on.

But the Gestapo had already built up a certain reputation - to put it bluntly Schmidt didn't like the smell of it. To avoid being co-opted into the Gestapo he volunteered for the SS. Even after several years of

war his policeman's instincts had not deserted him.

For one thing no one had checked 'the Baroness's' papers. He had observed the two soldiers had been shown nothing by the time Jaeger arrived. He had noted the girl's long glance in the direction of his chief. The Colonel he highly respected and liked was lunching with a girl whose credentials were quite unknown.

Schmidt was in a dilemma. To check on Jaeger's lunch companion he must use a 'safe' telephone - which meant driving to the SS barracks, and the Colonel had left him in charge at the station.

It was probably all a wild goose chase anyway, but - like Paco - the ex-police chief had a sixth sense which warned him that something was wrong. With such a beautiful escort he estimated Jaeger would be away at least two hours. He made up his mind.

'Klaus!' he called out. 'Take command of operations here - I'll be back later..

He drove himself to the barracks, leaped from behind the wheel and ran upstairs to his office. The lines were busy - so it took twenty minutes to get through to Gestapo headquarters in Berlin. He asked to be put through to Gestapo chief Heinrich Muller.

'It is lunchtime,' a bored voice informed him. 'He is out. Who did you say was calling?'

'SS Colonel Jaeger's deputy from Munich. Who am I speaking to? It is an urgent matter...'

'Brandt. I have been seconded here temporarily. No, everyone else is out - I told you, it is lunchtime..'

'Then you must deal with this personally. Can you check the General Records? Good. I need information as to whether there exists a Baroness Werther, niece of General Speidel. How long will that take? You can't say? God Almighty...'

He arranged for Brandt to phone back the information to his secretary, replaced the receiver and instructed his secretary.

'Type out the reply from this half-wit, Brandt. Have a despatch rider standing by. Give him the reply in a sealed envelope and tell him to race like hell to the main station and hand it to me.'

He drove back to the station and was relieved on arrival when Klaus reported nothing had happened in his absence. Now it was a matter of waiting for the reply. If something
was
wrong he could phone Jaeger direct at the Four Seasons.

Chapter Twenty-Four

It was 4 pm when the despatch rider from the SS barracks pulled up his machine in front of Munich station bringing a sealed envelope for Captain Alfred Schmidt. Since Jaeger had still not returned, his deputy assumed he must really be enjoying himself with the Baroness.

'Dumb-head!'

Schmidt swore to himself as he watched the motorcyclist brake at speed, causing his machine to skid alongside the kerb and very nearly hurl its rider over the handlebars to kingdom come. And all because a group of SS troops stood watching. Sheer, stupid bravado!

'If I ever see you behave like that again I'll have your stripes, Sergeant!'

'Sorry, sir..'

The despatch rider held out the envelope. He was going to make the excuse the brake had slipped but something in Schmidt's eye warned him to keep quiet. Taking the envelope, Schmidt glanced behind the sergeant, stiffened and spoke quickly.

'That is all, Sergeant! Back to barracks immediately!'

A Mercedes had just arrived and Jaeger was climbing out of the vehicle. He seemed to be in high good humour, pausing while talking to the SS troops and saying something which caused them to laugh. A popular officer, Jaeger. Schmidt, anxious to conceal the message he had just received unless it was alarming, tore open the envelope and pulled out a folded message sheet.

He had taken a chance. No senior officer, even one as comradely as Jaeger, likes a junior snooping on his private excursions. He heard another burst of laughter, this time from Jaeger himself, as he swiftly scanned the wording his secretary had typed after hearing from Brandt.

The news was alarming — from two sources. Milic arrived back first in the basement hideaway. He wore cleaner's overalls and an old peaked cap. He looked serious as he removed his cap, nodded to the Englishman and scratched his thatch of grey hair.

'Well?' Bora demanded.

'Switzerland is the trap,' Milic said, speaking in his careful English for Lindsay's sake. 'We go that way and we see Gestapo prison...'

'Why?' asked Bora impatiently. 'Give details...'

'I cycle three roads south.. every road has the barrier. Many troops. They look at papers, use their telephones …'