Angel From Hell, page 13
part #1 of Anna Fehrbach Series Series
‘I think you’re enjoying yourself too much, being the toast of London, living in this splendid . . . what do they call it in England?’
‘It is a maisonette. And why should I not enjoy it? It just about makes up for Bally. Besides, I’ve never lived anywhere quite as nice as this.’
Elsa snorted. But even she had to agree that Ballantine’s home was even more luxurious than the Berlin apartment. The whole ambience was one of an upper-crust society to which Anna had never belonged, but which she intended to enjoy for as long as possible.
But that did depend upon doing her job.
*
‘So there it is,’ Baxter said. ‘Absolutely no surveillance. Political dynamite, blah, blah, blah. Has your girlfriend had any joy?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Clive admitted. ‘Belinda isn’t really the forceful type. I mean, she’s brilliant at her job. What she doesn’t know about women’s clothes and fashion wouldn’t cover the back of a postage stamp. But she’s strictly on the up and up. She’s tried to gain access to the Bordmans several times and been rejected. She’s not used to that, and frankly she’s fed up. And with me away, I’m afraid she lost interest. I think that the written evidence provided by Friedemann remains our best bet. Have you shown it to the boss?’
‘There isn’t going to be any written evidence,’ Baxter said.
‘Say again? You mean Friedemann is still refusing to co-operate?’
‘Friedemann has quit his job.’
‘Good God! You mean he quit because we wanted that information?’
‘No, no. At least, he didn’t quit because of your letter. He actually left his job the very day you and Bordman returned from Berlin. The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to resign. Just walked out and didn’t go back. The embassy didn’t even realize he’d quit for several days.’
‘That’s incredible. And impossible. Something has happened to him.’
‘Now Clive, don’t go tilting at windmills. Nothing has happened to him. The embassy received a letter written by his wife informing them that her husband had suffered a nervous breakdown and would be unable to return to work.’
‘And they believed that?’
‘The letter was supported by another,’ Baxter continued patiently, ‘from a psychiatrist, stating that Herr Friedemann is suffering from clinical depression, and has to be kept under constant supervision to prevent the risk of his harming himself.’
‘And they believe that?’
‘Clive, this fellow is one of the most eminent men in his field in Germany. You cannot possibly suppose that he would supply a false diagnosis.’
Clive sighed. ‘What you, and it seems everyone else in this country, don’t understand, is that to be eminent in Germany today you have to be a member of the Nazi Party. And once you are a member of the Nazi Party, you do, and say, and write what the Party tells you to, without question.’
‘Clive, I would hate to think that you are becoming paranoid.’
‘I would like your permission to return to Berlin.’
‘To do what, precisely?’
‘Just to go to Friedemann’s house and talk with him.’
‘The psychiatrist’s letter rather suggests he may be in hospital.’
‘I would say he’s in prison.’
‘In prison?’
‘Well, obviously someone found out that he had given me that information, even if he refused to put it in writing.’
‘I think you’re making a large number of rather prejudiced presumptions. Anyway, if, as you say, he’s in prison, how do you propose to get to see him?’
‘Getting to see his wife could be equally important.’
Baxter considered for a moment. Then he nodded. ‘All right. We’ll fix you up with a cover and a visa. It’ll take a couple of weeks.’
‘A couple of weeks?’
‘Every i has to be dotted and every t crossed. Anyway, what’s the rush? He quit his job six months ago. So if you can find him now, good luck. But, Clive . . .’ He pointed. ‘We want no international incidents.’
Clive grinned.
*
‘Oh, my darling,’ Anna murmured, nestling against Ballantine’s shoulder as she sat beside him on the settee, legs curled beneath her. ‘This is so good. We simply have to cut back on all these parties and receptions, and spend more time together.’
His arm went round her. ‘Unfortunately, the parties go with the job.’
‘And then all this working late at the office . . .’
‘There happens to be a bit of a flap on.’
‘There is always a flap on. And your part in it can’t go on so late in the evenings . . .’
‘There are all these papers to be read. I have to study them, and then pick out the salient points and précis them, ready for the Foreign Secretary to have available before he goes to the House the next day.’
‘Can’t you do that here just as well as at the office?’
He looked down at her. ‘You mean you wouldn’t object? I have to concentrate, you know.’
‘I understand that, and I would not interfere with your concentration, believe me. It’s just to have you here. And then, you know, the hour it always seems to take for you to be driven home from the office – well, you’d already be here. A whole extra hour!’
‘I’d still have to be driven home at some time, you know.’
‘Yes, but if you were driven home at five o’clock, well, no one really makes love at five o’clock in the afternoon, do they? But if you were home from then on, we’d have that hour whenever we wanted it. To make love.’
He kissed the top of her head and slipped his hand inside her dressing gown to fondle her breasts. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you have got to be every man’s dream of how a woman should be, and act, and look? You should give lessons.’
‘I only want to look, and be, and act for you, Bally. Say you’ll spend more time at home. Please.’
‘Well . . . it’s irregular, you know, to bring FO papers home. But I don’t see any harm in it; we’re perfectly secure up here, and they can go in my safe overnight. All right.’
‘Oh, my darling! Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you are a dream husband? But of course no one has. I am the only wife you’ve had. Now, tell me about this flap. Or is it top secret?’
‘It’ll be in all the papers tomorrow. Hitler is occupying the rest of Czechoslovakia.’
Anna sat up straight, so suddenly she gave a grunt of pain as his fingers dragged across her nipples. ‘But . . .’
‘I know. After all the assurances he gave the PM back in November.’
‘I told you he was a treacherous bastard.’
‘Yes, you did. Now we have egg all over our faces. And you know what is really making the PM see red? It’s the way Hitler is assuming that no matter what he does, we won’t respond. Well, I suspect he is going to get a very big surprise.’
‘You mean . . . Oh, my God! But you said we couldn’t go to war because we weren’t strong enough.’
‘I said we couldn’t go to war because we weren’t ready. But that was six months ago.’
‘And we are ready now?’
‘Ready enough. With the French, of course. They have the best army in Europe; we have the best navy. Don’t get me wrong. We don’t want to have to fight anybody, but we will if we have to, and Hitler has got to be told that if he tries any more of these territorial grabs we are going to stop him. By force, if necessary.’
*
‘There is mail for you, ma’am,’ Elsa said, serving breakfast.
‘From Germany,’ Ballantine said, picking up the envelope. ‘Must be from your father; I was wondering why he never wrote you.’
Anna slit the envelope. ‘Oh!’
‘Not bad news, I hope, my darling?’
‘He’s dead! Daddy’s dead!’
‘Good lord! Just like that? Oh, my darling, I’m so terribly sorry. What did he die of?’
‘Beckman says it was a heart attack.’
‘Who is Beckman?’
‘Our doctor. The family doctor. He says Daddy has had trouble for some time. And he never told me. Bally, I must go to the funeral.’
‘Of course you must, my dear. It’s just that it’s such a damned awkward time, with this Czech crisis blowing up all over again . . .’
‘You don’t think the FO would approve of your paying a private visit to Germany?’
‘Well, it could be dashed awkward, don’t you know? If the situation were to seriously worsen . . .’
Anna rested her hand on his. ‘I entirely understand. But they can’t object to my going, surely. He is my father.’
‘Of course no one is going to object to your attending your father’s funeral. I only wish I could come with you.’
She squeezed his fingers. ‘I know you do, my darling. I wish you could come too. But it’ll only be for a few days.’
‘A few days?’
‘Well, I imagine there will be some legal matters to be sorted out – Daddy’s Will, things like that. Certainly it can’t take more than a fortnight.’
‘A fortnight,’ he muttered. ‘We haven’t spent a single night apart since our marriage.’
‘I know. I hate the idea of sleeping alone more than you do. But when I come back . . .’
‘When you come back,’ he said dreamily. ‘When do you want to go?’
‘It should be tomorrow. As soon as I can arrange a passage.’
‘I’ll do that for you.’ He finished his coffee, got up, and leaned over to kiss her. ‘I must rush. A fortnight!’ He hurried from the room.
Anna finished her own coffee while she waited for the front door to slam. Then she said, ‘Thank God for that. I wouldn’t have liked to confide that information to Schmidt.’
‘You told Himmler that England would not fight,’ Elsa said.
‘And he made the assumption that their attitude would not change.’
‘He won’t be happy.’
‘That’s why I have to explain it to him in person. He’ll understand that it is his mistake, not mine.’
Elsa looked doubtful. ‘I hope you’re right. Talking about Schmidt, he has reported on that woman.’
‘The so-called fashion editor? What has he got?’
‘That she is an absolutely bone fide fashion editor, very well known in England.’
‘Well then, that’s something we can stop worrying about.’
Elsa started to clear the breakfast dishes. ‘You have to admit Schmidt is very efficient. He has her home address, the make of car she drives . . . he even has the name of her lover.’
‘Who I suppose is some English aristocrat.’ Anna got up and went into the bedroom to run a bath.
‘No, no. Schmidt hasn’t yet found out exactly what this man does, but he is definitely not an aristocrat. His name is . . . ah . . . Bartley.’
Having turned on the taps, Anna had thrown her dressing gown across the bed. Now she reappeared in the doorway. ‘What did you say?’ she asked very slowly.
‘I said the name of this man was Bartley. Don’t tell me you know him?’ Elsa turned her head to look at her mistress, and gave a little gasp. ‘Anna? Are you all right? You look quite pale.’ She dropped the handful of cutlery she was holding with a clang.
Anna had advanced into the bedroom. Now she collapsed into a chair, knees drawn up tight against her breasts. ‘Bartley was the name of the man who was posing as Bally’s private secretary in Berlin last year. He is actually an agent for MI6. Heydrich told me that is virtually the English equivalent of the SD.’
‘Shit!’ Elsa commented. ‘What a coincidence.’
Anna raised her head. ‘There is no coincidence about it.’
‘Now, we don’t know that, Anna. This woman is a fashion editor, and right now you are news. Your clothes are news, what you do . . . Everyone wants to interview you.’
‘So they telephone for an appointment, or they send a reporter with a photographer. And when we tell them we are not interested, they go away again. The editors never come themselves. This woman came herself, time and again, and she came alone. I’ve always thought that was strange. She didn’t have a photographer with her, did she?’
‘No,’ Elsa said, frowning.
‘But she was trying to gain access to this house. She was sent, Elsa. She has to have been sent. By Bartley.’
‘Shit!’ Elsa said again. ‘It was all going so well. What must we do? I am sure Schmidt could take her out for us.’
‘Elsa, she is the mistress of a very high-powered secret policeman. Were anything criminal to happen to her, we would have the entire resources of Scotland Yard turned loose on us. If Bartley sent her to see what she could find out about me, he will know that I had something to do with her murder.’
‘But if he sent her in the first place, it means that he suspects you.’
‘I have an idea he suspected me from the beginning. But he’s never been able to prove anything about me. Using his girlfriend to try to get in here shows that he’s clutching at straws. If he had anything – anything at all concrete against me – he would simply have obtained a search warrant.’
‘But if we know he’s working on you, he will turn up something eventually.’
‘I think it is something on which we should take advice. We’ll be in Germany the day after tomorrow. We’ll ask Heydrich what we should do.’
*
‘Why, Anna.’ Reinhardt Heydrich held her hands to draw her forward for a kiss on the cheek. ‘How good you look. High society agrees with you. As for that black dress . . .’
‘Thank you, Herr Colonel.’
‘Sit down.’ He returned behind his own desk. ‘London seems to agree with you so much that you have forgotten our existence.’
‘How could I do that, Herr Colonel? But it has taken time to set things up, and also there have been problems. However,’ she hurried on, watching his expression, ‘it is all in place now. In fact, I have brought some photographs with me.’ She opened her handbag.
Heydrich frowned. ‘These are sensitive subjects?’
‘I would say so. Bordman brought them home to read, and then he locked them in his safe.’
‘To which you have access?’
‘I have obtained the combination, yes,’ Anna said proudly, and took out the roll of film.
‘And you’ve brought that with you, in your handbag, just like that. Do you realize what would have happened had you been stopped and searched?’
‘With respect, Herr Colonel, no one is going to stop and search the Honourable Mrs Bordman. At least in England. They do not do that sort of thing over there.’
‘What they do, or do not do, in England is not relevant. The Reich has spent a great deal of time, and money, making you what you are. Tell me what was the most important thing you were taught.’
Anna drew a deep breath. ‘To obey any order immediately and without question.’
‘That also means following procedural rules to the letter, as I remember explaining to you before you began this assignment. It is neither your duty nor your prerogative to change the rules to please yourself. Why did you not use Schmidt as you were instructed to do?’
Anna licked her lips; this was the first time she had encountered any hostility from her employers since leaving training school. ‘I knew I was coming here personally in a couple of days.’
Heydrich gazed at her for several seconds. ‘You said you had a problem.’
Anna sighed with relief; the crisis seemed to be over. ‘It’s to do with the man Bartley. I spoke to you of him.’
‘So you did. And?’
Anna outlined what had happened.
‘And you still think he is after you?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘You flatter yourself. As a matter of fact, he is in Berlin at this moment.’
‘Well, then . . .’
‘He arrived here two days ago, Anna. Was your intended visit published in the Court Circular?’
Anna flushed.
‘Yet you think his visit could be to do with you,’ Heydrich went on, ‘even if he doesn’t know it. He is trying to find his old friend Gottfried Friedemann.’
Anna clasped both hands to her neck. ‘Oh my God!’
‘Absolutely. A gentleman into whose head, as I recall, you expertly introduced a bullet last October.’
‘And he has tracked me here? But as he is here . . .’
‘No, no, Anna. He is staying at the embassy and is operating under their auspices. He cannot be tampered with. In any event, as I keep telling you, he is not after you. He is looking for his old friend, and he is not going to find him, or his family, who are safely in Dachau. He will only know that Friedemann has left the embassy and disappeared. He can only learn the truth if someone were to tell him the truth, and I cannot imagine who might do that. Can you?’
Anna swallowed at the implied threat.
‘So all we really have to consider,’ Heydrich said genially, ‘is your ignoring of regulations and your undisciplined behaviour.’
‘I . . .’
Heydrich raised a finger. ‘I know you are going to say that no harm has been done. This time. But put yourself in the position of a commanding general, who issues his plans for a campaign and then discovers that one of his subordinates has completely ignored those plans and followed his own ideas, and claims that he should not be punished because he was not defeated. That subordinate would be shot.’
Anna swallowed. ‘I understand, Herr Colonel. It will not happen again.’
‘It must not happen again. It cannot happen again. Perhaps you have forgotten that when you agreed to work for us –’ Anna stared at him in amazement – ‘you were given a set of rules that had to be obeyed, and informed of the consequences if any of those rules were disobeyed in the slightest degree.’
Anna gasped. At the training camp she had carefully avoided breaking any rules, save for perhaps over-reacting to Gerda’s advances. Now the situation had to be retrieved, and immediately. ‘I understand what you are saying, Herr Colonel. And I have promised that it will not happen again. I think my judgement was distorted because I recently came into possession of the most important news, which I felt it was necessary to tell you personally.’
