Angel From Hell, page 19
part #1 of Anna Fehrbach Series Series
‘And your masters think you can obtain all of this information through your husband?’
‘Quite a lot of it. Bally brings work home, and I have obtained the combination of his safe. But I am also required to circulate at parties, meet people, discuss the political situation, obtain their views . . . People like to talk with me,’ she added ingenuously. ‘To confide in me.’
‘I can believe that,’ he said. ‘Well, Anna, on this occasion you are not going to work too hard. I would like you to tell your masters – to convince them – that not only will the Prime Minister implement his guarantees, but that our armed services are absolutely ready for war at a moment’s notice, and that the country is one hundred per cent behind him.’
‘I will tell them that, sir.’
‘But there is something else I wish you to tell them. You have discovered that we are in the process of concluding an alliance with Soviet Russia, to the effect that should we find it necessary to go to war in defence of Poland, they will come to our assistance with all possible power.’
Anna gazed at him, and he flushed. ‘Just for the record, Anna – as I am sure the Nazis know – there is a joint Anglo-French mission in Moscow at this moment.’
Anna nodded. ‘I will tell them what I have “heard”.’
‘Very good. Now, how do you tell them that? Or anything?’
‘I have a contact here in London to whom the information is given. How he gets it back to Germany, I do not know.’
‘You give him this information personally?’
‘Not up till now. I have never met him. The information is conveyed by my maid.’
‘The woman, Hannah Gehrig?’
Anna frowned. ‘You know of her?’
‘I know what Immigration knows of her. Is she also employed by the German Government?’
Anna drew a deep breath. ‘Frau Gehrig is a senior officer in the SD. She is . . .’ She gave Clive a quick smile. ‘My German controller.’
‘But you do know this man’s name and address.’
Anna hesitated. ‘If he is arrested, my position is compromised. In fact, it will be destroyed. And me with it.’
‘He will not be arrested, as long as you are working for us. But you cannot have any secrets from us.’
Anna made a moue. ‘His name is John Smith.’
‘How frighteningly original. And his real name?’
‘Johann Schmidt.’
‘His address?’
‘I do not know his address. I will know it, after I meet him, and then I will tell Clive.’
‘Very good.’ Baxter stood up. ‘Let’s hope all this works out.’ He glanced at Clive. ‘I imagine you two have things to discuss, so I’ll leave you to it. Just remember, Mrs Bordman, that we require that information, especially concerning our alliance with Russia, to be in German hands just as rapidly as possible.’
‘Yes, sir. You understand that I am placing my life in your hands?’
‘My dear Anna, your life has been in my hands from the moment you indulged in pillow talk with Mr Bartley. Good day to you.’
Clive closed the door behind him, then faced her. ‘His bark is worse than his bite, providing he trusts you.’
‘Did you also tell him how I moaned with ecstasy when we were in bed?’
‘He knew we had had sex the moment I outlined the circumstances of our meeting. I didn’t have to tell him anything more, and he didn’t ask for details.’
‘I should still slap your face.’
‘You’re probably right. Be my guest.’
She gazed at him for several seconds, then shrugged. ‘I would rather have a bath. I am soaked with sweat.’
‘So am I,’ Clive said. ‘I’ll join you.’
Chapter Eight – Calamity
‘I thought you were thirty-five,’ Belinda remarked, sitting up in bed and lighting a cigarette. ‘Or have you been pulling the wool over my eyes for all of these years?’
Clive nuzzled her side and the bottom of her breast. ‘I’m sorry. There’s been so much on. And these things do happen.’
‘So I’ve heard, although it’s never happened to me before. I thought the male menopause didn’t set in until after forty-five.’
‘Look, I’m just over-tired.’
‘I know there’s a lot happening. I do read the papers. Do I gather that you’ve dropped your German friend?’
‘Eh?’
‘Mrs Bordman. You haven’t asked me to chase her in weeks. Not since you came back from Germany.’
‘Ah. Yes. That was actually a fruitful trip. I discovered that she was genuine, after all, and we’ve decided it is no longer necessary to investigate her.’
‘That must be disappointing for you. However, I have to tell you that I am in an aroused but totally dissatisfied state. So, if we are going to get any sleep, I strongly suggest that you replace dicky-boy with your tongue and do me a service.’
‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure,’ he said, sinking beneath the sheet as she slid down the bed.
But his heart wasn’t in it, and having bathed after his departure in the morning, she found herself brooding in front of her full-length mirror. She was thirty-four years old, and perhaps there was the odd sag here and there, but she was still very presentable. The fact was that she and Clive had been together now for four years, but she was not really in the mood to give him up. Presumably she had been foolish to reject his early proposal of marriage, but she was a career woman, and while she liked to be sure of seeing a man, her man, at least three times a week, she had absolutely no desire to have him around the house all the time, which would involve such things as washing his socks and cooking his meals on a regular basis. So what was she going to do? The annoying thing was that she had no evidence that he was actually seeing anyone else: his sudden lack of sexual enthusiasm could merely be the result of over familiarity.
She had an early appointment at Fortnum & Mason to view some new designs, and had completed this, still unable to get her domestic problem out of her mind, when she emerged on to the pavement to look for a taxi. At that moment one drew up in front of her. She waited to get in when the occupants got out, and found herself face to face with Anna Bordman, who was accompanied by another woman.
‘Why, Mrs Bordman!’ she exclaimed without thinking.
Anna gazed at her. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Have we met?’
‘Well, no, actually,’ Belinda acknowledged. ‘I’ve tried to see you, several times, but you’ve never been available. I’m Belinda Hoskin, Fashion Editor of the Pictorial.’
‘Ah,’ Anna said, and made to step past her.
Belinda took a stab in the dark, not quite sure what she was aiming at. ‘I’m a friend of Clive Bartley.’
Anna’s eyes flickered, briefly, but she retained her composure. ‘I know no one named Clive Bartley, Miss Hoskin.’
‘Oh!’ Belinda was disconcerted. But she had already been taking a card from her handbag. ‘My card. I would so like to interview you, when you can spare the time.’
Anna put the card in the pocket of her summer coat without looking at it, and entered the store, Gehrig at her shoulder. ‘I do admire your élan,’ she remarked.
‘If I were to become upset by all itinerant newspaper people seeking interviews, I would be a nervous wreck.’
‘But if she is associated with the man Bartley . . .’
‘Coincidence.’ Anna smiled at the floorwalker.
*
‘I have discussed the matter with Schmidt,’ Gehrig said a few days later, when they were alone in the drawing room.
‘What matter?’ Anna asked absently. She was reading the newspaper, trying to get some inkling of what might be happening in Germany. She had delivered all the information required by Baxter, and heard nothing further. Now she had to find an appropriate time to telephone Clive, and not only to receive her next set of instructions.
‘The matter of that Hoskin woman.’
Anna dropped the paper and sat up. ‘You did what? Without consulting me?’
‘You sometimes seem to forget, Anna, that I am in command of this operation. I make the decisions. Now explain to me why you never told me you had reported the matter to him.’
‘When she kept calling – this was before my visit to Berlin – I asked Elsa to have Schmidt find out something about her. He reported back that she was a genuine fashion editor.’
‘But he also reported that she was a close friend of the man Bartley. And he says that you refused to do anything about it, although he offered to take care of the matter for you.’
‘That would have been madness,’ Anna snapped. ‘This is not Berlin, where we are protected by the Reich. The one big mistake we could make would be to have the British police become interested in us.’
‘There could be no possible connection between an accident to this woman and us.’
‘You think not? If she is investigating us – me – and she suddenly has an accident, don’t you think Bartley is going to begin his investigation right here? Once he starts that, God knows what he may turn up. And I have been proved right. Her visits, her interest in me, have ceased. Either she was genuinely interested in my clothes, or Bartley has concluded that there is nothing wrong with me.’
Gehrig regarded her for several seconds. ‘I shall consider the matter,’ she said at last. ‘But it should have been fully reported at the time. The decision was not yours to make. Kindly remember that in the future.’
*
‘This has just come in from Basle.’ Amy placed a coded telegram and transcript on Baxter’s desk. ‘And Chief-Inspector Grattan is here.’
‘Oh, yes? Well, you’d better ask him to come in. Mustn’t keep the Special Branch hanging about.’ He studied the transcript.
Johann Fehrbach, Editor of the Way Forward, anti-Fascist Viennese newspaper, arrested by the Gestapo with his family – wife and two daughters – 12 March 1938. They have not been heard of since, and are presumed to have been executed.
He frowned as he reread the words, and then hastily slid the sheet of paper under his blotter as the door opened. ‘Good morning, Freddie. Don’t tell me one of my boys has been upsetting your people.’
Chief-Inspector Frederick Grattan was a tall, thin man with a long nose and an expression that suggested he had a stomach ulcer. Baxter wouldn’t have been surprised if he did. The policeman lowered himself into the chair before Baxter’s desk. ‘I assume you have a full team operating inside Germany?’
‘It’s not as full as we would like, but we do have some agents, yes.’
Grattan nodded. ‘I would like you to tell me what you know about Mrs Bordman.’
‘What?’
‘I am talking about the ultra-glamorous young woman who has had all London by the balls for virtually the past year. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed her photograph in the papers. Tatler devoted an entire page to shots of her at Ascot.’
‘I have seen her photo, yes. And I agree that she is easy on the eye. But why should she interest me?’
‘She’s German.’
‘That is not correct, Freddie. She is actually Austrian . . .’
‘Same difference.’
‘And she is, and has been for several months, a naturalized Englishwoman.’
‘So you do have a file on her.’
‘We have an enormous number of files on an enormous number of people, Freddie. I still have no reason to regard Mrs Bordman as other than the very beautiful wife of one of our more prominent diplomats. You will have to give me a reason for changing that opinion.’
‘Her maid is German. You are not going to claim that she has been naturalized?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘This is in confidence.’
Baxter inclined his head.
‘I’m sure you are aware that relations between Whitehall and the Wilhelmstrasse are in a state of what might be termed terminal decline.’
‘I am, and my people are doing all they can to discourage the Reich from doing anything rash.’
‘I’m sure you’re doing your best. However, the Home Secretary takes a pessimistic view of the prospects for continued peace. We have been given instructions to locate every German alien in this country – and in the present state of affairs that includes Austrians – and to prepare to place them under restraint immediately hostilities commence between Great Britain and Germany, should that occur. We are to use our discretion as to which of these people should be placed under surveillance in advance of such an event.’
Baxter reached for his pipe. ‘You’re proposing to place Mrs Bordman under surveillance?’
‘She is in a very sensitive position. Who knows what items of political significance Bordman lets slip beneath the sheets of the nuptial bed.’
Baxter started to fill the pipe. ‘I find that somewhat obscene.’
Grattan shrugged. ‘It goes with the job. I am certainly considering having the maid watched.’
‘Why?’
‘Simply that she is worth watching. I had one of my women do a quick survey of her and her habits. She only arrived in this country in April, as a replacement for Mrs Bordman’s previous maid, a woman called Elsa Mayers. This Mayers woman accompanied Mrs Bordman into this country when she married last October. She remained in her service until Mrs Bordman returned to Germany in March to attend the funeral of her father, and indeed accompanied her. But on that trip she suddenly resigned her position. Mrs Bordman was only in Germany a fortnight, yet when she returned, she had a new German maid. Just like that. Doesn’t ring true.’
‘So what do you think happened?’
‘I think the woman Mayers was made to resign, and this woman Gehrig put in her place.’
‘Forced by whom?’
‘I think that is something you should find out.’
Baxter struck a match and puffed his pipe for several seconds. ‘You are accusing Mrs Bordman of being a spy?’
‘I wish to be able to scratch her name from my list of potential spies.’
‘Quite. Tell me what this female Sherlock Holmes of yours discovered.’
‘Mostly straws in the wind. Gehrig appears to live a very private life. Even on her days off she never goes out to a pub. If she goes anywhere, it is to a second-hand bookshop run by a man called Smith. She sometimes browses there for up to an hour.’
‘So she likes second-hand books. I assume she buys one, occasionally?’
‘Just about every time.’
‘Well, then, don’t you think you are being just a little paranoid? The woman can’t help being a German.’
‘On two occasions, Gehrig was accompanied to the shop by her mistress.’
‘You mean you have been keeping Mrs Bordman under round-the-clock surveillance. I assume you have authority for this?’
‘I have been given carte blanche by the Home Secretary to do whatever I consider necessary for the security of the country.’
‘I see.’ Baxter knocked out his pipe slowly. ‘Well, Freddie, the security of the realm is my business as well, as I am sure you understand. So I am going to have to ask you to lay off the lady.’
‘You’re going to have to give me a reason.’
Baxter gazed at him. ‘Mrs Bordman is in my pay.’
‘You are saying she is an MI6 agent?’
‘Not exactly. She is co-operating with us. She comes from the very highest social circles in Germany, and that means, today, the very highest Nazi circles. Let me make it quite clear that she is not a Nazi herself. She detests the regime. But the wives of many of the high Party officials are her friends, and she is in constant communication with them. Now, she shows us those letters, and she puts in her replies whatever items of news from here that we feel would be appropriate. She is proving of immense value in helping us keep up to date with current political opinion in Germany, and even obtains the occasional snippet of military significance.’
Grattan studied him for several seconds. ‘Why is she doing this? Is it because of Clive Bartley?’
Baxter raised his eyebrows.
‘Mrs Bordman has been observed calling at his flat,’ Grattan explained.
And they wouldn’t give me permission to keep a tail on her when it mattered more, Baxter thought bitterly. ‘Very well, Freddie, as you seem to know so much about it, yes, Bartley turned her because of a physical attraction.’
‘Risky. Physical attractions can go as quickly as they come. Did he seduce the maid a well? She’s not bad looking, even if she’s not quite in the class of her mistress.’
‘As far as I am aware, the answer is no. But I will take responsibility for the maid. Now, will you lay off them?’
‘Very well, for the time being, and providing no evidence against them turns up. What about the bookseller?’
‘What about him?’
‘He is certainly a contact. If he’s not yours, then he’s somebody else’s.’
‘I would like you to lay off him as well.’
Grattan stood up. ‘I think you’re playing a dangerous game, Billy. But then I suppose you people always do. I’ll lay off, for the time being, and providing nothing changes for the worse. But the file is open, and I intend to add to it wherever I can. I’ll be in touch.’
Baxter waited for the door to close, then he pressed his intercom. ‘Come in here, please, Amy.’
She appeared immediately.
‘Has he left the building?’
‘He’s on his way downstairs.’
‘Right. Get hold of Clive Bartley. I wish to see him. Now.’
*
‘Shit!’ Clive commented. ‘How bad is it?’
‘It could be very bad, for your girlfriend.’
‘But if they’re laying off . . .’
‘They’re not actually going to arrest anyone at this stage. But as he said, they’re keeping the file open. And I’m pretty damn sure he intends to continue investigating Smith. He has nothing on him at the moment, but if he keeps probing he is going to find out about the man’s German background. Then I am going to have a hell of time keeping him out. When are you seeing Anna again?’
