Angel From Hell, page 20
part #1 of Anna Fehrbach Series Series
‘She’s coming this afternoon. She has some material to send. Do I put her in the picture?’
‘It may be necessary to do more than that.’
Clive frowned. ‘Would you explain that?’
Baxter took the sheet of paper from beneath his blotter and gave it to him.
Clive scanned it. ‘Well, thank God for that. At least we know she’s bona fide.’
‘I’m afraid that telegram proves quite the reverse. It says her father was anti-Fascist; she told you he was a Nazi sympathizer.’
‘Well, perhaps he found it necessary to appear anti-Fascist to sell his newspaper. Certainly to keep his job. Our man in Basle supposes that because Anna was arrested at the same time as her family, she has therefore suffered the same fate, which is logical.’
‘Try reading it again, and tell me the date of the arrest.’
‘Ah, March twelfth . . .’
‘1938,’ Baxter said. ‘Just about a year before she claims to have been approached and coerced by the Germans, who just to make their point, arrested her family.’
‘She could’ve made a mistake about the date.’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake! She’s a genius, isn’t she? Now look, you got me into this mess, and you’re going to get me out of it. Your lady friend has been useful, I hope. We don’t know yet if she’s served any real purpose at all. But she’s playing some game of her own. I want to know what it is. And if I don’t like what it is, her entire file goes to Grattan with my apologies. And if he arrests her and then has her deported back to Germany, where she is almost certainly wanted for murder . . .’
‘She’s a British citizen.’
‘Well, then, she has an alternative, hasn’t she? She can return to Germany and have her pretty neck separated from the rest of her body, or she can stand trial here and have the same pretty neck stretched by the hangman’s rope.’
‘I think you’re being quite unnecessarily vicious about this,’ Clive remarked. ‘Anna cannot be hanged, even if she were to be convicted of spying for Germany. We’re not at war.’
‘I would regard that situation as somewhat fluid. Sort it out, Clive. Your neck may not be on the line, but your job sure as hell is.’
Clive nodded. ‘May I have that transcript?’
Baxter held it out. ‘I have a copy. Clive, there’s just one thing.’
Clive waited.
‘I know you regard Anna as the best piece of work the Almighty ever did, but I would like you to remember that you have seen her kill a woman with a single blow.’
Clive grinned. ‘I’m bigger than Elsa.’
*
Clive wished he could be sure of his mood as he went home. It seemed evident that Anna had lied to him. But to what extent? It seemed true that she was an Austrian adventuress named Fehrbach, and that her family had indeed been arrested by the Gestapo. While if he could not be certain that she had been tortured with electricity, there could be no argument that she had been viciously caned on her naked buttocks, only shortly before she had shown him the weals. But she had considered it necessary to drop a year from her life. She would have been seventeen in the March of last year. What had a girl that young been doing – been able to do – that required her to lose a year? Of course, it had only been six months before she had seduced Ballantine . . . but that in itself had been an incredible performance by an eighteen-year-old girl. He knew he hadn’t given it sufficient thought before, because for all his attempts at professionalism she had effectively seduced him as well. And she had still been eighteen, then. As Baxter had said: God help the world when she became an adult!
And now it was his business to decide whether she was going to grow up or not. Was he capable of making such a decision?
She had said she would come at two. He reached the flat at twelve thirty, had a quick bath and changed into casual clothes, wondered if she would have lunched. He did not feel very hungry himself; his stomach was churning, but he forced himself to eat a sandwich while he waited, then sat down and tried to relax.
The tap on the door startled him. The street bell had not rung, and it was only quarter to two. How on earth had she got in? He got up, went to the door, but before he could release the latch, it too had turned and Belinda entered the room.
‘Surprise!’ She peered at him. ‘You could try looking pleased to see me.’
‘You nearly gave me a heart attack.’ He had forgotten that Belinda possessed keys to both the street door and the flat. He had given them to her. But she very seldom used them; she preferred her own place. ‘What on earth are you doing here at this hour?’
‘I happened to find myself free this afternoon, and I thought it might be nice for us to get together. I called the office, and they said you had also taken the afternoon off and gone home. So I thought, what a happy coincidence, and here I am. Aren’t you going to kiss me?’
He did so, looking at his watch behind her head. ‘It’s lovely to see you, darling, but I haven’t actually taken the afternoon off. I was just about to go out.’
Belinda stepped back to regard him. ‘Dressed like that?’
‘Well . . .’
The street bell rang.
‘Aren’t you going to answer it?’ Belinda asked.
Clive picked it up, trying to get his brain into gear.
‘Anna!’ the voice said.
‘Ah . . . right.’ He released the latch.
‘I can see that I’m an encumbrance,’ Belinda said, her voice like drips of ice.
‘Look, this is a professional matter,’ Clive said. ‘So I can’t explain it to you. But—’
There was another tap on the door. Belinda herself opened it and the two women stared at each other. Anna was wearing her cloche, with her hair tucked out of sight and, as it was a hot, and for once dry, late August day, had no coat over her summer frock. She looked, as always, immaculately cool and utterly beautiful.
Now she frowned. ‘I know you . . . The fashion editor!’
‘And I know you, Mrs Bordman. I feel like slapping your face. But it’ll keep.’ She stepped past her and went down the stairs.
Anna gazed at Clive. ‘What should I say?’
‘Perhaps “oops” might be appropriate. Come in.’ He closed the door behind her.
‘You knew I was coming,’ she said, taking off her hat and shaking out her hair as she liked to do as a sign of intimacy.
‘And I didn’t know she was,’ he agreed. ‘I was trying to get rid of her.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
‘But if she knows we are seeing each other, and you once sent her to investigate me . . .’
‘Forget it. She won’t do anything about it until she’s had a chat with me. We have to talk.’
She sat down, stripped off her gloves, opened her handbag, and took out a roll of microfilm. ‘I don’t know how important these are. They’re mainly concerned with Foreign Office worries about this visit of Ribbentrop to Moscow. Can I use them?’
‘I think so. If you are going to use anything.’
She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘First, empty your handbag on the table.’
Now she raised her eyebrows, but she obeyed. He flicked through the contents, which were nothing more or less than he would have expected in any handbag.
‘Now get off the sofa and kneel, placing your arms on the cushion and your head on your arms.’
‘Kinky. But it sounds interesting.’ She got down on her knees, her back to him, skirt pulled up, and rested her head on the settee. Clive raised her skirt and petticoat to her waist, and used his hands to spread her legs. ‘Oooh,’ she breathed, ‘I’ve never been buggered. Will it hurt?’
He slid his hands up her sides and over her stomach, reached her breasts, and released her. ‘You can get up,’
She turned to sit on the settee; her cheeks were pink. ‘You were searching me!’
‘Yes, I was.’
‘Do you think I carry a gun? In London?’
‘I had to be sure.’
‘Why?’
He gave her the transcript. ‘You did realize that Baxter would have your story confirmed, as far as possible?’
She studied the paper. ‘And this confirms it. So why the angst?’
‘There seems to be a small discrepancy in your opinion of your father’s politics, not to mention the dates, wouldn’t you say?’
She frowned at the words again. ‘Shit!’
‘And you could be in it. Right up to your very lovely neck. I had the devil of a job to stop Baxter handing you over to the Special Branch there and then. But he wants the truth. No more games, Anna. Or you could wind up in prison, at the very least.’
She gazed at him. ‘You mean you no longer trust me?’
He sat beside her. ‘God knows, Anna, I want to trust you. I’ve just about fallen in love with you, as I think you know. But I can’t protect you if you’re not absolutely straight with us.’
Another long stare, and he knew her brain was working overtime. ‘So I did not tell you everything,’ she said. ‘You came to me in Berlin when I was in a very upset and emotional state. You cannot blame me for not telling you everything, then. I hardly knew you.’
‘You know me now.’
‘Yes.’ She held his hands. ‘The dates on this paper are correct. We were all arrested on the day the Nazis occupied Vienna. And Papa was an anti-Fascist. I was separated from my parents and told I must work for the Reich or they would be executed. The Nazis sent me to school, and taught me how to be what I am. How to seduce men. How to . . .’ She bit her lip.
‘How to kill?’ he asked gently.
‘That too. When they felt I was fully trained, they . . . they turned me loose.’
‘On Ballantine?’
‘There had been others before him.’
‘But none you slept with.’
Anna shook her head. ‘I was forbidden to sleep with anyone unless commanded to do so by my controller.’
‘And he commanded you to give yourself to Ballantine?’
‘If Bally wanted it, yes. They were desperate to know if Britain would go to war over Czechoslovakia.’
‘And he told you we wouldn’t. While lying naked in your arms, no doubt. Well, I don’t suppose we can blame him. You got me the same way.’
‘I did not get you, Clive. I told you, I was desperate. Do you have any concept of what it felt like to be strapped over that bar, and . . .’ There were tears in her eyes, and he could not stop himself squeezing her fingers. ‘I was afraid that if I told you everything you would reject me.’
‘But the truth of the matter – the only truth that is going to matter to my superiors – is that you have been sending secret information to Germany since last October.’
She hunched her shoulders. ‘I do not think much of it was important. One of the reasons they punished me was that they felt I had not informed them soon enough that you would go to war after the seizure of the rest of Czechoslovakia, if there were any more acts of aggression.’
‘You claim to hate these people. Is that true?’
‘I hate them more than you can possibly imagine. If there was some way . . .’
‘But you never considered rebelling against them, and hang the consequences. You’re too cold-blooded for that.’
She pulled her hands away. ‘How can you say that? The girls who rebelled, or even did not complete the course to their satisfaction, were sent to SS brothels. I would have died had that happened to me.’
‘So instead you were prepared to kill.’
She refused to lower her eyes. ‘Yes, Clive. I was prepared to kill.’
‘How many times?’
‘I have killed three people.’
He swallowed.
‘Each time I have hated what I have been forced to do, hated myself for doing it. Except Elsa. I hated her. And besides . . .’ Her eyes flickered. ‘I was protecting you.’
Clive held her hands again and stood up, lifting her with him.
‘What are you going to do with me?’ she asked.
He released her hands to slide his arm round her shoulders, stooped to put the other arm under her knees, and lifted her from the floor to carry her towards the bedroom. ‘The only thing I can think of, right this minute.’
Her arms went round his neck.
*
Anna paid off the taxi a block from her flat, as always, and walked the rest of the way. This was both therapeutic and gave her nerves time to settle down. It was half past three, and although she knew that Gehrig had been going to the bookstore this afternoon, which was why she had been able to get out herself, there was always the chance she might be home by now.
She wondered what Gehrig would say, or do, if she knew where her charge had spent the afternoon. Or how close they had both come to catastrophe. She thought it was rather a pity she could not tell her, for apart from rousing her undoubted sexual jealousy, she would have loved to hear her reaction to the news that she had just told all to a British policeman, without jeopardizing their position at all. In fact, she thought she had strengthened it, while also going a long way to ensure her personal safety.
All because Clive was so madly in love with her. She wished she could convince herself that she loved him back. She did know that she enjoyed sex with him more than with anyone else . . . But the only ‘anyone else’ was Bally. She also liked him as a man, though he was a lot older than she, and even if he shared her antipathy for the Nazis he was still basically her enemy. She could not see that there was any prospect of a happy ending there. But was there any prospect of happy ending anywhere for her?
She went up the steps to the apartment block and heard a voice say, ‘I’d like a word, Mrs Bordman.’
*
Anna turned. She hadn’t immediately placed the voice, although it was familiar.
‘Why, Miss . . . I never did catch your name.’
‘My name is Belinda Hoskin, as I think you know very well.’
‘And you have followed me here from Mr Bartley’s flat?’
‘I didn’t have to. I knew your address, so I simply came here and waited for you. You were gone quite a long time.’
‘We had a great deal to discuss,’ Anna said. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .’
‘You and I need to have a chat. I would like to come in with you.’
‘I don’t think that would be a good idea at all.’
‘If you don’t let me in,’ Belinda said, still speaking quietly, ‘I shall scream so loudly the entire street will turn out, at which time I will tell them that the German-born Mrs Bordman is having an adulterous affair with Mr Clive Bartley of the British Secret Service.’
‘I don’t think Clive would like you to do that.’ Anna also spoke quietly, but her brain was racing.
‘I am sure he would not. But if I have lost him anyway I have nothing more to lose, have I? While at the very least your marriage would be in the firing line. I don’t know exactly what game it is you are playing, but I imagine that too would be severely jeopardized. So . . .’ She began drawing deep breaths.
The woman obviously wanted something, and whatever it was must be sorted out in private, and on her own ground. ‘Very well,’ Anna said. ‘You may come in.’
She unlocked the street door, waited for Belinda to follow her, and closed it again behind her, then gestured to the stairs, reflecting with some amusement at Clive’s reaction could he know that his mistress had willingly placed herself entirely in the hands of a trained killer, on the mistaken assumption that she held all the high cards. Not that she intended to harm this intense little creature unless she was forced to it. As she had reminded both Elsa and Gehrig, this was not Berlin. On the other hand, she had an idea that no one knew Belinda Hoskin was here at all, and she knew that both Bowen and the cook were out and would not return until five at the earliest, while Gehrig should be back well before then.
They went up the stairs side by side. ‘I believe you would like to see my clothes,’ Anna said, taking off her hat and allowing her hair to come down.
‘I am really not susceptible to your charm, Mrs Bordman,’ Belinda pointed out.
Anna made a moue, led the way across the lobby, and unlocked the door, waited for Belinda, and closed the door. The maisonette, as she had expected, was absolutely quiet. ‘Straight ahead,’ she said.
Belinda opened the inner door and went into the drawing room. ‘How the other half live,’ she commented. ‘You would not like to have to give this up.’ She picked up one of the porcelain ornaments from a side table, looked at it, and put it down again.
‘I don’t think Ballantine would like me to do that,’ Anna said equably. ‘Do sit down. And would you like something to drink?’
‘Thank you, no.’ Belinda sank into an armchair.
Anna looked at her Cartier wristwatch. ‘I suppose it is a little early for tea. Perhaps later.’ She sat opposite, crossed her knees. ‘You said you had something to discuss?’
‘You really are an amazing woman.’ For the first time Belinda revealed some evidence of the tension she was trying to control. ‘You sit there, as cool as a cucumber . . .’
‘I am actually quite warm,’ Anna confessed. ‘It is a hot day. I think there may be a thunderstorm later. It was forecast.’
‘Oh . . .’ Belinda got up, moved restlessly round the room. ‘How old are you?’
‘I was nineteen on the twenty-first of May.’
Belinda stopped her perambulation to stare at her. ‘Nineteen?’
‘I know,’ Anna said sympathetically. ‘A lot of people think I look older.’
‘Do you know how old Clive is?’
‘He has never told me.’
‘He is in his thirty-sixth year.’
‘He’s very fit.’
‘As I am sure you have personally ascertained. Do you know he has had you investigated, because he thinks you are a German agent?’
‘He has never told me this.’
‘You mean you just fell into his arms by accident?’
‘We met in Berlin last October, and he was attracted to me.’
