Angel From Hell, page 22
part #1 of Anna Fehrbach Series Series
‘How we handle him depends upon just what she tells him before you can get to her. But I intend to see him myself, as soon as possible.’
‘If he finds out either that she cold-bloodedly seduced him and has been his loving sexual partner for ten months only on the orders of the SD, or that she is a double agent, he is very likely to have a heart attack.’
Baxter actually smiled.
*
‘Is what you are telling me true?’ Belinda asked.
‘Every word of it.’
‘And you have merely been shagging her in the line of duty?’
‘Life isn’t all bad.’
‘You are a lying, deceitful bastard. I ought to scratch out both of your eyes.’
‘It happens to be the truth.’
‘Oh, I’m sure it is. But you’re trying to pretend you didn’t enjoy every moment of it.’ She glared at him.
‘I am a lecherous bastard. But you’ve always benefited from that. And think about this: Anna is going to be in no condition – and I would say she is certainly not going to be in the mood – to shag anybody for some considerable time to come. So you will have to fill the bill.’
‘Ha!’
The telephone rang. Clive picked up the receiver. ‘Mr Bartley?’
‘Correct.’
‘Carroway here, sir. If you could be at St George’s in thirty minutes . . .’
‘You have it.’ Clive hung up and reached for his coat.
‘Just where are you going?’ Belinda enquired.
‘To visit the sick,’ Clive told her.
*
Clive was at the hospital by ten o’clock and even the summer evening had faded into darkness. Carroway was a little man who wore a white coat. Clive couldn’t determine whether he was a doctor or simply an orderly, but he knew his way around the hospital.
‘We must be quiet, Mr Bartley,’ he whispered. ‘This is very irregular. Almost everyone is asleep, but there is a sister on every ward.’
‘Including the intensive care?’
‘Especially the intensive care, sir.’
‘And this dragon will let me in?’
‘I have arranged it, yes.’
‘How?’
‘She knows you are one of Britain’s top secret agents and she is a romantic. I have told her – if you will forgive me, sir– that you and Mrs Bordman are lovers. She finds this terribly exciting.’
‘Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings,’ Clive commented.
‘Sir?’
‘Just an old family saying. But Mrs Bordman is lucid?’
‘I understand she is under heavy sedation, and is therefore somewhat drowsy. But I believe she is lucid, yes. Ah, her husband spent most of the evening with her, and he seemed very pleased.’ He cast Clive an anxious glance as they reached the end of the last corridor.
‘We know each other very well,’ Clive assured him.
‘Oh, Mr Bartley! It is very irregular, you know.’ The sister was a tall, thin, efficient-looking woman, but she was positively simpering. ‘And all so hush-hush.’
‘We made it so.’
‘Oh, yes! Only half an hour, please. And she must not, in any circumstances, be agitated.’
She led him along another corridor, Carroway remaining by her desk as a kind of sentry. Sister stopped outside a closed door. ‘Hold on a moment,’ Clive said. ‘Does she know I’m coming?’
‘Well, no, sir. I felt that might agitate her.’
‘And you don’t think my sudden emanation out of the woodwork is going to agitate her?’
‘I am sure she will be pleased to see you, going on what Mr Carroway had to say.’
She opened the door. There was a faint glow from a heavily shaded bedside light, and the room, like all hospital wards, smelled of antiseptic. Sister stood beside the bed and very gently stroked Anna’s eyebrows. Anna sighed, and opened her eyes.
‘I have a visitor for you,’ Sister said softly, and with her other hand beckoned Clive. Then she withdrew, closing the door behind her.
Chapter Nine – Spies
‘Clive!’ Anna whispered. ‘Oh, my dear Clive. I did not expect to see you again.’
‘It’s my business to be where I’m not supposed to be,’ he reminded her, and kissed her forehead. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like shit.’
‘You are going to be all right.’
‘You mean I’ll live. What then?’
‘That’s why I’m here. How is Bally taking it?’
‘Not very well. He knows there is, or was, something going on that I never told him. But he seems prepared to wait until I’m a little better.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘That I don’t really remember much about it, save that for some reason I do not understand, Gehrig attempted to kill me and I defended myself.’
‘Good girl. However, he is going to have to be put in the picture – at least, some of the picture. Baxter is going to handle that.’
‘He’ll divorce me.’
‘He is not going to be allowed to do that, at least at the moment. The only way we can keep you out of prison is to keep you working for us. That means that for Germany’s consumption, you are still Mrs Bordman, and once you are back home you will continue sending them appropriate information.’
‘But they’ll know what happened.’
‘No they won’t. You fell down a flight of stairs, broke several ribs, and will be in hospital for some time. Damned bad luck, but it could happen to anyone.’
‘Gehrig . . .?’
‘Has disappeared, having been recalled to Berlin. Finding her whereabouts is their problem.’
‘Schmidt?’
‘Will know nothing more than anyone else. He will have to be patient until you recover, when he will undoubtedly attempt to contact you. We intend to make this easy for him.’
‘But if I also have been recalled . . .?’
‘We don’t think you will have been. Heydrich planted you here and you are a British citizen; he is hardly likely to undo all of that careful planning, even if there is a possibility of war. Your business is just to relax and get well and start functioning again. And remember, MI6 is looking after you.’
Her fingers were tight on his. ‘Will I see you again?’
‘I’m still your controller. While you’re in here it may be a little difficult, but I’ll manage it. But once you’re out it’s business as usual.’
‘I’m so looking forward to that. But Clive, what’s the end? Can there be an end? I mean a happy one?’
‘If there is about to be a war, that’s a difficult question for any of us to answer. But if we can get through it, I believe there’ll be sunshine all the way.’ Behind him he heard the door open. ‘Time. I’m counting the moments.’
*
‘I have to say,’ Ballantine declared, ‘that you are putting me in an intolerable position, Mr Baxter. You are asking me to take this . . . this self-confessed scarlet woman, this reincarnation of Mata Hari, this woman who has made me the laughing stock of London . . .’
‘Only you can do that, Mr Bordman,’ Baxter pointed out. ‘You are regarded with utter sympathy as the most unlucky of men whose so beautiful wife has had a most unfortunate accident. The only people who know the truth are the PM, the Foreign Secretary, the Home Secretary, one of his top policemen, the head of MI6, me and three of my most trusted operatives. We intend to keep it that way. If you betray the truth to anyone, you will not only be making yourself that laughing stock, but you will also be in breach of national security.’
‘As you say,’ Ballantine grumbled, ‘the Foreign Secretary knows of it. Every time I enter his office, he looks at me . . . well . . .’
‘Well, sir, at least you know he cannot fire you. You have to sit it out. We all do.’
‘No you don’t. Not in the way I do. What happens when Anna comes home? Am I supposed to hug her and kiss her and rush her off to bed?’
‘I am not cognisant of your domestic arrangements, Mr Bordman. The odd hug and kiss in public would, I feel, be useful. As for the rest, I believe there is more than one bedroom in your home; I know that Anna will wish to accept whatever arrangements you care to make.’
‘When I think how she seduced me, my blood boils.’
‘As I understand it, sir, you were very happy to be seduced.’ Ballantine opened his mouth in outrage, but Baxter hurried on. ‘However, I should emphasize one point: Mrs Bordman has a very important job to do. However angry you may feel, she is not to suffer any physical harm.’ Quite apart from the fact, he thought, that if you tried to beat her you would wind up with a broken neck.
‘Oh, get out!’
Baxter stood up. ‘I’ll bid you good day, Mr Bordman.’
The telephone jangled. Ballantine picked it up. ‘Yes?’ he snapped. ‘I said I was not to be interrupted until after this gentleman has left . . . What? Is that confirmed? My God! I’ll be right down.’ He replaced the phone and stared at Baxter. ‘Germany has invaded Poland!’
*
‘How did he take it?’ Clive asked.
‘Not very well,’ Baxter said. ‘I assume you are referring to his situation vis-à-vis his wife and not Germany?’
Outside, the church bells were ringing for Sunday service.
‘What is the situation vis-à-vis Germany?’
Baxter looked at his watch. ‘The PM is making a speech on the wireless in half an hour’s time. I imagine it will include a declaration of war.’
‘Shit!’
‘It will mean a realignment of our people on the continent, certainly. But it should not immediately affect Anna, except that they may be more anxious than ever to get in touch with her. How much longer is she going to be in hospital?’
‘She’s doing very well, but it is likely to be a week or two yet.’
‘So they’ll have to be patient . . . Yes, Amy?’ he said as his secretary appeared in the doorway.
‘Chief-Inspector Grattan, sir.’
It was Baxter’s turn to mutter. ‘Shit! Well, show him in.’
Clive got up. ‘I’d better be off.’
‘Hang about. I think this may be in your court. Chief-Inspector! All systems go, eh?’
As usual, Grattan looked in pain. He also looked disapprovingly at Clive.
‘Clive Bartley,’ Baxter explained. ‘One of my senior men.’
‘This is confidential,’ Grattan remarked.
‘So is Clive,’ Baxter assured him. ‘Do have a seat.’
Grattan sat down. ‘You understand the situation?’
Baxter looked at his watch. ‘Fifteen minutes to bang.’
‘At which time,’ Grattan said, ‘we intend immediately to implement our plan for rounding up all German and Austrian aliens.’
‘There will have to be exceptions,’ Baxter said.
‘No exceptions can be allowed.’
Baxter pushed a card across the table. ‘You will have to call that number. Whatever your feelings on the matter, Mrs Bordman is still my operative. And she is a British citizen.’
‘Which will make it easier to put a rope around her neck when the time comes.’
‘If the time comes,’ Baxter said equably.
‘However,’ Grattan went on, ‘the man Smith has got to go. We have a full dossier on him. You know his real name is Schmidt? He came here in 1934, changed his name and opened his bookshop. He has never applied for British Citizenship, although he pretends to it. We have not found out how he gets his information back to Germany, but it obviously will be of great value to us to do so.’
‘It will be of no value whatsoever to you – and more importantly to me – if you close it and him down,’ Baxter said. ‘And to do that would blow Mrs Bordman, as those who consider themselves her masters in Berlin, will assume that you got on to him through her.’
‘Do you suppose she is his only operative in London? The man has been here for five years. Pulling him in may finish an entire network.’
‘That may be. I’m sure we’ll get them all eventually. But for the time being Mrs Bordman must not be compromised. I hate to pull rank on you, Freddie, but you have to use that phone number and do what they will tell you. Or not, as the case may be.’
Grattan regarded him for several moments, then looked at Clive, picked up the card, and left the office without a word.
‘He is not a happy man,’ Clive suggested.
‘Neither am I,’ Baxter pointed out. ‘Switch on the radio, Amy,’ he called. ‘We had better hear what the man has to say.’
*
Anna stared at the ceiling. She had been moved from the intensive-care ward, but was again in a private room, surrounded by flowers and gifts and as much comfort as was possible. Her sedation level had also been reduced; it remained sufficient to leave her with only a dull pain, and was increased at night to make her sleep, but for the most part her brain was clear, although she did nod off from time to time.
But she did not always want her brain to be clear; there was too much to worry about. Bally came almost every day, but once the nurse was gone he made it perfectly clear he was only doing what he had been commanded to do for public consumption. For the rest, he had nothing to say, and preferred to read his newspaper than meet her eye. She had been assured that he knew nothing of her relationship with Clive. It was sufficient that he’d had to accept that she had never loved him as he had supposed, but had seduced him in the most cold-blooded fashion. She reckoned that upset him more than the idea of her being a German spy, or that she was now a double agent. But most of all, she knew that he resented the way in which she had flown out of his orbit. From being, he had supposed, an innocent and therefore vulnerable girl utterly dependent on his position in society, she had become an important member of the SIS, totally beyond his reach or control. She simply could not imagine what their domestic life was going to be like when she went home.
On the plus side, because it was out in the open – if only between a very select few – Clive was also permitted to visit her at regular intervals. The hospital staff had been given to understand that he was an old friend of her family. She also understood that they would be able to enjoy a much more open relationship after she left hospital, in that he would come to her home to decide what information she would send to Germany instead of her having to sneak off to see him. These visits would obviously take place when Ballantine was at the Foreign Office, which promised all manner of delights.
But, however pleasant a prospect, this thought brought into focus her real concern. She had absolutely no idea what was happening in Berlin, what they were thinking, what they were planning. They could have decided to write her off, in which case the lives she had spent the last year and a half desperately trying to save would also be written off. Clive seemed certain this had not happened and that as soon as she was up and about, Schmidt would be in touch with her. So, not for the first time in her life, she just had to be patient.
A gentle knock, and Sister came in. ‘I have a visitor for you, Mrs Bordman,’ she said.
‘Oh!’ Anna sat up, which she could now do with only minimal discomfort, and arranged her nightdress. In the middle of the afternoon it could only be Clive.
‘If you will come in, please, Mother,’ Sister invited.
Anna stared in astonishment as the nun, clad in black from head to foot, entered the room. Sister gave almost a little curtsey, and closed the door.
‘Mother . . .?’ Anna asked.
The nun pulled up a straight chair beside the bed and sat down. ‘I am Mother Celestina,’ she announced.
‘I’m afraid I am not a very good Catholic,’ Anna said apologetically. ‘It is some time since I last went to confession.’
‘I am sure your sins will be forgiven,’ Mother Celestina promised her, and lowered her voice. ‘Is this room bugged?’
Alarm bells jangled in Anna’s brain. The wooden crucifix round the woman’s neck was certainly genuine, but was anything else? ‘The English do not bug their hospital bedrooms, Mother.’
‘Not even when they contain a master spy?’
‘Were I a spy I would be in prison.’
‘You are very confident.’
‘I am the Honourable Mrs Bordman. I have no reason not to be confident.’
Celestina gazed at her for several seconds. Then she said, ‘I have come to see you at the request of a friend, who is most anxious about the state of your health. His name is Reinhard.’ She waited.
‘It is so very kind of dear Reinhard to worry about me,’ Anna said. ‘I’m afraid it will be a few days yet before I can be up and about. And then, I am told, I need some time to recuperate. I have lost a lot of weight.’
‘I can see that,’ Celestina agreed. ‘Were you not so unnaturally beautiful, one could say you look like a skull. However, I am sure you understand that this is a most inconvenient time for you to be out of action. The Polish campaign is virtually over. Which means, as far as we can see, the casus belli no longer exists. If the English determine to continue the war, it will be as a senseless act of aggression. But as they have so far confined themselves to dropping leaflets over our cities, and as the French have done nothing more than probe the frontier, it is our belief that they will be pleased to get out of an impossible situation. The Fuehrer intends to give them every opportunity to do so, but as always it would be greatly to his advantage to know what English public opinion – I am talking about the upper classes of course – feel about the situation. Can you obtain this information?’
‘Certainly. As soon as I get home. But I have lost my go-between, who was also my controller. She was ordered back to Germany immediately before the outbreak of hostilities and she has not been replaced. This may be because my accident occurred soon after she left. I’m afraid I was so upset by her sudden departure that I just was not looking where I was going on those stairs.’
‘We know about this. Did she give you no idea where she was going before she left?’
Only that it was straight down, Anna thought. ‘Isn’t she back in Germany?’ Her tone was her most dulcet.
‘She never returned to Germany. We very much fear that something has happened to her. This is worrying, because if she was taken by the British Secret Services, she may well have been tortured into revealing the truth about you.’
