Angel Rising, page 6
part #6 of Anna Fehrbach Series
‘And you reckon Bormann is that man?’
‘He was Hitler’s closest associate, wasn’t he? You knew him pretty well. Do you agree with that estimate?’
‘I agree with the estimate, but I did not know Bormann very well,’ Anna corrected. ‘In fact, I did not know him at all. I only met him twice in my life, and we didn’t like each other.’
‘Oh!’ He was clearly disappointed. ‘You mean he doesn’t go for women? But he was married, and had a clutch of kids.’
‘That is not conclusive, Joe. But I have no reason to suppose he was homosexual. He never tried to touch me because he regarded me as Hitler’s personal possession. I disliked him because he did not seem to have any redeeming, much less attractive, features. He disliked me because he felt I might have too much influence on Hitler; he regarded that as his prerogative.’
‘Exactly my point, that he has always been so self-effacing he would be a difficult man to point out in a crowd, but that, as Hitler’s closest associate he would be considered by many people to be the Fuehrer’s natural successor. Now, you see, you knew him, however casually. You can identify him. And that is a difficult thing to do. He was always in the background, just a shadow at the Fuehrer’s shoulder. Oh, there are a couple of photographs with him in them, but again, he is always in the background, and his features are so unremarkable, so commonplace, he could walk down any street in the world and not be recognized. Except by you.’
Anna smiled. ‘So you want me to walk down every street in the world on the off chance of running into him, and recognizing him.’
‘We’re not quite that simple. As I said, we are pretty sure that he has gone, or shortly will go, to South America. We want you to follow fashion, as a Nazi fugitive. You will have all the money you need, and you will take up residence in either Rio or Buenos Aires, wherever you think would be more productive. You will live a normal, social life, but you will put discreet adverts in the newspapers indicating that the Countess von Widerstand would love to hear from her old comrades in arms.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘We understand it’ll be a bit risky, exposing yourself like that. But our people will be keeping an eye on you, ready to take care of any problems.’
‘You have no idea how reassuring that is. And suppose I find it necessary to take care of these problems myself?’
‘We’ll sort that out, too.’
‘Even if I’m in an Argentinian gaol, hanging by my thumbs?’
‘Yes.’
‘You are making an awful lot of promises I hope you can keep.’
‘Then you will come back and work for us?’
The temptation was impossible to resist. And it was a way, perhaps the only way, to achieve her ultimate objective and at the same time make sure no one revealed her secret first. ‘If I do,’ she said. ‘I will require a quid pro quo.’
He frowned. ‘You will have to explain that.’
‘There is something I have to do. It can wait awhile, and I really would like to be free of this dump. So I will act as your bait to bring Bormann out of his closet, and if he does I will deliver him to you.’ Supposing he survives our meeting, she thought. ‘However, whether I succeed or not, when you take delivery or decide that it’s not going to happen and call it a day, I want a promise of carte blanche and, if necessary, assistance to complete my own personal mission.’
Now he was looking apprehensive. ‘If you’ll tell me who the target is.’
‘The target is not a human being.’
His frown deepened. ‘Then . . .’
‘Nor am I aiming to blow anybody, or any thing, up. I am not going to tell you what it is, Joe, but I can tell you that I will be able to make it worth your while, and by you I mean your government.’
He stared at her for several seconds, then snapped his fingers. ‘The Nazi gold reserves.’
Damn, she thought. He was smarter than she had supposed. ‘How do you figure that?’
‘We know they are not in Berlin, where we also know they once were. So they have to have been taken somewhere else. Believe me, a lot of midnight oil has been burned on this one. And you know where they are. Christ almighty! Of course, who else would have been put in charge of that? But you mean you are prepared to sit on that kind of knowledge . . . how much?’
‘A hundred tons of pure gold, in ingots.’
‘Holy shit! And what kind of percentage would you be looking for?’
‘I already have my ten per cent put aside. But I will need help in getting it. I will have to trust you, Joe. Again. But so help me God, if you renege on me, again, I will kill you.’
He gazed at her for several seconds. Then he nodded. ‘I guess you would. I won’t let you down again, Anna. I did not sleep a wink during those months I thought you were dead. Now, I swear—’
Anna held up her hand. ‘No oaths, please. I have never heard one that was worth a shit when the chips were down. Just remember that we’re partners for our mutual benefit.’ She transferred the pistol to her left hand and held out her right. After a moment he took it, giving the fingers a gentle squeeze; she had to wonder if, for that moment, he had contemplated taking her on? But again, she reflected, he knew her too well, knew that she could shoot almost as well with her left hand as with her right, and knew too that she was capable of taking even him with her bare hands.
‘And afterwards?’ he asked, retaining her hand.
‘We can discuss that afterwards.’
‘No, we can’t. If we help you get your money, you’ll still be working for us. You must understand that.’
Anna gazed at him for several seconds. When I have ten million dollars in the bank, she thought, I am going to make the rules. But as she couldn’t get ten million dollars in the bank without his help . . . she squeezed his hand in turn. ‘It’s a deal. Providing I get some time off to spend some of my money.’
‘I think that can be arranged.’
‘Well then,’ she said, when his grip relaxed, ‘all we have to do is get hold of Clive, put him in the picture, and get MI6’s OK.’
‘No way.’
Anna withdrew her hand, slowly. ‘What did you say?’
‘My people won’t work with the British Secret Service right this minute.’
‘Explain.’
‘We don’t go too much for their security. As you can imagine, the Reds are working round the clock trying to get the dope on the atomic bomb. We reckon they’re just about there. And you know why? Because a couple of your high-ranking scientists, men with top level security clearance from MI5, have been leaking to Moscow. Now, they may be common or garden traitors looking for loot, or they may be misguided idealists who believe the Communist way is better than ours, but either way they’ve done the West immeasurable harm, and brought the prospect of an atomic war that much closer. We’re unhappy about that.’
‘I can’t just walk away, Joe. He’d go spare. And besides . . .’
‘You still have a lot going for him.’
‘Shouldn’t I? He’s the only man who has never let me down.’
‘Touché. But you don’t reckon he’s keeping you here while his government decides what to do with you? And if, at the end of the day, they decide you’re too hot to handle, do you really suppose he will go against that ruling? Clive? With his record of devoted service to King and Country?’
Anna bit her lip. He was a bastard who was interested only in paddling his own canoe. But wasn’t he simply putting into words the suspicions that had been slowly filling her own mind over the winter? ‘I’ll have to write him a letter.’
‘Saying what?’
‘That something has come up to which I have to attend. I’m assuming you people can get me out of the country?’
‘You will be out of the country twelve hours after you leave here.’
‘Well, then . . .’ A last hesitation. But did she really have any choice? ‘I’ll just pack, collect my jewellery and do that note. What about my passport? It’s a British one.’
‘Bring it along, for the time being. We’ll probably supply you with a fresh one, but until then, it might be useful.’
‘What nationality will the new one be?’
‘I’ll have to take advice on that. I suppose, if you’re going to surface as the Countess von Widerstand, or Anna Fehrbach, it’ll have to be German. You have to be absolutely genuine.’
She considered for a moment, then nodded. ‘I’ll be ten minutes.’
‘Good girl.’ Then he frowned, and turned his head. ‘What’s that noise?’
‘Another car. Oh, my God! Do you think it’s Clive?’
‘You expecting him?’
‘No, I’m not. But nobody else knows I’m here.’
Andrews moved to the window, parted the curtain. ‘It’s a big car . . . and there are four men getting out. And I would say they’re Russians.’
Anna stood beside him. studied the four burly men wearing lounge suits and slouch hats. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Definitely Russians.’
‘How in the name of God did they know where to come?’
‘They didn’t know where to come, you silly man. They followed you.’
‘Holy Jesus Christ! I’d better talk to them.’
‘What were you planning to say?’
‘Well, I mean, the war is over . . .’
‘Not to them, it isn’t, at least where I’m concerned. They didn’t follow you the length of Britain for a chat. They’ve come for me, and I’ll bet there’s a body bag in the boot of the car.’
‘But they’re carrying tommy guns! What are we going to do?’
‘I’m afraid we are going to have to discourage them.’
Andrews gulped. ‘Long odds. Shouldn’t we at least make sure it’s you they want?’
‘Joe,’ Anna said patiently. ‘You’re getting old. And two of them are going round the back. Now listen carefully. You get your gun, then sit tight here. Get on the floor behind that table, do not move or think of opening the door. And do not reply to any questions, comments or demands. Nothing upsets the opposition quite so much as being greeted with absolute silence. So keep still until someone actually enters the room. Then open up.’
‘But—’
‘When we don’t let them in, they are going to shoot their way in. That’ll be our chance, if we don’t get hit before then. If they knock the windows out first, still only fire if someone tries to climb through.’
‘You mean . . . Good God! You’re going to try to take them out?’
‘We are going to take them out, Joe. Just do as I say.’
She went to the kitchen, checked that this door also was locked. Through the window she could see the two men cautiously approaching; they had to suppose the inmates had observed their arrival.
She went up the stairs, paused at the housekeeper’s door. ‘Mrs Bridie, there is going to be some noise. I think you want to lie on the floor, under the bed, and stay there for at least half an hour after the shooting stops. Unless the house is on fire, of course.’
‘Shooting? Fire? My God, Anna . . .’
‘Do not open this door, under any circumstances short of fire. Just do as I say.’
She went to her bedroom. The adrenaline was pumping through her arteries, reminding her of how much she had been missing the constant, but to her stimulating, pressures of her adult life. And of all the many unpleasant people with whom she had come into contact, she hated the Russians, or at least those represented by the NKVD and its MGB successors, most.
For all her bold words to Andrews, she didn’t know who would win the coming battle; if she had in her time faced greater opposition than four to two, the tommy guns loaded the odds even more in favour of the opposition. As she had told Andrews their only chance was to wait for the opposition to make a mistake – a strategy she had practised throughout the years with unfailing success – but whatever was going to happen she intended to go out in a blaze of glory. She brushed her hair – leaving it loose and thus at its most eye-catchingly spectacular but securing it on the nape of her neck with a tortoiseshell clip to prevent any risk of it getting in her eyes – pocketed the spare magazine for her Luger, and reached the stairs as there came a rap on the front door.
She looked into the lounge. Andrews was kneeling on the floor behind the table, his pistol in his hand. He looked at her and she blew him a kiss, then returned to the kitchen. The two men were not visible, but she suspected that they had gone to ground behind a line of rhododendron bushes.
She knelt behind the stove, which was a solid iron range, and listened to another bang on the front door. There were a couple of moments’ silence, then a voice called, ‘Countess! We know you are in there, with Mr Andrews. Open the door and come out with your hands in the air, and you will not be hurt. If you do not do this, we are going to come in, and there will be much damage.’
As instructed, Joe did not reply. Another couple of moments passed, then suddenly the tommy guns opened up. The chatter was enormous; glass shattered and there were the thumps of the bullets smashing into the woodwork of both the door and the walls. The men at the back opened fire as well, and showers of glass shards scattered across the kitchen; one lodged in Anna’s hair and she pulled it out.
The firing stopped, but the reverberations continued for some minutes. ‘Anna,’ Andrews said.
‘Sssh! Wait. Just remember, when they enter the house, you shoot to kill. You will only have a few seconds.’
She could almost hear him gulp again. As she had suggested when taking command of the situation, he might have been an experienced field agent in his time, but that had been some years ago; he was now nearing fifty. And even in his heyday, she doubted that he had ever encountered a partner, and certainly not a woman, capable of waiting with such deadly patience for events to develop to her best advantage.
She listened to a conversation in Russian; she had learned the language during the year she had spent in Moscow. ‘There is no sound, Comrade. They must be dead.’
‘Vassily!’ someone shouted. ‘How is it at the back?’
‘All quiet.’
‘Can you force an entry?’
‘I think so.’
‘Then do it. The front door looks very solid.’
She could have been giving the orders, Anna thought, if they intended to attack in separated groups rather than all together. There was another prolonged burst of firing, and the back door, already splintered in several places, began to crack. At the same time a man appeared at the shattered window and sprayed the kitchen with bullets, but as he could not see her he was firing blind.
Anna used the noise to cock her pistol and make sure there was a cartridge in the breech. The firing stopped, and there were several heavy crashes as shoulders were hurled against the door. Anna began taking long, deep breaths. Her heartbeat had actually slowed, but her mind was coiled like a spring, waiting to be released.
There was a final crack, and the door swung in, sagging on its hinges. The first man stumbled through the opening, his tommy gun trailing from one hand; the second man was immediately behind him. Anna stood up, levelled her pistol, and shot him; as because of the way he was bent over she was unable to aim for her favourite target, the head, she aimed at the side of his body and then immediately turned her sights on the second man, who was staring at her in consternation while he brought up his weapon. He presented a prefect target; she shot him in the centre of his forehead.
The second man was groaning and clutching his ribs, blood seeping through his hands and frothing from his sagging lips. He was clearly dying, so Anna let him be and picked up the two tommy guns. Both men had satchels on their shoulders, and as she had anticipated, there was a spare magazine in each. She reloaded both guns, slinging one and tucking her pistol into her waistband.
‘Vassily?’ called the voice from the front of the house. ‘Are you inside, Vassily? Come and open this door.’
‘Anna,’ Andrews whispered. ‘Anna?’
‘Sssh, and stay down,’ Anna said.
She went out of the back door, inhaling the fresh evening air; it was just on dusk. Keeping against the wall, she moved round the house.
‘Vassily!’ The voice from the front was becoming a wail. ‘Andreev, go and see what has happened.’
‘Those were pistol shots, Comrade,’ Andreev pointed out.
‘So they fired a couple of shots.’
‘But after the tommies stopped. They are not dead. She is not dead.’
‘Are you afraid of a woman?’
‘They said she was a killer.’
‘A woman?’ the commander sneered. ‘I have given you an order.’
Anna listened to footsteps crunching on the gravel. But he was going the other way. She waited for a few seconds, then stepped round the corner. As she had expected, the commander was standing by the car, where he was out of any direct line of fire from the house. She didn’t want to explode the car, which was parked next to Andrews’, so she slung the second tommy gun as well, drew her pistol, and left the shelter of the house. ‘Captain,’ she called.
He turned, sharply, raising his gun, and she shot him though the head.
‘Comrade Captain!’ Andreev shouted. He had heard the shot.
Anna tucked away her pistol, its barrel warm against her stomach, and unslung one of the tommy guns. Then she stepped behind the car, beside the commander’s body.
Andreev ran round the corner. ‘Comrade Captain, they are both dead. And that shot . . .’ He checked as he saw Anna. He carried his gun in both hands, but it was held across his body. His face contorted, and he started to turn the gun towards his enemy, but he was already dead.
Fifty-seven, Anna thought. And I had supposed I was finished with killing. She swallowed back a sudden desire to weep and went to the front door. ‘You can open this now, Joe.’
It took him a few moments to respond, then the bolt was drawn and the bullet-scored door swung in. ‘Anna . . .’
