Stranger at the Gates (20 page)

‘But I wasn't what she wanted and she went home, taking the baby with her. She was two years old then. I don't want to talk about her.'

‘No,' Louise said. ‘You couldn't. Why did they arrest your wife?'

He turned and looked at her. ‘Because she did what you're doing. She got herself mixed up hiding Allied airmen. Someone betrayed the network and she was caught and sent to Auschwitz. With my daughter. That's all I knew for two years. I tried everything; the International Red Cross, the American embassy in Geneva, contacts in Spain—everything. Nobody could get her out. I was in the army in the Judge Advocate department. I kicked like hell, I wanted to fight. But they needed lawyers and I stayed at my desk. Then I was sent for; there was my senior officer, who looked like somebody had knocked all his teeth out, and another man, a Lieutenant Colonel in the Intelligence Corps. They told me to sit down, gave me a cigarette and offered me a Scotch.

‘Then they told me about Patricia and my child. The Spanish Jewess who got out of the camp had got to know her there; they became friendly. Then Patricia was moved to the special compound. The other woman didn't see her again for some weeks, till one day she happened to be on her way to the medical centre and she saw a burial detail going across the special compound, outside the wall and near the wire fence. She saw the bodies, and she saw Patricia. She was still holding the little girl in her arms.'

‘Oh God,' Louise said. She put her arm round him. ‘Oh God, how terrible—I'm so sorry …'

‘I left the JA,' Savage said. ‘I joined a special unit attached to OSS and I told them why. So when they wanted someone to take this on, they chose me. Just before I killed him tonight, that bastard opened his eyes. I think I went on living just for that moment.'

‘You mustn't blame yourself,' Louise said. ‘It wasn't your fault.'

‘I didn't make her happy,' Savage said. ‘When she wanted to go back to her family I said Okay. Six months after she left the war broke out. I should have gone over and brought them both back.'

‘You didn't love her, did you?' Louise said. He turned and looked at her.

‘No,' he said. That's why I let her go. And that's what's been driving me crazy ever since. I just didn't love her, and that's why she died like that. Why they both died.' He put his head down in his hands suddenly. ‘I'd like a drink.'

Louise got up. ‘I'll get you one.'

She found the bottle of Minden's cognac and brought it upstairs. She poured some into her own water glass and gave it to him.

‘You mustn't cry about it,' Savage said. ‘I don't like to see you cry. Come here and sit beside me.' He put his arm round her; it was a hard grip.

‘What did that Kraut do to you?'

‘Nothing that matters,' she said slowly. ‘I was sitting here, waiting for you, feeling frightened and sorry for myself. As if I were so special. You were right. I just slept with a German, that's all. Don't let's talk about it. It's what you've done that matters.'

‘Yes,' Savage said. He drank the brandy down. ‘Yes, I killed Brühl and I wrecked the laboratory. By the time anyone goes down there in the morning they'll need a boat.'

‘What are you going to do? You must get away at once.'

‘I'll go tomorrow,' Savage said. ‘I'll leave quite normally. There'll be a massive security check in the area but my Swiss passport should get me through. I'll go to Paris and on to Berne. I don't want to hang around here. With Jean's record and Minden to back it up, you won't be suspected.'

‘You must get out,' Louise repeated. ‘Whatever happens you mustn't be anywhere near here. I wish you could go now, tonight!'

‘No transport,' Savage said. ‘And respectable Swiss cousins don't disappear at five in the morning. Our friend Minden might start asking questions. I'll see him tomorrow and say goodbye. I don't want any loose ends here for you.'

He turned her face towards him and kissed her. Louise shivered and he let her go. ‘I'm cold,' she said. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘You've had enough for tonight,' Savage said. ‘Get into bed.'

She lay while he pulled the bedclothes over her and tucked them in, watching him. Her body was cold and her courage suddenly low. She put out a hand and held on to him.

‘I'm frightened,' she said. ‘I don't know why but I have the most awful feeling—why don't you take Jean's car and go? Now! Please, Roger. Don't wait till tomorrow.'

‘You go to sleep,' he said. ‘Don't worry.' He switched out the light and left her. Louise lay in the darkness. Everything had gone well; Savage had succeeded and returned safely; there were only a few hours to go through before he left the Château. By that time tomorrow he would be miles away. There was no logical reason for the insistent, strident panic in her which cried out that this was not how it would end.

6

Franz Zerbinski had been Colonel Von Gehlen's batman for two years. He had served with him in Belgium when the Colonel was with the occupation forces, and spent a year in Brussels. When they moved to Paris, Franz was delighted. He sent his wife French scent and silk stockings, and set himself up with a girl he had picked up one Sunday morning at a café on the Champs-Elysées. She was seventeen, a plump little tart who cuddled up to him and made him feel at home. His Colonel's posting to the Château Diane had disturbed this happy relationship; he didn't see her so often, and he had an unhappy feeling that she had found another friend.

He had been asleep for an hour, or so he thought, until he woke up feeling cramp in his left leg, and discovered it was after four o'clock. He had been dozing on a chair in the Colonel's bedroom, waiting for him to come upstairs and be undressed. It was a nightly ritual, getting his officer out of his clothes and into bed. He was always drunk and irritable, and sometimes he punched out at Franz, who had learned how to dodge him. As an officer he wasn't too bad; he was generous to his batman. His one disadvantage was his habit of getting drunk every night and Franz having to sit up till he came upstairs. Four-twenty in the morning. He had never been so late. Franz got up and stretched himself; he felt worried. If the Colonel were asleep in the mess, he must have taken on a bigger load than usual. It wouldn't do for him to be found there in the morning when the orderlies came. He hesitated, not knowing what to do. If he went down and woke the Colonel he'd probably get a bollocking. If he left him there, he was sure to be blamed.

There was a little loyalty in him. He didn't want his officer to be disgraced. He decided to go downstairs to the mess and bring him up to bed. Because of this decision, Brühl was discovered several hours earlier than Savage had anticipated. In the confusion that followed, nobody went to investigate the laboratories until much later in the early morning. By which time the water had risen so high it flooded the corridor. But long before this, the S.S. had arrived at the Château.

By six o'clock that morning, Obergruppenführer Knocken, head of the S.S. in Paris, was holding an investigation at the Château Diane. He had brought seven staff officers with him, and Adolph Vierken as his second in command. He chose the dining room, where Brühl had loved to preside over his intimates, and sat at the head of the refectory table. He was an ugly man, his hair so close cut that he was almost bald, with short-sighted eyes further distorted by strong pebble glasses. He held a gold pencil in one hand and at intervals he tapped his teeth with the end of it. Before him stood the two soldiers who had been on duty inside the main entrance during the night. Both stood at attention and their faces were grey with fear. Knocken had taken statements from the guards at the gate; their entry book was on the table in front of him. Vierken sat on his right-hand side, smoking, listening to the interrogation. He had been awoken an hour earlier by the emergency call from the Château. Brühl had been discovered almost immediately after the Colonel's body had been found. Instantly the Château was placed on a full alert, and Knocken was notified. He and Vierken and their officers had arrived within the hour.

As senior officers in the German security forces, Knocken and Vierken knew the significance of Brühl's death and what it meant to the Nazi war effort.

‘Now,' Knocken said. ‘I want you to think before you answer. I have here the report from the guards on duty at the main gate. Seven officers left the Château between nine p.m. and midnight. All had returned by two in the morning. Then an eighth officer was admitted. He passed through the main gate. You say you let him into the Château at about that time. Is that correct?'

Both men nodded. ‘Yes, Herr Obergruppenführer.'

‘How long have you been posted here? You …' He spoke to the private soldier.

‘Five months, sir.'

‘And you?'

‘Four months, sir.'

‘I see.' Knocken tapped his teeth with the pencil. He spoke in a quiet voice.

‘This officer that you admitted,' Knocken said quietly. ‘You say he arrived back at two-twenty-five. Did you recognise him?'

‘No, Herr Obergruppenführer.' The most senior of the soldiers answered; he was a regular S.S. man with ten years' service behind him and he had been decorated for gallantry in the Polish campaign.

‘Why not?'

‘He was wearing his cap pulled down, sir.'

‘And what was his name?' Knocken had a list in front of him. On it were thirteen names. Seven of these were members of the staff who had gone out after eight o'clock and returned during the night. All had been checked out and in. The six remaining names, including Minden's, were all officers billeted outside, none of whom had yet reported for duty. ‘Well,' Knocken repeated, ‘what was his name?'

‘I don't know, Herr Obergruppenführer.'

‘You didn't check his pass?'

‘No sir.' Knocken drew a circle on the sheet of paper and placed a dot in the middle of it. ‘Why not?'

‘We were slow to open the door, sir. He took our names and said we'd be reported.'

‘I see.' Knocken made another dot in the circle. ‘So he took your names and you forgot to ask for his pass or for any identification?'

‘Yes, sir.' The man's voice croaked with fear.

‘What did he do—where did he go?'

‘He went to the mess, sir.'

Knocken turned to Adolph Vierken. ‘Where he murdered Von Gehlen.' He drew a line through the circle. The stony eyes glinted at the soldier.

‘You saw him come out?' The corporal nodded. ‘And where did he go then?'

‘Upstairs, Herr Obergruppenführer.'

‘Exactly,' Knocken remarked. ‘He went upstairs. And he killed General Brühl, without anyone hearing.'

‘It's incredible,' Vierken said. ‘He passes the guards on the gates, he bluffs his way in here, murders two men and gets to the cellars, without anyone stopping him!' The gas-mask had been found in the lift, Brühl's keys were recovered from outside.

‘He had a pass,' Knocken said. ‘The guards at the gates checked him in, but unfortunately they didn't notice the name. A number of officers go out for the evening and they get careless. Very careless. In fact,' he spoke to the others grouped round the table, ‘the security arrangements seem to have been extremely lax.' He looked at the senior S.S. officer present, whose task had been the safety of Brühl and his project. The man didn't dare to look at him. ‘I shall hold you responsible, Gruppenführer Brandt. Entirely responsible.' The officer blanched to a sickly colour.

‘Yes,' he said. ‘I am responsible. But you must realise we had no reason to think any attempt …'

‘There was an alert here on Friday night!' Vierken suddenly shouted at him. ‘You ordered a search of the area with the regular military at Chartres! You found nobody and you assumed,
assumed
it was a reconnaissance flight! That assumption was wrong, Gruppenführer Brandt! It was careless and slack. Somebody was dropped. And that man came in here last night and killed General Brühl.'

‘And lost us the war,' Knocken murmured, too low for them to hear. He addressed himself to the quivering Brandt. He tapped the list with his gold pencil. ‘There are thirteen names here. Seven regular officers who have all been accounted for, six who live outside and have not reported for duty. But an eighth man came in and went out again. A man whose name is not on any list. That is our murderer. You let him out again?' He spoke to the corporal.

‘Yes.'

‘Describe him. Remember everything you can.'

The corporal made a visible effort. ‘He was tall, sir, about my height. He wore his cap pulled down; I didn't see his eyes or what colour hair he had. He was a German. I'd swear to that He had a major's rank on his collar. That's all, Herr Obergruppenführer.'

‘He would speak perfect German. That means nothing. So we have a tall man in a major's uniform. Not very helpful.' Knocken looked at the corporal and at the private soldier, who had not spoken a word.

‘You're under arrest,' he said quietly. ‘Report yourselves.'

They sprang to attention and saluted. ‘Heil Hitler!'

‘And you, Gruppenführer Brandt, will do the same.'

The officer got up, stretched out his arm and said loudly, ‘Heil Hitler!' He was dead and he knew it. He left the room with some dignity.

Knocken turned to Adolph Vierken. ‘I am putting you in charge of this operation,' he said. ‘I want this man found! You can have what troops and facilities you need, on my authority.'

‘Thank you, Obergruppenführer,' Vierken said. ‘But first I must point out that the murderer left here at least four hours ago. In my opinion he will have left the area. I can't promise to find him.' Knocken allowed himself a tiny smile. Vierken was no fool; he wasn't going to commit himself to something he might not be able to do. And four hours was a long start. Nobody but a madman would stay within a hundred kilometres of the Château Diane.