“Yes, madame.”
“A cousin of mine made this journey last night. I’m sure you will remember her: a very beautiful girl, twenty years old, with reddish-brown hair.”
“Oh, indeed, madame, I remember the young lady. I thought it odd that she should be travelling alone.”
“She has an independent spirit,” Martina said. “Can you tell me where she left the train?”
“Mademoiselle Townsend was booked through to Berlin, madame.”
“How do you know her name?” Druce asked.
“It is our custom to collect all the passengers’ passports before we reach the border, monsieur. We change crews at the frontier, you see, and also there is a customs check. We give the passports to the border police, who inspect them and return them. This way we do not have to wake the passengers.”
“Very helpful of you. Will you be asking for our passports as well?” Martina enquired.
“Certainly, madame. One of my colleagues will do so when you retire.”
“You say Miss Townsend was booked through to Berlin, but could she have left the train before then?” Druce asked.
“That is not possible, sir. This is an express train. Its only stop is at the border, and that is not for either the embarkation or disembarkation of passengers.”
“Thank you,” Martina said. “You have been most helpful.” She waited until they had regained the privacy of the sleeper, then said, “We shall have to make inquiries on the German side.”
“It looks like it. How long do you need?”
“To do what?”
“To undress yourself and get into bed.”
“I have no idea. I do not hurry over these things.”
“I will give you half an hour,” Druce said, opening the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To the smoking car.”
“Do you smoke?”
“No, I don’t. But I have to go somewhere while you undress.”
Martina gave a shriek of laughter. “That is absurd. You are a prude.”
“I hope I am a gentleman.”
Martina shrugged. “Then be a gentleman. I will take the upper bunk.”
*
When Druce returned, she was in bed and could have been asleep, the sheet pulled to her shoulder, her hair scattered about her, but he didn’t trust her. He switched off the light before undressing himself, slid into the bunk, but had not been there more than five minutes when he saw, in the gloom, a pair of long, white, perfectly shaped legs dropping past his face.
“You’ve nothing on!” he accused as the rest of her followed.
“I never wear anything to bed,” she explained. “And those pyjamas of yours are ridiculous. Move over.”
“Whatever for?”
“I wish to get in with you. You do not have to fuck me. Just a kiss and a cuddle and a bit of a feel.”
“You are engaged to be married,” he pointed out.
“Berkeley knows all about me,” she said.
“I am also engaged to be married.”
“And I am sure Anna knows all about you.”
“Martina,” he said. “We came here to do a job of work. Go back to bed.”
She surveyed him for several seconds. “You do not wish to have sex with me?”
“No. I mean, not right now.”
“There may not be another opportunity. You will be sorry.” She climbed back into her bunk. “At least you should have pleasant dreams.”
*
The train rumbled into Tiergarten Station at eight o’clock. Druce had been up and dressed at six, Martina a few minutes later. Again he insisted on leaving the compartment while she dressed, and then they had an early breakfast.
“Well?” Martina enquire wickedly. “Did you dream?”
“No,” Druce lied.
“I shall have to try harder. The train is stopping.”
They collected their bags and stepped on to the platform; Martina gave one of her squeals of pleasure. “David! Judith!”
The Cohns came forward to be embraced. They were in their middle thirties now, handsome and prosperous thanks to the success of their catering business.
“Martina! It is good to see you,” David said. “I only wish it was in happier circumstances.”
“We shall make the circumstances happier,” Martina said. “This is Harry Druce, Anna’s fiancé.”
The Cohns shook hands. “We have arranged the meeting you requested, with Commissioner Schuler,” David said. “But it is not until ten o’clock.”
“Then let us have a cup of coffee and you can bring us up to date.”
Druce looked around with interest as they walked from the station to a coffee shop; it was his first visit to Berlin. The city looked busy and prosperous, but the faces were anxious.
“It is the news from America,” Judith explained. “The Wall Street crash. No one knows how it will affect us here in Germany.”
“There have been crashes before,” Martina said. They sat down and ordered coffee. “Now,” she said. “You met the train, this same train, yesterday morning. But you say that Anna was not on it.”
“That is correct,” David said. “We met the next one as well, just in case she had been delayed. But she was not on that either.”
“They told us it was not possible for her to have left the train before Berlin.”
“That is correct, normally.”
“What do you mean?” Druce asked.
“Simply that it is extremely likely the Nazis, if they were responsible, bribed the driver and the night guard. Then, if Anna had already been made prisoner, it would be simply a matter of stopping the train for a few seconds at some isolated station. I should not think anyone else on the train would even have woken up, and the schedule could be regained by the slightest increase in speed.”
“My God,” Druce said. “You mean she could have been taken off the train and now be anywhere in Germany?”
“I’m afraid that is a possibility, yes.”
“Just who are these Nazi people, anyway? I had never even heard of them until a few days ago.”
“They call themselves a political party, but they’ve never had much of an impact on the political scene.”
“They may do, if unemployment rises because of this American crisis,” Judith said.
“That is a worrying point,” her husband agreed. “The fact is, however, at the moment they are just an extreme rightwing group who pander to everything that is evil in society. They oppose the communists, violently wherever possible, and they blame the Jews for all of Germany’s ills.”
“And the government does nothing about this?”
“Much of what the Nazis say appeals to the government, or certain elements in it. They are opposed to the Versailles Treaty, claim that Germany should be allowed to rearm, say that the refusal of the Allies to allow us to regain control of the Rhineland and the Ruhr is iniquitous . . . These are all things the government would like to see happen, but of course they dare not say so themselves.”
“One of the big problems,” Judith said, “is that no one knows who is a Nazi and who is not. So, as we said, several of the staff on the train may have been party members. But there is no way of finding out.”
“Is Schuler a Nazi?”
“As far as we know, he is not. But it is certain that quite a few of his policemen are.”
“Then it would appear that we are on a hiding to nothing,” Druce remarked.
“Not necessarily,” Martina said. “Don’t forget that I worked for a police commissioner for several years. Alexandros knew everything that was going on in Serbia. Much of it he did not like but was unable to do anything about because of political pressure. But when someone came along like Berkeley, who did wish to do something, he was very happy to assist him, clandestinely of course. That is how their friendship began.”
“It’s worth a go,” Druce agreed.
*
Commissioner Schuler surveyed the four p
eople seated in front of his desk. The Cohns he already knew; they were typical of the many young entrepreneurs who had done well out of the laissez-faire Weimar years. He wished them well; he had no personal antagonism to the Jews. But he wondered how well they were going to do in the future as political opinions in Germany hardened into race hatreds.
Nor did he much like what they, and their English friends, had just told him.
“If I had a mark,” he said, “for every young girl who came to Berlin and then disappeared, I would be a wealthy man.”
Martina translated for Druce’s benefit.
“But Anna came here specifically to see you,” she explained. “And she was abducted from the Boulogne Express.”
“You mean she left the Boulogne Express before it reached Berlin.”
“She was abducted, Herr Commissioner,” David said. “That train does not stop. An English citizen, Herr Commissioner. If the newspapers in England get hold of this story, they will make life very difficult for you.”
Schuler surveyed the young man and decided not to take offence. “Very well, Herr Cohn. Give me her full name and I will have some inquiries made. You say she was very good-looking? If she was abducted, with respect ladies, it was probably for sexual purposes.”
“We do not believe it was for sexual purposes,” David said. “At least not in the first instance. Her name is Anna Townsend.”
Schuler frowned.
“You have heard this name?” Martina asked.
“I have heard the name,” Schuler said carefully, “in connection with an officer in the British army.”
“Colonel Berkeley Townsend,” Martina said.
“That is correct.”
“Anna is his daughter.”
Schuler’s head jerked.
“You may not be aware of it,” Martina went on, “but there have been several attempts on Colonel Townsend’s life over the past year. The last attempt came very close to succeeding. These attempts were made by the Nazi Party.”
“You have proof of this?”
“Yes,” Martina said boldly. “Anna was coming to Berlin to place this proof before you. Obviously these people found out her intention, and determined to prevent her seeing you.”
Schuler stroked his chin. He had no doubt at all that next year’s elections were going to be conducted in an atmosphere of violence, with the Nazis to the fore. It would be quite a coup for the forces of law and order to embroil the party in a criminal case which, whatever the outcome, would carry a large whiff of scandal. But if the plan misfired . . . He was well aware that a number of his officers, including some in senior positions, were sympathetic to the Nazi cause. Were he to move against the party and his case prove to be inadequate, there might well be a call for his removal from office on the grounds of prejudice.
“You have no proof that Fräulein Townsend was kidnapped by the Nazis,” he pointed out.
“We were hoping that you might cooperate,” David said.
“How? Do you suppose I have the resources to deal with wild and unsubstantiated accusations against people of standing? Proof, Herr Cohn, if you could obtain proof . . .”
“What sort of proof?”
“Well, if you could find out where she is being held . . . If she is being held anywhere, of course.”
“It could be anywhere in Germany,” Martina protested.
“I do not think so,” Schuler said. “You say a man called Himmler is behind this? Himmler has recently left Berlin for Munich. However, he has never, until now, been a man of any importance in the party, certainly not to the extent of being able to order international assassinations. I would say he has been carrying out the orders of his immediate superior, Dr Goebbels, who is the party boss in Berlin. If I am right, the young lady will be here in Berlin. Dr Goebbels is well known for his interest in the female sex.”
“And you know where we can find this Dr Goebbels?”
“Certainly. But he is not likely to be holding the girl at his home. The party owns certain houses in the city, which it rents out to its people. I happen to know that Dr Goebbels maintains a pied-à-terre in Three Amhasser . . .”
“Well, then,” Martina said, “can you not raid this place?”
“Me? My dear Frau . . .” he glanced at the pad on which he had noted their names, “Savos, I have no reason for doing so, no reason for asking for a warrant. I have no proof that any crime has been committed. Now, if you were able to provide me with such proof . . .” He looked from face to face.
“Three Amhasser,” David said.
“That is where Dr Goebbels has an apartment, yes,” Schuler said.
“And have you any objection if we pay this flat a visit?”
“My dear Herr Cohn, Germany is a free country. You may do whatever you wish. However, I should warn you that should you break any laws, I will have to arrest you.”
“But equally,” Martina said, “if we bring you proof that Fräulein Townsend is being held there, you will act.”
“Depending on the nature of the proof, I shall reconsider the situation,” Schuler said.
He watched them file from the office, then pressed the buzzer on his intercom.
“Will you come in here, please, Studt.”
His assistant appeared a moment later.
“I wish you to stake out Three Amhasser,” Schuler said.
“Is that not the address where—”
“Yes,” Schuler said. “I wish this to be done with the utmost discretion, Studt.”
“And the instructions to be given to my men?”
“They are to observe the apartment building for the next twenty-four hours. They are only to interfere if any law is broken. And Studt, this does not include suspicious loitering. There has to be a definite breach of the peace before our people become involved. Understood?”
“Understood,” Studt said.
“Then put out your men. Now.”
*
“Three Amhasser,” David Cohn mused over another cup of coffee. “That is not a very good neighbourhood. What do you plan to do?”
Martina had explained the conversation with Commissioner Schuler to Druce.
“We intend to visit this flat,” she said, “and bring Anna out.”
“And if she is not there?”
“We shall find out where she is.”
“You understand that these people, these Nazis, are highly dangerous.”
“So am I,” Martina said
David clearly found this hard to believe.
“However,” Martina said, “I know that Berkeley would not wish you and Judith to be involved. The only help we would ask is if you could get us out of Berlin afterwards.”
“Of course,” David said. “You intend to go there alone?”
“I shall be with her,” Druce said.
David looked more doubtful yet. But he said, “We will get you out of Germany afterwards.”
*
“That was a complete waste of time,” Josef Goebbels remarked as he and Himmler stepped down from the Munich train. “Talk, talk, talk. I had supposed we were a dynamic party, one that made things happen rather than waited on events.”
“At least the Führer has put you in charge of organising our strategy for the election,” Himmler said placatingly.
“Yes,” Goebbels said. “That is satisfactory. Ah, Bruckner.”
Bruckner stood to attention.
“We will go directly to Amhasser,” Goebbels said.
“Yes, Herr Doctor.” Bruckner escorted them from the station to the waiting car. “I have heard nothing from Gerber.”
Goebbels nodded. “That is correct. I told him to spend the night at the flat, just to make sure nothing goes wrong with our arrangements.”
“I have, however, been able to ascertain from one of our people at Police headquarters, that this young woman had an appointment with Commissioner Schuler for yesterday morning,” Bruckner said.
“Oh, my God!” Himmler said, getting into t
he back of the car.
“There is no need to be concerned,” Goebbels said, sitting beside him. “She cannot have told him anything for the simple reason that she did not keep the appointment. Does your informant know if Commissioner Schuler was concerned at her non-appearance?”
“I do not believe he was, Herr Doctor. The commissioner is a busy man.”
“Quite,” Goebbels agreed.
The car turned down several side streets.
“Do you know,” Goebbels said, “I am quite excited. More excited than I have been for a very long time, at least about a woman.”
“She is still just a woman,” Himmler remarked.
“You have never seen her, have you?”
“No.”
“Well, let me tell you, she is exceptional. Before I have sex with her, before we interrogate her, I am going to photograph her and have the print blown up, to remind me of what she was, what I possessed.”
“But you still mean to execute her?”
“I don’t see that there is any alternative. Do not worry. I will let you have her also, before we deal with her.”
Himmler shuddered.
“How do we get in?” Himmler asked, as they stepped down from the car. “Do you have a key?”
“I gave mine to Gerber,” Goebbels said. “We will simply ring the bell and let him admit us.”
He did so, and waited.
“Yes?”
Goebbels frowned. “Anna? Is that you, Anna?”
“Why, Dr Goebbels,” Anna said, “I thought you were never coming. I will open the door.”
The phone clicked off.
“Isn’t she a treasure?” Goebbels asked his companions. “So utterly innocent.”
“Can she really be of any value to us?” Himmler asked.
“She is of value to me,” Goebbels said.
The door clicked open and they climbed the stairs. The apartment door was closed, but responded to Goebbels’ push. It swung in, and he stepped through, nostrils dilating.
“What is that smell?”
“I am afraid it is your housekeeper,” Anna said. “Very unpleasant, isn’t it? But I had expected you long before now.”
He turned to look at her, standing naked in the bedroom doorway, her hands behind her back.
“My God,” he said. “Where is Gerber?”
“Come in,” she said. “Close the door, and I will show you.”
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