Angel of Darkness

by Christopher Nicole

  As the question of adultery had arisen because Anna had been found in bed with her MI6 minder, and Bordman would undoubtedly remember Clive Bartley’s name, Baxter decided to avoid inducing an apoplectic fit in his office. ‘I don’t think that is relevant.’

  Bordman stared at him for several seconds. Then he got up, but remained standing before the desk, now pointing. ‘Look here, Baxter, I am well aware that at one time she did some work for you, and therefore you may have some misguided feelings of loyalty towards her, but I was assured that she had died in 1945. Now I find that she is not only alive but here in England, living the high life. I don’t know what private arrangement you had with her during the War, but she is still a wanted war criminal in this country. I want her arrested and brought to trial. If I do not hear from you that this has been done within forty-eight hours, I am going to take the matter to the Home Secretary. Good day to you.’

  He stamped out of the office, and a moment later Amy came in. ‘Wow!’ The door had been open throughout the meeting. ‘Can it possibly be true?’

  ‘The trouble with Anna,’ Baxter said reminiscently, ‘is that once seen she is not easy to forget. And if Bordman’s friends also saw her and confirm his description . . .’

  ‘But,’ Amy said, ‘she’s not supposed to be here, is she?’

  ‘No, she is not.’

  ‘Then . . .?’

  ‘If she is here, you can bet your last penny that she is working for the CIA. In which case, a very large scandal is liable to burst at any moment.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘She is Bartley’s baby. He is supposed to be keeping her out of circulation in the Bahamas.’

  ‘But he’s been in Africa for the past month.’

  ‘That is exactly it. She must have got restless. When is he due back?’

  ‘Actually, this afternoon.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’ He pointed. ‘The moment he walks through your door, Amy, I want him in here.’

  *

  ‘Comrades!’ Siemann surveyed the six men standing before his desk. They included Hamilton. ‘We have now had the Countess von Widerstand under surveillance for ten days, and have established a pattern of behaviour. Hamilton was of the opinion that she is here to carry out some task for the Americans, but that appears to be incorrect. As I said, she has been here for ten days, and appears to be in London entirely for pleasure. She spends all morning in the shops, all afternoon in her hotel room, presumably resting, and every evening she goes to a nightclub. As she has booked her room for a fortnight and has been here for ten days, it is necessary for us to move now, as time is running out before she disappears back to the Bahamas.

  ‘Now, she is escorted by an American man, which makes sense in view of her American connection, but they do not appear to be very close. Although she spends her evenings in his company, he has only once, last night in fact, accompanied her to her hotel room on their return; they usually say goodnight in the lobby. She does not appear to have any other friends, or even acquaintances, in England, and does not receive or make any phone calls. This is, of course, good for us. She will simply disappear from her hotel room, and it will be a nine days’ wonder.

  ‘Now, the hotel is the Royal George. It is a very expensive place, frequented by visiting millionaires. We have been able to place an agent in there, and he has established that, despite the high level of the clientele, there is not a lot of security. There are three house detectives, who share their duties. Twelve hours on, twenty-four hours off, which enables them to vary their time off. However, again owing I suppose to the quality of the clientele, they interfere as little as possible with the behaviour of the hotel guests. They do not patrol the corridors, or anything like that. And as far as we have been able to ascertain, they are not armed. There are also three doormen, who again alternate their duties, but these are elderly men who do nothing more than summon taxis and open car doors. None of these should present a problem; nor, if everyone does his duty, should any risk of a problem arise.

  ‘The countess is occupying Room 416, which is of course on the fourth floor. I have been unable to secure a room exactly next door, but I have been able to obtain Room 410, which is three down on the same side of the corridor. I have also secured Room 433, which is considerably further down the corridor and on the opposite side. It is, in fact, virtually opposite the elevators. These rooms are both available from today. You, Fleurmann, will occupy 410 this morning, and keep a low profile. Tonight, you will entertain two friends for dinner. These will be you, Pascall, and you, Hamilton. Now, comrades, Hamilton is key to this operation. He not only has an acquaintance with the countess, but has personal experience of her skills and knows what she is capable of. So you will take his advice in all things.’

  ‘Is she that dangerous?’ Pascall asked.

  ‘She is that dangerous. I have been told by Commissar Beria that she, personally, has been responsible for the deaths of more than fifty of our comrades.’ He smiled at them as he listened to the sudden intakes of breaths. ‘And Hamilton has seen her kill a man with her bare hands. So if you make a mistake, you are unlikely ever to see Russia again.’

  ‘Isn’t there a chance that I may encounter the countess in the hotel?’ Hamilton asked. ‘As you said, she knows me.’

  ‘There should be no risk,’ Siemann assured him. ‘Until we are ready for her to do so. You, Grattan, will be on watch outside the hotel. Every night she has gone out, the countess has always left the hotel, with her escort, at eight o’clock. There is no reason for her to vary that pattern. Hamilton and Pascall will arrive at eight-thirty. If, however, she has not left by eight-fifteen, you will telephone and the attempt will be postponed for the following night.

  ‘Hamilton, you understand that it is necessary for you to reveal yourself when she returns from her evening out. This will be the most dangerous part of the operation. But you tell me that she knows nothing of you other than that you are a tourist who she encountered in Nassau and who revealed an interest in her. Am I correct?’

  ‘Ye-es,’, said Hamilton a trifle doubtfully.

  ‘Therefore she will be unlikely to destroy you on sight. Even the Countess von Widerstand has only ever killed either after careful planning or when she feels herself to be endangered. There is no reason for her to feel in danger from another chance meeting with you, especially as you tell me you have established yourself as a timid man who abhors violence. Correct?’

  This time Hamilton nodded with more confidence.

  ‘Very good. We may therefore rely on the fact that she will at least engage you in conversation for a few minutes, which is all we need. The position will be improved because this will be the small hours of the morning and she will be returning from a night of dancing; she will have had a lot to drink, and will be thinking only of her bed.

  ‘Now you, Fleurmann, will enjoy a leisurely dinner with Pascall and Hamilton, stretching it until midnight. Then the three of you will retire to Room 410 for a brandy. This is not an uncommon occurrence in these hotels, and no questions will be asked. Grattan will remain on watch outside the hotel, and the moment the countess’s car arrives he will telephone your room . . .’

  ‘How will I be able to do this?’ Grattan asked.

  ‘There are four call-boxes in the hotel lobby. At two o’clock in the morning they are not likely to be occupied, at least not all of them. As soon as you receive Grattan’s call, Fleurmann, you will open your bedroom door just a crack. The countess always spends a few minutes saying goodbye to her friend in the lobby, so you will have time to get ready.’

  ‘You said that last night her escort accompanied her to her room,’ Pascall interjected. ‘What if he does so tonight?’

  ‘That is a remote possibility in view of the previous pattern. But in a moment I will outline the procedure to be followed if that should occur. Pascall, you are in charge of the serum. Drimer, Grattan will telephone you too. You are a visiting doctor, and you will also take up r
esidence this morning. The room you have booked is, as I have said, 433. As soon as you receive Grattan’s call, you will stand by but remain in your room, again with the door slightly ajar.

  ‘Now, the moment the elevator comes to a stop, you, Hamilton, will leave 410 and walk casually towards it, as if intending to go down to the lobby. You will obviously pass the countess in the corridor. You will stop, and greet her in amazement. Make sure you have her turn back to face the elevator. Now will be the most dangerous moment. As soon as the countess is engaged in conversation, Pascall and Fleurmann will leave 410 and approach her from behind. You will be wearing crêpe-soled shoes, and in any event the corridors are carpeted – but you must remember that if she hears you coming and turns before you get to her, all your lives will be in danger. In addition to her unarmed skills, she is invariably armed.’

  ‘She was not armed that night in Nassau,’ Hamilton said.

  ‘So you said. However, we cannot count on such continuing good fortune. Now, having reached her, Pascall will thrust the needle into her left shoulder. Remember, it must be inserted six inches below her shoulder blade. You will still be in danger; but introduced at that point, the serum will work in five seconds. Should she turn before being injected, Hamilton will have to throw both arms round her body until the serum can be injected and take effect.’

  Hamilton gulped, but nodded.

  ‘Now,’ Siemann continued. ‘The serum induces the same external symptoms as a heart attack, and the countess will be unconscious for several hours. When she wakes up she will feel nothing more than a slight fuzziness, and of course a pain in her shoulder, but by the time she wakes we will have completed the operation. The three of you will panic when the countess suddenly collapses while engaging you in conversation. You will shout for help. One of you will return to the room to telephone the desk. But before any other help can arrive, you will be attended by Dr Drimer, who fortuitously not only happens to be occupying a room on the same floor but also happens to still be awake. You, Drimer, will examine the countess, and announce that it is a heart attack and she must immediately be removed to hospital. By this time hotel staff will have arrived, and you will direct them to call an ambulance. Meanwhile, you will have the countess taken downstairs to the lobby, as there is not a moment to be lost. As she gets there, an ambulance that, again fortuitously, happens to be passing is hailed by Grattan, who has been using a phone in the lobby to telephone his wife. He hears the commotion and the staff telephoning for an ambulance, realizes there is an emergency, sees an ambulance driving by and, as any public-spirited citizen would do, flags it down. Once the countess is in the ambulance, the business is completed. Within an hour she will be on the boat.’ He looked at their faces, triumphantly. ‘Are there any questions?’

  ‘A hotel like the Royal George will have its own in-house doctor,’ Hamilton commented.

  ‘That is not important. Dr Drimer will be first on the scene, and will take charge.’

  ‘The hotel doctor may well wish to accompany the countess to the hospital, to make sure all is well.’

  ‘If he does that, he will not be seen again. The same applies to the escort if he is with her. He will be as shocked as everyone when it happens. If he seeks to take control of the situation, Drimer will see him off as well. If he wishes to accompany her to the hospital, he is of course welcome to do so. In which case, he too will not be heard of again.’ Another look at their faces, then he nodded. ‘Very good, gentlemen. Make your preparations.’

  THE ROAD TO HELL

  Anna had her breakfast and bath, and got dressed, then had to decide what to do with her morning; she did not wish to go out until she had heard from Khouri.

  Hanging about meant thinking about Bally. For all her confident dismissal of any possible problem to Jerry, she had been considerably upset at seeing him again; she had not laid eyes on him since April 1940, and it was now well into February 1953. If she really was going to complete the job today, and be out of the country tomorrow, she would certainly be away before he could sufficiently activate the police. Bally would probably be able to supply an out-of-date photograph of her – but, while she had the highest possible regard for Scotland Yard and Special Branch, she remained confident that even they could not possibly find her in forty-eight hours.

  But the man himself! He was the very last person she would have thought it possible for her to encounter on an assignment like this. Of course people did change, over thirteen years, but Ballantine in a nightclub? And a sleazy nightclub, too?

  She knew that, looked at objectively, she had treated him very badly. She had always salved her conscience by reflecting that he had enthusiastically dug his own grave, by going overboard for a teenage girl – as she had been when they first met – while he was engaged on a serious diplomatic mission for his country. But the fact remained that she had been placed there specifically to make him fall for her, and then seduce him. Having taken the initial step, he had been lost: she could reflect, this time without hubris, that when Anna Fehrbach, even at eighteen and on her first major assignment, set her sights on a man he was done for.

  Of course, not even Himmler had expected Bordman to marry her; she remembered how the Reichsfuehrer had been unable to believe his, and the Party’s, good fortune. And she had been a good wife. She had appeared everywhere on his arm, and shared his bed – and his often peculiar tastes – with enthusiasm, though she had not had to manage his household, as that had been the province of his butler. It was those very aspects of her revealed personality, she supposed, that had made the truth the harder to bear, the realization that every movement, every kiss, every murmured endearment, and above all every moan of ecstasy, had been faked.

  She could not blame him for attempting to assault her in his frustrated rage. But she also could not blame herself for defending herself so vigorously as to hurt him, further increasing his sense of outraged manhood . . . even if he had been unaware that she could easily have killed him had she wished. And he had been engaged in great international matters, with a glittering career in front of him, which had all been ended by his wife’s treason, as it had been supposed.

  But to see him a prematurely aged wreck of a man, seeking some sort of pleasure at the lowest possible level . . .

  The telephone rang, breaking into her reverie and causing her to jump. She picked it up. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Miss Kelly?’

  ‘This is she.’ Her heartbeat quickened as she recognized the voice.

  ‘This is Alois Khouri.’

  ‘Well, hello,’ Anna said. ‘I thought you’d forgotten about me.’

  ‘Could any man, having once met you, ever forget you?’

  ‘You say the sweetest things.’

  ‘Last night, before your so sudden departure, you suggested that you might be interested in continuing the subject we were discussing.’

  ‘I must apologize for that. I was suddenly taken ill.’

  ‘I am glad of that. I mean not that you were taken ill, but that you were not a Cinderella, who has to be home by midnight or be turned into a pumpkin. And you are well again, now?’

  ‘I am very well now, thank you. It must have been something I ate or drank.’

  ‘Indeed. The drinks they serve in that club are extremely suspect. Not that I ever indulge, myself. So . . .?’

  ‘Yes, I would very much like to continue our discussion.’

  ‘Excellent. Mr Fahri was fascinated by what I had to tell him about you, and he would like you to have dinner with him tonight.’

  ‘That sounds very nice. Where are we to meet?’

  ‘Oh, I shall pick you up.’

  ‘To go where?’

  ‘To his house. It is a short distance outside London.’

  ‘Well,’ Anna said, allowing a note of doubt to enter her voice.

  ‘Mr Fahri is, I’m afraid, housebound. His health, you understand.’

  ‘Oh! How sad.’

  ‘Shall we say seven thirty this evening?’r />
  ‘That sounds ideal. Seven thirty.’

  She hung up, and waited for her heartbeat to quieten. She was there! Well, just about. She called the number Jerry had given her; she knew that he was waiting in to hear from her. ‘Hi! It’s on.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Just like that. Seems his nibs is panting. Join me here for lunch. We have a lot to get right. But first thing, when you come bring a large empty suitcase. It must be empty, but you must carry it as if it was full. Got that?’

  ‘Ye-es.’

  ‘Right. I’ll expect you at twelve.’

  *

  She ordered a room-service lunch so they would not be interrupted. ‘What have you got?’ she asked, as they consumed lobster bisque and a glass of champagne.

  He had placed the suitcase on the rack. Now from his pocket he took her airline ticket. ‘Heathrow–Oakes Field. Flight time eleven, check-in ten.’

  ‘Good boy. Keep it, and give it to me tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Give me an outline of future events.’

  ‘I’m being picked up at seven thirty by that slimy toad Khouri. He’s taking me to Fahri’s house for dinner. From then on, I play it by ear. Joe told me the house is about an hour’s drive from central London. So we should get there by eight thirty. I imagine I’ll be offered a drink before dinner, which should be about nine. I can’t make a move until I’ve checked the internal security arrangements and the layout of the house and grounds, and been escorted to bed by Fahri. But the job should be done by eleven.’

  ‘I wish I could reconcile myself to this – I mean your being taken to bed by Fahri.’

  ‘Oh, come now, Jerry. I’ve been in this business for fifteen years. It’s a hell of a long time since I was a blushing bride.’ Not that I ever was that, she reflected, as she got up and removed their soup plates to the heated trolley, then served their steak and salad, and poured the Chateau Batailley.

  ‘And you’re even domesticated.’