Traitors' Gate

by Dennis Wheatley

  Sabine took the cue, smiled at him and said, ‘How clever of you, Joachim. Of course I knew; but I kept his secret with the idea of finding out what he was up to here. If these fools had not butted in, I was hoping that he might return here, and that before you left tomorrow I would be able to report to you a really valuable piece of counter-espionage.’

  Gregory heaved an inaudible sigh of relief, and the Minister, having his hopes that his mistress would be able to exonerate herself so swiftly confirmed, exclaimed to Grauber with a laugh, ‘There you are, Herr Gruppenfährer! And that, I think, puts an end to this annoying affair.’

  But Grauber was not the man to be sent about his business so peremptorily. With no trace of sarcasm, but what sounded like genuine humility, he piped, ‘I am abashed that I should have forced this disclosure from the Gnädige Frau Baronin. My zeal for the Führer’s service must be my excuse; and on that account I feel confident that she will not deny us the results of her endeavours?’

  ‘On the contrary, you are welcome to them,’ Sabine replied graciously. ‘He came here to investigate the possibility of Hungary’s being induced to make a separate peace with the Allies.’

  ‘There!’ Ribbentrop exclaimed again. ‘That ties up with what you told me of your own mission.’

  ‘Correct, Herr Riechsaussenminister! Grauber gave a jerky little bow; then turned back to Sabine with a look of deferential interrogation.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I have little to add. He had been here a fortnight and was convinced that he was wasting his time.’

  ‘Did he make no mention at all of his contacts?’

  ‘He said that he had talked with one or two Jews, and a number of people of some standing with whom he had scraped acquaintance; but he did not disclose the names of any of them to me.’

  ‘Then he was holding out on you, Gnädige Frau Baronin. We have very good reason to believe that a group of magnates is conspiring against the regime. It would be too much of a coincidence if he were not in touch with them.’

  ‘I may yet find out more if he does come back.’ She glanced at Ribbentrop. ‘It was with that object I invited him to stay here for a few nights.’

  Gregory was feeling much easier now. It really looked as if Sabine’s confidence in her ability to hold the fort whatever happened was about to be justified, and that Grauber must now retire with his tail between his legs. But almost casually he said:

  ‘As the Gnädige Frau Baronin has tacitly admitted that her story of staying with this man’s aunt in Paris was no more than a temporary cover device, perhaps she would be graciously pleased to tell us where she did first meet him?’

  Sabine lit a cigarette, and replied truthfully. ‘It was in the summer of 1936 at Deauville. I was at that time in the employ of an international financier named Lord Gavin Fortescue. I did not realise it until later, but Lord Gavin was engaged in criminal activities. He had built up a formidable organisation for smuggling not only great quantities of dutiable goods, but also agitators, into England. Mr. Sallust had been given the task of investigating these secret landings by a Sir Pellinore Gwaine-Cust, and …’

  ‘What!’ Ribbentrop broke in. ‘But he lived only a few doors from our Embassy in Carlton House Terrace. When I was Ambassador in London I knew him well by sight, and on several occasions I ran into him at official receptions. His was an unforgettable personality, and the stories about him were legion. He poses as a sort of damn-fool retired Guards Officer, but he has made an immense fortune for himself in the City. His influence is enormous and it is even said that more than once his hand has been behind changes in the Cabinet.’

  Grauber gave a quick nod. ‘Correct, Herr Reichsaussen-minister. According to our records this old Sir Cust has a finger in every pie, and is privy to every secret. It should be added that after Churchill he is Germany’s most inveterate enemy. In the past quarter of a century he has a score of times thwarted endeavours to increase the power of the Fatherland.’

  Raising her eyebrows, Sabine remarked, ‘You both surprise me. He seemed to me an unusually straightforward and very charming old gentleman.’

  ‘You know him, then?’ Grauber asked with quick interest.

  ‘Yes; I met him through Mr. Sallust, and he could not have been kinder to me.’

  ‘In what way?’ enquired Ribbentrop.

  ‘Well, through going to England and carrying out Lord Gavin’s instructions I had made myself liable to arrest by the British Police. Sir Pellinore knew that, although he did not say so at the time. But he told me that if I got into difficulties with the authorities about anything I was not to hesitate to let him know. He also said that whenever I wished to stay in London his house and servants would always be at my disposal.’

  ‘Why should he have taken such a special interest in you?’

  ‘Because he was an old friend of my father’s. Both of them were fine horsemen and they used to jump against one another at the Olympia Horse Shows in King Edward VII’s time. Sir Pellinore had also stayed with my parents at our castle for the partridge shooting; but, of course, that was before I was born.’

  ‘And did you escape arrest, or did Sir Pellinore use his lawyers to get you off on some technicality?’

  ‘I escaped arrest, but that I owed to Mr. Sallust. At considerable risk to himself he got me out of the country, and probably saved me from a very unpleasant prison sentence.’

  ‘So!’ Grauber exclaimed. ‘Then gratitude is the explanation for the Gnädige Frau Baronin’s concealing Sallust in her house.’

  Gregory caught his breath. For the past few minutes he had been lulled into a false belief that the worst was over. He saw Sabine stiffen, and she asked sharply:

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Grauber gestured towards the drink trolley. ‘That you brought him back with you and have concealed him somewhere. Otherwise why should there be two dirty glasses on that tray?’

  ‘Really, Herr Gruppenführer!’ she gave an impatient shrug. ‘You may be a very clever policeman, but this time you are on a false scent. There are two dirty glasses because I had one drink before I went up to bed and another when I came down again.’

  Ribbentrop was now looking extremely worried and Gregory wondered if it was because he realised that Sabine was lying. He should have if he cast his mind back over the past twenty minutes, for Sabine had not joined him in a drink when they had come in together. But he made no comment.

  Grauber only smiled and walked across to the far side of the staircase where for a few seconds he was hidden from Gregory’s view. When he came into it again his back was turned and he was carrying something in front of him. Holding it out to Sabine, he said:

  ‘And this, Gnädige Frau Baronin. How do you account for this?’

  Having put the question he moved his arm sideways, so that Ribbentrop could get a better view of the thing he held. Gregory could now also see it. To his horror it was the small basin half-full of pinkish water, and with the bloodstained piece of lint in it, that Sabine had used to bathe the cut on his head.

  Still undefeated, Sabine stalled again with a half-admission. ‘I take back what I said just now, Herr Gruppenführer, about your being a poor detective. Mr. Sallust did not run away from me as I told you. He wanted to but I wouldn’t let him. I still hoped to get more out of him if I could keep him with me. When we got in I did give him a drink, and I bathed his head. But I couldn’t induce him to stay here. He was convinced that, when you learned that it was I who got him out of the police station, you would come here and demand to search the house. As soon as he had finished his drink he told me to give you his compliments and say that he would yet live to see you dangling from a hangman’s rope. Then he didn’t even stop to collect his things, but asked me to keep them for him till he came back after the war.’

  It was so exactly what Gregory might have done that it sounded extremely plausible. But Grauber still had an ace up his sleeve. Shaking his bristly head, he said:

  ‘Gnädi
ge Frau Baronin, that will not do. We know that he is still here.’ Then beckoning Puttony forward he said to him, ‘Lieutenant, report the help you have given us to the Herr Reichsaussenminister.’

  The stocky young Hungarian advanced a few quick paces, came stiffly to attention, then rattled off as though he were giving evidence before a magistrate, ‘On completion of my tour of duty I returned to the Station. As I was about to go in I met the Gnädige Frau Baronin and the man who has been passing as Tavenier coming out. He was dishevelled and his clothes were torn. The Station Captain had seen them to the door. I asked him what had been going on. He told me that the man had had a fight in the Arizona with Captain Cochefert and a Gruppenführer of the Gestapo. I had been present when the man had admitted to a Captain Cochefert that he was not Tavenier. He had then produced a Gestapo pass in the name of Obersturmbannführer Einholtz and said that he assumed the name of Tavenier only because he was in Budapest on an undercover mission. For him to have fought with a Gestapo Chief and Captain Cochefert made it clear to me that he could not after all be a Gestapo Colonel, and was probably an enemy agent. Without enquiring further I ran from the Station and jumped on my motor-cycle. I was in time to catch up the Gnädige Frau Baronin’s car as it was about to cross the Swing Bridge. She did not cross it but turned off down the Corso and there pulled up. For some time the car remained stationary. While I was keeping it under observation a motor-cyclist patrol passed and I called him to my assistance. When the car restarted we followed it here. I sent the patrol round to the lower road with orders to tail the man if he left by that side of the house. Not far from the courtyard entrance there is a telephone kiosk. While using it I was able to continue my watch on the archway. If I had waited to ask the Station Captain why he had just released a man who had attacked a Gruppenführer I should have lost the car; but the more I thought about his having done so the more it puzzled me. In the circumstances I decided not to ask help from him. Instead I telephoned Arrow-Cross Headquarters. Fortunately Major Szalasi was there. He volunteered to come himself and arrived a few minutes later with a truck-load of his young men. We posted them on both sides of the house and round the whole block. I then telephoned the Station and learned that Captain Cochefert had been taken to hospital. In order to find out exactly what had occurred I went there. With him I found Herr Gruppenführer Grauber, to whom he presented me. I returned here with them.’

  With grim attention Gregory had followed each incisive sentence. He knew now why the outline of the officer they had almost run into on leaving the police station had seemed vaguely familiar, and that Puttony was far from being such a fool as he looked. But for his eagerness to ensure against his superior’s having made a blunder, Sabine might have got away with it; but now it seemed that her last line of defence was breached. She had put up a splendid show, but the combination of Grauber, Cochefert and Puttony had been too much for her, and there was no way in which Gregory could give her aid. With a sinking heart he watched the pack close in.

  ‘Gut, sehr gut, Herr Leutnant,’ Grauber nodded to Puttony. ‘And now, Herr Major,’ he turned with a gesture of invitation to Szalasi.

  The Arrow-Cross leader had not so far uttered a word. Now he looked a little uneasily at Ribbentrop, then said half-apologetically, ‘As far as I am concerned the Lieutenant’s report is accurate. He asked me urgently for help to catch a spy. I collected my Headquarters’ Staff and rushed them here in a wagon. We surrounded the block and I can vouch for it that nobody answering the wanted man’s description has left it since our arrival.’

  With a smirk of triumph Grauber turned back to Sabine. ‘You see, Gnädige Frau Baronin. There is no room for doubt. Sallust is somewhere here in your palace; and I mean to have him. Be good enough to spare us any unpleasantness by giving him up.’

  Stubbornly she shook her head. ‘You are wrong, Herr Gruppenführer. He left, just as I told you, after I had bathed his head. That would have been about the time that your friend the Lieutenant was telephoning from the kiosk. By remaining in the shadow thrown by the houses on this side of the street it would not have been difficult to slip away unobserved.’

  ‘Nein!’ Grauber’s shrill negative cut the tense atmosphere like a knife. ‘I have been patient. You abuse your privileged position too far. I will be trifled with no longer. We have plenty of men outside. Give up this man, or I will order the house to be searched.’

  Gregory took the little automatic from his pocket, so that there should be no delay in clicking a bullet up into its chamber. He knew that once a search started he could give up all hope of escape. But he did not mean to be caught alive. And he meant to take Grauber with him. This was not the first time that he had had the chance to kill him out of hand; but on those previous occasions, although he had known them to be absurd, scruples had restrained him from shooting down his enemy unawares. Now, he had no such feeling. The circumstances were different, and this was the last throw. If he had to die he could at least rid the world of a monster before he choked out his last breath. With not a ripple of doubt ruffling his conscience about the rightness of the act, he decided that when the moment came he would put no less and no more than three bullets through Grauber’s stomach.

  He wondered then if he ought to shoot Ribbentrop as well. After all, Ribbentrop was Nazi No. 4 and, even if indirectly, had been responsible for an incalculable number of deaths and tidal waves of misery. Yet, unlike Grauber, there was nothing positively evil about him. He was rather a pleasant person; an exceptionally gifted play-boy whom a strange fate had given the opportunity of jumping on to the biggest of all band-wagons. There was another thing. While he remained alive there was a chance that he might protect Sabine. As Gregory was himself impotent to do so, he decided that, after the gallant fight she had put up on his behalf, the least he could do was to leave her the one man who was powerful enough, and might have the inclination, to save her from the Gestapo.

  While these thoughts had been rushing through Gregory’s head, Ribbentrop had come to a decision. Turning on Grauber he said sharply, ‘Herr Gruppenführer, you forget yourself! The initiation of any action to be taken here rests with me.’

  ‘Herr Reichsaussenminister,’ Grauber piped aggressively, with due respect I cannot agree. Foreign affairs are your province and Security mine. This is a security matter.’

  ‘More hangs on it than this man’s immediate arrest.’

  ‘Much more!’ The sneer in Grauber’s voice said as plainly as though he had spoken the words. ‘The proof that this pretty mistress of yours has been harbouring a British spy.’ Swinging round he cried to Szalasi:

  ‘Herr Major, please bring in your men. We will search this palace from attic to cellar; and if we fail to get our man I’ll drink the swine’s blood out of that basin before you all.’

  ‘Herr Major!’ Ribbentrop’s voice held cold fury, but there was just a quaver of panic underlying it. ‘We are grateful for the help you have rendered. But this is now a matter between the Herr Gruppenführer and myself. Be pleased to withdraw your men, and take the French Captain and the Lieutenant of Police with you. I need hardly add that, if you wish to retain my goodwill, you will regard this affair as of the highest secrecy.’

  Fascinated, Gregory peered down at the two angry men who had squared up to one another in the hall below him—the German Foreign Minister, well-built, good-looking, suave, authoritative; the Gestapo chief, physically gorilla-like, his face a mask of malice, cunning and habitual cruelty, incredibly forceful in his determination not to be baulked of his prey. Upon the outcome of this battle of wills Gregory knew that his life, and probably Sabine’s as well, now depended. But, temporarily at least, both of them had put the onus of decision on Szalasi.

  The bulky Arrow-Cross leader looked desperately uncomfortable. Gregory had no doubt at all that his sympathies were with Grauber, who was obviously carrying out his duty; but Ribbentrop’s prestige outweighed that of any Nazi other than Hitler, Goering and Himmler. After a moment’s hesitation the
Major said:

  ‘Herr Reichsaussenminister. No one can dispute your ability to judge what is right in such a matter. You may rely on my discretion.’

  With a quick bow, and another to Sabine, he made a sign to Puttony, who gave a hand to the almost comatose Cochefert, and the three of them left the room.

  Gregory was suddenly conscious that his forehead was damp with perspiration. Stuffing the automatic back into his pocket, he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his face. As he raised his hand, his elbow brushed against the leather surcoat of the armoured figure immediately behind which he was standing. Unseen by him in the darkness, it gave off a small cloud of dust. A moment later he felt a slight tickling in his nostrils.

  Ignoring it, he continued to stare down into the hall, still anxious not to miss a single word, but fairly confident that Sabine had now spiked Grauber’s guns. She had proved right in her contention that Ribbentrop would not allow the house to be searched; but, at the same time, she had landed both him and herself in an appalling mess. There could be no laughing off the fact that she had aided and concealed, and was presumably still concealing, a British secret agent; and that Ribbentrop had deliberately used his authority to prevent that agent’s arrest. He might be able to stop Szalasi’s mouth, but he could not stop Grauber’s. What a story it would make; and, perhaps, what a nail in his coffin if, next time he had done something to annoy Hitler, Himmler produced it with juicy trimmings as proof that the Foreign Minister was so under the thumb of his Hungarian mistress that he could no longer be trusted to act in the best interests of Germany and the Parti.

  No sooner had the door of the vestibule closed upon Puttony than Grauber, made bold by the knowledge of the whip hand he held, put Gregory’s thoughts into words. He no longer bothered even to refer to Sabine by her title. His chin thrust forward aggressively, he sneered: