They Used Dark Forces

by Dennis Wheatley

  She was a short plump girl with dark hair, a fresh complexion and quick, boot-button eyes. Bobbing to him, she smiled and gave him the traditional greeting, ‘Küss die Hand, mein Herr’, then set the tray down on the bed.

  To establish good relations he talked to her for some minutes about the old days in Budapest, and the unutterable evil that Hitler had recently brought upon that lovely city. Then, having told him the Herr Graf had left and the gnädige Frau Baronin would like to see him when he had had his bath, she bustled away.

  Greatly refreshed by his long sleep Gregory tucked into the big plate of ham and eggs, ate two fresh peaches and lapped up the coffee, which he guessed must have come via the Black Market from Turkey. By nine o’clock he was having a most welcome bath and soon after, clad in Ribbentrop’s dressing gown, he went in to Sabine.

  She was sitting up in bed. He thought that she looked absolutely adorable and for a moment cursed himself as a fool for the puritanical scruples that had denied him the delight of getting in beside her and smothering her flower-like face with kisses. With an effort he got a hold on himself, kissed her good morning and perched himself on the side of her big bed.

  Smiling, she returned his kiss then sighed and said, ‘Oh God, how I hate this war. Just to think what a bomb has done to you and robbed us of. And the even worse things that have happened to such thousands of other people. May that filthy little Austrian that brought it on us rot in hell for all eternity.’

  ‘You seem to have changed your views quite a lot since last we met,’ Gregory grinned. ‘Two summers ago when we talked of these things in Budapest you were a hundred per cent pro-Nazi.’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But look what the Communists did to Hungary after the First World War. Those gutter-bred swine robbed families like mine of everything we had, and did their utmost to degrade everyone to their own filthy level. You British, with your stupid, pale-pink Liberalism, made no effort to stop them. Neither did the French. The only people who had the guts to stand up to them were the Italians and the Germans. Naturally, as German influence was so strong in Hungary I became a Nazi. What sensible person wouldn’t have? But I’m not a Nazi now. They’ve made themselves untouchables. Say that I’m a Fascist, if you like. But I’m not a Nazi.’

  Gregory nodded. ‘There’s a lot to be said for the Fascists. Old Mussolini did a great job in cleaning up Italy. If only he’d stayed neutral he’d be on the top of the world today and Italy positively bulging with money made out of both sides during the war. That he got folie de grandeur and thought that with Hitler’s help he could become a modern Roman Emperor, ruling the whole Mediterranean, was one of the greatest tragedies of our time. Little Franco, too, has done a great job of work in Spain. What is more he has had the sense to keep his country out of the war, so given it a real chance to recover. Why people should cavil at him for having put the Moscow-inspired agitators and saboteurs behind bars I could never see. If he’d run his country on the lines the idiot British and French intellectuals and those crazy Americans would have liked to see, by this time Spain would have had a Communist Government. Quite a useful card for the war against Hitler. But what about afterwards, with Russian bombers based there only two hours’ flight from London and Paris? Some people simply can’t be dissuaded from trying to cut off their noses to spite their faces. But all this is beside the point. You say you’re no longer a Nazi; but you’re still working for them.’

  ‘Up to a point,’ she agreed thoughtfully. ‘I’d still turn in these dirty little Marxists who’d like to see Germany a Soviet Republic, whenever I could get the goods on them. But I’ve never yet given information about those of our own kind who would like to see Hitler as an ugly corpse.’

  ‘Are there many people who feel that way?’ he asked.

  ‘Quite a few. Of course millions of ordinary people must wish him dead simply because they believe it would bring about an end to the war. Although it’s amazing how many of them, and, I gather, particularly the troops at the front who don’t suffer from the bombing, still believe in him. They get nothing but Goebbels’ propaganda, and day after day he plugs away about the Secret Weapons that are yet going to get Germany out of her mess. You may not know it, but London has already been destroyed by the buzz-bombs, the invasion ports soon will be and the long-range rockets are going to send New York up in flames. Only the upper crust know that to be poppy-cock, and the middle classes doubt it but the great majority believe it to be gospel. That’s what keeps them going. That and fear of the Russians.’

  ‘What sort of people are the few you mentioned? I mean, those who would take a hand in putting an end to Hitler if they had the chance?’

  ‘They are a very mixed bag, most of whom wouldn’t see eye to eye in anything else at all. There is every sort of group ranging from Communists to the old aristocracy who’d like to see a Kaiser on the throne again; the old Trade Union laddies, Social Democrat ex-Deputies, priests of both the Roman Catholic and Lutheran faiths, high-up Civil Servants, ex-Diplomats, Generals of the Wehrmacht: the lot.’

  ‘Then since leaders in every sphere feel that way and are prepared to sink their differences to achieve this one end they must form a very powerful group of conspirators.’

  ‘They’re not. All the civilians showed their colours too clearly before the war. Hitler dismissed them from their posts ages ago, and although they’ve been left free they are constantly watched by the Gestapo. I’m speaking now of men like the Socialist leaders Julius Leber and Wilhelm Leuschner, Dr. Karl Goerdeler the ex-Mayor of Liepzig, the ex-Ambassadors Ulrich von Hassell and Count Werner von der Schulenburg, the former Prussian Finance Minister, Popitz, and the former President of the Reichsbank, Dr. Schacht. I’ve good reason to believe that a lot of them are in touch with one another; but if they do meet it is at night in cellars of bombed-out buildings. If one of them so much as raised a finger in any public act he and his whole family would find themselves in a torture chamber.’

  ‘Yes; I realise that there’s not much the civilians can do until they are given a lead, but that doesn’t apply to the Generals.’

  ‘You think that just because they command great bodies of men, but in reality they hold only the shadow of power. Hitler’s always known that the Generals were secretly against him. Although he could not do without them, soon after he came to power himself he set about putting shackles on them. The von Blomberg affair provided him with a lucky break for a first step towards that.’

  ‘You mean when the Field Marshal married his typist and she turned out to have been a prostitute?’

  ‘That’s right. Before that Hitler was only technically Supreme Chief of the Armed Forces, but when Himmler produced the photographs of Blomberg’s wife posing in the nude for dirty pictures, and he was sacked, Hitler took over his job as Minister for War and has kept it ever since. Keitel more or less took over Blomberg’s work, but he’s really only Hitler’s mouthpiece at the War Office, and a vain, weak toady at that. Then there was the scandalous affair of von Fritsch.’

  ‘He was kicked out for being a pansy, wasn’t he?’

  ‘No; it was because he opposed Hitler. The evidence Himmler produced about him was composed of lies from beginning to end. Although Hitler had it suppressed, it came out afterwards that the evidence concerned a man named Frish. At a Court of Honour even Goering stood up for von Fritsch, but he was sacked all the same. As Commander-in-Chief of the Wehrmacht, he was succeeded by von Brauchitsch. After the failure of the Russian offensive in 1941 he quarrelled violently with Hitler about how to retrieve the situation, so that winter he, also, was sacked. Then, instead of appointing another C.-in-C. to succeed him, Hitler took that job on himself as well. So from 1942 he has had the whole Wehrmacht in his pocket.’

  ‘But the Chief of Staff and the Army Group Commanders must still have enormous powers.’

  ‘They haven’t. General Beck was said to be the best of the German Generals in pre-war days; but he was violently opposed to Hitler’s plans for
making war, so he was pushed out in ’38. Hitler put Halder in his place, and he was pretty subservient. But even he couldn’t stick the mess Hitler’s orders were making of the Russian front so he resigned in the autumn of ’42. Jodl stepped into his shoes, but he’s only allowed to advise Hitler on planning and strategy. As for the Army Group Commanders, they last only as long as they carry out Hitler’s crazy orders. Von Rundstedt is a really great soldier. He commanded the breakthrough that put France out of the war, but in 1941 he refused to accept some insane plan of Hitler’s, so Hitler threw him out.’

  ‘He was recalled, though, and is C.-in-C. West at the moment.’

  ‘About that you are wrong. He was recalled as the only General thought capable of stemming the invasion. Hitler promised him a free hand, but interfered all the same. I gather that ten days ago there was a blood row. Anyhow, von Rundstedt is out again and has been replaced by von Kluge. Von Manstein is another of the big brains. He has twice refused to have his Army massacred by trying to carry out Corporal Hitler’s ideas and resigned, and twice has been recalled. It’s the same with all the rest of them. They don’t know from one day to the next how long they will be left in their commands, or what precautions Hitler has taken to suppress a Putsch with Himmler’s S.S. Divisions; and they are under strict orders not to communicate with one another. If only one of them had the guts to turn his Army round and march on Berlin I haven’t a doubt the others would join him and Hitler’s goose be cooked. But as none of them knows what’s going on except in his own H.Q., none of them dare take the risk.’

  ‘I suppose each one of them is waiting for a move by the next chap higher up.’

  ‘That’s it. They’ve been brought up that way from their cradles.’

  Suddenly Sabine threw the bedclothes back and, for a moment, lay fully revealed through her transparent nightie. Thrusting her bare legs out of bed, she said, ‘But if I’m to try to get you some papers I mustn’t stay here all day. I must go into Berlin and see a few likely people.’

  Gregory felt his heart begin to pound and his mouth go dry. Hard put to it to keep his face expressionless, he wondered how long he would be able to resist temptation if she continued to display herself to him like this. Uneasily he recalled having told her that it was six months since he had been wounded and only another month or so was needed for his complete recovery, so … Quickly he picked up her flimsy dressing gown and draped it over her shoulders; then asked in a slightly hoarse voice, ‘When do you expect to get back?’

  She turned round and looked up at him a little uncertainly. ‘Well, the truth is that I have a date for three o’clock this afternoon with a young Panzer Captain at an apartment he’s been lent. Of course, darling, if you were your old self … But as things are … He’s a nice boy and his leave ends at midnight. I wouldn’t like to disappoint him. You do understand, don’t you?’

  He smiled down into the flower-like face with the big dark eyes, rich mouth and magnolia-petal skin. ‘Of course I do. You won’t be back till the small hours, then.’

  ‘Oh yes I shall. I only go to evening parties in Berlin, or stay out late, during the dark periods of the moon, when the R.A.F. don’t put on the worst air-raids. I shall be back by about seven, but Kurt gets home soon after six; so I shan’t see you till tomorrow morning.’

  As she slipped on her mules, he gave her a pat on the behind. ‘Very well. Have a good time. I’ll be thinking of you. Perhaps, though, in the circumstances, I’d better not.’

  ‘No. It would be bad for you to give yourself ideas. Get a good book and bury yourself in it. There are lots downstairs. Trudi will get your lunch and bring your supper up to your room.’

  When he had seen her off to Berlin he went through the drawing room to the little writing room. It held only a desk and two chairs, but the walls were lined with books. Ignoring them for the moment, he began going through the papers in the desk, just on the off-chance that he might learn something more about the people who were plotting against Hitler. As he had expected, there were only bills, personal letters and, to him, indecipherable mathematical jottings. He felt pretty sure that if von Osterberg kept anything to do with the conspiracy there Sabine would have known of it and, as she had talked so freely about the affair, would have told him. Having put each batch of papers back exactly as he had found them, he selected three books then adjusted the others on the shelves so that the gaps should not show.

  As it was a lovely summer day he would have liked to go out and sit in the garden but decided that he must not risk being seen by any of Sabine’s neighbours. For the same reason he thought it best not to remain downstairs, in case some inquisitive person happened to catch sight of him through the drawing-room window. So he retired to his bedroom, made himself comfortable with a book, tried to keep the alluring Sabine’s activities out of his mind and spent the rest of the day there.

  The previous night’s air-raid had been a minor one and, owing to his exhausted state, he had slept through it. But that night he woke soon after midnight to the thunder of scores of big bombers roaring overhead. Sabine had told him that during air-raids she, von Osterberg and Trudi went down to the cellar, but for him to join them was out of the question. Although he hated raids he was not unduly scared, for he knew that the moonlight glinting on the long stretch of the Havel must give the bombers their direction, and they would not waste bombs on the scattered private houses round the southern end of it when they had only five or six more miles to fly to drop their loads on central Berlin. Nevertheless, for over an hour all hell seemed to have been let loose. At times the explosions merged into a continuous distant roar, hundreds of ack-ack guns were in constant action, at times pieces of their shells rattled down on the roof and now and again when a bomb fell nearer the house shuddered.

  After he had breakfasted and bathed next morning he went in to see Sabine. She told him at once that her luck had been out the previous day. Her two best hopes of securing papers for him had both left Berlin, and the Panzer Captain had proved disappointing. About the latter’s performance, to Gregory’s considerable discomfiture she went into details; so as soon as he could he changed the conversation.

  Asked about her plans for the day, she said, ‘There’s a woman I know who’s just lost her son. He’d been seriously wounded at the front so was given a job in Goebbels’ office, but he died from further wounds in an air-raid about a week ago. She may have his papers and be prepared to part with them. Anyway, I’m going to have a snack lunch with her today. But I’ve nothing after that; so I’ll be back about half past three and we’ll spend the rest of the afternoon together.’

  While she was out Gregory again spent the time in his room and on her return she came up to him. But she had had no luck. Her friend had returned all her son’s papers to the Propaganda Bureau. At midday it had clouded over and it was now raining on and off; so the garden being ruled out Sabine said they would be more comfortable sitting in the drawing room.

  Down there they talked for a time of the happy days they had spent in Budapest; then Gregory led the conversation back to the conspiracy. ‘Do you think,’ he asked, ‘if one of these people managed to assassinate Hitler that the Generals would succeed in getting the better of the other Nazis and take over?’

  She shrugged. ‘The question doesn’t arise, because no-one will succeed in assassinating Hitler. He knows that there are quite a number of people who would willingly give their lives to kill him, so the precautions he takes to protect himself are quite extraordinary. Surrounding his headquarters at Rastenburg there are three rings of check points; so no civilian stands a hope in hell of getting through them all. His staff are all hand-picked as one hundred per cent pro-Nazi, and the duty officers who report to him there have all been most carefully vetted.’

  ‘But he must leave his H.Q. at times.’

  ‘He does, but only very infrequently. Some time ago he was persuaded with great difficulty to go on a visit to the Eastern Front, and they nearly got him there. Apparently
someone asked the pilot of his aircraft to take a parcel said to contain two bottles of brandy back to a friend at the base. Actually, it contained a bomb, but the bomb failed to go off.’

  ‘Did he find out about that?’

  ‘No; luckily for the conspirators, because they managed to retrieve the parcel at the other end. Hitler does seem to be gifted with a sort of sixth sense, though. He has flatly refused to leave his H.Q. again.’

  ‘I take it that Kurt told you about this?’

  ‘Yes; and lots more. He says Hitler is incredibly suspicious and remarkably difficult to get at. He arranges all functions at which he still has to make a personal appearance for a given day, then cancels them at the very last moment. Sometimes he does that two or three times, then lays the party on at an hour’s notice. Deliberately, of course, so that anyone who has planned to have a crack at him has his arrangements thrown out of gear and misses the chance.’

  ‘Do you turn in to Ribb all you get out of Kurt?’ Gregory asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Oh no. If he were a pro-Communist trying to arrange a pact with Russia I would. But, as I’ve told you, I’d be delighted to see Hitler dead; providing the right people do the job and are ready to take over.’

  ‘Say someone did kill Hitler, what chance do you think von Osterberg and his pals have of establishing the sort of set-up you’d like to see?’

  ‘Very little. They’d have to get the better of the S.S. troops in Berlin, and that wouldn’t be easy for them these days. Before the war, and for some time after it started, Himmler’s people couldn’t have done much against the Army. For some reason that I’ve never understood Hitler would allow him to raise only a few battalions of Nazi troops. Those he took in were most carefully selected. They all had to produce evidence of Aryan descent for three generations on both sides and measure up to the highest physical standards. The original S.S. was quite something: an élite corps of blond young blackguards who believed that Hitler was God and Himmler his Prophet, and would shoot a Jew as soon as look at him. But all that is altered now.’