They Used Dark Forces

by Dennis Wheatley

  Gregory nodded. ‘I thought that must be so, from the number of S.S. Divisions now fighting on the battle fronts. So many could not possibly have been put into the field without a serious dilution of the original hand-picked specimens of Nazi frightfulness.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what happened. The more Hitler became convinced that the Army Chiefs were letting him down, the more he turned to “the faithful Heinrich” and allowed him to create a bigger and bigger private Nazi Army. Ever since Himmler got himself in with Hitler he’s spent most of his time intriguing to get greater power into his hands; so once he got the green light from his boss nothing could stop him. He started recruiting left, right and centre. Not only Germans, but Frenchmen, Belgians, Dutch, Scandinavians and even Mohammedans from Yugoslavia. Today there are at least a million men under his orders. They wear the uniforms of soldiers but are completely independent of the Wehrmacht. They take orders from the Generals only when they are in the battle line, and their Divisional Commanders have the right even to ignore those if they don’t like them.’

  ‘You feel then that these Nazi troops are numerous enough to defeat the units of a regular army if one of the Generals launched a Putsch against Hitler?’

  ‘In Berlin they are. One evening Kurt told me quite a lot about that. In the city the Army has nothing but a Guard Battalion and a few details at the War Office. Of course, they could call on the troops and cadets in the Training Centres outside the capital. But it would take them several hours to get there. Meanwhile, unless they lost their heads, the Commanders of Himmler’s S.S. troops would not just sit about waiting to be mopped up. And there are plenty of them in the S.S. barracks. Many more than enough to put down a revolt by the Army before the Generals could bring in other units.’

  ‘Then it seems that no General in the War Office would risk starting anything, even if he learned that some pal of his had succeeded in bumping off Hitler?’

  Sabine shook her head again. ‘No, and any hope of Hitler being bumped off is only wishful thinking. He is far too careful of himself. What is more, it’s my belief that he’s under the protection of the Devil. Until the Russians or the Allies reach Berlin I’d bet any money that no-one will ever get him.’

  At that moment they heard the front gate slam. Glancing swiftly out of the bay window they saw von Osterberg propping his bicycle up against the fence.

  ‘It’s Kurt!’ Sabine exclaimed in alarm. ‘What can have brought him home so early? Quick! For God’s sake, hide yourself.’

  Von Osterberg was already running up the garden path. Had Gregory crossed the room he would have been bound to be seen by the Count through the window, or have run into him in the hall. There was only one thing for it. He dived through the velvet curtains at the entrance to the little writing room and pulled them to behind him.

  For a moment he stood there, wondering if he could get out through one of the windows without being heard. Then through the curtains behind him he heard von Osterberg burst into the drawing room and cry:

  ‘We are free! Free! Hitler is dead! Hitler is dead!’

  18

  The Great Conspiracy

  Gregory had his hand stretched out towards one of the windows in the little room. But at the Count’s cry he remained transfixed.

  Sabine’s voice came through the velvet curtains, ‘Hitler dead! No! How? Surely no-one could have got into his headquarters and shot him. A stroke?’

  ‘No. It was a bomb. At least I think so. No details are known yet. But he’s dead. He must be. The codeword Walküre has been sent out. That makes it certain. I received it in my office twenty minutes ago, and I left at once to let you know.’

  ‘You were in the plot, then?’

  ‘Yes. Several times recently arrangements have been made to assassinate the swine, but they couldn’t be carried through because of his habit of altering his day’s schedule at the last moment. There were difficulties about the bomb, too. Our German fuses hiss when they are started, so a package containing one would attract attention. But British fuses are worked by acid. They are started by breaking a glass capsule containing the acid and in a given time it eats through a wire. That’s how I was brought into it. In my laboratory I have captured explosives as well as our own with which to experiment. I supplied the fuses. But they meant to get him this time, anyhow. If the bomb didn’t go off it was intended to shoot him.’

  ‘Kurt, I think you might have told me about this.’ Sabine’s voice sounded a trifle peevish.

  ‘My dear, I couldn’t,’ he replied apologetically. ‘All of us took an oath of secrecy. And I was never in the inner ring; so I didn’t know that another attempt was to be made today or who the gallant fellow is that did this splendid deed. But what’s that matter? We’re free! Free from that gutter-bred monster at last!’

  ‘How about the others, though?’ Sabine asked. ‘Himmler? Goebbels? Goering? They won’t give in without making a fight for it.’

  ‘Don’t worry. They’ll be taken care of. That was the object of sending out the codeword Walküre. By now the Generals who are in this will have taken over at the War Office. The Guard Battalion will be in possession of key points like the Broadcasting Station, and troops from the Tank and Artillery Schools will be marching on Berlin.’

  ‘Who is responsible for the Putsch?’

  ‘Colonel-General Ludwig Beck; and he has the support of many others who refused to kowtow to Hitler: Field Marshal von Witzleben, who is to become Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces; Halder, who’ll probably be chosen as Chief of the General Staff; Hoeppner, Olbricht, Fellgiebel, Oster, Hase, Wagner and Admiral Canaris. A number of our ablest younger officers are in it too: Merz von Quirnheim, Claus Schenk von Stauffenberg, Fabian von Schlabrendorff and Henning von Tresckow. It was he who put the bomb in Hitler’s ’plane when he went to the Eastern front, though, of course, I couldn’t tell you so at the time. Both the Police Chiefs, Count Helldorf and Artur Nebe, are with us; and several of the Army Commanders at the fronts, Von Kluge and Rommel among them. As Military Governors in France and Belgium, Stuelpnagel and Falkenhausen have promised to arrest all the Nazis in Paris and Brussels. Everything has been thought of. We have nothing to fear.’

  Gregory had turned and taken a silent step back towards the curtains. Peering through the narrow gap between them while von Osterberg reeled off this impressive list of names, he took stock of the aristocrat-scientist who was still Erika’s husband. It was two and a half years since he had seen the Count and in that time von Osterberg had aged considerably. He was of medium height, thin and his hair had turned nearly white. He looked a good sixty, but he was still a handsome man, apart from a scar that seamed the left side of his face from eyebrow to chin. Gregory had given him that for his cowardice in succumbing to pressure from the Gestapo and luring Erika back into Germany so that she might be held as a hostage for her English lover.

  Hurriedly von Osterberg was going on, ‘Beck is to be the new German Head of State; but only temporarily till we have the situation well in hand and have come to terms with the Anglo-Americans to help us stave off a Russian invasion. In spite of that fool Roosevelt having made it so difficult for us to negotiate by his announcement at Casablanca about insisting on “unconditional surrender”, they can’t refuse to treat us reasonably now we’ve got rid of the Nazis. And the last thing they want is to have Germany, Austria and Hungary fall into the hands of the Communists. But we’re all against a permanent military dictatorship. As soon as we have cleared up the mess Karl Goerdeler will take over from Beck and form a coalition government, including the Socialist leaders as well as Popitz, Schacht, Donhanyi, von Hassell and our other friends. Then there will be free elections again. But I’ll be able to tell you more late tonight or tomorrow morning. I only looked in just to give you the great news. I’m on my way into Berlin to find out how things are going.’

  Giving Sabine a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, her elderly lover hurried out into the hall. Caution demanded that Gregory should remain wh
ere he was until the Count was well clear of the house. But no sooner had his footsteps sounded running down the garden path than Sabine stepped swiftly across the room and took down a gilt-framed oil-painting from the wall. It had concealed a small cupboard. Opening it, she grabbed up a telephone receiver and after a moment said into it:

  ‘I want Herr von Weizsaecker. Urgently! Urgently! Highest priority. This is number forty-three speaking.’

  The garden gate had slammed so Gregory came back into the room and said, ‘This is tremendous news. But what are you up to?’

  Impatiently she waved to him to be silent, then spoke into the telephone again. ‘Is that you, Ernst? Put me through to the Reichsaussenminister. At once! At once! It’s desperately important!’

  ‘Hey!’ Gregory cried. ‘Are you trying to sabotage the plot?’

  Her dark eyes flashing, she covered the receiver with her hand and almost snarled at him, ‘Of course not. I couldn’t now, even if I would. This is a private matter.’

  Speaking again into the telephone, she said, ‘What! He is at his headquarters in East Prussia: Schloss Steinort? Then get on to him at once. Don’t lose a moment. Tell him I’ve just learned that the Führer is dead. Blown up by a bomb or something; and that the Generals have seized control in Berlin. Tell him to look out for himself.’

  Panting slightly she hung up, shut the door of the secret cupboard, shook back her dark hair and said to Gregory, ‘That’s the private line to the Foreign Office that Ribb had installed for his use when he was staying here. I haven’t used it for ages. Thank God it hadn’t been cut in an air-raid. As far as I’m concerned Hitler can rot in hell. So can most of the other Nazis. But I had to give Ribb a chance to get away. After all, he’s an old friend and has always treated me very decently.’

  Gregory was in no position to quarrel with these sentiments. In fact he felt admiration for the decision and swiftness with which she had acted. Smiling now, he said, ‘Of course you’re right. Your warning should enable him to take a ’plane to Sweden before the Army boys get him. It’s a bit of luck for him, though, that instead of being in Berlin he is somewhere miles away in the country.’

  She shrugged. ‘I thought it almost certain that he would be. Since the air-raids became so bad all the top Nazis spend most of their time at comfortable headquarters up in East Prussia. They not only escape the bombs but have the advantage of being near Hitler’s funk hole in the woods near Rastenburg. He’s always fancied himself as the Big Bad Wolf, and often goes about humming the childish ditty; so they call it the Wolfsschanze.’

  ‘Well, he won’t go about singing “Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf” any more,’ Gregory grinned. ‘So I think that calls for a celebration.’

  Relaxing, she smiled back at him. ‘How right you are. Let’s go down to the cellar and bring up the best bottle in it.’

  He followed her down to find that the wine cellar was larger than he would have expected in a villa of that size and had been well stocked by Ribbentrop. They chose a magnum of Pol Roger ’28 for themselves and a bottle of Tokay for Trudi. When Sabine took the bottle into the kitchen and told her the news she broke down and wept for joy. Opening the magnum they insisted on her having a glass from it with them to drink to a happier Europe. Then they took the magnum into the drawing room and excitedly speculated on the results of the Putsch.

  By half past seven they had finished the magnum, so got up another then went out to the larder and collected a cold supper. About half past nine they were both feeling on top of the world from the amount of champagne they had drunk. Stretching her arms up over her head, Sabine lay back in her armchair and said with a sigh:

  ‘Oh, darling, how I wish you could carry me up to bed so that we could really celebrate. Is it quite impossible?’

  Gregory felt that if any circumstances could ever excuse his being unfaithful to Erika these were they. The war was as good as over, and he had lived through it. Even should the police question and arrest him he now had little to fear. By tomorrow the Gestapo would be hunted men and their torture chambers being hastily dismantled so that as little evidence of German atrocities as possible would fall into the hands of the victorious Allies. The Police would do no more than lock him up until arrangements could be made for the repatriation of prisoners of war, and the Allies would lose little time about that. If ever there were a night that called for more champagne and finishing up in bed with a lovely girl, this was it.

  Sabine stood up. Her eyes were moist and shining as she impulsively seized his hand and cried, ‘Come on! It’s six months since you received your wound. You said you had only a few weeks to go to be completely fit again. A few weeks couldn’t make all that difference.’

  As he resisted her pull on his hand, she perched herself on his lap, flung an arm round his neck and glued her mouth to his. Her dark hair brushed his cheek and her heavy scent came to him in waves. He felt his senses swimming. Breaking their kiss, she threw back her head and pulled at him again. ‘Darling, I want you terribly! Take me upstairs! Take me upstairs and love me like you used to do.’

  ‘No!’ he gasped, pushing her from him. ‘I can’t! It’s not fair to ask me. Would you, if just for the sake of tonight you might ruin your chances of ever being able to make love again?’

  For a moment she was silent, then she gave a heavy sigh. ‘No. You’re right. I’m sorry, my dear. It was beastly of me to try to make you.’

  With a surge of relief he shut his eyes. Opening them again, he said, ‘I’m sorry. Terribly sorry. But we ought to go upstairs all the same. There’s no telling when Kurt will be back, and he mustn’t find me here. In spite of the Putsch, that would be disastrous. His hatred for both myself and Erika knows no limit. He is proud as Lucifer, and that his Countess should have left him for a British agent while our countries were at war made him see so red that he even lent himself to helping the Gestapo to trap her. It was I who gave him that ghastly scar before going into Germany to rescue her. And, of course, by coming to England she was posted as an enemy of the Reich, so her fortune was confiscated, and he lost the use of her money. For all this he’d jump at the chance of being revenged on me. Even if the Gestapo’s got its hands full he could call in the Police and at a time of crisis like this that could still have most unpleasant consequences.’

  ‘We’ll go up to your room, then,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll tell Trudi to stay down here and she will warn us when she hears Kurt come in at the gate.’

  The second magnum was nearly empty, so they collected a third from the cellar, with the idea that even if they couldn’t make love they could get tight. Upstairs Sabine made no further attempt to seduce him and they talked about the war, speculating on whether in a few days it would be finished altogether, or if the Anglo-Americans would accept the German plan for joining them in fighting the Russians; and a score of other matters.

  At midnight there was the usual air-raid, but no bombs fell near; and by then they were too full of good wine to take much notice of it. Then about one o’clock Trudi came bursting into the room, to say that von Osterberg was by now in the hall and would be coming up at any moment expecting to find her mistress in bed.

  Hastily kissing Gregory good night, Sabine said to him, ‘It’s most unlikely that Kurt will go to his laboratory as usual tomorrow morning; so you’d better stay up here. I’ll sneak up and let you know what’s been happening at the first chance I get.’ Then she fled downstairs.

  Elated as Gregory was by the day’s events, his share of the two and a half magnums had made him drowsy; so once in bed he soon dropped off to sleep. But half an hour later he was woken by the light going on and Sabine shaking him. The consternation in her face told him at once that something had gone terribly wrong. As he hoisted himself up on his pillows, she said quickly, ‘The Putsch is a wash-out. Hitler’s not dead after all. In Berlin the Generals made a mess of things and the Nazis are out gunning for them.’

  ‘Oh hell!’ he muttered as he gathered his wits together. ‘What
filthy luck. But tell me more. Where’s Kurt? Has he cleared out and made a bolt for it?’

  ‘No. He has nowhere to bolt to where they couldn’t lay him by the heels if they go after him. He is hoping he won’t be implicated; but at the moment he’s in the cellar shivering with funk as though he had an ague. He means to sleep down there and remain in hiding until we know more about what’s going on. If the Gestapo come on the scene I’m to tell them that he hasn’t been home since yesterday morning, in the hope that they’ll think he’s made off to the country. They’ll have so many bigger fish to fry that if they don’t find him here they may not bother about him—anyway for the time being. Then, in a few days’ time when things have quietened down, if they haven’t been back and made a thorough search of the house he’ll be able to assume that no-one has given him away, and screw up his courage to come out again.’

  Gregory gave a not very cheerful laugh.

  ‘There’s nothing funny about it,’ she said severely.

  ‘No; I suppose not. But the thought that you are hiding two boy friends now, one upstairs and one down, momentarily tickled my sense of humour. Tell me, though, what went wrong with the Putsch?’

  ‘Move over, so that I can get into bed with you,’ she said. ‘I’ve got next to nothing on, and it’s chilly standing here.’

  As she wriggled down beside him he felt that he had no option but to put his arm round her. Then, as she laid her head on his shoulder and turned over towards him, her soft body moulded itself against his side. He shut his eyes and his heart began to hammer, but he fought a silent battle endeavouring to keep his mind on the Putsch. Fortunately for once Sabine’s thoughts were not centred on amorous delights, but on events; so she began at once:

  ‘The bomb went off all right, but either it wasn’t powerful enough or Hitler wasn’t near enough to it to get its full effect. Goebbels put out a broadcast about the attempt late this evening. But his account of the affair is certain to be a tissue of lies; so there’s not much that’s known for certain. The bomb was taken to the Wolfsschanze by Count Claus Schenck von Stauffenberg. He must be a terrifically gallant young man because he’d already been terribly wounded when he walked into a minefield. That cost him an eye, one hand and the use of all but two fingers of the other; so how he managed to do the job at all I can’t imagine.