‘Does he know about you and me?’
‘I haven’t given him chapter and verse, but he’s not a fool. On the other hand, he is a gentleman. He won’t bring it up unless you do.’
‘Um.’ She put on her mink and held him close. ‘When do you leave?’
‘Tomorrow morning.’
‘And you’re telling me now?’
‘My instructions only arrived on Friday, and there was no way of getting in touch.’
‘I wish you weren’t going. Your being here gives me a sense of security, a feeling that I’m not entirely alone.’
‘Is that all I give you?’
‘You know it isn’t.’
‘Well, your being here gives me the heebie-jeebies. I want you to start work on irritating Chalyapov just as soon as you can, as we agreed. If he drops you, you’ll be no more use to the Nazis here, so they’ll have to recall you, and you’ll be off the hook.’
She nodded, released him, and put on her hat.
‘Promise?’ he asked.
‘Promise.’
She kissed him and left the room. It was just after two, and the hotel was quiet. She was in a hurry to get back to the Embassy and into the privacy of her room. She felt quite shattered. It was absurd, of course. She had existed in Moscow for four months without Clive, without even knowing whether he was going to appear or not. It was illogical now to feel that she was being abandoned, just as it was illogical ever to feel that his presence in any way protected her. She had to be her own salvation, as she had always been in the past. But how often in the past had she felt no less lonely?
She stepped from the elevator, wrapped her scarf round her face, and crossed the now empty foyer towards the swing doors.
‘A word, comrade.’
Anna turned her head. The night porter had left the reception counter to approach her.
‘You have been in Room 507.’
‘Is that important?’
‘To me, no. But to others, who knows?’
‘You mean the NKVD?’
‘I do not think so, as yet.’
‘Would you explain that?’
‘Well, I am required to report to the police anything that I consider may be of importance.’
‘And you have reported me. But you do not know who I am.’
‘I know that you are not a resident in the hotel, and I know that you regularly visit the Englishman in 507.’
‘I see. And you have reported this to the NKVD.’
‘No, comrade. I have reported it to the Moscow police, as I am required to do. Whether they have considered it necessary to inform the State Police I do not know. But I doubt it. I told them that a foreign lady comes to the hotel every Tuesday night, and spends several hours with an English resident, and then leaves again. The NKVD are usually only interested when a foreigner has an assignation with a Russian.’
‘I see,’ Anna said again, sizing him up. He was a pleasant-looking man, in early middle age, chunkily built as were so many Russians, and had somewhat sleepy – but also sly – eyes. Presumably he also had a wife, and perhaps children. But he had suddenly become a threat. ‘I still do not understand why you are telling me this, but I am grateful. Would it be possible to reward you?’
‘That would be very nice, comrade. But I have something else to tell you. Something more important, perhaps.’ He gazed at her.
‘Then I shall certainly reward you.’ Anna opened her handbag.
‘I do not wish money, comrade.’
‘Ah. Well then, tell me what this more important matter is, and I will decide just how great a reward you will have.’
The man hesitated, as if wondering whether he should claim the reward first. Then he said, ‘There was someone asking after you tonight.’
Anna frowned. ‘The police?’
‘No. A foreign lady like yourself. In fact, she had an accent exactly like yours.’
Anna felt a slow tensing of both her mind and her stomach muscles. ‘What exactly did she ask you?’
‘She said she was looking for a tall, very beautiful, yellow-haired woman who came regularly to the hotel. She wished to know if I remembered such a lady, and if I could tell her why she came here.’
‘What time was this?’
‘Before midnight.’
‘I see. And what did you tell her?’
‘Well, she had obviously been watching your movements for some time. So I said you were a visitor to one of our guests.’
‘You did not tell her who?’
‘No, comrade.’
‘Thank you. And you do not feel that this lady was a member of the NKVD or the police.’
‘No, no. The lady was definitely a foreigner. As I told you, she spoke very like you. But you are more fluent in Russian,’ he added ingratiatingly.
That narrowed it down to a field of one: Marlene. The Berlin was a hotel for foreign visitors to Moscow, not Russians. That eliminated the possibility that she had been visiting another Russian commissar. Much would depend on who Marlene told of her investigation, and how soon. But in any event, that she should be spied upon by her own assistant was unacceptable. And in the circumstances there could be no question of merely writing Heydrich and requesting him to recall the girl for being no good; Heydrich might just be prepared to listen to what Hannah Gehrig’s daughter had to say.
As for this poor fellow . . . ‘You say that you have known of my visits to the gentleman in 507 for some time.’ She was using her most innocent, but anxious, voice. ‘Who else knows of these visits, apart from the police?’
‘Well, comrade, I may have mentioned it to my assistant, who comes in on my nights off.’
‘Was he interested?’
‘Not very, as I remember.’
‘And no one else? When I arrive the foyer is always crowded.’
‘That is exactly it, comrade. No one else has noted your entry, because there are so many people coming in and out. But I am always here when you leave.’
‘And how do you know which room I have been to?’
The porter winked. ‘You come every Tuesday night. And every Tuesday night the gentleman in 507 orders a bottle of champagne. A gentleman never orders a bottle of champagne to drink all by himself. He is entertaining a visitor. And every Tuesday night you are a visitor to the hotel. Am I not a detective?’
‘You are brilliant,’ Anna smiled. ‘Well then, what would you like your reward to be?’
‘I would like to know if you are as beautiful as that woman said.’
‘I think we should go into your office if I am to take anything off.’
‘Oh, yes.’ He was positively panting. He raised the flap and she went behind the reception counter. As she did so his hands closed on her buttocks, massaging them through the mink. Her feelings of sorrow for what she was about to do evaporated.
She went into the little office, turned and unwound the scarf from round her face. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘The woman’s right. You are superb.’
‘You say the sweetest things,’ Anna said, and hit him on the side of the neck. He saw the blow coming, but it was delivered at such a speed and with such force that he could do no more than get his hands half up before he lost consciousness. He hit the floor with a thump. Anna knelt on his chest to hold his body in place, grasped his head in both hands and gave it a violent twist with all her strength. She heard the snap. She stood up and made the sign of the cross. Then she closed the office door behind her and left the hotel.
*
She regained the Embassy at three. The guards by now regarded her with a mixture of embarrassment and apprehension. She smiled at them and went upstairs to her apartment. There was no sound but the light was on in Marlene’s bedroom. She went to her bedroom and undressed. Then she opened the bag in which she kept various essential supplies, and took out a bottle of strong sleeping pills. Carrying this she returned to Marlene’s room and opened the door, immediately closing it again behind her.
Marlene had been sittin
g at her table writing on several sheets of paper. She looked up and gave a little gasp; it was not Anna’s normal practice to wander around the apartment in the nude. ‘Countess?’
Anna stood next to her. ‘Are you writing your autobiography? Or a confession? Or merely an observation?’
Marlene opened her mouth and closed it again.
‘No matter,’ Anna said. ‘You are not looking well. You have spent too much time out in the cold night air. I think you need a very good night’s sleep. What is left of it. Here. I have brought you these. They are very good.’ She held out the bottle invitingly.
Marlene stared at it as a rabbit might have stared at a snake. ‘I do not like to take pills.’
‘But I insist. I know what is best for you.’
Marlene licked her lips, and glanced at her bureau.
‘Ah.’ Anna stepped to the chest and opened the top drawer. Marlene stood up, and then sat down again; she knew better than to take on Anna at unarmed combat.
Anna took out the Beretta. ‘How nice,’ she remarked. ‘Where did you find this? Under a bush?’
Marlene was trembling.
‘Or was it given to you by a friend? So tell me, if you had had it handy, would you have shot me?’
‘I . . .’
‘Of course. You would have claimed that it was self-defence. But why should I attack you physically when I can destroy you with a few words? Who gave you the gun?’ Her voice was suddenly crisp and harsh.
‘Herr Groener.’
‘I see. You have been a busy little bee. But it is very obvious that you are distraught. Now, take these pills and go to bed. I will have the doctor examine you in the morning.’
‘I . . . I . . .’
‘If you do not obey me,’ Anna said, ‘I will be forced to write to General Heydrich and have him recall you to Berlin, where you will be sent to an SS brothel. I do assure you it will be better for you to do as I ask. Go into the bathroom and pour a mug of water.’
Slowly Marlene got up and went to the bathroom. Anna went with her to watch. Marlene poured the water, and Anna again held out the bottle. This time Marlene took it. ‘I think four should do it,’ Anna told her.
Marlene unscrewed the cap, dropped four of the tablets into the palm of her hand, cupped them into her mouth and drank the water. She made a face and put down the mug beside the bottle.
‘There,’ Anna said. ‘Now undress and go to bed.’
‘I am undressed,’ Marlene protested.
‘You will feel better for sleeping in the nude like I do,’ Anna assured her.
Another hesitation, and then Marlene took off the nightdress and got into bed. Anna pulled the sheet to her throat. ‘Now close your eyes and have a good long sleep.’
She stood above the girl and watched her eyes droop shut. Then she sat at the table and read what Marlene had written. It was, as she had supposed, a long, somewhat rambling denunciation of her, listing all the suspicions Marlene claimed to have felt since their first association, relating how she had tracked her to the hotel on several occasions, and how this very night she had discovered that her quarry always visited the same room and that there could be no question of her meeting another Russian commissar. There was no indication as to whether the wretched girl had confided her suspicions to anyone else, but obviously she must have done so to Groener. But as she was only now compiling her report, which would now never be read, Anna did not feel that was relevant.
She collected the sheets together neatly and turned to look at the bed. Marlene was breathing slowly and evenly. She was certainly in a deep sleep. Anna went into the bathroom and listened at the other door; there was no sound from Birgit’s room, and she remembered that the maid was a heavy sleeper. She turned on the bath water, then she returned to the bedroom, took the sheets of paper into her own room and carefully burned them, collected the ashes and flushed them down the toilet.
Next she returned to Marlene’s room, stood above the sleeping girl for some moments, then threw back the covers, and with an effort lifted the inert body. Her brain was as always ice-cold and entirely concentrated on what she was doing, on what she had to do. But she felt that self-horror was lurking. Killing an armed man, or woman, or in self-defence she could accept. Cold-blooded execution left her very nearly a nervous wreck, and this was the second this night.
But it was again self-defence, and the defence of her family. That single essential dominated her life. She carried Marlene along the corridor into the bathroom, carefully lowered her into the water and very gently pressed on her shoulders. Marlene went under. For more than a minute there was no reaction, then her eyes suddenly opened, as did her mouth. Anna retained her grip, still gently, but sufficient to keep the head from rising, now up to her elbows in very cold water. Marlene tried to lift her hands to strike but her arms were held in place by Anna’s grip. Then she kicked several times, and water splashed about the room and over Anna’s body. But very quickly the kicks subsided. It was over inside three minutes.
Anna held her there for another few minutes then stood up and dried herself. She left the lights on and the open bottle of pills, which now had Marlene’s fingerprints on it over hers. Then she carefully wiped the pistol free of prints and restored it to the drawer, returned to her bedroom and got beneath the covers. She was shivering and tears rolled down her cheeks.
Chapter Eight – The Plot
Surprisingly, Anna slept heavily, but she knew she was emotionally exhausted by the events of the evening. She wished she could have warned Clive of what had happened, but it would have been too risky to linger in the hotel, and she believed the porter’s claim that he had told no one of his deductions; he had been too anxious to see what profit he could achieve for himself. There would of course be a great fuss when the body was found, but there would be no immediate reason for any of the guests to be implicated, and Clive would surely be back in England before the investigation could get very far.
She awoke to a piercing scream, sat up and pushed hair from her eyes just as Birgit burst into her room, still wearing her nightgown, her face white and her hair dishevelled.
‘Countess! Countess! Oh, Countess!’
‘What in the name of God . . .?’
Birgit panted, ‘Marlene! In the bath . . .’
Anna threw back the covers and got out of bed, reaching for her robe. ‘There has been an accident?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’
Anna grasped her shoulders and shook her. ‘Pull yourself together. You are saying that Marlene has fallen in the bathroom?’
‘No, Countess! I do not think so. She’s dead.’
‘What?’ Anna ran from the room, Birgit behind her. She stood above the bath and looked at Marlene. The body was almost blue from its prolonged immersion in the near-freezing water. The eyes and mouth were still open, and there were also deeper blue marks on her upper arms. These had to be accounted for immediately. ‘What are those marks? They look as if someone held her there.’
‘I tried to lift her up,’ Birgit wailed. ‘When I saw her . . . I could not believe she was dead. I tied to lift her up. I thought I held her wrists, but I must have held her arms as well. I don’t remember. I was so horrified . . .’
‘Of course you were,’ Anna said sympathetically. ‘And you did entirely the right thing in trying to help her. Just tell Herr Groener, when he asks you, exactly what happened. I will support you. Now, I think you should go back to bed; you do not look very well.’
‘But . . .’
‘I will deal with this.’
‘Your breakfast . . .’
‘I will get my own breakfast. Off you go.’
Birgit stumbled from the bathroom. Anna closed the door and returned to her bedroom, picked up the telephone. ‘Herr Meissenbach’s apartment, please,’ she told the switchboard operator.
*
Anna decided against dressing; when confronting a room full of men she knew she was at her best wearing only a dressing gown. And th
e room very rapidly became filled with men, and even some women. Anna sat in a corner and sipped coffee.
‘When did it happen?’ Meissenbach asked.
‘I have no idea. Can’t the doctor tell us that?’
‘No, he cannot. How long a body has been dead can usually be ascertained by taking the rectal temperature, because all bodies cool at a fixed rate after death. But this system is useless when the body has been immersed in cold water since death.’
‘My people say that you came in at three o’clock,’ Groener said.
‘That would be about right.’
‘What did you do after coming in?’
‘I was both tired and cold. I came straight upstairs and went to bed.’
‘And you noticed nothing out of the ordinary?’
‘I noticed that Marlene’s light was on. But that was not out of the ordinary. She often sat up late, reading.’
‘But the bathroom light was also on.’
‘Apparently. I cannot see that bathroom door from my room.’
‘Did you know,’ Meissenbach asked, ‘that Fraulein Gehrig possessed a pistol?’
Anna frowned. ‘I did not know that. Anyway, it is not possible. We were not issued with firearms for this assignment.’
‘Nevertheless . . .’
Groener cleared his throat. ‘I do not think her possession of a weapon is relevant: she did not shoot herself. The doctor thinks that she took a dose of strong pills from the bottle on the table beside her bed.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Anna cried, and leapt to her feet, scattering her dressing gown and revealing a great deal of flawless leg.
‘Countess?’
Anna crossed the room and opened her medical bag. ‘Those are my pills. She must have taken them while I was out.’
‘And having taken the pills she got into a cold bath to drown herself?’ Meissenbach asked.
‘The bath must have been hot when she got in.’
‘The important point,’ Groener said, ‘is why should Fraulein Gehrig commit suicide in the first place?’ He looked at Anna, who sat on her bed.
‘Well?’
Angel in Red: The thrilling sequel to Angel From Hell (Anna Fehrbach Book 2) Page 17