“Then Helen will be safe. It is you we have to worry about. You must pack a bag. A small bag.”
“What about Freddie?”
“Where is he?”
“In bed, asleep. He spends a lot of time under sedation.”
“Can he walk?”
“Well… he is learning to use his sticks, but it is very difficult.”
“Then I’m afraid…”
“You cannot ask me to abandon my husband.”
“I am sure if you asked him he would tell you to get out while you can.”
“Of course he would. He’s a gentleman.”
“Well, then…”
“I am not going to desert him.”
Joanna sighed. “You do realize what will happen to you if you are taken into custody by the Gestapo?”
“One hears rumours. But there is never any proof. Freddie has always said it is just propaganda.”
“Madeleine, I have seen these people at work. Have you ever met Johann Roess?”
“Who?”
“He is the current head of the SD. But you have met Oskar Weber.”
“Your lover,” Madeleine said contemptuously. “A detestable man.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more. But Roess is ten times more vicious. Would you like to find yourself in his hands?”
“I am sure I should hate it. But I m not going to find myself in his hands. I know exactly what I am going to do. I will appeal to the Fuehrer. He is my friend, and he is the godfather of my daughter.”
“I don’t think…” Joanna said.
There was a crash from the lobby. Both women started to their feet as there was another crash from the lounge doorway, and it too was ripped from its hinges by the four men who burst into the room.
“What are you doing?” Madeleine shouted.
“Frau von Helsingen, you are under arrest,” said the leader. “Klaus.”
The man called Klaus produced a pair of handcuffs.
“You have no authority for this,” Joanna said.
The leader turned towards her. “You are also under arrest, Frau Hoeppner.”
“Are you out of your mind? I am Reichsfuehrer Himmler’s personal assistant.”
“Then no doubt the Reichsfuehrer will attend to the matter. I have my orders.”
“Given to you by whom?”
“By Colonel Roess.”
Joanna knew she had to think very quickly and very accurately. She had no doubt that something had happened in the few hours since she had left Himmler’s office, but she had no idea what. On the other hand, she knew Gestapo methods very well. If they might be afraid to harm her personally, they would certainly keep her incommunicado until they had had a chance to interrogate Madeleine, and Madeleine would certainly not be able to withstand what they would do to her. As for justification, they undoubtedly had that incriminating phone call. Roess must have had this telephone tapped for months; he had always been suspicious of Madeleine. Therefore her decision was made for her, even if it were not as she had planned it.
The Gestapo agent was extending a pair of handcuffs; Klaus had already turned Madeleine round to clip her wrists behind her back. For the moment at least, Madeleine was speechless. Joanna opened her handbag and put her hand inside. The agent, who clearly had no idea of what she was capable, did not react, and in that moment he died, Joanna firing through the material to hit him in the chest. Then she did draw the Luger, firing left and right with deadly precision. Only one of the Gestapo agents managed to draw his gun out and he died before he could use it.
The bodies fell to and fro while Madeleine stared in horror, her mouth slowly opening. “Don’t scream,” Joanna warned.
“But… you… my God! Are they all dead?”
Joanna realized that Madeleine would never have seen a dead body in her life before. She stooped over the corpses. One man was still gasping for breath, but from the amount of blood he was losing she knew he would not survive more than a few minutes. “They all will be, soon enough,” she said.
“But… just like that…”
“I was trained to it,” Joanna explained. “By the British.” She went to the door. There was no sound from downstairs; the Luger actually made very little noise. But then from behind her there was a shout and a bump. She swung round.
“Freddie!” Madeleine gasped, tugging vainly at her handcuffs. “He’s woken up.”
“I’ll see to him.” Joanna replaced the pistol in her bag and hurried down the corridor to the bedroom. Helsingen had fallen out of bed and was trying to pull himself to his feet, difficult with only one arm.
“Joanna,” he asked. “What…?”
Joanna dragged him up and laid him on the bed. “Madeleine will explain in a minute,” she promised. “Please just lie there.”
She went back into the lounge, where Madeleine was walking to and fro, carefully stepping around the dead bodies, still tugging at her wrists. “Is he all right?”
“He’s agitated.” Joanna knelt beside the man Klaus, avoiding the blood that had gathered beside him, felt in his pockets and found the key to release the handcuffs.
“God!” Madeleine said. “These bodies… I am going to be sick.”
“Take deep breaths. Now listen—”
“They will cut off your head.”
“Will you listen, God damn it! How many other people live in this building?”
“There are five families. But at this time of day they will all be out.”
“That is why there has been no reaction. Excellent.”
“I must go to Freddie. What am I going to tell him?”
“Will you listen? There is no time to pack anything. If we leave now, we can be far away before these bodies are even discovered.”
“Leave? How can I leave Freddie?”
Joanna hesitated. But there was no longer any time to argue. “All right,” she said. “Come into the bedroom, and I will do the best I can for you.”
“What?”
“Just do as I tell you.” Joanna exchanged her empty Luger for one of the agents’ full weapons.
Madeleine was holding Frederick in her arms and weeping. “Now,” Joanna said. “There is a faint chance that nothing has been proved against you yet, that Roess was acting entirely on his own initiative and against Himmler’s orders. Either way, you must tell them that I came here to persuade you to leave, that you refused, that the Gestapo men broke in, and that I shot and killed them all. You see, I am not asking you to lie. Then I tied you both up so that you could not raise the alarm, and left.”
“Tied us up? But—”
“That is what I am going to do now,” Joanna explained. “Help me tear the sheets into strips.”
*
Himmler himself went to the Helsingen apartment to look at the shambles. By then it was five o’clock – Hilda had not dared return for several hours – and the building was buzzing. But the Helsingen apartment was sealed off by the Gestapo. “My God!” he remarked. “Joanna did this?”
“That is what the Helsingens claim, Herr Reichsfuehrer,” Roess said. “And in this instance I believe them.”
“But… four men… She must have been hit herself.”
“Not one of my people’s pistols has been fired. One has been taken, in exchange for hers.”
“Four armed men, killed, before any one of them could reply? The woman is a monster. And to think she has shared my bed.” He glanced at Roess and flushed.
“I would say you were lucky, Herr Reichsfuehrer.”
“But what made her do such a thing? She must have come here to pursue her investigation… Do you think she suddenly had a mental breakdown, went berserk?”
“I’m afraid that is not the case, sir. I have evidence that Frau Hoeppner, or Fraulein Jonsson as she was, has been a British agent from the summer of 1940, that throughout that time she has been working hand-in-glove not only with the SIS, but also with the de Gruchy family, and especially Liane de Gruchy, her old schoolmate and lover
. I have tried to make this point on several occasions but have always been prevented.”
“But… she worked for Weber. She was one of his most trusted agents.”
“I’m afraid Colonel Weber was rather easily hoodwinked by a pair of large tits.” Roess gulped as he realized what he had just implied, but Himmler was too agitated to notice.
“What is this evidence?”
“Well, sir, I have routinely tapped the telephones of everyone I suspected of working against the regime. The Helsingens, or Frau von Helsingen, certainly, has been under suspicion for some time, as I have explained. Colonel von Helsingen was one of the first people Stauffenberg telephoned when he returned from Rastenberg, when he announced the success of his mission, as he then assumed. He distinctly said, “‘You must inform Joanna immediately so that she can contact her people and remind them of their promise to us.’”
“She cannot be the only woman in Germany named Joanna.”
“Who is so friendly with the Helsingens that she is included in their conspiracy, and who could be connected to outside forces waiting to take over the Reich? Would that not be stretching coincidence too far?”
“I suppose it would.” Himmler was looking quite upset.
“I have also for a long time had the Helsingen maid, Hilda, on my payroll. She has supplied me with the names of all the officers who have called regularly to see Helsingen. All worried about his health, apparently. So when, this afternoon, as a matter of routine she left the apartment and telephoned to say that Frau Hoeppner was in the flat and deep in conversation with Frau von Helsingen, I instructed my men to move in and arrest the pair of them. I had no idea it would turn into a massacre.”
Himmler nodded. “You had no idea what a monster we have been sheltering in our bosom. Neither did I. She must be arrested immediately. Where is she?”
“I have put out an All Points Bulletin on her, but nothing has come in as yet. On the other hand, she is not a woman who can hide in a crowd. We will get her.”
“See that you do.”
“And then, sir?”
“I wish her brought to me. I will interrogate her personally.”
Roess was not disappointed; he had expected that. “But you will let me have her afterwards, I hope?”
“Oh, you may have her.”
“And the Helsingens?”
“Where are they?”
“I have them under arrest.”
“But they have not yet been interrogated?”
“No, sir. I thought I should wait on you authority.” Himmler nodded. “I shall have to check with the Fuehrer. However, I do not have much doubt of what he will wish done.”
“Yes, sir.” Roess’ eyes gleamed. He had long dreamed of having the right to interrogate Madeleine von Helsingen.
“And have these bodies removed and this place cleaned up. It makes me sick to my stomach.” He turned at the knock, colour draining from his cheeks as if he thought it might be Joanna, returned to commit some more mayhem.
But it was a Gestapo agent, looking somewhat apprehensive. “We have news of Frau Hoeppner, Herr Reichsfuehrer.”
“Excellent. Where is she?”
“Well, sir, she apparently visited one of our garages this afternoon, demanded the use of a car and drove away.”
“They gave her a car, just like that? With a driver?” Roess demanded.
“No, sir. She drove herself.”
“They gave this woman a car, without any authority—”
The agent looked more embarrassed yet. “She had written authority, Herr Colonel.”
“How in the name of God did she get that?”
“Ahem,” Himmler said. Roess turned to him, open-mouthed. “She felt she needed a blanket authority to enable her to deal with the Helsingens without having to worry about interference from above,” Himmler explained. “I had no idea that she was a member of the conspiracy. Or that she was an English spy.” His tone indicated that he considered his lack of information on both those subjects was someone else’s fault.
“Yes, sir,” Roess agreed.
“Anyway,” Himmler said confidently, “She can’t get far. I assume we have both the make and the number of the car?” Again, his tone indicated that if they did not, someone was in trouble.
“Yes, sir,” the agent said. “But…” He looked at Roess for support.
“She has had a two-hour start, Herr Reichsfuehrer,” Roess said. “Berlin is only about two hours’ drive from the Baltic Coast.”
Himmler stared at him for several seconds. Then he said, “Then close the Baltic Coast. Now.”
*
It was half-past five when Joanna drove into Lubeck. The journey had been trouble free – the Gestapo car and her carte blanche had seen to that – but she knew she had to expect the telephone lines to start buzzing any moment now. She drove straight to the ferry docks, parked the car and went into the Departures hall. There was a ship alongside and some activity.
“Why, Fraulein Jonsson,” said the ticket clerk. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Joanna did not trouble to correct him. “I am in a hurry, Pieter,” she said. “Wheren does the ferry leave?”
“At half-past six, Fraulein.”
Just under an hour. But there was no alternative. “Very well. I will have a ticket.”
He made out a return ticket, as he always did, and she paid him. He peered over the counter. “You have no luggage, Fraulein?”
“This trip came up rather suddenly. Not to worry. I have a wardrobe full of clothes in Stockholm. When can I go on board?”
“Passengers board at six o’clock, Fraulein.”
“Thank you, Pieter.” She went into the Departures lounge and straight to the bar for a cognac; she needed it. Then she bought a magazine and sat in a corner; she had no intention of reading anything, but the magazine provided a useful cover for her face if anyone she knew came in.
There was a large clock on the wall opposite, with a ticking second hand. She tried not to look at it too often, but it seemed to be moving very slowly. Other passengers came in, casting curious glances at the handsome blonde woman before seating themselves. Five to six. In a moment… The door opened again and a man entered. Joanna caught her breath. He was a very ordinary looking man, wearing a somewhat shabby suit, but she knew him. His name was Fischer, and he was the local Gestapo commander. They had crossed swords two years before when he had attempted to interfere with her regular comings and goings, and she had had to refer him to Oskar Weber, from whom he had received a stinging rebuke for hampering the activities of his private spy. Since then he had been unfailingly polite, although that he loathed her could not be doubted.
As he was obviously looking for her, there was no point in attempting to hide behind the magazine. He came towards her and sat beside her.
“Fraulein Jonsson. But it is Frau Hoeppner now, is it not?”
“My husband is dead.”
“After such a brief marriage? I am so sorry. And now you are returning to Sweden?”
“There is nothing left for me here.”
“I can appreciate that. Sadly, your departure will have to be delayed.”
Joanna allowed no flicker of alarm to cross her features. “Why is that?”
“I have received orders to close the port.”
“You have done this? The ferry sails in half an hour.” People were already filing from the room, revealing no great interest in the couple seated in the comer, speaking in low tones.
“Actually,” Fischer said, “I have not done it yet, because the reason I have been told to close the port is in order to make sure a certain Frau Hoeppner does not leave the country. But as I am sitting next to Frau Hoeppner at this moment, it seems to me to be unnecessary to disrupt the life of the port. Do you not agree?”
“So what happens now?” Joanna asked, feeling the tension of impending action slowly creeping over her.
The last of the waiting passengers had left the room, and in their pl
ace another man had entered and stood by the door. “You will come with me to my office,” Fischer said. “And you will wait there while I telephone Berlin and inform them that I have you, and receive their instructions as to what is to be done with you. So if you do not mind, Frau…”
He stood up, and Joanna did also. He was another unfortunate who had no idea who he was dealing with, assuming that she was no more than a courier who travelled for the Reich and had somehow blotted her copybook. She almost felt sorry for him as she stepped past him and went to the door, which the other man opened for her. “You know where to go,” Fischer said. “Please do not make any trouble.”
“Do I ever?” Joanna turned down the corridor and went to the Gestapo office, the two men at her shoulder. The poor doomed fools had not even tried to take her handbag. But then, on their previous meetings, she had never been armed.
She went inside and stood beside the desk. The two men came in and the door was closed. The agent stood against it and Fischer sat behind the desk and picked up the phone.
“Wouldn’t it be nice,” he said, “if I am given permission to search you? I have always wanted to do that.”
“Then I had better show you what I have,” Joanna suggested and opened her handbag. The two men could only gape at her in consternation as the Luger exploded four times before either of them could draw his own weapon. Joanna ascertained that they were both dead, then listened for a moment. But there was no sound, because the office was sound-proofed to prevent the screams of anyone undergoing interrogation inside from being heard outside. She thought that was rather quaint.
She placed the Luger on the table, as she did not want to risk any trouble with Swedish customs, and went outside. Only the ticket clerk remained at his window in the main hall. “No trouble, I hope, Fraulein?” he inquired.
“No, no. Just a message from Berlin. Auf wiedersehen, Pieter.”
“Oh, indeed, Fraulein.”
She went on to the dock, where the ferry crew were about to take up the gangplank. “Wait for me,” she said, hurrying up the slope.
“Miss Jonsson,” said the officer on the deck. “You left that late.”
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” She showed him her ticket, then moved along the deck to watch the mooring warps being cast off.
The Brightest Day Page 21