“That's far enough!” Leni called out.
Heydrich's head swivelled in their direction. “As you wish.”
He drew the hammer back on his pistol. “We're waiting.” His voice was almost sing-song. “And we won't wait forever.”
It was time for Plan B. Angelika nodded her head. Leni knew there would be no dissuading her.
“All right! You can have the girl on one condition,” she shouted.
‘No!’ Otto shook his head. Another clip to his head prevented him from saying more.
“The girl for the boy. A simple exchange, is that it?” Heydrich shouted back.
“That's right,” answered Leni.
“Why are you doing this?” Heydrich shouted back.
Leni and Angelika looked at each other. Leni didn't know what to say, but she had to say something before Heydrich worked out it was a double-cross.
“She's doing it because she's in love with Otto,” Angelika shouted back. Her voice was high and childish but it carried to the rope bridge.
Otto looked confused. Heydrich scoffed.
“I agree.” His voice boomed back across the ravine. “Let us be quick about it.”
“Angelika will walk to the middle of the bridge,” Leni shouted. She glanced at the girl. “You're sure?”
Angelika nodded. “It's going to be fine.” She stood up and made her way through the bushes out on to the path.
“When she is in the middle of the bridge, let the boy go. Once he has walked past her, the girl will come to you.”
Leni's voice was getting hoarse.
They were at the endgame now.
*
Otto waited tensely, with Heydrich's forearm clamped across his neck. He was so tired and in so much pain, he didn't even notice the muzzle of the pistol jammed against his temple. He just wanted Heydrich to let him go, accept the barter, even if he didn't understand what was going on. Perhaps Heydrich didn't either. Perhaps that was why he was hesitating, wondering if it was all an elaborate trick. Otto didn't believe Angelika's reason and he knew that Leni would never sacrifice the girl, she just wouldn't.
“Very well!” shouted Heydrich, having made up his mind, his voice ringing in Otto's ears. “Come forward, child!”
Otto felt the vice-like grip slacken a little as Angelika emerged from a thick clump of bushes to the right, and walked slowly but purposefully towards them. She looked very calm and very serious, almost serene. Otto heard Heydrich give a small gasp, then the sound of footsteps behind them.
“Stay back!” Heydrich shouted to Müller and Straniak. Otto realised he didn't want anyone to do anything that might spook the girl.
Angelika reached the middle of the bridge and stopped. The whole thing was swinging gently from side to side. She held on to the left support-rope with one hand.
Heydrich leant forward and put his mouth next to Otto's bloody ear. “Now this is over, Munich boy, I'm going to find out who you really are, who your family are.” His voice was soft. “And when I have, I will not only kill them, I will expunge any record of their existence. And after I have done that, I am coming for you. I will see to it that you and your family are erased from this earth now and for ever.” He shoved Otto forward with the heel of his hand.
Otto didn't look back. The threat had made the tears well up in his eyes and he didn't want to give that man the satisfaction of seeing him cry. His leg was burning but he limped on, finally reaching Angelika. “What's going on?” he whispered, wiping at his eyes.
Angelika smiled brightly. “You'll see. Just get to the other side as fast as you can.”
Otto glanced down then, and saw that Angelika's middle finger was looped tightly around a piece of yarn which dropped to the wooden slat at her feet. There, unseen to Heydrich, more yarn had been wound around the wood. Otto frowned. What had Leni and Angelika planned?
“Go, Otto, go,” Angelika said.
Otto pressed forward, thinking hard.
The instant he had passed her, Heydrich stepped on to the rope bridge.
“Come along, child!” he ordered.
But Angelika remained where she was, looking back to check Otto had reached the other end.
“Come at once!” Heydrich raised his voice. He strode forward, the bridge swaying and bouncing under his weight.
Otto turned to watch. Angelika pulled the yarn wrapped around her finger, and ran back towards him, away from Heydrich.
Then Otto realised what she had done. Remembered Leni's last grenade.
Five.
“Stop!” Heydrich yelled. He couldn't run, the bridge was too unstable. He dropped to one knee, tried to take aim with his pistol.
Four.
Angelika was catching up with Otto. Heydrich fired, but the swaying bridge meant the bullet went harmlessly wide.
Three.
Heydrich had to grab at the rope to stop himself falling over.
Two.
Heydrich got up again, staggered forward.
One.
Heydrich was almost at the middle of the bridge, Angelika a couple of steps from the end. Otto was clear.
Leni's grenade exploded, severing the ropes as cleanly as a hot knife through butter, neatly bisecting the bridge. Each half slammed back towards the opposing rock face.
On one side Angelika was holding on to the wooden treads about five metres down. And on the other was Heydrich, swinging from the very bottom tread. The impact had knocked his pistol from his hand and then he'd lost his grip on the hand rope. But his right leg was lodged firmly between two treads and so he found himself hanging upside down, staring back at Angelika. Otto heard the tinny clatter of his gun as it cannoned off the rocks below.
He scrambled down the broken bridge to rescue Angelika.
“Shoot! Shoot the child!” Heydrich was desperately trying to swing himself upright so he could climb back up the shattered bridge.
Müller edged along the side of the rock wall, trying to see the child, but she was below his line of fire. A single shot rang out and Müller staggered back, clutching at his left arm. A lucky shot. Leni had used her last rifle bullet well. But Müller didn't know that.
“I'm hit,” the Gestapo chief shouted out. He rolled on to one side and emptied his last magazine in the direction of the bridge.
“Hurry up, Otto!” cried Leni, She crawled out of the bushes and ran for the bridge.
Otto stretched out his hand to Angelika just as the frayed and burnt rope suddenly snapped. He managed to throw himself to the side, his good hand catching the edge of a ledge. He stared down, expecting the worst, but somehow Angelika had grabbed a tree stump jutting out of the rock face.
Opposite, Heydrich had pulled himself upright and was inching his way back up the rope.
Otto edged his way down until he was leaning on the stump himself. He stretched out his hand again.
“Take it!” he urged her. She was holding on to the end of the stump with both hands, swinging gently above the ravine. Slowly she let go with her right hand and found Otto's left hand. They gripped each other's wrists.
“I'll pull you up.”
There was terrible crack and the tree stump came away. Otto managed to wedge his bandaged right hand into a cleft in the rock face. He screamed with pain, but held on to Angelika, who dangled at the end of his left arm.
She stared back up at him. “I can't hold on,” she whispered.
Otto felt her grip on his wrist slacken. “Yes, you can!” he said, but he knew that his bandaged hand was also going to give way. Her grip was weakening all the time, and his good hand was sweaty around her wrist. It was only a matter of time.
“You can't hold on, either, can you?” she said.
“Yes, yes, I've got you,” he replied, but she was beginning to slip from his grasp.
“I'm pulling you down,” Angelika looked up at him, her eyes wide.
“Please, Angelika, please hold on . . . we can make it,” he begged. But her hand was sliding through his, no matter how h
ard he tried to hold on to it.
“I can't,” she said quietly. “It's all right, really . . .”
Then she was gone. Falling.
Otto shut his eyes and his good hand, now free, automatically found a hand-hold in the rock. He clung on to the rock face. He had so nearly joined her.
Otto opened his eyes and looked across to Heydrich, who was staring down at the ravine. Otto forced himself to look too and saw the broken little body at the bottom. Together they watched the melt-water catch her and roll her into the mountain cascade, before the fast-flowing torrent carried her over the rocks and away. Then he felt a hand on his wrist, pulling him up.
It was Leni. “Come on!” she yelled, and Otto struggled to climb.
“Müller!” Heydrich yelled as Otto pulled himself up over the lip of the ravine and dragged himself to his feet.
Müller emerged from his cover. He stumbled towards Heydrich, his pistol in one hand, his right arm drenched in blood from the rifle wound.
“Shoot them!” shouted Heydrich.
Müller pointed the pistol and fired, but the gun was empty. He struggled to change the magazine with his injured arm.
Otto stood and stared at Heydrich. If he managed to survive, he would do everything in his power to see that evil man dead. Then he saw Heydrich grab the gun and the magazine from Müller, heard Leni's urgent shout to run, and he turned and ran like he had across the sand at Dunkirk, not even feeling the pain from his wounded leg, until he caught up with Leni; and together they ran on and on, down the mountain, the last of Heydrich's gunshots dying in the morning air.
CHAPTER 53
AUF WIEDERSEHEN
When Otto opened his eyes he felt a momentary surge of panic. The sun was shining brightly in his eyes and for a brief but terrible moment he wondered if he was dead. He sat up quickly, throwing off a rug, and found himself in the back of a large limousine. He was alone, it was blindingly hot and his shirt was soaked with sweat. Only it wasn't his Hitler- Jugend shirt, but a man's linen shirt without a collar. He pushed the door lever and clambered out.
Three figures were standing in a copse by the bank of a river. He started towards them, a sharp pain shooting up his right calf. He glanced down at the fresh bandage. A spot of blood had made it to the surface from the gunshot wound. His hand was throbbing, but it too had been re-dressed. As he walked, the events of the last hours came back to him, beginning to make sense. He remembered running and running, scrambling down the mountain track, and meeting MacPherson and a beautiful woman with a machine gun who said her name was Durand, then an injection in his arm and the pain floating away.
He reached the copse. A slight breeze came from the river. MacPherson and Leni were watching Durand lay a series of large flat river stones over some freshly dug earth.
“And may God have mercy on her soul,” said MacPherson, ending the makeshift service.
Leni's eyes were red from crying. Otto desperately wanted to take her hand. But he didn't.
MacPherson stepped across to Otto and patted him gently on the back. “You've got some colour back in your cheeks, old chap,” he said quietly.
“How are you feeling?” asked Durand.
Otto nodded. “I'm all right, really,” was all he could manage before his throat became hot and tight.
MacPherson nodded. “Well done. Well done, both of you.”
But Otto could see the disappointment in the admiral's eyes. He watched MacPherson and Durand walk back to the car, then looked at the anonymous grave. He couldn't believe Angelika was really lying under there, dead. Just like that.
“Did he tell you who she was?”
Leni shook her head. “He thinks we don't know.”
They stood there in silence, while the grasshoppers scratched out their call.
“He must think we're idiots,” said Otto. He started to walk towards MacPherson.
“Otto? What are you doing?” Leni hurried to catch up as he reached the admiral. “Don't . . . Otto.”
“Time we left, I think,” said MacPherson briskly.
“We know who she is, I mean, who she was,” said Otto correctly himself.
“Well, you may think you do, Otto,” MacPherson said, soothingly.
“No, we do, don't we, Leni?”
Leni was now beside him. She nodded.
“I see, well, that was very enterprising of you both, but—”
“What were you going to do with her?” Leni interrupted.
“I'm sorry I can't tell you anything else. I have my orders, too.”
“You'd have ruined her life, destroyed it.”
“Young lady, you are a very brave girl and you have been through a lot in the last forty-eight hours. But that does not mean you know what is right. There is a war going on, a world war, and if we lose this war – and we are doing so right now – then evil will prevail and many millions of innocent people will die. So if you ask me if the sacrifice of the life of that child, a child who could have conceivably stopped or shortened this terrible conflict, is a price worth paying, I am afraid I will tell you it is.”
“The end justifies the means,” said Otto.
“Yes, it does,” said MacPherson.
“Well, let me tell you something.” Otto was fighting to control the hot ache at the back of his throat, to keep his voice level. “She saved my life, not once but twice, and she sacrificed her own to do it. She wasn't just the daughter of someone, a tool to be used by you or the Nazis. She was a good person, a brave person.” He stopped. “You wouldn't understand.” He returned to the grave, with Leni following him.
“May I remind you both,” called MacPherson, “that you are subject to the Official Secrets Act and that . . .” He tailed off.
“You sound like an ass,” Durand said. She was leaning against the Rolls, smoking.
“I beg your pardon?”
“A pompous ass.”
MacPherson stared at her, then slowly nodded. “I do, don't I?” He took out his pipe and lit it. “They're right, of course. Every innocent life is sacred. And the minute you forget that, you're on the slippery slope to hell.”
At the copse, Otto knelt down and picked up one of the stones, smashing it on another so it split into shards. He took one shard and scratched something on the largest of the flat stones covering the grave. When he'd finished, he let Leni see what he had written.
It was a simple inscription: “Angelika – 1931-41 – An Angel”.
Leni carefully set the stone at the head of the grave and they both stood up.
“You know, I really think she was,” said Leni, and there was a catch in her voice.
But it was time to go.
CHAPTER 54
A MOMENT OF TRUTH
The sun was still high at this altitude, above three thousand metres, but it was bitterly cold for the three men trudging up the mountain in their summer-weight clothes. Heydrich, Müller and Straniak had been climbing for seven hours since the disaster at the rope bridge, and they had finally reached the ridge that marked the border between Switzerland and the Third Reich. It was a little after four in the afternoon.
“Five minutes,” said Heydrich, calling a halt.
The two other men sank down into the snow to rest their aching limbs. Heydrich raised his binoculars and trained them down on the valley below. It was covered in shade and there was no sign of further movement.Certainly there were no units from the Swiss army. Soon after midday, when they had stopped for a rest, he had observed through the binoculars the Rolls-Royce driving away across the meadow.
Since then there had been no further activity. Clearly, whoever had met the two survivors had not been inclined, or perhaps not been able, to mount any pursuit. Not with the bridge knocked out. The secret would be left on this mountain.
Müller joined him now. “Can we make it down by nightfall, sir?” he asked. He looked exhausted and his shoulder was caked with dried blood.
“Of course,” replied Heydrich. “Keep up your courage. The
mountain regiment will already be halfway up the north face by now. They will carry you down, if necessary.” His words brought a look of relief to the man.
Straniak struggled to his feet. “Herr Heydrich, might I have a word in private?”
“As you wish, Herr Straniak. Müller, you may start the descent.”
Müller needed no urging in the matter and quickly dropped down over the ridge, back into the German Reich. Straniak waited until he was out of earshot.
“I am not a young man any more and I fear that I may not make it down the mountain,” he said.
“Nonsense, Herr Straniak, it is a straightforward descent and tomorrow is the summer solstice. We will have light until ten o'clock tonight.”
Straniak waved away the words of encouragement. “Nevertheless, if I should suffer an accident, there is something I wish to speak to you about now.”
“Then speak.”
“When the Führer asked me to assist you in this matter, he informed me of the child's identity in the strictest confidence. I assume you were also informed.” Heydrich nodded. “Of course.”
“Well, last night at the inn, I performed a simple psychic exercise to confirm that identity.” A gust of wind sent a swirl of snow gusting around the two men. “It is a straightforward but foolproof test. All that is needed is an odic picture of the girl and one of the father.”
“I'm not familiar with that term.”
“Odic means a personal object, in this case a photograph that has been charged with the energy and spirit of the individual. Normally once the pendulum is set over the child it will start to spin, coming to a halt when it is placed over a picture of the father.”
“I see,” said Heydrich. But he could feel something else coming. “What is your point?”
“My point is simple. When I placed the pendulum over the Führer's picture it did not stop. It continued to spin.”
Heydrich frowned, apprehension building in the pit of his stomach.
“Therefore we can say with absolute certainty that the Führer is not the father of that child.” Straniak was staring at Heydrich with the zeal and conviction of his peculiar profession.
Hitler's Angel Page 21