When they arrived on the outskirts of Cologne he slowed the car down almost to walking pace and peered ahead into the shadows on either side of the road. A few hundred yards past the first houses he found what he was looking for; the starlight was just strong enough to show him a large, open field. Turning the car on to the grass he drove over the rough surface until he was a hundred yards from the road and quite certain that the car would not be visible from it while night lasted. Then he got out and opened the door of the limousine.
First he pulled out the unconscious Johannes and propped him in the driver’s seat, his hands and feet still tied; next he got into the car again, shut the door, sat down beside the girl and untied her gag.
After making a sucking noise with her lips and tongue to ease the muscles of her mouth which had been held rigid for some time, she said: ‘Thank goodness that’s over! What d’you mean to do now?’
‘We’re just outside Cologne and I’ve driven the car into a field, as you probably gathered from the bumping. I’m afraid you’re going to have a rather uncomfortable night, but I’ve got to leave you here.’
‘Tied up like this?’
‘Sorry; I’ve no alternative.’
‘You won’t take my word for it that if you set me free I won’t inform the police about you until to-morrow morning?’
‘I daren’t. Not only for my own sake, but for yours as well. It’s impossible for me to drive the car further into the city, as it would soon be found wherever I left it and things would be set moving before I’d had time to get a good start. If I were to untie your hands and feet before I left you your first thought would be to get help for Johannes, and you’d find it more than difficult to account for that crack on the back of his head and the position of the car in this field without giving me away.
‘Even if you decided to abandon him and walked along the road until you got a lift to your hotel, or wherever you intend to stay, the car would be discovered first thing in the morning. It’s bound to be; because I’ve intentionally parked it in clear sight of the road so that you mayn’t have to wait too long before somebody finds you.
‘When the car’s discovered the police will make inquiries. Johannes will have his own story to tell when he’s well enough, and God only knows what the Gestapo would do to you if they were to find out that you’d gone calmly off to bed without having reported me. Whatever yarn you decided to spin them you’d find yourself in one hell of a mess before you were much older. For your own protection it’s absolutely essential that someone must find you here, tied up in the car, so that there can be no possible suggestion that you connived at my getaway.’
She sighed, ‘Yes; you’re right, of course. How is poor Johannes?’
‘Not too bad. I examined him just now; he’s got a lump the size of an egg just above the base of his skull and it’s bleeding slightly. When he comes to he’ll probably be suffering from concussion, but the essential thing for anyone who has concussion is that they should be moved as little as possible. If I allowed you to go and fetch help for him he’d be jolted about for an hour or two by people heaving him into an ambulance, taking him to hospital, undressing him, monkeying about with his wound and putting him to bed, so he’s really better off left lying where he is. He’ll be all right in a day or two and back on duty in a week.’
‘I’m glad of that; the poor fellow had done nothing to deserve that awful crack over the head you gave him.’
‘I know; but he just had to have it or I could never have carried out my scheme for ensuring myself a decent start when we arrived here. Anyhow, it may console him a bit, later on, to find that he’s the richer by a hundred marks. I stuffed a note under his shirt after I’d undressed him where it’s unlikely that the hospital orderlies will find it if they get at him before he recovers consciousness.’
‘What a peculiar person you are!’
‘Peculiar? Why?’
‘Well, after all, Johannes is a soldier and you’re at war with his country. Most soldiers killed or wounded in a war never know who fired the shot that hit him, so he’s really no more cause for complaint than any man at the Front; yet you proceed to pay him compensation.’
‘One can look at it in that way, I suppose; but even if he is a soldier, striking a chap down from behind without warning, miles behind the line, somehow seems quite different from potting him in the trenches when he knows what he’s in for and is doing his best to pot you.’
‘How illogical!’ she laughed. ‘Think how expensive it would be for airmen if they reasoned like that and threw bundles of notes over every time they carried out night-bombing of troop concentrations behind the lines! All the same though, I do understand how you feel and I think it’s very decent of you. But are you quite sure you can afford to give away a hundred marks? You may need all the money that you’ve got to help you out of Germany.’
‘Thanks; but I’ve plenty left. And now I suppose I must say good-bye.’
‘What do you intend to do?’
‘That’s my secret!’
‘You still don’t trust me.’
‘I didn’t say so; but if you were grilled by the Gestapo you might give something away quite unintentionally. As long as you’ve no idea what I intend to do I’m protected against that.’
‘I wonder if you will succeed in getting through?’ she mused.
‘I don’t know, but I mean to have a damned good try. If I don’t, I’ll use the handkerchief with which I gagged you as a bandage for my eyes when I have to face the firing-squad.’ He laughed and patted the tunic-pocket in which the handkerchief now reposed.
‘You’re joking!’ she exclaimed incredulously.
‘I’m not, I assure you. All my life I’ve been a cheerful cynic. I’ve never worshipped anything but beauty, and nothing that any artist ever created in paint or marble can equal the living beauty of a really lovely woman. If I’m caught you’ll be the last beautiful woman that I’ll have touched and talked to so it’ll be very fitting that I use the handkerchief for that purpose, in spite of the fact that I’d always determined not to have my eyes bandaged if I ever had to die that way.’
‘I don’t want you to die—now.’
‘Thanks. That’s nice of you. It has something of the old chivalrous tradition of the days when wars were fought by gentlemen and enemies respected each other. I’ve always thought that one of the very worst things about modern warfare is this filthy inculcation of race hatred. You’re a good German; I’m a good Englishman; but there’s no earthly reason why we shouldn’t retain our individualities and wish each other luck as long as we’re not in personal combat.’
‘Lieber Gott! What a crazy business war is!’ she exclaimed suddenly.
‘I agree. We don’t want to fight you; you don’t want to fight us. But untold misery is brought to both our countries just because a few men at the head of things can’t get together, give way a little to each other and settle their differences amicably, as would be the case with the heads of two big business concerns.’
‘You said something just before you gagged me outside Bonn—something about enabling somebody much cleverer than yourself to save countless lives. What did you mean by that?’
‘Only that there’s a scheme on foot to bring the war to a quick finish. I was sent out to start the ball rolling, but I’ve failed miserably. That’s why I don’t care so very much whether I’m shot or not, and took a chance on holding up your car when it might quite well have been full of armed S.S. men. Still, I suppose it’s up to me to get back if I can to report the bungle I’ve made. Then someone else, who’s a better man than I am, may be able to straighten out the mess and start something from another angle.’
‘From what I’ve seen of you I doubt whether they could find a better man. It must have been that you had extraordinarily bad luck.’
‘It’s the other way round, I’m afraid. If I hadn’t been monstrous lucky I’d be as dead as a doornail at this moment; I made two bad slips which I ought to have
foreseen and avoided and both of them were entirely my fault.’
‘I believe you’re being hard on yourself. Even the cleverest of secret agents must fail to foresee certain eventualities at times. That you’re really first-class is proved by the fact that you’ve managed to keep your freedom so far, although half the police in Germany have been after you for two nights and a day.’
Gregory smiled, thinking of the row of Nazi corpses which must now be lying in the mortuary at Ems. ‘Well, apart from my job I haven’t put up a bad show, I suppose, but it’s the job that matters and I’ve fallen down on that.’
‘Will you promise me something?’ she asked quietly.
‘Certainly; I’ll promise you anything you like provided that it doesn’t conflict with my duty or the interests of my country.’
‘Then if you do get back to England safely, promise me that you won’t throw in your hand, but sort out the muddle you’ve made and have another shot at completing successfully the thing you set out to do.’
‘I don’t know whether that’s possible.’
‘You said that someone else might tackle the job from another angle. Why not do so yourself?’
‘Now that I’ve hopelessly botched the best lead there was it remains to be seen whether there is another angle from which it can be approached.’
‘Then promise me that if you can find one you’ll use it yourself instead of handing it over to anybody else.’
He laughed abruptly. ‘D’you realise that you’re as good as inviting me to come back to Germany again as a spy?’
‘Certainly. I’m quite sure that a man of your courage would not allow that to daunt him.’
‘Maybe; but I wasn’t thinking of that. I meant to ask you whether you realised that you were expressing a wish for the return to your country of an enemy agent; one who might be instrumental in sabotaging certain very important bits and pieces of your war machine.’
‘That is a risk which I am prepared to take, since the restoration of peace is your ultimate aim.’
‘In that case I give you my promise that if anyone is sent to Germany again on this business and it lies in my power to return, I’ll do so.’
She sat up suddenly. ‘Thank you for that. Now you must go. You’ve still a few hours of darkness left, but every moment counts if you’re to get away safely.’
‘You’re right. I’ve already lingered longer than I should, but it’s been well worth it. I must see your face again, though, before I say good-bye.’ As he spoke Gregory took his matches from his pocket and struck a light.
She was more beautiful than he had realised from his first glimpse of her; he gazed at her smile until the match burnt his fingers and he was forced to drop it.
‘Good-bye,’ he said, placing his hand gently over both of hers and leaning slightly towards her.
‘Not good-bye, but Auf Wiedersehen,’ she whispered, and he felt the answering pressure of her shoulder in the darkness.
Bending his head he found her lips, which were held up to meet his. After a long moment he crushed her hands between his and murmured: ‘Auf Wiedersehen, mein Liebchen”
With an effort he forced himself to relinquish her hands and got out of the car.
‘Good luck, dear spy! Good luck!’ she called after him, ‘and do be careful on your way into the city.’
‘The odds are in my favour, at all events until morning,’ he called back reassuringly as he swung-to the door of the car. ‘Darkness is my friend.’
13
There’s Many a Slip
Immensely cheered by his strange encounter with the lovely lady. Gregory set off at a quick limp across the field. The outcome of their meeting had been utterly different from anything he could possibly have anticipated when he had held up her car, or even after he had turned the tables on her and she had good-humouredly accepted his mastery of the situation.
A little over an hour before she had quite obviously intended handing him over, without the least compunction, to be shot, yet she had just kissed him with an ardour which only a woman experienced in the arts of love could have displayed, shown acute anxiety for his safety and begged him to seek some way of recommencing his mission although she knew him to be the secret agent of an enemy country.
As he struck the road and headed for the centre of the city he thought, for the hundredth time, that women were truly weird creatures, though very wonderful. It was not until he had covered the best part of a mile that he suddenly realised that he had forgotten to ask her name.
This stupid omission annoyed him intensely. He knew that if he were still alive when the war ended he would not have a moment’s peace until he had found her again, and as a result of his stupidity he might have the greatest difficulty in doing so. But it was now too late to go back; the few remaining hours of darkness were precious and in addition he was compelled to economise his strength, for his leg was paining him again now that he had to use it and there was nothing to distract his mind from his wound.
As the houses became more numerous it occurred to him that he had better examine Johannes’ papers and find out as much as possible about the man he was supposed to be, for now that he was wearing the uniform of a private he would have to answer questions if he ran into one of the patrols that were certain to be policing the city.
Turning into a pitch-black archway he struck a match and quickly scrutinised the soldier’s pay-book, from which he learned that Johannes’ surname was Heckt, that he belonged to the 27th Bavarian Infantry Regiment and that he was married and thirty-one years of age.
That was oldish for a private, but like most men on back-area jobs he had probably been recalled to the colours only a few weeks before the outbreak of war. Gregory thanked his stars that Johannes had not been younger; as he himself was slim and wiry he could pass for a man of thirty-one who had lived hard. That was the advantage of being one of the ‘lean and hungry’ kind; there was nothing to disclose one’s real age except one’s bearing, and that could be altered at will to a marked extent. He replaced the pay-book in his pocket, left the shelter of the arch and continued on his way.
The dark streets through which he passed were practically deserted and as far as he could he took cover in the deeper shadows whenever he heard anyone approaching, so that the only person he had met face-to-face by the time he reached the bridge was an A.R.P. man with whom he nearly collided on coming round a corner.
There were both civil and military police at the bridge-head and Gregory braced himself to face possible questioning; but they were watching for a General on a motor-cycle, not an ordinary private and after a casual glance they let him pass without a challenge. Having crossed the bridge he entered the centre of Cologne with a considerably easier mind.
Avoiding the Dom Platz he walked straight to the station. As he passed its entrance, noise and the glow of shaded lights showed him that considerable activity was still going on there. Cologne might sleep, but Germany’s trains must continue to run, carrying her troops and her industrialists from city to city.
Skirting the station-yard he turned down a street that ran parallel to the long steel-and-glass arches under which the trains drew in. After a quarter of a mile he found, as he expected, that the station-buildings gave way to a stout fence, made of railway-sleepers set on end, which enclosed the goods-yard.
He knew perfectly well that he had not the least hope of buying a ticket or obtaining a travelling-pass which would enable him to take a passenger-train to the frontier, much less over it; but if the goods-yard were not too closely guarded he might be able to secrete himself in a wagon and travel out of Germany that way.
Crossing to the far side of the street he walked quietly down it, keeping a sharp watch on the fence opposite, and he soon discovered that soldiers were posted along it at intervals of approximately three hundred yards. From what little he could see they did not appear to be sentries, as none of them was marching up and down but merely pickets posted there at ease to make sure that nobody
should climb over the fence into the yard.
He wondered for a moment whether, by choosing a spot exactly half-way between two pickets, he could get over the fence unseen, but decided that it would be too risky. The fence was about six feet high and its top could be made out with reasonable distinctness against the skyline. He could easily reach it without being spotted and crouch there unnoticed in the friendly shadows, but if one of the pickets saw him as he climbed over he might get a bullet in the back, or at all events become the object of a new hue and cry. That was a thing he dared not risk, as his wounded leg would prevent his outdistancing his pursuers who would certainly come after him over the fence and into the yard.
It seemed that the only other possible scheme by which he could get into the yard depended upon starting a conversation with one of the pickets and either outwitting him or securing his assistance. Crossing the street Gregory approached the nearest man and opened up with the words: ‘Got a light, old chap?’
‘No,’ said the picket; a big, bearded fellow who was evidently a reservist. ‘Don’t smoke.’
‘Ah, well; tastes differ. Leaves you more to spend on beer doesn’t it?’
‘I don’t drink,’ replied the man gruffly.
Gregory itched to ask him whether he ate hay and if he answered ‘no’ to that let him have the old crack that he was no fit companion for man or beast; but he suppressed the temptation and remarked instead: ‘Often wish I didn’t smoke or drink, myself. Save quite a bit if I could bring myself to cut ‘em out. With the price of everything going up all round money’s that scarce these days you never know where to turn for the next five marks.’
‘Ah; like so many people you live in Darkness, my friend,’ replied the man. ‘If only you could find the Light such trivial inconveniences would cease to trouble you.’
Gregory had no desire whatever to find the Light at that moment. Darkness was his element and he would have been supremely happy if he could have prevented the sun from rising for another week; but the man went on earnestly:
The Scarlet Impostor Page 15