‘The entire German Embassy staff was returned from Moscow on the twenty-third of June, the day after the invasion began. It is now the sixteenth of August.’
‘I did not return with the Embassy staff. There were difficulties. And when I did get back, I felt the need to rest up for a few weeks.’
Bartoli frowned. ‘You are not saying that the Soviets got on to you?’
‘That is one way of putting it.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘And they roughed you up?’
‘That is also one way of putting it.’
‘What did they do to you?’ His tone was eager.
‘If you hang around long enough, I will write my memoirs and you can read them and jerk yourself off.’
He flushed. ‘One day you are going to come tumbling down.’
‘Then I will put that in my memoirs too. Now listen, I have some information which I wish transmitted to London, urgently.’
‘Very well. What is it?’
‘The Reich Government intends to execute every Jew under its control on the continent of Europe. That is every country with the exception of Spain, Sweden and Switzerland. And Great Britain, of course.’
Bartoli stared at her. ‘Are they mad? Or are you mad?’
Anna shrugged. ‘You could be right on both counts. But it is going to happen.’
‘You are talking about ten million people!’
‘If none of them can escape, you are probably right there too.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘An hour ago I was at a meeting at the Reich Chancellery, with the Fuehrer, Reichsfuehrer Himmler, and General Heydrich, when the decision was taken. It cannot be implemented for some time, perhaps a year, as all the necessary facilities have to be built, but I can tell you that they are already killing Jews at the rate of more than a hundred a day in Russia.’
Bartoli’s mouth had sagged open. Now he snapped it shut. ‘And what part are you to play in this operation?’
‘I have no part in it.’
‘But you were there. Why?’
‘I was summoned to a meeting with the Fuehrer, and the subject came up.’
‘How fortuitous. And supposing I agree to send this rather absurd information to London, what do you expect them to do about it?’
‘Luigi, I am not asking for your agreement to send this information to London. I am giving you vital information which must be sent to London, immediately.’
Bartoli glared at her. His problem was that he did not know how much clout she possessed. But he had to suspect it was considerable. ‘I have asked: what do you expect London to do with it? Supposing they even believe you.’
‘It must be handled carefully, as at this moment only four people know of it. But the secret may reasonably be leaked once construction of the required facilities commences. I think I will be able to discover when this happens and let them know. If they then reveal to the world that they know what the Nazis are planning, it will on the one hand warn the Jews of Europe what is hanging over them, and perhaps enable some of them to get out, and it may even restrain or perhaps entirely negate the policy. Although they pretend not to be, the Nazis are as susceptible as any government to international criticism, especially from America. Persecuting the Jews to a state when all who can have fled the country, leaving most of their wealth behind, is one thing. And that incurred enough neutral criticism, again principally in the United States. Murdering ten million people is another thing altogether. You get that information to London, Luigi, and tell them to wait for a further communication from me.’
She left the office and returned to the showroom, smiling at Edda, who was looking more po-faced than ever. Anna supposed that from the regularity of her visits the woman suspected she was Luigi’s mistress, although . . . She frowned. This was her first visit to the Boutique in a year.
She put on her glasses, went out into the warm August sunshine, and the taxi’s engine started. But this was not the same taxi that had dropped her here.
‘Who are you?’ she inquired through the front window. ‘Where is my driver?’
‘He had to go off. That was longer than a few minutes, Fraulein,’ the driver pointed out. ‘He saw me passing, and asked me to take his place.’
Alarm bells began to ring in Anna’s brain. But she got into the back of the car. ‘I’m sorry I kept you, and him, waiting. One never knows how long it will take, with clothes.’
‘That is an expensive shop,’ he commented. ‘Do you buy all of your clothes there?’
‘I do not think that is any business of yours,’ Anna said. ‘Pull in over there.’
The taxi drew up at the kerb. ‘Nice building.’
‘I think so. Your fare?’ Anna opened the door.
‘It is here.’ The driver half turned and presented a card that indicated he was a member of the Abwehr.
*
Anna felt the tension creeping through her body. She was well aware of the jealousy that existed between the Abwehr, which was the Military Intelligence Service, and the Gestapo. Equally, she knew that both organizations were inferior to the SS, much less the SD. But this man could not possibly know that she belonged to the SD. More importantly, why had he chosen to pick her up, masquerading as a taxi driver?
‘I am impressed,’ she said. ‘But I do not understand what you want of me. In case you do not know it, I am the Countess von Widerstand.’
‘So-called,’ he sneered. ‘Is there anyone in your apartment?’
‘My maid.’
‘We will go up there together, and you will dismiss your maid, and then we will . . . talk.’
Anna regarded him for several moments. She did not doubt that he was a genuine Abwehr agent, but she did know that Abwehr agents, like those of the Gestapo, as a rule operated in pairs when on duty, and so it seemed this man was not necessarily on official business. She also deduced that, like so many men, he clearly regarded himself as necessarily superior to any woman, certainly one who was young and so obviously innocent of the ways of the world, even if he might suspect her of dealing in subversive activities. Equally, like so many policemen in Nazi Germany, he regarded himself as above the law, at least when bullying and perhaps enjoying an attractive victim.
But she needed to find out just how much he did suspect, or might even know, about both the Boutique and herself. So she allowed herself a hasty and obviously nervous lick of her lips. ‘If that is what you wish.’
He followed her into the lobby and she greeted the concierge, who looked apprehensive. Like most people in Germany he could recognize a policeman when he saw one, and Anna was one of his favourite tenants. But as she merely smiled at him he made no comment; she knew that, as this building was owned by the SD, and all of its residents worked for that organization, he was required to note and report all non-resident comings and goings.
She led the man into the elevator, took off her glasses, placed them in her pocket, and faced him. ‘Will you not tell me your name?’
‘My name was on my warrant card.’
‘I’m sorry, I did not notice.’
He held out the card again.
Anna studied it. ‘Pieter Schlutz. Mine is Anna.’
‘Anna what?’
‘Anna, Countess von Widerstand.’
‘You do not wish to make me angry, Anna.’
‘Oh. Are you going to beat me up?’
‘That would be very enjoyable, I am sure. Although there are other things I would prefer to do to you first. Or maybe after would be better.’
Anna shuddered. ‘I do not like being hurt, Herr Schlutz. Please do not attempt to hurt me.’ Which was all the warning he was going to get.
‘Then do not make me angry. Then I will only hurt you a little.’ He stepped against her, squeezed her hips, and then unfastened her slacks to pull them past her thighs to uncover her underwear, immediately sliding his hands under the hem of the cami-knickers to find the bare flesh beneath, thus rendering himself momentarily helpless. At this
close range it was impossible to generate any real power, but in addition to her skills at martial arts Anna was consummately trained at both judo and karate. It was judo, the art of using the opponent’s movements to defeat him, that she needed here. His face and body had moved down her stomach as he sought her pubes, so she simply placed both hands on his head and pushed with all her strength. His knees struck the floor of the car, and as she was still pushing, he lost his balance and fell over; the cami-knickers ripped as his fingers tightened in search of balance. Anna stepped away from him and pulled up her pants. He pushed himself into a sitting position, lips drawn back in a snarl.
‘Bitch! I will . . .’
Anna’s toes, travelling in a perfectly timed kick, crashed into his jaw and he fell backwards to hit the wall with a thump. She fastened her pants, then stood above him to make sure he was out, at least for the moment, before kneeling to hunt through his clothes. There was a Luger pistol, which she tucked into the waistband of her slacks, and then she found what she really wanted: a pair of handcuffs. She removed these, rolled him over, dragged his arms behind his back, and secured his wrists.
The elevator car had by now arrived at the sixth floor, and stopped. Anna grasped Schlutz’s shoulders and, using all her strength – he was a heavy man – dragged him into the doorway so that the doors could not close. Then she stepped over him, crossed the lobby, and opened her apartment door. ‘Birgit!’ she called.
‘I am here, Countess.’ Birgit hurried up the corridor from the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron. A dark-haired young woman – although she was some years older than Anna herself – she had a short and slender body and pretty features, at this moment, as always when confronted by her mistress, contorted with anxiety. Anna knew that the maid had no real idea what she did for a living, other than that she worked for the Government, but as she had been in Anna’s employ for well over a year now, and had been with her in Moscow, she did know that people had a habit of being found dead when in Anna’s vicinity. As for the Russian debacle, Birgit, as a member of the Embassy staff, had been repatriated the day after the German invasion had started, when Anna had already been in the hands of the NKVD. No doubt Birgit had supposed she would never see her mistress again, however much she had pretended to be overwhelmed with joy and relief when she had suddenly turned up, a week later, apparently on top of the world.
Anna smiled at her. ‘I need your help.’
‘Countess?’
‘Here.’ Anna led her across the lobby and indicated Schlutz’s body.
Birgit clasped both hands to her neck. ‘Is he dead?’
‘Not yet. I want him in the apartment. Come along.’
The alarm was buzzing as someone else was trying to use the elevator. The two women grasped a shoulder each and dragged Schlutz clear of the doors, which promptly closed. By now Schlutz had opened his eyes and was taking in his surroundings. Then he opened his mouth.
‘Please do not make a noise,’ Anna requested. ‘Or I will hit you again, harder. In fact, it would be better if you did not speak at all, until I invite you to do so.’
Schlutz closed his mouth again, but continued to stare at her in a most vituperative manner.
‘He is very angry,’ Birgit suggested.
‘Wouldn’t you be, if you had just been kicked in the teeth? I think he can probably stand up.’
Between them they got Schlutz to his knees and then his feet, although he was clearly not functioning properly, and had to be held up. By now Birgit had noticed the pistol in Anna’s waistband.
‘He threatened you with a gun?’
‘Not exactly. I just felt that we could have a more civilized conversation if I had it. The handcuffs are his as well. He’s a policeman. Well, in a manner of speaking.’
‘Oh, my God!’
‘Just relax.’ They got Schlutz across the lobby and into the sitting room. ‘On the settee,’ Anna said.
They sat him down, facing them. His chin was almost blue, and he was gasping for air. Seeing him sitting there brought back such memories. Gottfried Friedemann had sat there, with his arms round her, seconds before she had obeyed Heydrich’s command and put the Walther automatic pistol to the back of his head and squeezed the trigger. But then, Clive Bartley had sat there as well, with his arms round her, seconds before her life had taken on an entirely new dimension. Good and grotesque, happy and horrible, all sides of the same coin.
She adored this apartment, with its soft carpets, its panelled walls, its luxurious furnishings . . . Her parents had been comfortably off, but there had been no money for extreme luxury in the Vienna house. Even so, when she had been taken away and placed in a Gestapo cell, and even more when she had been taken from the cell to go to the SS training school, she had supposed that comfort, much less luxury, had vanished from her life forever. But instead she had wound up here, in more luxury than she had ever suspected to exist outside of a palace.
None of it was hers, of course; a fact of which the man seated in front of her did not seem to be aware. She lived here because Heydrich – or was it actually Himmler? – required the Countess von Widerstand to live in a style to match her name and manufactured background. Here she could entertain, here she could seduce, and here she could execute, with an SD disposal unit only a phone call away – something else this unfortunate lout did not seem to know.
So here it was that she had sold her soul to the devil. Because she had had no choice. But it was also here that she had taken the first step towards reclaiming that soul. Unfortunately, the devil still had to be serviced.
‘What are we going to do?’ Birgit asked.
There was no way Birgit could be allowed to overhear any of the answers she intended to extract from this man. ‘You,’ Anna said, ‘are going to go out and enjoy yourself. I do not wish you to come back before six. But while you are out buy some nice food, and when you do come back, prepare a very good dinner. I believe we may be entertaining tonight.’
‘But you, Countess. Will you be safe here with him?’
‘I think we are going to get along just fine,’ Anna assured her. ‘Now, off you go. There is money on the dressing table.’ Birgit hurried from the room, and Anna went to the sideboard and poured two glasses of schnapps. Then she sat beside Schlutz. ‘I think you could do with this.’
She held the glass to his lips, and he drank eagerly enough. ‘Do you know what they are going to do to you, Fraulein? What I am going to do with you, when I get free?’
Anna leaned away from him and sipped her own drink. ‘You are counting chickens, Herr Schlutz, although perhaps I should start calling you Pieter, as we are liable to become very intimate. What should be concerning you is what I am going to do to you, now, if it becomes necessary.’
Birgit emerged, wearing her hat. ‘I will go now, Countess.’
‘Six o’clock,’ Anna reminded her. ‘Not a moment before.’ She waited for the front door to close, then went to the sideboard and refilled the glasses. ‘So you see, Pieter, we have six hours to get to know each other. But we will stop just now for lunch.’
‘Stop what?’ he asked, for the first time apprehensive.
‘Whatever we happen to be doing at the time.’ Anna gave him another drink, then sat in a chair opposite him, leaning back and crossing her knees. ‘Now, let us start at the beginning. You work for Military Intelligence. Admiral Canaris, is it? And you have for some reason determined that there is something suspicious about me, or my name, or whatever. Was this your own deduction, or that of Admiral Canaris?’
‘I was directed to investigate you, yes.’
‘And what have you found out?’
‘I know that you are an Austrian adventuress who operates under a spurious title, but who managed to marry into the English aristocracy until she was discovered and thrown out.’
‘Because I was an adventuress?’
‘There was some talk of you actually being a spy, but I do not believe that.’
‘You should be mor
e trusting. You have still not told me what you have found out to make you want to interrogate me. I mean to say, if I am not a spy, what crime am I supposed to have committed?’
‘I will tell you that when you are at our headquarters.’
‘But we are not going to your headquarters.’
‘Do you seriously think you can keep me here? For how long?’
‘How does the idea of eternity take you?’
He stared at her. ‘You? A chit of a girl? You would not dare harm an agent of the Abwehr. You would not know how.’
‘Well, maybe I can pick it up as we go along. I asked you a question. Answer it.’
Her voice had suddenly taken on a sharp edge, and his head jerked. But he did not lack courage. ‘Fuck off.’
‘I have an idea that you came here with that in mind,’ Anna said. ‘And as you have reminded me, I am a simple young girl who only knows how to submit to men. So, you see, your wish is my command.’ She stood in front of him. ‘As at the moment I am doing you a favour, it would be very unwise of you to attempt to kick me. I am in a better position to hurt you than you are to hurt me, would you not agree?’
She unbuttoned his jacket, then released his belt and pulled his pants right off. Then she did the same to his drawers, while his breathing slowly increased in intensity. ‘Hm,’ she commented. ‘I’ve seen better. But he is improving all the time. Now you have to wait a few moments.’ She went into her bedroom, leaving the door open so that she could keep an eye on him while she opened her bureau drawers to find what she wanted.
He actually never moved, remained contemplating himself, obviously wondering if he dared believe the pleasure that seemed about to be his. She selected two pairs of handcuffs and a scarf, then returned to the drawing room. ‘We don’t want these getting in the way,’ she suggested, and pulled his left ankle towards the settee leg to secure it with one of the cuffs. Then she pulled the right leg to the other side. This meant stretching him to the limit, but he made no effort to resist her; the very business of being spread so wide while naked from the waist down was intensifying his erection.
‘There,’ Anna said, standing up. ‘Now, we don’t want you screaming, either in ecstasy or in agony; this is a respectable building.’ She moved behind the settee, draped the scarf round his mouth, drew it tight, and secured it on the nape of his neck. Now at last he attempted to protest, but it was too late.
Angel of Vengeance_The thrilling sequel to Angel in Red Page 5