The German Agent

by J Sydney Jones

  He heard the jangle of the phone in the hall and then creaking footsteps on the floorboards as Monroe went to answer it. There was the muffled voice of a one-sided phone conversation followed by footsteps coming to the door of the dining room. Everyone’s eyes were on the door as it opened. Monroe, accompanied by a sleepy looking Scott, entered.

  ‘It’s for you, chief inspector,’ Monroe said. ‘A call from Washington.’

  Lewis rose and went to the phone. Again all eyes followed, and he left the door open as he picked up the receiver. No one made a pretense not to listen in.

  ‘Lewis here.’

  There was a long pause, and Fitzgerald, who could not see Lewis, could hear him shifting from foot to foot by the phone stand, making the floorboards squeak. Fitzgerald sought out his wife’s eyes, but they were averted, as if trying to look in back of her as she listened closely to Lewis.

  Finally: ‘You’re sure it’s him? He’s a tricky devil.’

  Fitzgerald met Catherine’s eyes at this statement.

  ‘There was a cut on his left hand. You’re sure? That’s marvelous, sergeant. Great work. There’ll be a promotion in order for you … No, no. Hold him there. I’ll be in town soon anyway to meet with the commissioner. Whatever you do, keep him stuck where he is until I get there. Right.’

  Fitzgerald heard the receiver click back into its hook. Lewis entered the room with a smile from ear to ear on his beefy face.

  ‘It’s all over. We’ve got the German.’

  Lewis sat back down into his chair and drained his cup of coffee, leaving the rest of them open-mouthed at this pronouncement.

  ‘How? Where?’ Niel finally demanded.

  Lewis leaned back in his chair, sticking thick thumbs into his vest pockets. ‘An anonymous tip, it seems. Ironic how these things ultimately work themselves out. Someone calls our boys at the Georgetown precinct house to tell them this German reported on in the papers is hiding out in a hobo camp off the C & O Canal. Our boys don’t think much of it at first. They get a lot of such calls. Sometimes it’s even one hobo snitching on another just to get them in trouble. But they check it out anyway and they find our man sleeping in some corrugated metal lean-to.’

  ‘Are they absolutely sure?’ Fitzgerald said, hoping that this would all finally be over.

  ‘Oh, they’re sure all right. He fits the description exactly, right down to the army outfit our boy was wearing yesterday. And he’s got the wound on his left hand, to boot. He protests his innocence, of course. But then he would. He’s our man, though. The wound proves it.’

  Lewis sucked in air proudly, but Niel was still skeptical.

  ‘I’ll have to see him face-to-face before I believe it,’ he said.

  Lewis grinned broadly. ‘Don’t worry, Niel. You’ll get plenty of chances to see him when we begin questioning.’

  ‘I mean now,’ Niel said standing and tossing his napkin onto the table. ‘Which precinct house?’

  ‘We’ll go in together,’ Lewis said. ‘But first I need to step down security here.’

  ‘Step down security!’ Niel said. ‘Don’t be crazy, man.’

  Lewis now stood as well, towering over Niel. ‘I hope you’re not forgetting who you’re talking to, Agent Niel. The men at this house are under my command. We’ve got over a hundred of them roaming these grounds with bullets in the breeches of their rifles and safeties off. They’re men from different services unused to working together in concert. It’s a wonder no one was shot during the night by accident. These men are tired and cold after a night out in the open. Nerves are on edge and tempers short out there. I know. I’ve been out to talk with them this morning. So yes, I am going to step down security now that the German has been apprehended. To do otherwise would be insanity. Someone will be hurt needlessly if I don’t. I don’t intend to gut the protection here, merely avoid confusion. I’ll leave, say, fifteen men to patrol the grounds, and of course Scott and Paxton will remain as personal bodyguards until Sir Adrian leaves this country.’

  This did not mollify Niel who was about to start out on another tirade, but Appleby spoke up finally. ‘I think that will be sufficient, chief inspector,’ he said, his voice proud and full.

  Fitzgerald looked at him closely and was amazed to see that he had performed yet another chameleon performance, Lewis’s news having galvanized him. He sat stiffly in his chair now like a noble elder statesman. Even the bags under his eyes seemed to have diminished instantly, his face becoming taut and confident looking.

  ‘I must prepare for the president. How does this news affect our meeting?’

  ‘No change, Sir Adrian,’ Lewis said. ‘We’ll still seal off the route to town; give you a little motorcade. We won’t have to lay on as many men now, that’s all.’

  ‘If this is the right man in custody,’ Niel emphasized.

  ‘I’ll re-confirm with Colonel House for you, Adrian,’ Fitzgerald said, getting up from his chair and moving to the hall phone. Meanwhile Lewis and Niel departed together, an odd couple if ever there was one.

  Catherine continued eating, happy that things would be getting back to normal. She had to confess that she felt a twinge of sympathy for Maximillian Voetner, or whatever his real name was. He had been kind to her and she had felt a certain attraction to him. But she realized now that was all artifice on his part. It was all a ploy to get to Uncle Adrian.

  Edward rejoined them, saying that all was in order with the upcoming meeting with the president.

  ‘Fine, fine,’ Adrian said. Then, he suddenly exclaimed, ‘I know what! Why waste the last bit of winter weather lounging about in the house? That pond of yours still has ice on it, Edward.’

  ‘What are you getting at Adrian?’ Fitzgerald said, suspicion in his voice.

  ‘Why, a party, of course. This calls for a celebration, not for more skulking about like the persecuted. I am proposing a skating party, my boy. With champagne all around. In moderation of course, for I must play the restrained diplomat this afternoon. But for now, let us cut up a bit. What do you say?’

  ‘I say what Lewis and Niel would if they were here. Keep up our guard. Stay inside.’

  ‘Oh, nonsense, Edward. You’ve got not one ounce of gaiety in you.’

  ‘Besides,’ Fitzgerald went on. ‘The weather is warming up. Ice can be dangerous in a thaw.’

  Appleby turned to Catherine and said, ‘Why you married this old stick in the mud, dear niece, I will never understand.’ Then to Fitzgerald he added, ‘We’re as safe outside as inside, my boy. Didn’t you hear Lewis? They’ve caught the fellow. Time to kick up our heels and shout out loud. We’ll take our bodyguards along, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

  ‘I still don’t think it’s a good idea,’ Fitzgerald said.

  Appleby turned to her and said, ‘What do you say, niece?’

  ‘It’s a marvelous idea, uncle.’

  Edward shot her a reprimanding look, then saw it was no use. He was outnumbered.

  ‘Let’s get the skates out from under the stairs,’ Catherine said like a child on winter break. ‘We’ll have Thomas bring the champagne down later.’

  Niel sat in back with Lewis as they bounced over the rough country road back toward town. Mud slapped on the chassis beneath them, the thaw was turning the roads into quagmires. His doubts about the miraculous capture had diminished and he was allowing himself to gloat.

  By the time they pulled up to the precinct house on M Street in Georgetown, Niel was more than ever determined to make the German talk.

  The precinct house was alive with activity; word had got round of the coup they had made with the capture of the German and the police there were congratulating one another, clapping Lewis on the back as he entered. Niel tagged along behind, making his way through the host of brawny police as best he could. Lewis stopped at the booking desk to first check out the sheet on the German. Looking over his shoulder, Niel could see that they had not got much information down.

  ‘He keeps yelling in his
thick accent about how it’s all a mistake, chief inspector,’ the sergeant who had made the arrest said, taking the sheet back from Lewis. ‘He must think we’re a bunch of fools.’

  ‘Let’s see him, sergeant,’ Lewis said. ‘I want to tell this boy exactly what I think of him.’ He rubbed his head, remembering, Niel suspected, the blow the fellow had given him at the New Willard.

  The sergeant led them in back to the holding cells, smelling damp and stuffy. There was no natural light back here, only naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling of the hallway between two rows of cells. Most of the cells were occupied by drunks and vagrants.

  ‘We kept him by himself back in the last one so he couldn’t get up to any mischief,’ the sergeant was saying as they moved by the cells.

  Niel was planning how he would deal with the man even as they came to the cell.

  The German was sitting on his bunk, his head in his hands looking at the floor. His left hand was bandaged, and the way his shoulders slumped, Niel knew he was a broken man.

  This should be easy, he thought.

  ‘Hey, buddy,’ the sergeant called to the German. ‘I got some men here want to talk to you.’

  At this, the man raised his head and looked questioningly from Lewis to Niel.

  ‘Oh, Christ!’ Lewis blurted out.

  Niel felt his stomach do a flip-flop. It was not their man.

  Max grabbed the top metal footrest of the climbing rungs on the telephone pole and hoisted himself up level with the wires. He looked quickly around the estate through the limbs of the tree that partially concealed him.

  Make it quick, he told himself. He could see one of the guards doing his perimeter rounds several hundred yards to the west, his back turned toward Max. He would get to the furthest reach of his rounds at the copse of trees some three hundred yards from where he was now, Max knew, for he had been watching him all morning, since returning from Georgetown. He felt the taut telephone wire under his hand: it was thicker and stronger than he thought it would be. You’ll never be able to break it with your hands, he told himself. Improvise. The policeman was still headed away from him, but for some reason had picked up his pace, moving briskly now as if to stay warm.

  Quickly, man, he ordered himself. Think.

  He had brought no clipping tools along with him. His plans had not gone that far ahead. He tugged again at the wire: it would take too long to crimp it and split it in that manner. Once the policeman finished his rounds and turned back around to face the pole, the game would be up, Max knew. He’d see him immediately.

  With his feet on different levels of the pole footholds, and his left arm wrapped tightly around the pole, he reached under his jacket and drew out his gun. He quickly opened the chamber and knocked out the rounds into his left hand. Then he cocked the gun, fitting the wire between trigger and chamber. Let’s hope this works, he thought. And that it doesn’t ruin your firing mechanism in the process.

  He pulled the trigger and the wire bent into a geometric ‘U’ shape under the trigger. He cocked the pistol again and pulled the trigger, then repeated the process three more times until the wire was so weakened that, re loading and putting the pistol away, he could work it with his hands. The policeman below was nearing the copse of trees as Max continued to work the wire.

  Hurry. Break, damn you.

  He was about to climb down the pole, hide in the trees below until the policeman had done his return walk, then climb back up, when the policeman’s back was to him again. But time was of the essence, he knew. How long ago had he seen yellow vest and the other bulkier cop drive off from Washington? Forty-five minutes? An hour? Long enough, he knew, for them to discover that the jailed German was Karl and not he. Long enough for them to be rushing to a phone, perhaps at this very moment, to warn those at Brantley about the trick.

  He rolled the ends of the bent wire more vigorously, the pole shaking with his exertion. A quick glance at the policeman told him he had only a matter of seconds not minutes to finish this job and get down the pole. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his mouth was dry from nerves and exertion.

  At that instant, the wire broke in his hands. He quickly wrapped the loose end around the guide wire above it so that it would not dangle down and give him away, then scooted down the pole so quickly that he drove slivers into his legs several times. Just as he hit the ground, the policeman made his turn and headed back toward the pole and tree where he was hidden.

  As Max lay crouching in the bracken by the tree, watching the policeman draw near, he thought about Karl. Clearly the police had bitten at his anonymous tip, he thought. The lowering of the security proved that. And with the old couple going out, and then yellow vest and the other cop driving off, it all signified that they’d arrested Karl, thinking he was their man.

  It had not been easy for him to ask the other German to help him in this manner; he knew he was putting the man into extreme danger, but Karl, once he’d heard Max’s story, had half-suggested it himself, even down to the bit about the wound on the left hand. Karl had cut himself, smiling at Max as he had done so.

  A stupid damn lapdog, Max thought. A brainless wonder.

  He loves you, Max told himself. You protected him and he loves you for it. He’ll sacrifice himself for you.

  He’s a half wit. He’d sacrifice himself for a stick of chewing gum.

  And he remembered Mrs McBride and how she had taken care of him, how she had covered for him at the house, allowing him to escape and placing herself in jeopardy doing so.

  A sentimental old woman who mistook me for her dead son.

  The policeman neared his hiding place and Max put all such thoughts out of his head.

  ‘Try it again, operator,’ Niel said almost frantically into the mouthpiece. ‘There must be some mistake.’

  He gripped the earpiece in his right hand, his heart pounding and teeth grinding.

  ‘We’re not able to get through, sir. There must be trouble on the line. We’ll have to send out crews tomorrow.’

  He slammed down the earpiece. ‘He’s cut the lines. The bastard’s there, I tell you.’

  Lewis came roaring out of the shock he had been in since discovering the wrong German in the holding cells. ‘I’ll get on to the local police at Cabin John and have them send out anybody they can to get word to Brantley. Meanwhile we gather a contingent and get back there as quickly as we can.’

  ‘Why not get in radio contact with your men at Brantley?’ Niel said, feeling damn stupid he had not thought of this before.

  Lewis looked suddenly sheepish.

  ‘Don’t tell me that was part of the security you stepped down?’

  Lewis shook his head. ‘We were relying on phone lines the whole time.’ He looked squarely at Niel. ‘We didn’t have time for thorough planning, and we don’t have time now for post mortems.’

  Niel flexed his jaw at Lewis. ‘I told you it wouldn’t be our man. I told you!’

  He controlled his anger only with great difficulty. Lewis had backed away from him, he noticed, shocked by the wild sound of his voice.

  ‘Have your officers call the local police,’ Niel said, taking charge. ‘We’re going back now.’

  They were at the main desk and the sergeant called to them as they moved off, ‘What do we do with the Dutchman in the cells?’

  Lewis turned abruptly. ‘Hold the bastard for questioning. He’s in on it for sure.’

  Max had made his way slowly and stealthily almost up to the house now. Hidden by the dense growth of trees surrounding the building, he wanted to maneuver to the back, figuring he could gain entrance more easily there. If his reasoning was right, the old couple that had left earlier in the morning and had not yet returned were the domestics. There would thus be no one about in the kitchen. He would enter the house there and make his way through the rooms until he somehow tracked down the Englishman.

  He had a disguise now, his last one. It would serve him from a distance, but not up close. He would need to act q
uickly, efficiently. There was no chance to map out an escape route this time. He was a trapeze artist without a net. This thought filled him with a momentary exhilaration.

  Suddenly the front door to his right opened and several people came out. First were two large men in police uniforms. Then came Fitzgerald in a winter coat. Max put his hand on the butt of his pistol in its shoulder holster.

  Could I be this lucky? he wondered. Is Appleby actually going to make an appearance outside? If so, they really did buy the story of my capture. He began pulling the gun out, readying himself. If it is him, I’ll simply take him at the door. There is still a good chance for escape that way. He could see the shadows of another person coming to the door and he pulled his gun out now, ready to fire.

  Catherine walked out into the bright sunshine of the porch, accompanied by Appleby, both dressed in long coats. She hugged the dumpy old man, then wrapped an arm around him as they moved down the front steps.

  Max could not get a clear shot at Appleby with Catherine Fitzgerald so close to him.

  Don’t be absurd, man, he told himself. Shoot the bastard. Here’s your chance. He’s a big target; you’ve got the advantage of surprise and cover. Your chances will never be so good again. And damn the woman.

  He aimed the pistol through the branches of the trees, catching Appleby in the front sight; fixing on the buttons of the man’s coat just to the right of his heart.

  Catherine suddenly hugged the old man again, playfully rumpling his hair.

  ‘What a fine idea,’ he heard her say. ‘A skating party.’

  The sound of the woman’s voice took Max back for an instant, back to his first love, Erika, and he hesitated for a moment. The tone of the voice was happy, child-like, as if from another time or from another epoch, at any rate, in Max’s life.

  He felt his finger begin to squeeze the trigger almost automatically, without him willing it. Slowly, slowly squeezing.

  ‘Hey, you!’

  Max had not noticed that one of the bulky watchers was taking up the rear, scouring the grounds for any possible trouble. The man had spotted him in the trees; was looking straight at him.