Faked Passports

by Dennis Wheatley

  For some inexplicable reason he had given away to General Kuporovitch the fact that they were wanted by the Gestapo, so sooner or later she would be handed over to the Nazis and taken back to Berlin to be executed. They were well guarded in the castle and, even if they could have escaped, their inability to speak Russian and the climatic conditions would have made it utterly impossible for them to get away from the Arctic town. She had never shirked facing anything except poverty and dirt in her brilliant but hazardous career. Whatever hopes Freddie and Angela might pin on being allowed to communicate with their own Embassy when they reached Moscow it was better that she should no longer buoy herself up with day-dreams of Gregory’s accomplishing her rescue by some brilliant trick or great feat of daring; but make up her mind to endure, with as much dignity and courage as she could muster, the ignominy and death which were in store for her.

  It was as well that she made this resolution on the Friday night, because in the middle of Saturday morning two guards came and beckoned to Freddie and Angela; but when Erika made to follow them the soldiers pushed her back and relocking the door left her alone in the cell. Half an hour later the furs and few belongings of the other two, which they had brought from the trapper’s house, were collected. Afternoon drew into evening and as they did not come back Erika slowly began to realise that in all probability they had been separated from her for good.

  No message was brought to her from them, so evidently they had not been allowed to communicate with her, and she had no means of asking the guards what had happened to them. When breakfast-time came on Sunday morning and they still had not returned, she made up her mind that she must nerve herself to even greater courage, as she would now have to face future eventualities quite alone.

  By Wednesday four days’ solitary confinement had begun to tell upon her, as with nothing to occupy her the hours in the silent, gloomy fortress seemed to crawl by; but she knew that the period the General had mentioned was already up. At any time now instructions about her might be arriving from Moscow, and on the Thursday, just after she had eaten her midday meal she was sent for.

  With the General, upstairs in his room, were the little ferret-faced Political Commissar and two black-uniformed S.S. men. Erika’s footsteps faltered as she saw them. She had expected at least the further respite of the journey to Moscow and, although she had tried very hard to put it away from her, there had lingered in her mind the small but persistent hope that even if Gregory could not get her out of the castle he might be planning some attempt to rescue her on her way south. Now, she felt, that hope, too, was shattered. She knew the methods of the Gestapo. They never wasted time or put themselves to unnecessary expense in eliminating their enemies. Evidently, as these two Nazis had come all the way to Kandalaksha, permission had been obtained from their Russian friends for them to execute her there; so her life could now be measured in hours—or perhaps minutes.

  One of the S.S. men, a big, fleshy, red-faced young brute, stepped forward and looked at her curiously. “So you’re the celebrated Erika von Epp? I’ve often heard of you.”

  It was pointless for her to deny it as he was holding her passport, which the General had given him, in his hand. Inclining her head she walked, with that regal carriage which Gregory loved so much, to a chair and calmly sat down.

  The General, the Commissar and the S.S. men had a short discussion in Russian. The Germans signed some papers, the General bowed politely and said to her in French:

  “The courage which you show in such a situation has all my admiration, Countess. I deeply regret that my duty prevents my being of any assistance to you, but I must hand you over to these gentlemen”; and, having thanked him courteously, she was led from the room.

  Down in the main hall her furs were brought to her and she was taken out to a large sleigh in which the Gestapo men placed themselves on either side of her. The sleigh drove through the gates and down into the little square of the town, but the driver did not turn towards the railway-station. Instead, he took the opposite direction and after a quarter of an hour, when they had passed beyond the last scattered buildings, it pulled up on a long, flat expanse of snow where a black German plane was waiting.

  Owing to newly-fallen snow they had great difficulty in getting off the ground, but after three unsuccessful attempts the pilot made them all crowd themselves into the tail of the machine and managed to get into the air. It was ‘Molotov weather’ again, and as the plane roared southwards they could see the frozen lakes and vast forests spread below them. For the first two-thirds of the journey they were well to the east of the Finnish border but the country was very much the same as Eastern Finland.

  As Erika watched the countless millions of trees sliding away below them she remembered how Gregory had said that unless the Allies and the Scandinavian countries came to Finland’s assistance, making an advance into Russia possible and giving the Finns air superiority, the war must be over by the spring. All Finland’s wealth lay in such endless forests, and newly-planted trees took forty years to reach maturity. Once the snow which was protecting them through the long winter had melted, the Russians would be able to start huge forest fires by scattering incendiary bombs. The Finns might hold the Mannerheim Line but they would have to surrender if faced with the destruction of the entire potential wealth of their country for two generations to come.

  At last the forests ended and just when dusk was falling a great, white expanse lay before them which Erika knew must be the Gulf of Finland. Far away in the distance there was a streak of colour. It was March the 7th and further south the thaw had already set in; the ice in the Baltic was breaking up and giving place to blue-green water.

  Before they reached the coast-line the plane circled and came down on a big military airfield where many Soviet planes were in evidence. At first Erika thought that they had descended only to refuel, but she was told to get out, and was led between the hangars to a car; so she guessed that they were to break their journey here for the night.

  The car took them a few miles through the area where the battles of January had raged, until it entered a deep wood in which there were many hutments; to pull up before a block that had bars across each of its long line of windows and a Russian sentry on guard outside it. The Gestapo men got out and shepherded Erika across some duck-boards to the entrance, an N.C.O. was summoned and she was taken inside to one of the row of rooms. It had a stove to warm it but only a palliasse and blankets on the floor. Leaving her there they locked her in.

  Twenty minutes later a Russian soldier brought her a meal of stew, rye bread and coffee substitute. It was still quite early—only a little after seven o’clock—but she felt so tired and dispirited that, after eating what she could, she tried to settle down for the night.

  She had not been lying still for long before she discovered, to her horror, that the straw of the mattress was alive with bedbugs and that the blankets held a colony of lice. Abandoning the palliasse in disgust she curled up on the floor, near the stove, but its hardness, together with the irritation of the vermin which had now got under her clothes and were biting her in a score of places, made sleep impossible; all through the long hours of the night she tossed and squirmed in abject misery.

  In the morning she attempted to delouse herself but the vermin were so numerous that her slaughter of them seemed hardly to decrease their numbers and, after a time, the job made her physically sick. She expected the Nazis to come for her to continue their journey but, to her surprise, they did not appear, and except for the soldier, who brought her more food, she was left alone until the afternoon.

  She had just switched on the electric light when the door was unlocked and Grauber came in. It was a moment before she recognised him. One bandage swathed his head, covering his empty eye socket, another covered his chin and the whole of the lower portion of his face, but his remaining eye glinted at her with evil satisfaction.

  “Guten Tag, Frau Gräfin” he said in his thin, piping voice. “So we have
run you to earth at last.”

  Erika did not reply, so he went on with evident enjoyment: “Jawohl; we’ve got you now, and I had you brought here because long ago I promised myself the pleasure of breaking that aristocratic pride of yours. It will be fun to see you scream and whimper before all that I intend to leave of you is dragged out to the execution yard. And don’t imagine that your English boy-friend, Mr. Gregory Sallust, will be able to come to your assistance. We’ve got him too.”

  At that Erika was stunned into retort. “You swine!—you filthy swine!” she whispered between closed teeth.

  “That makes you sit up, doesn’t it?” he laughed in his high falsetto. “He was here two nights ago, posing as von Lutz again, and he had succeeded in wangling an order for your release with which he left for Kandalaksha; but I got on to his game in time and the men whom I sent to fetch you in the plane also took an order to the Governor there to arrest him directly he turns up.”

  Erika’s heart was thudding. Dear Gregory—dear Gregory. So he had risked everything to try to save her, after all; but he was caught this time and—worse—those all-important papers would never get to England now.

  “I shall proceed about your extermination slowly, Frau Gräfin” Grauber went on with studied malice. “We have none of the usual aids to questioning prisoners or even an—er—examination room, but I don’t need accessories to make little traitors like you go on their knees and beg for death.”

  Suddenly he struck her a violent blow in the face with his clenched fist. Reeling backwards she fell upon the filthy palliasse, with her mouth cut and bleeding. Having watched her for a moment as she lay there moaning he kicked her twice and, turning away, left the room.

  The Russian soldier who brought her evening meal looked at her with round, pitying eyes when he saw the blood on her face and brought her a little lukewarm water with which to bathe her mouth; but that night it seemed to her that she had descended into the depths of hell.

  In attempting to save her Gregory had been caught himself. At the very moment of his triumph, after heaven knew what superhuman scheming and endeavour during the last twelve days, he had walked straight into a trap; and been re-arrested the instant he produced the order which was to free her. They would make very certain, too, that he did not escape again. It was the end for him, and the end for her. In a torment of misery she sobbed herself into an exhausted doze which was constantly broken by the biting of the vermin and nightmare thoughts of Grauber.

  He came again the following afternoon, bringing with him a thin, flexible riding switch, and he spent an hour in her cell. Perhaps he did not wish the Russians to hear her screaming, or it may have been that he delighted to start her torment very gently, since he did not apply the switch savagely but struck her on the hands, the hips, the upper arms and the calves of the legs, little stinging blows every few minutes, while he taunted her and told her some of the things that he had in mind to do to Gregory.

  On Sunday and Monday he came again and plied his switch each time with increasing vigour until the tender flesh of her whole body was criss-crossed with thin, aching red weals. On the Sunday she fought him, driving her nails deep into his cheek above the bandage and burying her teeth in his hand; but he hit her a blow in the stomach that drove the breath from her body and doubled her up in a writhing heap on the floor. On Monday, with the intention of rousing the guard, she deliberately began to scream the moment her tormentor entered the room; but the soldier who came in response to her screams was not the wide-eyed young peasant who had brought her the water three nights before. He was a sullen-looking lout who, on a sharp word from Grauber, shrugged his shoulders and slammed the door. After that she could only moan and submit to each further vicious little flick which was never hard enough to harm her seriously but which in succession were fraying her nerves to tatters.

  The remainder of each twenty-three hours, when Grauber was not with her and she was not drowsing in torpid nightmare-ridden sleep, she spent in an agony of dread anticipating his next visit. She no longer even noticed the lice and bed-bugs that were now swarming on her or cared about her filthy, unwashed condition; and thought only of the fresh torments that were in store for her. But on the the Tuesday afternoon when she shuddered with apprehension at hearing the key turn in the lock of her cell a new figure entered; a tall, thin-faced man in the uniform of a German General.

  Scrambling to her feet she ran towards him stretching out her bruised hands and stammering a plea for his protection, but he gently pushed her back and closed the door carefully behind him.

  “You don’t remember me, Frau Gräfin?” he said in a low voice.

  “Why, yes!” she exclaimed. “You’re Rupprecht von Geisenheim.”

  He nodded. “Yes. I’m the head of the German Military Mission to the Soviet and I don’t know if you know it, but this camp is Marshal Voroshilov’s Headquarters.”

  The tears sprang to her eyes as she muttered: “Oh, take me away from that fiend Grauber, he—he’s killing me by inches.”

  Von Geisenheim shook his head sadly. “I can’t possibly express how sorry I am for you, but you know the power of these Gestapo chiefs. It’s more than my life is worth to try to give you my protection—in fact, I am risking a great deal by coming to see you here today, and I only decided to chance it because Grauber has gone into Leningrad for the night.”

  “Why have you come, then?” she cried desperately.

  “Just to tell you two things which I thought might enable you to die more bravely. Firstly, I wanted you to know that the man you are in love with did not desert you; he moved heaven and earth to get an order for your release and to reach Kandalaksha before the Gestapo.”

  “I know that,” she said quickly. “I know that.”

  “I’m aware of his real identity,” the General went on, lowering his voice to a whisper. “We recognised each other when he arrived here. We were together in the fight that night at the Adlon, but by a miracle none of the Gestapo people who were there appear to have noticed me, so I was not arrested afterwards.”

  “You—you’re one of us, then?” Erika said slowly.

  “Yes. And the movement is still going on. As you know, it was only our friends in Berlin who revolted on the night of November the 8th. Since the Putsch was a failure the officers who commanded at the battle-fronts and in the garrisons all over Germany did not join in, so there are still many thousands of us who are ready to make a new bid for freedom when the time is ripe. You have been out of things for the last three months so you know nothing of our new plans and therefore can give nothing away however much they may torture you. But I wanted you to know that, although you will not live to see the day, all that is best in Germany will yet rise to overthrow Hitler and make our people great, free and respected again.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, the tears streaming down her face. “Thank you, Herr General; it was good of you to come to me. I shall bear things better now that I know that our country is really to be freed from men like Grauber and all the evil they have brought into the world.”

  “You see now why I must resist the dictates of all decency and chivalry,” Von Geisenheim went on. “By seeking to intervene on your behalf I should jeopardise my life; and it is my duty to live because I have work to do for the salvation of Germany. You will die, I know, with the courage of a true von Epp; in the meantime I can only wish you fortitude.” Clicking his heels he bowed low over her swollen, blistered hand and kissed it; then he left the room as quietly as he had come.

  That night she tried to fortify herself again with the thought that what she was undergoing was no worse than the sufferings of thousands of other men and women in the German concentration camps who had earned the hatred of individual Nazis or of the countless Czechs and Poles they had enslaved. Yet the knowledge that these brute-beasts, who were now seeking to bring the whole world under the scourge of their whips at the orders of their soulless, power-lusting Leader, would be swept away in due time by the forces
of Good which were rallying against them was scant comfort beside the fact that she had yet so much to suffer before she died.

  On the Wednesday morning she was shivering with fear again and even the sound of prolonged cheering in the camp about eleven o’clock did not rouse her curiosity. At three o’clock in the afternoon the door of her cell opened once again to admit Grauber.

  He was in high good spirits and told her that the Russo-Finnish War was over. As he plied his switch from time to time he gleefully outlined the humiliating terms which the unfortunate Finns had been forced to accept after their magnificent resistance. In a spurt of rage Erika flared at him:

  “You laugh too soon, you filthy brute! The Russians and you Nazis can smash these small people at your will, but you yet have Britain and France and America to deal with and they’ll get you in the end; then the German people will revolt and crucify every one of you.”

  He laughed and flicked her across the face with his whip. “You little wild-cat; you’re talking nonsense. And, anyhow, if things do go that way you’ll never live to crow over us. Now this war’s over I’m going back to Berlin and I mean to take you with me. You remember that private cell of mine in my own house? We can have many pleasant little sessions there when I’m off duty. Auf weidersehen, Frau Gräfin” He stressed the last word mockingly as he turned and left her.

  That night of Wednesday, March the 13th, was the worst of all the ghastly nights that she had spent during the past fortnight. The picture of the cell of which Grauber had spoken was constantly before her eyes; he might keep her there for weeks while satiating his sadistic brutality upon her. All night through she tossed and turned and when morning came she could hardly think coherently. She was afraid now that she would go mad before she died and barely had the strength to wonder what was about to happen; when, long before dawn, her cell was opened, her furs were thrust at her by one of the Russian soldiers and she was led outside to a sleigh.