This was bad.
“I don’t understand,” said Leni. Otto could see she was fighting rising panic. “What have we done wrong?”
“You don’t understand?” The woman was clearly starting to enjoy the situation now. “Well, I don’t understand, either. I don’t understand how you could prefer Schekter’s to Joseph’s when no such bakeries exist.” She smiled back at them triumphantly.
There was a long moment of silence. Then Otto lunged forward, shoving the woman away from the door with all his strength. She was taken by surprise and fell heavily onto the seat. Otto pulled the door open, and Leni and Angelika dived out after him into the corridor.
“How dare you touch me like that!” The woman was struggling to get back on her feet. She grasped the doorframe with her hand for support.
Otto grabbed the handle and slammed the door back on her fingers. He heard her howl with pain as he raced after the others. He reached them in the interconnecting partition between two carriages. The steel floor plates were sliding under their feet.
Otto glanced around the wall of the partition. There was the woman! She was stumbling down the corridor after them, clutching her injured hand.
“Young man, stop at once!” she called out. “Guard!”
“What do we do?” Leni said.
“Jump,” replied Otto.
“What about her?”
Otto unslung his pack and plunged his hand inside. He found his pistol and the silencer.
“Stop!” The woman was getting closer.
He started to screw the silencer on the end of the barrel, but his hands were shaking too much.
“Let me,” said Leni. He handed the parts to her, and she deftly assembled them. “Don’t look,” she said to Angelika, and then handed him the gun. He nodded briefly to her. There was no time, no alternative. He stepped back into the corridor. The woman was less than thirty feet away.
“There you …” Her voice died as he raised the pistol and pointed it at her chest. She stopped dead. Otto’s finger closed around the trigger, felt the pressure build. Then the woman’s face turned gray, her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the ground.
“She fainted,” Otto said. “She fainted.” He turned back to the others. “She fainted,” he said again. He hadn’t had to shoot her.
“Then let’s go,” said Leni, looking as relieved as he felt.
Otto immediately pulled down the door’s sliding glass window and leaned out to grasp the handle on the outside. He twisted it, and the door swung open, slamming into the outside of the carriage. Wind rushed into the partition. The train seemed to be moving faster than ever.
Leni stepped forward, threw the packs out, and jumped. Otto didn’t waste a second. He grabbed Angelika around the waist, swung her out, and dropped her like a stick off a bridge. He went last.
He landed with a tremendous thud on the embankment. The lush thick grass broke his fall but didn’t slow it, and he was rolling uncontrollably down the steep slope until he reached the others at the bottom, all in a tangled heap. The train chugged on. He waited until it was out of sight and then pulled himself up, helping the others. Angelika was crying softly, and Leni was rubbing the little girl’s back.
“Is she all right?”
“Just winded, I think. Nothing broken.”
“It’s not that,” sobbed Angelika. “Everything’s ruined now, isn’t it? That woman will tell the police and then they’ll take me back to the convent and we’ll never get to Switzerland and I’ll never see my parents.”
Otto squatted down beside her. “You’re wrong, Angelika. Everything’s going to be fine,” he said, gently but firmly.
“Really?” She looked doubtful but he could see she wanted desperately to believe him.
Otto nodded emphatically. “I promise.”
Angelika leaned forward and hugged him.
For a moment he was at a loss, then he hugged her back.
Yes, he had promised. And he would make it so.
“Right, get ready …” Leni shouted down the road to Otto. She and Angelika were crouched behind the hedgerow. Through the thick foliage she could make out the civilian truck trundling towards her. It was a Czech-built Skoda. She found herself smiling at it, remembering that her brother Jacob had had a red toy one made out of tin. The truck was the first piece of traffic actually heading in the right direction since they’d started walking over an hour ago. They were still a good twenty miles east of Kempten.
Otto lay down by the side of the road. Sure enough, the truck pulled to a halt, and a rough-looking driver got out. “Mother?” she heard Otto say. She grinned. He was a good actor!
“I’m not your mother.” The driver gave Otto a tap in the ribs with his boot. “What’s wrong with you, young man? Are you drunk?”
“No, no … I think I must have fainted from the heat. I’ve been walking all morning.” He got to his feet shakily. “Where are you going?” The driver turned away from his truck and mopped the back of his neck with a grubby-looking neckerchief. It was very hot.
“Now!” Leni hissed to Angelika, and together they ran to the back of the truck.
“South,” Otto said.
Safely stowed with Angelika in the back of the truck, Leni crossed her fingers that the driver was going south, too.
“All right, jump in. I’m heading that way myself.”
Otto pulled himself and his pack up into the cab, and slammed the door.
At last, thought Leni. They were back on the road, and heading to the border.
The truck bed was full of agricultural tools, including a dozen new scythes, tied together in a fat bundle.
“Can I ask you a question, Leni?” Angelika whispered, although the chance of the driver hearing her above the sound of the engine was next to zero.
Leni nodded.
“Am I really going to meet my parents?”
Leni looked at her. She suddenly seemed even younger and more vulnerable than her nine years.
“Why do you ask that?” she said, trying to deflect the question. Whatever the truth was, she had no intention of straying from MacPherson’s script.
“I didn’t think so,” said Angelika.
“I didn’t say you weren’t. I haven’t met them myself, but I’ve been told they’re waiting in Switzerland for you.” That was true.
“Really?” Angelika couldn’t hide the doubt in her voice.
Leni nodded as convincingly as she could.
“I can’t believe it,” said Angelika. “I used to wish so much they would come and see me, take me away from the convent, but in the end I decided they never would. Ever.”
“Let me ask you a question now,” Leni said. “That building in Munich, the one you knew. That’s the Führer’s personal apartment. Are you sure you went there?”
“The Führer?” Angelika was clearly surprised by this. “Yes, I mean, I remember it. Being taken there. I don’t know how old I was. It was Christmas, I do remember that. There was a tree and gifts and lots of other children, and we all sang carols.”
“Who took you there?”
“A nanny, I think. I can’t remember her name. And Uncle Rudi was there.”
“Uncle Rudi?” Leni felt they were getting somewhere.
“He’s the man who visits me with the chocolates on my birthday.”
“What does he look like?”
“Like a grown-up.” Angelika shrugged. “He’s got black hair.”
So do half the men in Bavaria, thought Leni.
“He’s very friendly when he visits, but it’s only for an hour. He never said anything about my parents.”
“Did you ask him?”
Angelika shook her head. “He said I was a very special girl, just like the mother superior did.”
“Did you ask him why he came to see you?”
“I did, but he used to smile and laugh and say he was like Saint Nicholas, just visiting to give me a present.”
They sat in silence in the hot stuffy
air, the truck rattling and bouncing.
“Where are your parents?” Angelika asked.
“Oh, they’re in Salzburg,” Leni said casually.
“That’s nice,” Angelika said after a long pause. “It’s hard being alone sometimes.”
Leni took her hand. “I know. And I promise you that, whatever happens, you won’t be alone. You’ll always have me and Otto as your friends.”
“Promise?”
Leni nodded, and this time she truly meant it.
“Are you really brother and sister?” asked Angelika.
Leni was taken aback, but the girl was looking at her so intently she knew there was no point in lying.
“Well, no, actually, we’re not. But promise me you’ll keep that a secret.”
Angelika smiled. “Of course I will, and … well, I’ve never told anyone this, there was no one to tell, but now you’re my friend, I can tell you. Can you keep a secret, too, Leni?” Angelika leaned closer to her.
“Yes, of course.”
“Cross your heart, hope to die?” Angelika was solemn.
Leni crossed her heart and muttered the words.
“You see, I’ve thought about it a lot, and maybe my parents don’t exist.”
“Of course they exist.” Leni smiled. “Everyone has parents, Angelika. We may not know who they are or where they are sometimes but they exist. Otherwise you couldn’t exist, could you?”
“Not necessarily,” replied Angelika.
Leni stared at her. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“I’m saying you don’t have to have parents. Not if you’re an angel.” The girl said it quietly but with complete seriousness.
Leni thought she must have misheard. “Pardon?” she said.
Angelika was looking at her sincerely, almost serenely. “That’s right. Perhaps I’m an angel. Every Sunday I walk with the Reverend Mother, just the two of us, around the island. And she says that I’m special, that I have to be protected from the outside world … I think that’s why Sister Margareta doesn’t like me. She doesn’t like it that I’m special. The Reverend Mother said one day it’ll all be explained to me, when I’m older. So that’s why I think I must be an angel. Because they’re special, aren’t they?”
Leni looked at this girl. At that moment she felt so protective of her, of her innocence. “Well,” she said gently, “it’s a possibility …”
“Then you believe me?” Angelika face lit up.
“I’d like to,” Leni said simply.
Angelika smiled broadly. “I’m so glad I told you. I thought you might think it was a stupid idea.”
“Of course not,” said Leni. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?”
Heydrich sipped his coffee and continued to study the large-scale map spread out on the rough table. He had stopped at a roadside inn about an hour from Munich. In the middle of the yard behind the inn, his helicopter was being refueled by a tanker truck under the watchful eye of the pilot.
The rest of his men were resting by their vehicles, eating lunch. His driver was talking into the radio, keeping abreast of the hunt.
As he studied the infinite number of roads, tracks, and mountain paths leading towards the border, he realized finding these three children was going to be like finding the proverbial three needles in a haystack. He was desperate to get back to the chase. Unfortunately he had to wait. Bormann had called him an hour earlier from the Berghof to tell him of Hitler’s express wish that another person be brought in to help.
The gentleman in question was now on his way from Berlin to join them. His name was Ludwig Straniak, and he was a mystic and astrologer, part of the SS’s Institute for Occult Warfare. More important for this case, he was apparently an expert in radiaesthesia. This meant that he had the ability to find a person merely with the aid of a map and a pendulum. Heydrich was skeptical, but if the Führer believed in it, then naturally he would follow orders. He watched as the radio operator pulled off his headphones, climbed out of the Mercedes, and ran over to him.
“Something unexpected has arisen, sir. Perhaps it’s significant. Headquarters just had a report from the Gestapo office in Kempten.”
Heydrich searched the map carefully before stabbing the location of the town with his forefinger, northwest of his current position.
“Go on.”
“They were called out by the local policeman to a village east of there. A stop on the railway line. A woman was claiming to have been assaulted by three children on the Munich-to-Kempten train.”
Heydrich looked up sharply.
“Not only that. The woman was convinced that the children were lying about where they were from. They claimed to live in Salzburg, but she’s sure that was not true.”
“What were the ages of the children?”
“A boy of fourteen or fifteen, a girl a little younger, and another girl of about nine or ten.”
“Descriptions?”
“Blond hair, all of them. Dressed in Hitler-Jugend and BDM uniforms.”
They must have dyed the child’s hair.
“What trains left Rosenheim for Munich this morning?”
The operator checked his notebook. “There were no passenger trains till ten A.M., but a freight train went through at the same time as the Innsbruck train was leaving.”
“Has the woman seen the picture of the girl?”
“Not yet, sir, I have sent a dispatch rider with it. He’ll be there within the hour.”
Heydrich was walking towards the helicopter. He stopped as he heard, and then saw, a BMW sedan racing down the road towards them with two SS outriders in front, sirens on.
“Don’t wait for the rider to get there. Let’s assume it’s them. They’ll be heading towards the Swiss border. Tell the Innsbruck group to swing south towards the mountains and cover the roads south and west of, say, Oberstdorf. Order the other groups to go north of that. Hopefully, with the help of our special weapon, we will have them in our grasp before nightfall.”
“Special weapon, sir?” asked the operator.
The BMW screeched to a halt in a swirl of dust beside Heydrich. Sitting in the backseat, looking a little shaken by the speed of the journey, was a spectacled, bearded man in a gray summer suit. He had the air of a distracted teacher, down to his soup-stained tie, and climbed out unsteadily, squinting at the sunshine. He dug into his suit pocket and retrieved a pair of clip-on shades that he fixed over his spectacles.
“Our secret weapon,” said Heydrich with a sneer. “Herr Straniak, from the Institute for Occult Warfare.”
The radio operator looked at Straniak skeptically.
Heydrich stepped towards the man, offering his hand in greeting. “I understand the Führer holds much store in your gifts.”
Straniank nodded. Then something strange happened, which Heydrich would come to remember at the very end of his life. As their hands touched, the mystic stepped back, pulling his hand free. He had gone a little pale.
“Is everything all right?” Heydrich stared at the man, startled by his apparent rudeness.
“Y-yes, of course,” Straniak stammered. Then he appeared to recover. “Forgive me, I am a little tired from the journey.”
Heydrich nodded, but he was unconvinced by the explanation. He had clearly seen an unmistakable look of fear and alarm in Straniak’s eyes. There were rumors that some of these mystics had psychic powers and were able to see the future. Ridiculous boasts, so far as he was concerned. He put the man’s reaction to his handshake to the back of his mind. “I understand. But I am afraid we must get moving once again. Please …” Heydrich indicated the helicopter. “I’ll explain everything as we fly north.”
Straniak looked alarmed. “We are not traveling in that contraption, surely?”
“Indeed we are. I assure you, it is entirely safe. Follow us to Kempten, quick as you can!” he said to his operator, then to Straniak, “Get your things. There is no time to lose.”
When he estimated they were ar
ound twenty miles in a direct line from the Swiss border, Otto asked the truck driver to let him off at a deserted road junction. This was where they needed to head west. They had decided to walk, following minor roads, to avoid being seen or having contact with anyone.
The driver drove off with a wave out of the window. Otto stood alone for a moment, then Leni and Angelika emerged from the dry roadside ditch they had jumped into when the truck had pulled to a halt.
They started walking along the side of the road, constantly alert to the sound of vehicles, but it was still the lunch hour and they met nothing on their way. After about half an hour Angelika skipped ahead. It gave Leni the opportunity she’d been looking for to talk to Otto.
“Her uncle Rudi, the one that visits her every year on her birthday.”
“What about him?” said Otto.
“Who do you think he might be?”
Otto shrugged. He didn’t want to think about such matters. He was wholly focused on getting them across the border alive. “Look, maybe we should just —” he began.
“Well, I think he’s Hess, Rudolf Hess.”
Otto stared at her. “You do?”
“Well, his name obviously — Rudi, Rudolf — and Hess does have black hair, and we know he flew to England last month. And then we’re suddenly recruited to come over here. I think it’s all connected.”
“I suppose it’s possible.” But it all sounded a bit unlikely to him.
Angelika turned and called back to them. She was standing on a wooden bridge. “Look!” she shouted. “A river!”
Otto and Leni caught up with her and looked down. They were tired and hot and sweaty. The bubbling water below looked incredibly inviting in the sweltering afternoon sun. A silver fish darted out from the bank.
“Can’t we stop and have a swim, please?” It was Angelika who voiced what the other two were thinking.
“We should keep moving,” said Otto unconvincingly. “The border isn’t far now.”
“Just for ten minutes, Otto.” Leni looked flushed and weary.
“It’s dangerous, Leni, we’ll be exposed.” But he was starting to waver.
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