Leischner crossed the room and stooped to move the dog-basket aside. Then he rolled back one corner of the carpet and its underlay. He took a penknife from his pocket, opened it and eased the blade betwen two of the floorboards. A section of board came up. He put his hand into the cavity and took out what looked like a steel deed-box. He blew off some dust and carried it across the room to Red.
‘My orders are to hand this over in exchange for the ring.’
Red glanced at Jane, shrugged and held the box on his knees.
‘There is also the key, of course.’ Leischner snapped his fingers again and Lumpi came to heel. The key had to be removed from a small metal container on the dog’s collar. Leischner handed it over.
Red unlocked the box and took out a brown manilla folder, from which he withdrew a sheaf of paper typed through carbon. The top sheet was headed:
MEMOIRS, 1894–1941
Rudolf Hess
Lost for words and shaking his head, Red leafed through the flimsy sheets of double-spaced typing. A script of over three hundred pages. Finally, he managed to say, ‘I thought every copy of this had been destroyed.’
‘There has to be a copy for the author,’ Leischner pointed out with an unshakeable German respect for procedure. ‘Obviously it was not possible for him to keep it in Spandau, so when Fraulein Zenk finished the typing, she delivered it into my care. I was instructed to keep it hidden until and unless he sent an unimpeachable signal from the prison. He obviously reposes the greatest trust in you.’
Jane turned and looked at Red with a flush of pride.
Nothing else was said.
The Secret of Spandau Page 33