The Leader And The Damned

by Colin Forbes

  'Why would he do that - at this time of the year?'

  'I never heard of him going there before. Afterwards we heard rumours that the accident story was to cover up the fact that he had killed himself..'

  'And who was appointed in his place? Who did appoint his successor, by the way?'

  'Colonel Jaeger, whose responsibility was the SS detachment here, was appointed in Muller's place.' Her expression softened. 'The Colonel is a tough, professional soldier. But underneath he's a decent man. As to who appointed Jaeger, Martin Bormann himself handled the whole affair..

  'How do you know that?'

  'Am I in the witness box? Are you cross-examining me?' Christa lashed out sarcastically.

  She sat down on a hard-backed chair, crossed her legs and looked at her fingernails Lindsay pulled up a similar chair, swung it round, straddled the chair and leaned his arms along the top so he faced her directly. She made a great show of looking anywhere except at him, her chin set.

  There's a complicated jigsaw of intrigue - maybe murder - which I'm trying to put together,' he said quietly. 'So, I'm asking you again. How do you know?'

  'Because I transmitted Bormann's message to the Berghof confirming Jaeger's temporary bloody appointment as Commandant,' she flared.

  'And that instruction was purely Bormann's? Not by order of the Fuhrer..'

  'It was!' she said through clenched teeth. 'He added the words "by order of the Fuhrer" himself. At that time Hitler was still on his way back from the Russian front. It was the time when he was delayed and landed at another airfield. Anything else you'd care to know, Wing Commander?'

  'I doubt if you have any other worthwhile information,' Lindsay replied in an off-hand tone calculated to get under her skin.

  'Except that there's something very odd about the Fuhrer ever since he did get back from Russia! If I told you that was pure feminine instinct you'd laugh at me..'

  'No,' he commented eventually, 'I wouldn't laugh. You're his chief secretary, you're intelligent - I'm simply stating a fact. So I'd consider your instinctive reactions very seriously - and they happen to coincide with things I've experienced which don't add up...'

  He chose his next words very carefully.

  'I'm wondering if we're witnessing one of the greatest confidence tricks in history..'

  Her eyes warned him. She was in a position to see the door into the room which he couldn't because it was behind him. Lindsay continued to puff at his cigarette. He had not heard the door opening but he did hear it close.

  'I always seem to find you two together - which is pleasant when the world is at war. To find a German girl striking up, a friendship with an Englishman..

  The familiar voice was that of Major Gustav Hartmann of the Abwehr.

  'One of the greatest confidence tricks in history, I believe you said,' commented Hartmann. 'Care to

  enlighten me on your extremely intriguing assertion?' Christa had left the room and Lindsay was alone

  with Hartmann who had sat down and was lighting his pipe, watching the Englishman as he puffed out clouds of blue smoke which formed a veil between the two men.

  'This is an official interrogation?' Lindsay asked.

  'Just call it a chat between two individuals whom the chances of war have brought together for a brief time.'

  'The Soviet spy you're searching for,' the Englishman replied and said no more, forcing the German to give him a few more seconds to think.

  'I don't quite understand - the link between the two factors..

  'If a Soviet spy has penetrated the Fuhrer's entourage surely he is bringing off the greatest confidence trick in history,' Lindsay replied.

  Hartmann tamped his pipe and stared hard at the Englishman. For a moment Lindsay glimpsed a second man behind the interrogator's normal air of casual amiability, a ruthless pursuer who never gave up. It was an observation he was to recall later.

  'You know something,' the German said thoughtfully, 'you are much cleverer than anyone has realized. With the possible exception of the Fuhrer. He has an almost feminine instinct where people are concerned. Why did you come to Germany, Wing Commander?'

  'You know - to try and arrange some sort of accommodation between Great Britain and the Third Reich. The real menace is Russia..'

  'So,' Hartmann interjected, 'we come full circle again. I see no point in taking up more of your time - or mine..'

  He stood up, his expression grim and resigned. He left the room without another word, closing the door noiselessly.

  The Abwehr man moved like a cat. Lindsay recalled his unexpected appearance on the station platform at Salzburg - how he seemed to have guided Christa and himself away from the danger of the doorway guarded by SS. Or had he? You could never tell with Hartmann.

  Lindsay, disturbed by something he couldn't put his finger on, also left the room. Outside, the SS guard positioned there by Jaeger watched him stroll along the corridor to the window at the end. So long as he remained in sight the guard would leave him alone.

  From the window he looked straight down to the entrance to the Berghof. He could feel the guard's eyes on his back. He lit a cigarette. Someone had cleaned off the condensation from the big sheet of glass. The whole place was kept spotless. Staring down at the snow-clad scene he suddenly froze, the cigarette half way to his mouth. He knew now how they could escape from the Berghof.

  '1 have a plan to test the Englishman - to lead him into a trap,' Colonel Jaeger informed Gruber.

  'You have the authority to carry out this plan?' the Gestapo man enquired.

  The two men were the only occupants of the viewing platform from the Kehlstein. Despite his leather greatcoat and the collar pulled up behind his thick neck the fat Gestapo officer was chilled with the icy wind blowing across the valley from the nearby mountains.

  Jaeger, clad in his full uniform with his peaked cap jammed down over his high forehead, seemed immune to the temperature. Beneath the peak his aquiline nose and firm mouth expressed determination. A commanding figure, he exuded confidence and his voice was clipped and decisive.

  'Martin Bormann himself has agreed unofficially that I put the plan into action..'

  'Unofficially?'

  There was a probing query behind the word. Jaeger made an impatient gesture. The only reason he was confiding in this creep was to keep him out of the way, to prevent him botching up everything at the critical moment.

  'He has given me his verbal agreement. Coming from the Reichsleiter that is enough for me. You think I am accustomed to getting all my orders in writing?'

  From Bormann, yes I would, Gruber thought, but withheld comment on this point, The Gestapo officer had worked his way up to his present position by ensuring that every action he took had the unquestioned backing of his superior, preferably in the presence of witnesses.

  Gruber now decided his policy should be to encourage Jaeger to proceed on two counts. If his plan succeeded it must be seen as a combined exercise on the part of Gruber and Jaeger. Should it fail, he must be in a position to disengage - to disclaim all responsibility for what he would term 'this foolhardy act'..'

  'How soon do you propose to operate this plan?' he asked.

  'Tomorrow - Sunday!' Jaeger replied promptly. 'And the details?'

  Gruber would have given anything to continue their conversation inside the shelter of the luxuriously- appointed rooms of the Kehlstein behind them. But out here perched on this elevated refrigerator there was no danger of anyone overhearing them. Pressing his gloved hands inside his coat pockets, Gruber forced himself to stand still without shivering. Jaeger was a man who despised any sort of weakness. He began speaking enthusiastically.

  'The guard outside this Wing Commander's quarters will be removed. It will not seem so strange, considering it is Sunday. Lindsay will think our security is lax. I hear he frequently comes out to walk along the corridor..'

  'Yes, yes! Colonel, can I ask you to be concise? I have duties which will not wait much longer.

&
nbsp; Gruber was frozen stiff. He began to suspect Jaeger was subjecting him to this ordeal by cold deliberately. And he was right. Jaeger continued his explanation in a leisurely manner.

  'The staircase continues to the main hall and entrance. A car will be left empty where he can see it from the window at the end of the corridor on his floor. All guards will be withdrawn from that part of

  the Berghof.

  'Go on..'

  'God in Heaven! Don't you see? If he is waiting his chance to escape he will seize it, take the car and drive away. I suspect he may be accompanied by Fraulein Lundt. Have you not observed they spend time together? My guards have clear orders...'

  'So they leave in the car, according to your theory. How far do they get?'

  'The detail guarding the first checkpoint on the road to Salzburg will be withdrawn..'

  'Supposing they do actually escape? No, they have to drive on past two more checkpoints..

  'All guards withdrawn from the second checkpoint, and from the third. The road to Salzburg wide open!'

  'Good God man - you are crazy!' Gruber gasped.

  Jaeger grinned, looking down at his small companion. Gruber's face was turning blue with exposure to the freezing temperature. The colonel was enjoying himself. He went on speaking.

  'Except that both those checkpoints will be heavily reinforced with concealed troops.' He gestured towards the low parapet separating them from the four hundred foot drop to the abyss below. 'This is where Commandant Muller is alleged to have committed suicide, is it not?' he remarked.

  'It was an accident,' Gruber said, bewildered at this unexpected turn in the conversation.

  'The Romans used to throw men from the Tarpeian Rock..

  'What does that mean?' Gruber demanded harshly. 'I wonder. Shall we go back to the lift..

  Without waiting for a reply Jaeger led the way. He had ended the conversation leaving the Gestapo man in a state of anxiety. In some ways his technique was not unlike that of Hartmann: he kept the opposition off balance.

  Sunday dawned with the threat of heavy snow. The sky was leaden, obliterating the peaks, and the view from the corridor window on the floor occupied by Lindsay was dramatic and menacing.

  The first thing the Englishman noticed after rising early and shaving quickly was the absence of the usual SS guard outside his door. An eight-hour roster was normally operated. Was it possible that because this was Sunday fewer guards were available for duty? He walked quietly down the staircase into the main entrance hall.

  The same unnatural quiet met him. No guards. He walked over to the giant double entrance doors and examined them for alarm systems. Another memory of the crash programme at Ryder Street. A cockney electrician had put him through his paces.

  'Look for concealed wires, mate. No wires, no alarm system. If it's the SS you're up against they rely on brute force — they think no further than a man with a gun. The Abwehr? A tricky bunch, that lot. They've got tradition, which means they rely on patience. Finally, our old friends the Gestapo. They'll use anything, including alarm systems...'

  But the Gestapo had no permanent control of security at the Berghof. Lindsay grasped the large handle of the right-hand door and eased it downwards. Slowly he eased open the massive door on its well-oiled hinges. At any moment the muzzle of a machine-pistol would be shoved in his face.

  Nothing...

  Lindsay peered out and the cold came in and met him, chilling his face. There was no one anywhere in sight. They must be relying on the checkpoints lower down the road on the way to Salzburg. He closed the door and heard a slight sound behind him. What a fool he had been to assume the main entrance would be deserted.

  He turned round, thankful he was at least on the inside of the doors, his mind juggling with reasons for his presence. Christa Lundt stood staring at him, framed in an open door. She wore ski pants and a weatherproof suede jacket. One finger raised to her lips warned him to remain silent. She gestured for him to join her.

  Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and let out her breath as Lindsay walked round a large anteroom, checking the room he had not been inside before. There were no other doors, no open fireplace which might conceal a hidden microphone.

  When he turned round Christa was in the same position, with a certain look which disturbed him.

  'I think we could make the attempt today,' she said. 'There is a car outside. I suppose you saw it from the corridor window upstairs?'

  'No, I didn't. And I came downstairs only a few minutes ago...'

  Puzzled, Lindsay went over to the window and stared. A large green Mercedes with snow on the running-boards was parked to one side of the window. The vehicle was empty, the windscreen frosted over.

  As he studied the car Christa joined him, linked arms and nestled close to him. He remembered the affectionate way she had watched him from the door and felt even more disturbed. Was she growing too fond of him?

  He cursed himself for indulging in the passionate act they had performed at the Wolf's Lair. Because that was all it had been for him -- a reaction to the extreme tension he had laboured under. For her, had it been something more?

  'Lucky we both got up so early,' she murmured. 'There is no need to start up that car and risk someone hearing the engine as we leave. Don't you see!' She tugged at him impatiently. "The front wheels are perched at the edge of the road where the slope begins. We put it in gear, release the brake, give it a push and jump aboard. The momentum will carry us a kilometre down the hill before you have to switch on the motor..'

  'I didn't see that car from the corridor window upstairs because it is parked just out of sight. If it was further to the right - so I could have seen it - then it would not be at the top of the slope..

  'What are you on about, for God's sake? I know there is a most appalling risk but..'

  'I'm wondering when it was parked there,' he speculated.

  'Oh, I can tell you that. Not ten minutes ago. Two SS guards pushed it round from the garage at the back, then went away - to their barracks, I suppose.'

  He stared down at her. 'I'd like to get this clear - exactly what happened. You say the guards pushed the Mercedes? Why the needless expenditure of energy? Why not drive it from the garage to park it here?'

  'Because then they might have woken up the Fuhrer, silly! You know he goes to bed at the ridiculous hour of three in the middle of the night and doesn't rise until about eleven in the morning. And his bedroom suite is round the side, right above where they would have had to drive the car..

  'There's no one about. No sign of a guard. Is that usual at this hour in this part of the Berghof?'

  'How should I know? I'm not usually up myself this early. And I'm in another part of the Berghof except when I arrive and leave.'

  Lindsay was in a quandary. He could feel the warmth of her body pressed into his side. He liked her - but that was all, and her behaviour unsettled him. Her explanation about why the car had been pushed made sense. Everyone in the Fuhrer's staff was house-trained to avoid causing him the slightest inconvenience or discomfort.

  'It's all pretty convenient,' he commented. 'That car just waiting for us to take off..'

  'I've brought a small case down. You'd better pack your things quickly so we can leave before someone does arrive.'

  There was a sense of her rising impatience - due, he guessed, to her taut nerves. She wanted to get on with it. At least she was not one of those women who hesitated at a crucial moment.

  'I wonder how much petrol is in the tank,' he mused while he decided whether she was, after all, right. 'Christ! Go out and find out!'

  'Stay here,' he warned. 'Under no circumstances leave this room until I get back. Where is your case? Behind that cupboard? You leave it there for the moment. If I'm caught and they find you, say you couldn't sleep and were going out for a walk..'

  The marble-floored entrance hall was still deserted and eerily silent as Lindsay padded across to the entrance. Standing by the great door he liste
ned, his head cocked on one side. He waited three minutes by the second hand on his watch. If there was anyone about they couldn't remain still for that period if they were watching.

  An intake of breath, the squeak of a shoe brought on by a cramped leg, there had to be some tiny, betraying sound. Finally, Lindsay was convinced he was alone. He opened the door and stepped out into the snow.

  The surface was solid, crisp and he moved with long strides to the side of the Mercedes. Who was it waiting for? With his hand on the front passenger door handle he paused. Suddenly he looked at the upper floors overlooking the car, searching for any sign of sudden movement - a shadow stepping back from a window, the twitch of a curtain.

  Nothing.

  It was uncanny. Had they struck lucky? It did happen - especially in wartime. Then you didn't waste a moment. You moved - so maybe Christa was right. He turned the handle and the unlocked door opened. Unlocked? A lousy kind of security they operated in this neck of the woods.

  Leaning inside he checked the gauge. The petrol tank was full. There was even a pile of road maps on the passenger seat. And on the - back seat lay a Schmeisser machine-pistol with a loaded magazine. He closed the door without touching anything.

  Before returning to the Berghof he smeared his isolated footprints, carefully leaving intact the faint imprint of the two SS men who had pushed the car to this point. And Christa was right. The merest shove, with the brake released and the gear in neutral, would propel the Mercedes down the sloping road to where it curved round the mountain and disappeared in the distance.

  He returned to the entrance hall, his hands frozen. He heard the sound as he perched against the closed door to slap snow off his boots with a handkerchief. A faint grinding sound like the creak of a slowly- approaching tank track.

  He grabbed for the door handle and glanced over his shoulder. In the far distance across the valley a puff of white showed where massive snow had slipped. Spring was on the way. He went inside. Christa would be waiting, keyed up for their great gamble.

  Colonel Jaeger stood behind the open barracks window, a pair of binoculars pressed to his eyes. The lenses were focused on the point where the road descending from the Berghof curved in a wild hairpin before disappearing behind a mountain wall.