by Colin Forbes
Baroness Werther, niece of General Speidel, is heiress to a large steel fortune. Her father is close friend of Reichsmarschall Goering. Brandt. Schmidt felt relieved at the contents of the message but at the back of his mind he felt he had overlooked something. He concentrated on greeting Jaeger who looked like a man who had enjoyed a most satisfying lunch. He clapped a hand on Schmidt's shoulder.
'Everything in order, Schmidt? Good. You really must work hard for your next promotion. The perks available to a high-ranking officer are unbelievable...'
He winked and exuded satisfaction and good humour as he glanced round the concourse. Schmidt probed delicately.
'Your companion was... interesting, I trust?'
'Interesting!' Jaeger lowered his voice. 'I will tell you, my friend, there is something about that woman
which gets into your bloodstream. I am over the moon...'
'You will be meeting again?'
'But of course! Within a week at the outside. They all play hard to get at first - those really worth getting!'
'She lives in Munich?'
'I really don't know...' Jaeger watched two of his men bullying an old woman officiously. 'You! Over there! She is old enough to be your mother - your grandmother. Have a little patience while she finds her papers. The labour battalions require more recruits.. He turned to Schmidt. 'Now, you were saying?'
'I was just asking where the Baroness lives...'
'We didn't get round to that.' A roguish gleam came into the Colonel's blue eyes. 'We had other topics which absorbed all our attention. She has promised to ring me at the barracks within a week - I gave her my private number...'
Jaeger stood with his hands on his hips and began humming Lili Marlene to himself. He's got it badly, Schmidt thought. Seldom had he seen his chief in such a mood of euphoria. The girl must have hypnotized him.
'Schmidt,' the Colonel said suddenly, 'have you had any lunch? I thought not. Push off. I'll keep an eye on things here....'
His deputy walked away and got behind the wheel of his car. He drove slowly back to the barracks, half his mind elsewhere. The Colonel was also dreaming. Lisa, the Baroness, had told him she was visiting her uncle in Vienna but only expected to be there two or three days.
'Really it is a duty visit, she had remarked. 'I shall be back here as soon as I become bored - which will be very quickly.'
He remembered the expression in her eyes over the rim of her wine-glass. The transit papers he had been glad to provide to avoid her being subjected to any annoying interrogation. And the scene he had just witnessed of two oafs pestering some poor old woman made him even happier he had supplied the documents.
Schmidt, driving on automatic pilot, recalled the wording of the message from Gestapo headquarters in the Prinz Albrechtstrasse in Berlin. It confirmed the existence of a Baroness Werther. It confirmed that she was an heiress. It confirmed that she was a niece of General Speidel. He remembered what it did not confirm - because he had forgotten to request the information.
Schmidt ran to his office at the barracks, told his secretary to get Brandt on the phone again. As he waited at his desk, he realized he was fiddling nervously with his pencil, that his secretary was watching him. He pretended to read a report. To his surprise the call came through quickly.
'Schmidt from Munich here again. I got your message, Brandt — for which many thanks. You must excuse me, but I omitted to ask for one further minor detail. A precise description of the Baroness Werther. This also is an urgent enquiry. I need a reply by 7 pm at the latest …'
Chapter Twenty-Five
At the Munich station SS chief Mayr looked over the trio who were travelling to Vienna. He had chanced to be standing by the barrier when they arrived. He noted the girl's expensive outfit, the equally top quality luggage carried by the uniformed chauffeur, and the steward who limped - doubtless a war wound. He was opening his mouth to speak when Paco smiled at him and produced a sheaf of papers from her handbag.
'You are SS, I see,' she remarked. 'So undoubtedly you know my friend, Colonel Jaeger...'
She gave the word friend a certain inflection. At her mention of the name, Mayr's attitude changed. An amiable man of forty, he bowed and removed his cap which he tucked under his arm.
'Of course! My duty is to random check passengers' papers - so you must excuse any inconvenience.
'Look at the clock!' Paco said sharply. 'It would be more than an inconvenience if you cause me to miss the Vienna Express. I have transit documents signed personally for myself and my servants by Colonel
Jaeger. Do be quick …'
Mayr glanced at the clock, saw Jaeger's signature on the papers and hastily gestured for her to pass on to the platform.
'A safe journey,' Mayr wished her.
Lindsay was careful not to look at the German as he shuffled past with the cases, and followed Bora and Paco who was walking briskly past the coaches until she came to an empty compartment. Opening the door, she climbed aboard, leaving her companions to follow as she glanced along the corridor. It was deserted.
'You handled that brilliantly,' Lindsay remarked after he had put the cases on the rack. The express was moving out of the station. His admiration was genuine: she had employed just the right mixture of arrogant confidence and feminine wiles.
'One obstacle overcome,' responded Paco and removed her fur hat, then used her hands to settle her blonde hair.
'This superb luggage - Bora's loden garb - where did you get all this from?' Lindsay asked.
'None of your business,' snapped Bora.
'Don't be liverish,' Paco chided him amiably. 'It is a reasonable question.' She looked at Lindsay. 'We broke into a villa outside Munich and stole everything. Nothing impresses the officer class more than an impression of great wealth - which means power.'
'What about tickets?' Lindsay asked suddenly. 'In Germany they inspect them on the train.'
Paco opened her handbag and produced three first-class tickets which she gave to Lindsay. 'The chauffeur carries things like that - and you speak German. You know, Lindsay, you're learning quickly - to think of details. I bought those this morning when I saw at the station the Swiss trains were being watched...'
'They're return tickets - to Vienna and back...'
'So,' Paco replied, 'if Jaeger should check before we leave the train he'll think I'm coming back, as I said I would. That is the one unfortunate episode I wish we could have avoided - my having to use Jaeger's name with that SS officer. They may find out the train we are travelling on.'
'Does that matter?' asked Bora in a casual tone. 'In only three hours we shall be in Vienna.'
Lindsay stared into the corridor. A cleaner wearing overalls and a rail-man's peaked cap was collecting rubbish with a dust-pan and hand-brush. It was Milic. He winked at Lindsay and proceeded towards the front of the train.
'Yes, using Jaeger's name might matter,' Paco told Bora. 'Don't you see,' she went on, 'back in the basement Lindsay raised the spectre of what could happen if someone checks on my description...'
The express was now picking up speed, the wheels clicking in a hypnotic rhythm. Lindsay said nothing. Three hours to Vienna...'
* * *
In his office Schmidt had fallen asleep at his desk, his head resting on his forearms. The remains of a meal were on a tray. It was very silent inside the large building. The shrill sound of the 'phone ringing
brought him awake with a start. He looked at the clock. Christ! 10.45 pm.
'Schmidt ….'
He got no further. Brandt started speaking, his voice surprisingly alert. There was a sense of achievement, too.
'I have the Baroness Werther's description. It took delicate handling. I gave as the reason for the enquiry some problem of mistaken identity. You were not mentioned...'
Schmidt changed his mind about Brandt. The Gestapo man had shown a discretion he would not have expected. He was relieved: it kept Jaeger out of the picture. He held a pencil poised over his notepad.
'Thanks, I appreciate it. Let's keep it that way. Now...'
'Height 1.5 metres, a brunette, on the plump side. Twenty-nine years old. Wears glasses — short-sighted as a bat. Any help?'
Schmidt kept the alarm out of his voice. 'Yes, that's extremely helpful. I am most obliged — and sorry to keep you working so late.'
'Gives me a good excuse to arrive home in the early hours — I have a little detour on the way,' Brandt concluded sardonically.
Schmidt replaced the receiver and felt sick. Another subordinate would have used the information to harpoon his chief - clear the way for his own promotion. The thought never entered his head. He twisted round in his chair as the door opened. Jaeger peered in - behind him stood Mayr.
'It's about the Baroness Werther,' Schmidt said cryptically. 'I would appreciate a word in private..
Jaeger said something to Mayr, entered the room and shut the door. He was in an ebullient mood as he stripped off his gloves and tossed them on to a desk with his cap. Swivelling round a hard wooden chair, he straddled the seat and leaned his elbows along the back.
'You look worried, Schmidt. Never worry. Problems have a habit of solving themselves. Never stir things up unnecessarily. It is one of the Fuhrer's favourite maxims.'
'This is a description of the Baroness Werther....'
Jaeger read the wording on the sheet Schmidt had torn from his notepad. Most men would have wasted time questioning the source of the information, the reason why Schmidt had involved himself in the matter. Jaeger simply handed the sheet back.
'I have been taken for a ride, Schmidt. And what a ride! She - whoever she may be - is superb. I gave her transit documents for herself and her so-called servants!'
'Are there copies in the files?' Schmidt asked quickly. 'Transit to where?'
'No copies, comrade. Transit by rail, Munich to Vienna.'
He broke off as the door opened. Mayr walked into the room and closed the door. A tall, thin man, he looked puzzled.
'Excuse me, but I've been thinking it over. Did I hear you make a reference to the Baroness Werther?'
'Yes,' Jaeger said immediately, and waited.
'I saw her aboard the Vienna Express this evening with her entourage. She showed me the transit you had signed. She's a real looker, that blonde...'
'Who comprised her entourage?' Jaeger enquired casually.
'A uniformed chauffeur. I can't describe him --he had a peaked cap pulled down over his forehead and was lumbered with luggage. Then there was another man — he looked like one of those stewards you find in the country looking after an estate. He was limping, a relic of his war, I imagine. Is it important?'
'Sheer curiosity,' Jaeger replied promptly. 'There was a third man?'
`No, quite definitely...'
'Which train? What time?' asked Schmidt. `Departed on time at eight o'clock. There is no problem?'
'Not on the basis of what you have told us, Jaeger replied.
'Then I'm off to bed. See you both in the morning.'
Schmidt had crossed the room and was grasping a railway timetable off a shelf as Mayr closed the door.
He leafed through it quickly, checked with his finger down a series of times. His finger stopped. He looked at the clock. 10.51.
'It's still on the way...' Schmidt had trouble suppressing his relief. 'Arrives in nine minutes. 2300 hours. Who do we know...?'
'In Vienna? Anton Kahr - in charge of SS. An old buddy of mine - we served together on the Russian front...'
Schmidt checked a list of classified numbers, picked up the phone and asked for a top priority call. He held on to the earpiece as the operator contacted Vienna. Jaeger, as controlled as though on the eve of a battle, thought out aloud.
'Mayr will be compelled to keep quiet when I have to tell him - he saw them aboard the train. The odd thing is, there should have been another man - there were three of them when they lifted Lindsay out of the Frauenkirche....'
'Kahr on the line...' Schmidt handed the phone to his chief and watched the clock as Jaeger talked rapidly and concisely. It was still only 10.54 when he completed the call.
'Six minutes before the express arrives,' Schmidt said.
'And when it does, Kahr and his men will be waiting concealed on the platform. The Baroness is
due for a little surprise …'
Chapter Twenty-Six
They disembarked on to the platform at the Westbahnhof, mingling with the other passengers. Paco showed Lindsay the luggage store and stood where she could watch him. Bora had again proved difficult as the express was approaching the terminus.
'Lindsay,' Paco had said, 'you will leave the cases at the luggage store. Wait for the numbered receipt and here is the money you will need. We will not be coming back for the cases..
'Then why not leave them here?' Bora demanded irritably.
'Because a porter or cleaner will find them quickly. Left at the baggage store they may not be found for days.' She looked at Lindsay. 'We are going next to Graz, capital of the Austrian province of Styria. From there we go south and cross the border at SpielfeldStrass into Yugoslavia. There are a few Allied agents with the guerrillas..
Lindsay had to repress an almost irresistible urge to leave when the Austrian official took the cases from him, but he forced himself to wait. The official seemed to take forever laboriously producing the receipt which he eventually exchanged for the fee.
The platform with its gloomy lighting projected by cone-shaped shades was deserted by the time he left the baggage store. Lindsay felt naked. Paco was smoking a cigarette as he joined her.
'Where are the others?' he asked.
'They will take a separate taxi. This way, if anyone checks we are two separate couples - two men and a man and a girl. Not what they will be looking for...'
'You're nervous about something,' he suggested.
They were walking out of the station into a huge open space and there was very little traffic about - mostly military vehicles. Paco strode away from the station and they walked a long distance before she summoned a taxi.
'The train was fifteen minutes early,' she said. 'It arrived at 10.45 …'
The council of war, as Bormann termed it, was held at the Berghof at 12.15 am the next morning. It had been one hell of a rush - Jaeger, Schmidt and Mayr had flown from Munich to Salzburg airstrip. Hartmann also attended the conference...'
Cars had been waiting to drive them out of the city and up into the mountains along treacherous, icy roads. The meeting was held in the large living room with the giant picture window. The Fuhrer had personally presided over it. To Jaeger's relief – and surprise - Hitler had taken the news calmly, speaking quietly.
'So, you let the Englishman slip through your fingers. Always I have said the English are tough and dangerous. It is a great pity they will not yet see reason and ally themselves with us...'
'I am entirely and solely responsible for this debacle,' Jaeger had begun and his admission was pounced on by Bormann.
'In that case you will have to pay the penalty..
'Bormann! Please...!' the Fuhrer lifted a conciliatory hand. At that hour Hitler was the freshest man present, but it was his habit never to retire to bed before 3 am. 'Apportioning the blame will get us nowhere. We must move on - decide on how we're to track down Lindsay and have him brought back here.'
Debacle was the word. Due purely to the chance fifteen-minute early arrival of the express, SS chief Kahr in Vienna had found the station deserted. No trace of the fugitives. His men checked everywhere - including the baggage store.
'There is one interesting fact,' ventured Hartmann and Bormann again charged in like a bull.
'This no longer concerns the Abwehr...'
'Bormann, please!' repeated the Fuhrer, showing exemplary patience. 'I would like to hear what Major Hartmann has to say.'
'Apparently - according to Mayr - when this group left Munich they had two expensive cases,' Hartmann began. 'These cases have since been found in
the baggage store at Vienna station. The description of the uniformed chauffeur who handed them in coincides with the chauffeur Mayr saw at Munich station. The cases contain an expensive wardrobe for a woman...'
'You do not think they will come back for the cases?' asked the Fuhrer.
'Exactly,' agreed Hartmann. 'They have dumped them. That tells us something - and I am convinced the group is directed by the girl who so confidently impersonated the Baroness Werther...'
'A girl! For God's sake...!'
Bormann was contemptuous. He was also irritated that Hartmann was holding the centre of the stage - that Hitler was listening so attentively. Again he was scolded.
'Bormann, do keep quiet! There have been some truly remarkable cases in the West of the English sending women agents to liaise with the French underground. These women have shown courage and the most audacious initiative. Proceed, please, Hartmann...'
'The puzzle is what they will do next, where they will go...'
'Vienna is a labyrinth, Hitler remarked. 'I should know - the days of my poverty-stricken youth were spent there. They could hide - if they know the city - and we would not find them in years.'
'If that is their intention,' Hartmann continued, 'which I suspect it is not.' He warmed to his subject,
so absorbed he produced his pipe and used it to emphasize points. 'Let us assume this girl is their leader - she certainly has the nerve. At each stage I sense she has worked to a plan - this Is no wild rush into nowhere. On past form - always judge people on that - she will have a definite plan for reaching their next destination. All we have to do is to work out where that is - and get there first.'
He sat back and almost lit the pipe. He hastily put it inside his pocket.
'You make it sound so very straightforward,' Bormann said.
'A decision must be taken!' Hitler jumped up, displaying one of his sudden bursts of energy as he began pacing back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. 'Gruber is already on his way to Vienna with a fellow officer flown from Berlin. You will go, too - Jaeger and Schmidt forming a second unit. Major Hartmann will also proceed to Vienna...'