by John Creasey
‘None at all,’ said Palfrey slowly. He straightened up and switched off the light. Before any of them spoke they heard another sound, farther away – it was like that of footsteps in the water.
The newcomer was the little fat fisherman and he wheezed heavily as he drew nearer, but he did not stumble as he joined them.
‘It is bad for everyone,’ he said. ‘Very bad. Carlson has been arrested, they are now questioning him. They are looking for his daughter who managed to escape. They thought her dead when they carried her to the street, but she ran away from them and they lost her. She—’
‘She is dead now,’ Palfrey said. ‘She found us.’
‘She—’ the man gasped, was silent, then said slowly: ‘And—they are looking for you, Doctor. And there is another, a name I found it hard to understand.’
Stefan said softly: ‘Andromovitch?’
‘Nothing like that,’ said the fat man a little impatiently.
‘Debenham,’ asked Brian.
‘Deb’nam, that is it!’ The man’s voice grew excited. ‘They believe that you are here, they believe also that they will find Erikson. They will not get him, he is out of their reach—but there remains danger for you. Please to hurry!’
‘Just a moment,’ said Palfrey. He began to coil a few strands of hair about his forefinger. ‘Where are they questioning Carlson?’
‘At the headquarters, of course.’
‘Do you know if a little red-haired man is there?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said their informant quickly. ‘In civilian clothes he is—they call him Baron. There is a name—Lichner, that is it, the Baron von Lichner. The Kommandant has great respect for the Baron, whom I consider a most dangerous man. I have heard him say that he must reach Fredericia in time for the first train, which is five o’clock. Now it is but twelve, but the orders—if Erikson is not found, then a hundred men will be brought to Trenborg and everyone will be questioned, every house searched. You would not be safe in Trenborg, you understand The only thing is for you to get safely away. At Wylen you will find a chemist whose name is Dross. He will give you the help you may require and also safe hiding for two or three days.’
‘Listen,’ said Palfrey quietly. ‘We want to give Carlson a chance to get free. And we want to talk to the Baron von Lichner.’ He smiled a little in the darkness. ‘They will be in the car, almost certainly in just one car. They won’t expect to be held up on the road—’
‘They have given orders for barricades!’
‘Ye-es. We can get behind one if it’s already erected,’ said Palfrey.
The light from the single lamp was not strong enough to spread its glow over a radius of more than three or four yards. Even then it was so faint that the guards were hardly visible except when immediately in front of it. They were conversing in harsh whispers and did not seem pleased with their new job.
Stefan stretched out a hand and gripped Palfrey’s arm, ten yards from the barricade.
One man was standing by it, two others began walking away from it and towards Trenborg. Palfrey knew that Stefan was advising him to wait until all three were closer together; he did not move. The couple seemed an unconscionable time away, but turned back at last.
Stefan squeezed Palfrey’s arm.
They moved simultaneously, silent until they reached the edge of the sand dunes; the backs of all three men were turned towards them. Stefan stepped on to the macadamised road and made enough noise to make all three swing round. One man unslung his rifle quickly, but stopped when he saw the gun Stefan pointed at him.
None of them moved, but stared towards him as if they could not believe their eyes.
Palfrey stepped forward and took one rifle away: the others moved to one side, suddenly showing fight, but Stefan stepped forward and sent a sweeping blow with his right arm which knocked one man against the other; both of them went crashing into the poles of the barricades. Their rifles and equipment clinked, there was a gasp of pain from one.
Conroy and Brian came from the side to help finish the work. The resistance, dying before it really came to life, was not attempted again. In stupefied silence the three soldiers were stripped, first of their equipment, then their uniforms. They were all oldish men, only one above medium height.
Their teeth chattered but not with the cold.
Palfrey said: ‘Alex, get into a uniform. Bry, drag these fellows down to the beach, the Dane will be only too glad to lend you a hand.’
He left the men to Stefan, Brian and the Dane while he stripped off his outer clothes and donned those of the tallest guard. The clothes were a tight fit at the shoulder and legs, but wide enough and to spare about the waist. As he was buckling the belt, Conroy said softly: ‘A light on the road. Sap.’
Palfrey looked towards Trenborg, where in the distance the first glow of the headlights of a car showed clearly. Palfrey drew a deep breath and hurried with the task of fastening the equipment. The car drew near enough for them to hear the drone of its engine. When the headlights shone directly on them he was standing stiffly to attention with Conroy opposite him, the lights glinting on their fixed bayonets.
There were vague sounds from the beach, but Palfrey ignored them as he picked up the lantern, waving it as he stepped forward.
The brakes squealed and the car swayed perilously across the road. Conroy jumped out of the way and stumbled on the edge of the road, then fell. A voice swore at him in German from the car and a man poked his head outside the window.
‘Fools, what are you doing? You have no instructions to stop this car!’
Palfrey, doubling round to take Conroy’s place, said hastily: ‘Our instructions were to stop and examine the papers of all who passed by.’ A thin, reedy voice spoke from the back: ‘They are right, they should examine all warrants.’ A rustle of paper followed, and Palfrey shone his torch into the rear of the car. Bright blue eyes, deep-set and small, shone in the light; so did the speaker’s gingerish hair. Next to him was a huddled figure, his face marred by bruises and dried blood. Carlson’s eyes were closed and he seemed unconscious.
Papers were handed towards Palfrey.
Then Conroy recovered from his fall, while from the other side of the car a movement heralded Stefan. Palfrey lowered the rifle and poked the bayonet towards the occupants, saying in English: ‘We certainly were right, weren’t we?’
He saw von Lichner’s eyes widen; a gasp of astonishment sprang from his wide lips. Then Stefan appeared at the other door and wrenched it open. Von Lichner’s right hand moved towards his pocket and the driver made a half-hearted effort to strike Palfrey. Conroy hit the man over the head with the butt of an automatic; one blow was enough to silence him.
Palfrey felt like chuckling aloud.
At the point of the bayonet, he hustled von Lichner towards the beach, while Stefan carried Carlson. Palfrey took some pleasure in pricking the man with the point of his bayonet when his footsteps seemed to falter.
Then the red-haired man made a dive for freedom.
He risked a lunge from the bayonet, sliding to one side and then rushing towards the road. He ran into Conroy, who simply waited in front of him and, when he drew near enough, hit him on the side of the head. It was very simple and effective; von Lichner toppled over sideways and did not try to get up.
They decided to load all the men except von Lichner and Carlson into the back of the big car and to draw the blinds – such staff cars were always fitted with blinds – and leave it to Conroy to get them through. Palfrey wished there were a safer course, but at the moment there was no chance to make more comprehensive plans. But it was still quite dark when the car moved off and Palfrey, Brian and Stefan went back to the boat.
The Dane had tied the arms and legs of von Lichner, who was in the bottom of the boat, neither speaking nor moving. Carlson was also on board. The boat rocked as they climbed in.
Before long, when dawn was beginning to break in the eastern sky, they reached the shadows of the rocks, which stood deep
in the water. In a little cove, dark and gloomy in that poor light, they landed, then carried Carlson and von Lichner towards a cave which was larger than their first shelter.
The Dane was anxious to get back. In the half-light, they saw him pulling out into the fjord. Palfrey wondered uneasily whether he would get back unobserved.
The cave, its floor covered with sand, was not uncomfortable. Palfrey sat down, surprised to find how tired he was. Brian lit a cigarette and looked towards the water, obviously wishing he had gone with Conroy.
Stefan looked at von Lichner, then at Palfrey; the latter glanced down and saw the red-haired German’s eyes open, staring at him without expression. Palfrey pulled at his upper lip and said gently: ‘Time to talk, I think. Don’t you, Baron? Or do you prefer to be called Staarbruck?’
Chapter Seventeen
The Peculiar Behaviour of von Lichner
The German did not look afraid.
‘You know quite a lot, don’t you?’ asked Palfrey, quietly.
‘A great deal,’ von Lichner said. He struggled to a sitting position in spite of his bound arms and ankles. Palfrey saw no point in keeping his wrists tied, so Stefan unfastened the cord while Palfrey went through the man’s pockets. He found a small automatic, a number of papers, passes, and the usual assortment of oddments; there was neither tobacco nor cigarettes, but there was a flask of Schnapps.
‘That’s good,’ said Palfrey, as if there had been no pause. ‘We want to know a great deal, too.’
‘I might be prepared to give you the information,’ said the German quietly enough. ‘I am always ready to strike a bargain, Dr. Palfrey.’
‘Ye-es,’ said Palfrey. ‘It’s a German habit. Paper promises come easily, don’t they?’
‘I should keep my word,’ said von Lichner stiffly.
Palfrey, puzzled by this peculiar attitude on the part of a man whom he had expected to be afraid, studied the other’s face more closely. It was not a remarkable face; the only thing about it which surprised him was that it did not look German; perhaps because of his red hair and peculiarly fair complexion, he might have belonged to any country. His nose was inclined to be snub, his blue eyes looked as though, in certain circumstances, they could twinkle merrily.
His mouth intrigued Palfrey most.
It was large, well-shaped, and sensitive. Palfrey had grown so used to the thin-and-tight-lipped Nazis that such a mouth in a German seemed unnatural.
‘I always regretted the need for using violence, even a little violence, on you,’ said von Lichner. ‘You see, Mr. Debenham, I was most anxious to learn more about you—all of you.’ ‘How did you connect us with Erikson?’ snapped Palfrey.
‘Erikson? Is that as far as you have got? I thought you would know that I was looking for you in Oslo!’
‘We did not get on quite so quickly as that,’ said Stefan with an amused smile. ‘But does that matter? Or isn’t it most important that you won’t know where we’re going next?’
‘I could even guess that.’
The most likely explanation of the man’s behaviour was that he was convinced he would come to no harm. Palfrey searched his mind for a reason for such confidence.
‘I was about to say,’ continued von Lichner, ‘that when I am in England—and I go there as rarely as possible, knowing the dangers and the competence of your colleagues in Department Z—there is scarcely a friend to greet me. The country is small, it is impossible to go upon a road which is not watched, at every turn there is the Home Guard or some other civil organisation co-operating with distressing efficiency with the police. Whereas in the Greater Reich’ – he shrugged his sloping shoulders, ‘you have friends everywhere. Even were you disliked personally, you would get help from people anxious to make things just a little more difficult for the occupying forces.’
Palfrey said: ‘At least you’re a realist.’
‘It is an essential characteristic of the profession,’ said von Lichner, plucking a small piece of seaweed from his coat. ‘I will even go further. We cannot rely wholly on the support of our own people. There is far more sympathy with the English in Germany than there is for the Germans in England. In spite of Dr. Goebbels, you see, your propaganda has virtues which cannot be gainsaid.’
‘You will forgive me if I’m wrong,’ said Stefan sardonically, ‘but weren’t you going to guess where we were going next?’
‘Oh, I know your ultimate rendezvous,’ von Lichner said offhandedly. ‘I am amused to think that you are going to Berlin, but after all, I am but lately back from London and there is nothing very surprising in it. But, where are you going from here? I have no doubt you have an address not far away, where you can be safely sheltered for a few days.’
‘We have,’ Palfrey assured him. ‘We aren’t discussing it with you.’
‘Now, I will ask you this: would you have escaped with Erikson and Ohlson, would you have got away with Raffleck, had I not permitted it?’ Von Lichner smiled.
‘Permitted it I’ echoed Palfrey. ‘You—’ he drew a deep breath.
‘Now come,’ said von Lichner, with a touch of irritation. ‘I knew that you were coming to the continent. I had an idea of how you would get here. I had only to send your descriptions to every anti-espionage agent in the Greater Reich and you would have been apprehended quite early. You might have escaped with Raffleck, but certainly you would not have gone far in Copenhagen.’
‘We could have tried,’ said Palfrey. ‘We have had luck before, you know.’ There was a tense pause. Then: ‘No,’ said Palfrey decisively. ‘No, I don’t believe you. You might have tried, you would not necessarily have blocked us. And they followed closely on our heels, there was no attempt to make them stay away from us. We were hunted too closely to have had any kind of benevolent protection. But—’ he smiled amiably and began to twist his hair about his forefinger – ‘suppose we grant the point? Supposing you did hold your hand when you could have had us caught. Why did you?’
‘Now you are talking good sense, Palfrey,’ said the German appreciatively. ‘I will not insist on disturbing your sense of triumph and satisfaction, but we will talk on the assumption, shall we? I wanted both to find and talk to you, but for the time being, at least, that is all—I have no desire to interfere with your activities. On the contrary,’ added von Lichner, smiling widely. ‘Very much on the contrary, Palfrey! I wish to help.’
Chapter Eighteen
The Chemist Named Dross
‘To help,’ said von Lichner. ‘Now, let me be quite straightforward, Palfrey. Had this encounter come about two years—even one year—ago, I should have concentrated on catching you. I should not have been lenient towards you, I should have realised that you were a danger to the security of the Third Reich. So I should have been compelled to have had you arrested and shot—we should not have wasted a great deal of time on a trial. The conditions are very different now. The best I could do by having you caught and shot would be—’ he paused, ‘perhaps postponement of the inevitable climax by a few days. Perhaps, by condemning to death Raffleck, Erikson and others for whom you are searching, and thus preventing some Allied Governments from completing their arrangements for post-war plans; I should have delayed recovery from the effects of the war. I should perhaps have increased the number of people who would die after your occupation of Europe. But no more than that. Palfrey. You see, I am a realist. For my country the war is lost.’
Brian said in a slow voice: ‘What are you driving at?’
‘I have acknowledged the inevitability of a German defeat,’ said von Lichner. ‘I have made it clear that I know that you are trying to obtain the release of certain important members of Governments in office prior to the Occupation, to help in the immediate post-war problems. Now, if I read you aright, your only concern is to make possible a quicker and more complete recovery in Europe after the war. Palfrey, you have the ear of the Marquis of Brett. The Marquis has the ear of the British Cabinet. Do I have to make myself more obvious?’
Gently, Stefan said: ‘I begin to see. Are these not called “peace feelers,” Sap?’
‘You see nothing at all,’ snapped von Lichner. ‘I have made it clear to all but imbeciles that I acknowledge the impossibility of a German victory. The war is lost for us. It is a good time for the victor and the loser to get together and to discuss post-war problems. I have a particular angle—that is your expression—a particular angle upon them which I think would be of interest. Do you wish to hear what I have to say, or do you not?’
Palfrey said: ‘The difficulty is time. We have to get away.’
‘If you listen to me and accept my proposals you will not have to worry about time,’ said von Lichner. He leaned forward and pointed at Palfrey, saying impressively: ‘I can unlock the doors of any prison or concentration camp, of all the houses of detention in Europe! The complete success of your mission can be assured by your co-operation with me.’
Brian interrupted, slowly.
‘Is there going to be a proposition?’
‘That is not a matter which I can discuss here and now,’ said von Lichner. ‘There is no time, as Palfrey has said—’
‘That’s contradictory,’ objected Palfrey. ‘Just now you discounted the time element.’
‘There is time now to discuss some things, but not to put my proposition,’ said von Lichner. ‘I act for others—I have principals to whom I must report. I have to assure them of your willingness to co-operate.’
‘The time element crops up again,’ murmured Palfrey.
‘We’ll need to think about it. On the whole—’ he looked at Stefan thoughtfully. ‘Do you think we can take him with us?’
‘We can’t carry him,’ Brian pointed out. ‘If we stroll across Denmark with him on a piece of string it would look odd. If we unpinion him and take him along with us, we’ll give away our friend at—’ he paused, then added: ‘the next port of call. He might break away and cause a disturbance. We could probably kill him without losing much time, but it would start a pretty fierce hue-and-cry. You just can’t trust the beggars. He looks as innocent as a new-born babe, but—’