The Legion of the Lost

by John Creasey

  They reached the apartment in the cold light of morning, when the streets were becoming filled with people. Not for the first time Palfrey was amazed by the lack of traffic – he saw only half a dozen buses along the Unter den Linden and the Kurfeurstenstrasse. But already he was getting accustomed to this unfamiliar Berlin which seemed to have lost itself.

  Confused and puzzled by the speed with which Hilde had become personna grata in the opposite camp, Palfrey led the way upstairs, the others advancing single file, with Stolte labouring after them. Out of the communal dining-room-cum-lounge Frau Witt appeared. Palfrey was surprised to see that she wore a gay yellow bandeau about her head and that her hair and person were tidier than he had yet seen.

  She smiled, no longer looking hopeless.

  ‘Good morning, Fräulein—Herr Professor—’ she named them one after the other. ‘There is good fortune this morning. I have been able to obtain some fish!’

  The fish just about deserved the name and was not improved by a thickish, yellow sauce which had a peculiar, metallic flavour – ersatz stuff, thought Palfrey. The whole meal was spoiled by the presence of the hungry and gloating-eyed Stolte, who invited himself to breakfast and would have invited himself to a share of one of the double beds had not Palfrey told him pointedly that they would not be ready to go out again until the afternoon, and that they did not want him to stay on duty indefinitely. Stolte beamed, said that he appreciated their thoughtfulness, that it was pleasant for him to have some free time. Off he waddled, and when he had gone Palfrey went downstairs and summoned Frau Witt.

  She came hurriedly, a duster in her hand; the place seemed cleaner. Palfrey took a small tablet of soap from his pocket, another present from Switzerland. She eyed it incredulously.

  ‘I forgot to give you this yesterday,’ said Palfrey with a smile. ‘You need it badly, don’t you?’

  ‘Badly, Herr Professor! It is unknown in Berlin—so many things have disappeared in Berlin since the Russian war.’ She sniffed. ‘But when it is over we shall have plenty of such things. Today—a moment, please!’ She dived into her room and came out with a rectangular piece of something that looked like stone. It was no larger than a matchbox. ‘Here!’ she said. ‘That is what is called soap. It must last me for one month for everything—everything!’

  It was more like soft pumice-stone, thought Palfrey.

  He chatted idly for a few moments, then asked whether she were a friend of Herr Stolte’s.

  ‘Friend!’ she exclaimed. ‘I would spit—’ quickly she stopped and her eyes grew shadowed. ‘Of course, he is an estimable man and a member of the Party, but I am not used to his ways, Herr Professor.’

  Palfrey smiled grimly, understanding the reason for her change of manner.

  ‘Nor are we, Frau Witt. You will do us a service if you tell us when he comes in. It will give the Fräulein Berg an opportunity for going to her room; for some reason she does not take to him—but it is not wise to give offence. You understand?’

  ‘The pig-dog!’ exclaimed Frau Witt. ‘You shall be warned, Herr Professor.’

  Satisfied that she would keep her word, while having no idea why they were anxious that Stolte should not put in an unexpected appearance, Palfrey went upstairs. The others were in the large room, talking desultorily. When Palfrey closed the door Conroy looked up with one eyebrow raised, giving him a Mephistophelian appearance which amused Palfrey.

  ‘The guy who nearly crashed us all,’ said Conroy.

  ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey with a smile. ‘Touch and go, wasn’t it? The lad was no fool.’ He stopped smiling at the thought of what was probably happening then to the club-footed youth. ‘Poor kid!’ he said. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘We might find a way of helping him.’

  ‘It is hardly likely,’ said Stefan. ‘Sap, we have to give our full attention to other matters, we cannot spend much time commiserating with him, we know what we feel, and it is just one of those things.’

  ‘Ye-es,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘We have to thank him for making us safer with von Often,’ said Stefan. ‘For the rest, we do not think a lot of his Excellency, who will be dangerous. You will hardly need telling that. But—what is he? What did he mean by his talk? Have we found what we are looking for?’

  Palfrey said slowly: ‘I don’t know. I’ve two theories.’ He explained what had passed through his mind, then added: ‘It’s possible that Hilde will know more about the lost men, she seems to be doing very well. I wonder how the Marquis managed that?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ asked Brian easily. ‘She’s obviously hoodwinking them nicely—and didn’t von Otten say that she was to be our first tutor? It ought to be an interesting lesson!’

  ‘In holding hands?’ asked Conroy gently.

  ‘Don’t be an oaf,’ said Brian, grinning.

  ‘When this most interesting interchange of opinions is over,’ said Stefan a little heavily, ‘we have to remember two things—-we are looking for the Legion of the Lost, yes, but also for Ridzer and Machez. I have given them some thought, Sap. I like it less than ever.’

  Palfrey said: ‘I haven’t forgotten it exactly. It goes without saying,’ he added after a pause, ‘that they’ll be pretty closely guarded, and that a special watch will be kept near them for us. A comforting thought in some ways. They’ll be concentrating on the search for us wherever Ridzer and Machez are being kept. We should be reasonably safe from general attention.’

  ‘How does it help?’ asked Conroy. ‘We want them, don’t we?’

  ‘We want plenty of time for preparations,’ said Palfrey thoughtfully. ‘With luck and help from Hilde we’ll get it. And there’s something else. The little club-foot gave me an address. Attanstrasse, Number 8. He also assured me that we wouldn’t be betrayed, which is helpful.’ It passed through his mind that, in a way, they were betraying the club-foot, but he put the thought aside, it would do no good. ‘Does anyone know the place?’

  None of them had heard of it, but after recourse to a street guide of Berlin they found it in the working-class district near the Stettiner Station. It was a short road, one end of which debouched on to the wide road which passed the railway itself.

  ‘Who’s going there?’ asked Conroy.

  ‘It doesn’t much matter,’ said Palfrey. ‘Are you ready for a walk? An exploration only, nothing else!’

  ‘It suits me,’ said Conroy.

  ‘I think I could use some fresh air,’ said Brian. ‘Coming, ’Silla?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Drusilla. ‘All the Palace of Gold gave me was a headache and an urgent desire for more sleep.’

  Twenty minutes later Conroy and Brian were on their reconnaissance expedition. Drusilla was in the large bedroom – the camp-bed in the other room was too small for real comfort, she told them. Palfrey thought that she was quieter than usual, but did not ask her why. He sensed her moods more easily than anyone else’s, and when she went out of the dining-room-cum-lounge she sent him a smile which made him reflect on the two weeks they had spent near Penzance. That turned his thoughts to von Lichner; he ran swiftly over all the events that had followed their encounter with the German.

  Stefan broke a five minutes’ silence. ‘Sap, I confess to an uncomfortable feeling of disquiet. Personal disquiet, Sap, I don’t wish to—what is it?—throw a cat to the chickens, but I am too conspicuous here. Had it not been so obvious that there is a widespread warning to look for us I would not be so perturbed, but now—you will pass unnoticed, also Brian and Conroy and even Drusilla. It would be impossible for anyone to point a finger at you and say who you are. I am different. A disadvantage, now, my size!’

  Palfrey said: ‘Ye-es, I suppose so.’

  ‘You know it,’ said Stefan. ‘It is well enough for me to take part in such an affair as that at Oslo or Copenhagen, when we can get quickly away. But it may be necessary for us to stay for weeks in Berlin. It will not be safe if I am with you.’ He eyed Palfrey steadily, his eyes frank and smiling a little. ‘I am
already marked by von Otten. I do not like it because it may reflect on you.’

  Palfrey said nothing; there was no point in lying to try to soothe Stefan’s feelings, the Russian would see through it and in any case would not want it.

  ‘I am glad you do not argue,’ said Stefan. ‘It is quite obvious. What is more difficult is to undo any damage that may have been done. We will have to risk that. Meanwhile, I think your friends at Attanstrasse, 8, may be helpful. I can perhaps join them. In any case there are plenty of contacts in Berlin and I shall have the time and opportunity to concentrate on Ridzer and Machez. You can pay more attention to von Otten, von Lichner, and the affairs of the Legion,’ said Stefan, ‘and that will be more than enough for you. I suggest that I am recalled by the Party in Switzerland. The best thing is to arrange for me to get the summons when Stolte is here. He will pass it on to von Otten. Is that all right?’

  ‘As far as it goes, yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘I wish there were another way out! One thing’s certain, Stefan—You’ll do nothing about Ridzer and Machez and the prison without getting in touch with us. We’ll have to have a go-between.’

  ‘Hilde, perhaps?’ Stefan suggested.

  Palfrey pulled at his hair.

  ‘No-o,’ he said after a pause. ‘I don’t think we ought to overload her, she has plenty to do. The problem of Hilde,’ he added, smiling, ‘has grown bigger. But this is rambling, Stefan! This go-between—we’ll leave messages at the Berlin Rendezvous 3. It’s in the Adolf Hitler Platz—you know where it is as well as I do. Is that all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Stefan. ‘One other thing before we have some sleep. When the others return from Attanstrasse I will probably want to go there—you will arrange that as quickly as you can? I won’t go until I get a message at the Rendezvous.’

  ‘Right!’ said Palfrey.

  In one way he was relieved, glad that he had not fallen for the temptation of telling Stefan that the Marquis had raised just such a query; it was much better to have worked itself out. He saw the many snags ahead, the possibility of awkward and insistent questions. Then he shrugged the thought aside and, like Stefan, took off his shoes and collar and tie and lay down on the bed in the next room, sharing it with Stefan. He could hear Drusilla’s even breathing on the other bed.

  He went to sleep quickly.

  He was roused not long afterwards by an insistent tapping on the door. He raised his head as soon as he opened his eyes. The bed lurched as Stefan climbed from it and tip-toed to the door. Drusilla had also been awakened and was staring at the door bemusedly.

  ‘Who is there?’ Stefan called after he reached the door.

  ‘It is I, Frau Witt,’ said the Hausfrau. ‘Please open the door!’ She did not seem to be worried, thought Palfrey. He swung himself from the bed and was sitting on it when he caught a glimpse of the rejuvenated Frau Witt. Her rejuvenation was now the more remarkable because she had on a striking red frock reaching barely to her knees.

  ‘There is a visitor for the Professor,’ she said promptly. ‘Does he wish to see her?’

  ‘Her?’ thought Palfrey, then imagined it was Hilde. He stood up and straightened his hair. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘I shall bring her up,’ said Frau Witt.

  She went off, the hem of her skirt well above the knees at the back, while Drusilla sat up and Palfrey put on his shoes. None of them doubted that it would be Hilde. There was a quickening excitement in them as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Palfrey was tempted to go to the door to greet the Norwegian girl, suddenly aware of how much he wanted to ask her.

  But when ‘she’ appeared it was not Hilde.

  Frau Witt led the visitor to the lounge, while Palfrey gaped at a short woman, dressed in a long black coat and shoes with absurdly high heels. He did not recognise her and was startled that anyone else should know that ‘Professor Pienne’ was in Berlin.

  Then Drusilla said in a tense voice: ‘Did you see her, Sap?’

  ‘Yes. A stranger to me,’ said Palfrey. ‘I think—’

  ‘She’s not so much a stranger as all that,’ said Drusilla sharply. ‘We’ve seen her before—in Penzance, with von Lichner.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Woman with High Heels

  Just as he had made an effort, once, to remember the red-haired man who had left the ramshackle bus in Cornwall and gone ahead of them with the woman in the uncomfortable-looking high-heeled shoes, now Palfrey recalled von Lichner’s companion. It brought a sense of shock because von Lichner had been able to trace them so easily.

  Drusilla, who had taken off her frock, started to put it on quickly; its fastening caught in her hair. Palfrey helped her on with it, smiling absently and looking out of the window. He needed time to recover from his surprise.

  ‘I suppose there’s no doubt?’ said Stefan.

  Drusilla pulled the frock over her head abruptly and stood with it rucked about her shoulders.

  ‘Of course there isn’t.’ She smiled a little, for Stefan was looking studiously out of the window and away from her. ‘Are we all going in?’

  ‘I think I’ll start the ball rolling,’ said Palfrey. ‘You’ll keep close by?’ It was a rhetorical question, and he did not look at either of them again as he went to the door, opened it, and went in to greet von Lichner’s emissary.

  She, too, stood by the window.

  She was smaller than von Lichner, but Palfrey was startled when he saw her face; she was so obviously a relative, almost certainly von Lichner’s sister. Her lips were the same full, sensitive shape, and her eyes might have been von Lichner’s. Her hair was fair, not ginger; that was the only major difference – except that she was dressed poorly, very differently from the immaculate, dandified Baron. She wore black with touches of colour at the neck, waist and sleeves that were just the wrong shade of red; her hat was a salmon pink. She looked dowdy, although she gave the impression that she tried very hard to be smart.

  Then she smiled at Palfrey and all thoughts of her clothes went out of his mind; smiling, she was charming.

  ‘I am glad to meet you, Herr Professor!’ she said.

  Palfrey inclined his head.

  ‘A privilege!’ he mumbled.

  ‘And a surprise, I’ve no doubt!’ She spoke in German, but Palfrey saw a smile in her eyes as well as on her lips, which gave the impression that she was not taking him or herself very seriously.

  ‘I hardly knew that anyone was aware of my departure from Switzerland,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Your departure from Switzerland?’ she raised her eyebrows, just as von Lichner had done in the cave near the fjord. ‘That is very good, Herr Professor, but you need not pretend with me. I know who you are, of course, I am in my brother’s full confidence.’

  Palfrey gulped.

  ‘Perhaps we don’t understand each other? Your brother?’ He made the words a question.

  ‘The Baron von Lichner,’ she said. ‘I came to repeat our earlier warning—it is not safe for you to stay long in Berlin. Ridzer and Machez are in the new prison at Potsdamer Platz. Only the most important prisoners are kept there and it is impossible for anyone to get in and out without full per mission and personal escort. It is known that you are here to try to get them away. After the others, they are taking no chances at all. There are photographs of all of you inside the prison. There are guards at every door and every passage. I tell you that it is hopeless to try to get inside. You must either give it up, or—’

  She stopped, shrugged her shoulders and stepped back.

  Palfrey said: ‘That sounds bad.’

  ‘It is bad, but you have proved yourself to be wise in the past. If you are really sensible now you will get out of Berlin as quickly as possible. My brother will get in touch with you at Potsdam. You will be much safer there, where we can give you more protection.’

  Palfrey said: ‘I don’t know how much you’ve been told, gnädige Fräulein, but perhaps you’ll remind the Baron that I promised to listen to him after I had Ridzer
and Machez out of Europe. That still stands. If I don’t get them—’ he broke off, smiling a little aimlessly. ‘That would be a pity. And there would be no deal.’

  ‘We can betray you any time we wish,’ she said; there was a dangerous note in her voice, her eyes were hard and cruel, all traces of laughter had disappeared.

  ‘Too bad!’ drawled Palfrey. ‘Wouldn’t you do better to help me get my men? I mean, it would give me some cause for gratitude and a better reason for listening to you. After all, it cuts both ways. If the Baron wants my co-operation badly enough he’ll have to earn it. He certainly won’t earn or get it by sending the news to the authorities.’

  She eyed him in silence and he needed no telling that she was raging inwardly.

  He went on: ‘There are other things. How much do you know about the Legion of the Lost, gnädige Fräulein? I might be more accommodating in return for information about that. After all—’ he was surprised to find that he was actually enjoying himself! – ‘I want to be fair.’

  It meant something to her; her eyes betrayed that.

  ‘I shall give him your message,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks!’ said Palfrey. ‘And another thing, Fräulein Lichner. There was a most unfortunate occurrence at the Palace of Gold last night. A youth with a club foot was among those arrested and I’m afraid he will be badly treated. I know your brother’s dislike of brutality and violence. If he could help in any way to procure the young man’s release—’

  ‘It is quite impossible,’ she said decisively.

  ‘Too bad!’ said Palfrey. ‘But perhaps he’ll try.’

  She drew a deep breath, her cheeks flushed and angry.

  ‘What kind of man are you?’ she demanded. ‘We are offering you help and safety. You have no chance of escaping from Germany without it, yet you try to impose conditions. It is absurd!’ She stamped her foot, encased in the ridiculously high-heeled shoe. ‘It is madness!’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘The English are mad. Didn’t Dr. Goebbels tell you?’