Paradise Gold: The Mafia and Nazis battle for the biggest prize of World War II (Ben Peters Thriller series Book 2) (20 page)

T
he guards
at Fort Desaix’s main gate were not being helpful. They would have liked to accommodate the attractive woman and her friend in the little yellow car, but what she wanted was impossible. Her demand to see von Bayerstein was crazy, and neither had the guts to allow her in or even to call through to his office. It was her desperate and wide-eyed stare, giving her the look of irrationality bordering on madness, that convinced them.

‘Please, I have to see the General immediately,’ she pleaded after getting out of the car and approaching the sentry hut. ‘It’s vital, many lives could be at stake.’

One of the guards thought it better to humour her and tried to place an arm around her shoulder, but she pushed him away. ‘Sorry, mam’selle. We can’t let you through. If we did, our lives wouldn’t be worth living.’ And he laughed nervously.

‘I must, you idiot.’

They looked at each other. If she persisted, they were going to lose their tempers. ‘Leave your name and telephone number, if you have one, and we’ll see the General’s office gets it.’

‘No, I must see him now.’

The senior guard felt his patience slipping away. The carbine he’d been holding in one hand was now clutched tighter in two. ‘If you don’t go away now, we’ll call the gendarmes and they’ll put you in the cells until you cool off.’

Natalie sighed and stepped forward and hit the guard on the bridge of his nose, drawing blood. He staggered more in surprise than hurt, holding his nose, while the other guard grabbed her and pulled her towards him, twisting her arm up her back. ‘We tried to be reasonable, now you’re in trouble.’

Ronnie opened her car door and made to get out and the guard raised his carbine and warned: ‘Get back in and drive away or I’ll open fire.’

They grabbed an arm each and frog-marched Natalie, with her feet barely touching the ground, up a long path towards the Fort before entering a courtyard bounded by the main walls of the Fort. The guard’s fingers were biting into her arm and she spat in his face and steeled herself for a violent reaction. Instead, he just gathered himself, growled gutturally, and spat straight back at her. Unsure whether to progress, the guards halted. Before them, people were crowded into the courtyard and it was deathly quiet. Six Nazis were lined up facing a lone man, who was blindfolded and stood with his back to the wall. And they had their rifles trained on him.

Natalie knew it was Ben and she heard the officer’s voice, cool and unhurried. ‘Take aim.’

Her guards were distracted by blundering into an execution and relaxed their grip on her. She shrieked and pulled away from them and, sprinting between the rifles and their target, she waved her arms in the air. ‘No, no.’ And then louder. ‘Stop, you can’t do this. Stop.’

Uncertain what to do, some of the Nazis in the execution squad lowered their rifles and looked towards the Major, who stepped forward, shouting: ‘Hold your fire.’

Her arms outstretched, Natalie stood before them shielding Ben.

‘You are either a very brave woman,’ the Major said, pushing aside the remaining rifles still aimed at him, ‘or stupid.’

‘I want to see Otto. I must see him. You can’t kill this man.’

Braune merely shrugged. ‘The General gave orders he should be executed, and it would take a very brave man to countermand those orders. I am afraid I am not that man.’ Although he appeared to reconsider, adding: ‘I suppose you are in a unique position to speak to him.’

‘I have very important information for the General and when I tell him, he’ll want to talk to this man.’

Still blindfolded, Ben could hear what was happening but wondered if someone would break ranks and shoot him anyway. The Major glanced at him and then back at the firing squad and dragged a boot in the dirt. ‘Tell me what this is all about.’

‘No,’ she persisted. ‘I must tell him in person. It concerns his safety and your whole operation on the island.’

Exasperation flooded across the Major’s face. He headed the General’s security on the island and he should be the first to know of any threat to his superior and be the one informing him. But he also realised the woman’s special relationship superseded that.

‘Very well,’ he conceded. ‘You must both come with me. If he refuses to see you, I will continue with this man’s execution and deal with you in due course.’

A
s they entered his office
, von Bayerstein rose from behind his desk and took both of Natalie’s hands in his, kissed her on both cheeks, and led her to a chair. Ben was left standing, a guard either side of him, and Horst lurked in a far corner, observing everything.

‘You look troubled, please tell me why you needed to see me so urgently.’

The last-minute reprieve from the firing squad set off a chain reaction in Ben’s metabolism as though his skin was rippling out of control and he realised, despite Natalie’s intervention, nothing would change for him and soon he would be back down in the courtyard with his back to the wall.

The General stood as he waited for Natalie to compose herself, and he reached across his desk and flipped open a silver cigarette box. He extracted one of his Black Russian cigarettes, lit it, inhaled and exhaled expansively, watching the smoke spiral up into the vaulted ceiling. ‘Well?’

Ben detected a note of impatience creeping into the German’s voice.

Natalie cleared her throat and clutched her purse in her lap in front of her. ‘This man,’ she gestured at Ben without looking at him as if he were of no consequence, ‘is not the one you’re after.’

‘Really?’ Von Bayerstein resumed his seat behind his desk. ‘And what makes you think we were after him?’

‘You were about to shoot him.’ She glanced quickly at Horst, who kept watch impassively.

The look on the General’s face suggested it was a commonplace occurrence. ‘Do you know him?’

‘No,’ she said softly.

‘But you met him the other night at the club.’

‘By accident.’

Von Bayerstein nodded as if recalling it. ‘And that was the only time you have met him?’

‘Of course,’ she said almost too quickly.

‘I see.’ He steepled his fingers over his stomach and studied the ceiling. ‘That is not the important information you wanted to give me,’ he added with an emphasis on ‘important’.

She re-crossed her legs and bent forward in her chair, and her composure impressed Ben. ‘The Americans are planning some sort of action on the island–’

He threw back his head and chuckled and the others joined in. ‘I am grateful to you for this information. Do you think we do not know what the Americans are up to? We have people in Washington and New York. There is nothing the Americans can do that will surprise us. They would like to do many things, but their President’s hands are tied. He dare not take direct action against us for fear of involving his country in the war. A war they know they will lose.’ He stood up and flicked the remains of his cigarette into an ashtray fashioned from a seashell and came and sat on the desk facing her. ‘How do you know this?’

‘From people at the club,’ she stammered and a frown ran across her face, but her eyes remained focused.

‘Go on.’

‘Those loud Americans at the club are not what they seem.’

‘Tell me more.’

‘They’re part of a reconnaissance group.’

‘I see.’

‘And they’re responsible for the disappearance of your two men.’

Von Bayerstein flashed a questioning look at the Major and the officer returned it with a shake of his head.

‘For a dancer, you seem to know a lot about what the Americans are supposedly going to do.’

‘At the club you get to hear a lot of things,’ she smiled. ‘Although I know not everything is necessarily true.’

‘And just how did you know we had this particular American in custody?’

‘His driver, Ronnie, came to me and asked for my help.’

Ben gasped, relief flooding out of him, and the others glared at him. Ronnie had survived the crash and now all he wanted was for her to distance herself from him and get out of harm’s way.

‘Interesting she came to you, don’t you think?’ The General stared at her, working out the chain of events. ‘So you thought you would come to the Fort to save him.’

‘I thought,
chéri
,’ she said, ‘you as an officer and a gentleman wouldn’t punish him if you knew the truth.’

The term
chéri
seemed to make him soften. ‘Of course, of course.’ He smiled and regained his seat. He turned his chair around to look out over the Fort’s grounds so they couldn’t tell what he was really thinking, and he was quiet for several minutes.

‘If the Americans attempted any kind of action against the Reich, it would start a chain of events they couldn’t survive,’ he said, wheeling around to stare at Natalie and then Ben.

‘I know nothing about any of this,’ Ben said truthfully. ‘Now, will you release me?’

Von Bayerstein removed his monocle and took out a large white handkerchief to polish it while smiling bleakly at him. ‘I think not.’ His fingers played with a sheet of paper before him on his desk and he turned it over. ‘Erich here.’ He pointed at Braune. ‘He is a good man. A diligent soldier. Not quite the errand boy that you might think. It’s his responsibility to oversee the security of our operation on the island. He does it with enthusiasm and while I don’t have the time to concentrate on detail I expect him to do so for me.’ As he smiled at him, Braune winced in discomfort.

‘Tell me again, Natalie, how you came to know this man, Ben Peters?’

‘I don’t, apart from the accidental meeting at the club.’ She shook her head emphatically.

He didn’t like where this was going. The General appeared to know something and he wondered what was on the paper on the desk in front of him.

‘Of course.’ Von Bayerstein sighed and shook his head as if this were all a mystery. ‘It is strange is it not that although he did not give you his name you called him Ben at the club?’ He tapped the sheet of paper in front of him. ‘And then there is this report that on the morning after your accidental meeting, with a man you did not know, you met him again in the forest behind where you live.’

‘I–I–’ She glanced at Ben for help.

‘Some might say that was suspicious behaviour.’ Von Bayerstein stared at her. ‘Especially involving a man we had under surveillance.’

‘It was a chance meeting, I was out for a walk and we bumped into each other.’

‘Oh, I see, that explains it.’

She almost looked relieved.

‘Could you explain why you handed him what looked to be a gun and then an envelope?’

Natalie wouldn’t meet his stare.

‘Perhaps we are looking for the wrong person here?’ He flicked the sheet of paper. ‘Tell me who you really are, Natalie?’ And there was a sarcastic emphasis on her name.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘The Major was meticulous.’ Again he smiled bleakly. ‘You say your name is Natalie Baudin and you are a schoolteacher from Abbeville.’

‘That’s correct,’ she said.

‘Apparently, there was indeed a schoolteacher called Natalie Baudin in Abbeville, but she died earlier this year at the age of sixty, and she was a spinster with no living relations.’

‘I can explain.’ Natalie paused and then blurted out: ‘I took her name and had some papers forged. I wanted to get away from the war and start a new life, perhaps in America.’

‘Understandable, I think we would all like to run away from our responsibilities.’ He laughed and his men echoed him. ‘But the Major enquired further and it would appear rather than you finding a forger to get your papers, they were provided for you at considerable expense. Professional help.’ The General studied her face. ‘Who paid for your passport and papers?’

‘No one, I got them myself through contacts.’

‘I see.’ He lit another cigarette and for a few seconds his face was wreathed in smoke. ‘We have found your forger in Paris. He was discovered when we arrested some suspects. After a lengthy interrogation, he admitted to forging papers for members of the Resistance and recalled the name of Natalie Baudin. Unfortunately, he died before he could tell us who had ordered her papers.’

‘I told you, I did.’

He sighed like a parent about to scold a wayward child. ‘I like you Natalie, but you have to understand my position.’

Ben could tell that von Bayerstein was struggling to stay reasonable.

‘You risk your life to save this man from a firing squad. You tell me about some American plot to make an assault on Martinique. You know what happened to two of my men who have disappeared. And it transpires your papers are false and you have an elaborate cover story.’ He hesitated. ‘Perhaps you are the agent we are looking for?’

‘No,’ she shouted and stood up.

‘You could be working for the Free French? Or the Americans, or the British? Or even someone else?’

She shook her head.

‘Do you deny meeting this man?’

‘No.’ Her pallor had changed to a greyish white as though the blood had been drained out of her.

‘So either he is a spy, too, and deserves to face the firing squad–’

‘No.’

‘–or he is an unwitting accomplice.’

‘That’s not true,’ she shouted. ‘None of this is true.’

‘Or is he your lover?’ He smiled benevolently as though admitting it would bring an end to all her problems.

Again, she shook her head and flushed to her roots. ‘I met him at his hotel and I liked him. Would you expect anything less from a woman like me?’

‘So while you were with me you were also seeing this man.’ Von Bayerstein crumpled up the sheet of paper into a ball and threw it into a corner of the room.

‘It’s not like that at all.’

‘I don’t know what’s worse – being an agent or cheating on me.’ His head slumped as though in sadness and he looked deflated. ‘I thought you and I were doing well together, perhaps even that there was something between us.’ Then, seeming to regain his composure, he added: ‘I have known many women in my life and not one of them has cheated on me. When our relationship was at an end, it was always my decision, not theirs. This is the biggest insult you can do to me.’

They sensed the tension building within him as he stood up. And, as if a switch had been flicked, he picked up the silver cigarette box and flung it, scattering the cigarettes and causing Horst to duck as it flew over his head. ‘You are an enemy of the Reich and will have to pay. We cannot afford any mercy for your kind. You will be taken from here and face the firing squad along with your lover.’

To his surprise, she started sobbing uncontrollably. The tears rolled down her cheeks and she reached into her purse to retrieve a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes before replacing it. She paused, as if making a decision, and went back into the purse and pulled out a pistol. Everyone froze.

‘General,
für Sie
,’ she said, pointing it straight at his chest and the fear she saw in his eyes gave her the strength to pull the trigger. Screaming, the Major leaped at her and he caught the bullet in his neck and his momentum knocked her onto the floor and sent the gun sliding out of her reach.

Von Bayerstein was moving toward her and pulled out a Luger and levelled it at her. ‘I could shoot you now, but that would be too easy. I think instead you will enjoy the ritual of the firing squad.’

He looked down at the Major, a pool of blood spreading underneath his body. ‘Foolish, very foolish. Poor Erich. He despised me, of course, yet his mindless sense of duty saved me. The irony of sacrificing his life would not have been lost on him. I will see he gets a medal for this.’

Although Horst had been as immobile as a statue, he broke his silence. ‘Let me have her first, Herr General. She will tell me all we need to know.’ His eyes gleamed at the prospect.

‘I have seen women like this before and you will get nothing out of her.’ He shook his head. ‘It would waste your time and she would die before she told you anything. But I will let you have an hour with her and then the two lovers will face the firing squad together. I want no more delays to our work, we have more important things to do.’

Horst retreated looking suitably disappointed that it would be only one hour.

The General drew on his cigarette until the ash almost burned his fingers and then raised a hand. ‘Wait, I have a better idea.’ He smiled at Horst. ‘You of all people will appreciate this. I studied at Heidelberg University. Was not a good student. Studying medieval history. Boring – all those battles and politics. Not for me.’ He swept them aside with a hand. ‘Then I came across medieval torture and read about all the things they used to do to their enemies. Amazing. So innovative. So imaginative. I once recounted some of the methods to our
Führer,
who also found it very interesting. So in our camps our medical experts instigated some of the treatments on the
Untermensch
– Jews, gypsies, disabled and so on.’

Ben interrupted him. ‘Why don’t you just get on with it?’ One of the guards slammed the butt of his rifle into his midriff, bringing him to his knees.

The General raised a hand. ‘Don’t worry, Peters, I think you will like this. Your execution will be delayed while we experiment on your girlfriend.’ He turned to Natalie. ‘What do you know about scaphism?’

When she made no response, he grunted: ‘I thought not. My particular favourite was the Spanish Mantle. It was very effective. Obviously, we do not have an original here. No matter. Basically, you will be placed in a barrel. The lid of the barrel will be cut so only your head will protrude. Do not worry; you will not starve to death, quite the contrary. You will be fed milk and honey regularly. This will help relax your bowels and you will be imprisoned in your own excrement. Now for the interesting part.’ He was studying her face for a reaction, but, disappointingly, she showed no emotion. ‘We will take the barrel outside where there are many insects and they will breed and burrow into your rotting body. Delirium will settle in after a few days but before then you should have told us everything you know and more.’ He paused before continuing: ‘Then you will die – quite simply the maggots, the insects, the bugs will eat you alive.’