Hitler's Secret (11 page)

The police boat was already waiting at the quayside as an unmarked Opel sedan drew up in the port of Stock. It was still early in the morning.

Heydrich had spent the night at the Berghof and had driven to Chiemsee just after seven. The journey had taken about forty minutes. He had chosen the most ordinary car he could find at the Berghof and ordered that it fly no pennants to identify it or himself as SS. He wished his visit to be unnoticed and had shed his black uniform and
Totenkopf
— death’s head — cap in favor of a cream summer suit and Panama hat.

However, as soon as he walked down the jetty to the boat, every single person in the vicinity, the early-rising shopkeepers and fishermen, stared intently at him. A few obviously recognized him, but others just knew important Party members when they saw them. And this one was obviously very
important. Not only that, but the local police chief, pale with anxiety, saluted smartly before Heydrich could stop him.

Heydrich climbed aboard, scowling. The boat pulled away from the harbor and set course for Fraueninsel.

There was no other traffic to slow their journey. A light swell made the bow bounce a little. Heydrich had overflown the lake only yesterday for pleasure, but now he was here for a very different reason.

He dismissed the hovering police chief and settled himself in the cabin, placing a brown manila envelope on the polished teak table in front of him. The Führer had only managed to speak to him for a few moments the night before, a private audience in Hitler’s own sitting room. He had taken Heydrich’s hand and shaken it firmly, looking straight into his eyes. “I have a special task that I wish to place only in your hands.”

Heydrich had been deeply honored by the trust that was being bestowed on him. Calmly, the Führer had told him about a child, a girl, living on Fraueninsel, and how he believed his treacherous deputy, Rudolf Hess, might have betrayed her existence to the British. Accordingly, it was of the highest importance to him and to the Fatherland that she was moved to a new place of safety, that she must not be allowed to leave the Reich under any circumstances. Heydrich had assured the Führer that he would carry out the orders on his life.

The engine throbbed beneath his feet as he broke the seal on the envelope and took out the single sheet of paper on which his specific orders had been typed. He noted the signature at the bottom was Hitler’s.

He quickly scanned the document. So, he was to fly the child to Schloss Fürstenstein. He knew the castle well. There was some talk about it being the Führer’s official residence when the war was won. Once there, he would hand over the girl to the safekeeping of the staff. No record whatsoever was to be kept of this order.

Heydrich took out his cigarette lighter and sparked it alight. He let the yellow flame catch the corner of the page, and watched the paper turn to ash and float away.

Soon the engines slowed, and Heydrich saw the convent’s long wooden jetty sliding into view. Minutes later he stepped off, the police chief again saluting smartly.

“Wait here,” said Heydrich, then stopped as a middle-aged man in rough sailing clothes came hurrying along the jetty towards them.

“Chef der Polizei!”
he called out. “How fortunate! We were just going to send word to you, sir. The convent’s boat has been stolen. Last night. It is most extraordinary.” He glanced at Heydrich but didn’t recognize him.

The police chief was clearly mortified that a crime had been committed in his jurisdiction, and reported in the presence of his high-ranking visitor. “I’m sure there’s a simple
explanation, Klaus,” he said to the man, taking him to one side. “Let us look into it.”

Heydrich left them to it and marched briskly towards the convent where he threw an already flustered young nun into a panic by telling her to interrupt the mother superior’s morning prayer and to have Angelika fetched immediately.

Ten minutes later he was walking lockstep with the mother superior towards Angelika’s room. Angelika hadn’t been at breakfast or at mass. The mother superior was looking worried — and this made him suddenly uneasy.

“I expect she’s still in her room,” the mother superior chattered. “It’s hard to sleep on these hot summer nights, and sometimes the younger members of our community tend to linger in bed. And, of course, we are not prepared for your visit, sir. We expect Angelika to have one visitor on her birthday each year — Herr Hess …” She stopped, flushing, as if unsure whether this name could still be mentioned, then rushed on. “But that is not until Sunday, the twenty-second. I have it marked in red ink in my diary.”

“I see,” Heydrich said lightly, slowly turning the brim of his hat in his hands as they came to a stop outside a room with a blank nameplate.

“Well, here we are.” She turned the latch on the door and pushed it open. Heydrich saw her sag with relief. Angelika appeared to be fast asleep, completely covered by her sheet. In fact, she was snoring quite loudly.

“Come along, you silly girl.” The mother superior clapped her hands as she strode to the bed and whipped back the blanket. She froze.

Instead of a nine-year-old girl, they were looking at a nun, tied hand and foot and clearly unconscious. And the window was wide open.

“Do you have any explanation for this, Reverend Mother?” Heydrich’s voice was low and quiet.

“I … don’t understand. The girl must have taken leave of her senses. I mean, who would do such a thing?”

Heydrich nodded. “Who indeed?” He leaned forward and removed the anaesthetic pad from the nun’s face. He sniffed it. “Chloroform.”

The mother superior’s eyes widened. “Do not worry; she’ll be found. I’ll have everyone search for her at once.”

“Were you aware that the convent’s launch was stolen last night?” Heydrich asked.

The mother superior’s face took on a grayish hue.

“Perhaps you would escort me to your office, Reverend Mother? I need to make a telephone call.”

“I’m afraid we do not have a telephone.”

“What a pity. Nevertheless, there are matters that need to be discussed. Serious matters.”

“Of course.” The mother superior looked even more ashen as she stepped from the room and started down the corridor.

Her office was a large oak-paneled room, the walls lined with portraits of saints. The mullioned windows looked out across the lake.

The nun walked stiffly to her desk and sat down. Heydrich closed the door but remained standing. “I’m sure you understand the gravity of the situation, Mother Superior.”

She looked utterly bewildered. “I’m at a loss to know why she would choose to run away …”

Heydrich shook his head slowly. “She didn’t run away. And you know it.” His voice was a monotone, the anger masked beneath a professional detachment. “Your one responsibility was to keep her safe, and you have singularly failed in that regard.”

The mother superior nodded. It was all she could do.

“I will not detain you any longer. As you can imagine, time is now of the essence. There is just one piece of paperwork I require from you.” He reached into his jacket and produced a fountain pen. “Do you have paper?”

She opened the central drawer in her desk and extracted a sheet of writing paper.

“You will write the following for me: ‘It is with deep regret and shame …’” He paused as the mother superior began to write. “‘… that I must admit to a gross and terrible failure on my part to safeguard the welfare of an innocent child. In so doing, I have disgraced myself, my Führer, my country, and …’”
Heydrich took particular relish in the next noun. “‘… my Church. I have criminally abused the sacred duty that was entrusted to me. So it is with no regret that I must take the following action.’”

Heydrich paused and walked around the desk. He stood beside her, looking down at her neat Gothic script on the paper.

“Yes, that is sufficient. Sign it for me.”

The mother superior frowned. “Is the letter finished?”

“Indeed it is. Sign it.”

The mother superior added her name and title. She put the pen down and waited. “I don’t understand,” she said after a moment. “What action do you wish me to take?”

“This,” said Heydrich, placing the muzzle of his service pistol on her right temple and pulling the trigger.

He dropped the gun onto the desk, blood already spilling across it, then reached down and picked up the woman’s lifeless hand. He placed it on top of the pistol. Suicide, a cardinal sin. On no account could she be given a Christian burial. A terrible fate, if you believed in such nonsense.

Heydrich stepped out into the stone corridor. Nuns were already running towards him, as the sound of the shot, still faintly audible, rolled around the convent. He strode past them. There was much to do.

Angelika didn’t complain once as they made their way along the country roads, bumping over potholes in the darkness. Leni was impressed. She’d been half expecting some spoiled, whiney little girl, but instead Angelika sat quietly on the metal pannier, humming some tune known only to herself. Perhaps she was just happy to be traveling somewhere, anywhere, after five years of captivity. She’d been brave at the convent, too, Leni thought, and she felt an itch of curiosity to get to know the girl better. Then she remembered how MacPherson had told them not to become friends with the girl. He’d always referred to her just as the “package,” as though she were an item you sent in the post.

Dawn broke as they got near to Rosenheim, red and orange streaks against the dark navy of the night sky, and by the time they reached the railway station it was daylight. They left the
bicycles a short distance from the station, and Otto shot off to find some breakfast. Leni and Angelika tucked themselves into an alleyway by the side of the ticket office, which shielded them and also gave a good view of people coming and going.

Leni was just beginning to wonder where Otto was when he returned with pastries and his water bottle filled with warm milk. The town was waking up now and the streets were filling with people. The benches in front of the station were bathed in early-morning sunlight.

“Come on, let’s sit on one of those benches.” Leni took Angelika’s hand.

“We should stay here, out of sight,” said Otto, but the girls ignored him and settled themselves in the sunshine.

Otto followed them, sighing as he handed out the food. It had been so early that he had been first through the bakery’s door and had managed to buy three doughnuts filled with plum jam. Angelika gazed at this unheard-of delicacy with a look of wonder for a full minute.

“What’s wrong?” asked Otto as he wolfed his down.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong. It’s just …” Words failed the girl and she nibbled at the edge, savoring the taste in her mouth before taking a bite so big that jam dribbled down her chin.

“Don’t eat so fast,” scolded Leni. “You’ll get a tummy ache.”

She realized she sounded like her mother, and for an instant felt a pang of homesickness. Her sisters were probably
walking to school right now, their satchels slung over their shoulders.

“I don’t care,” said Angelika, stuffing the last piece of warm dough into her mouth. “It tastes so good!”

“I know,” said Otto. “Much better than English food.”

Leni glared at him.
What an idiot!
she thought. Otto shook his head apologetically. Fortunately Angelika was gulping the milk down and didn’t seem to have noticed what he had said.

“Right, the Innsbruck train leaves in seven minutes,” he said, hurriedly changing the subject. He dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out the train tickets, handing two of them to Leni. “I suggest we get on the train separately: you and Angelika first, and then me. We take seats apart. What do you think?”

“You’re asking for my opinion?” asked Leni, realizing he was chastened by his mistake.

“I am.”

“All right, I think you should go first and we’ll follow. That way, if there’s anything wrong you can warn us.”

“What do you mean? What would be wrong?” Angelika was paying attention now.

“With the arrangements, the seating, that’s all,” Leni said.

“Agreed,” said Otto. But it was his turn to glare at her now.

He rose from the bench and strode confidently into the station. It was already getting much busier, which was a good thing, thought Leni.

All three of them boarded the train without a hitch. They found seats in the same carriage but at opposite ends, sitting quietly as the rest of the train filled with travelers. Then, just as it was about to depart, Otto suddenly got up from his seat and walked down the aisle towards Leni and Angelika.

“Quickly, follow me,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

Leni looked at him, startled.

“Just do it!”

What was wrong? They scrambled after him. Otto stopped in the section between the two carriages.

“We’re getting off.”

“What?” said Leni.

Otto opened the carriage door on the opposite side to the platform. There was a drop of about six feet to the ground below. They heard the sharp blast of the platform guard’s whistle.

“There’s no time to explain. Here, I’ll help you …” He took Angelika’s hands and swung her out of the doorway. She dropped out of sight. Leni went next and then Otto dropped the packs down to her before jumping out himself. He reached up and pushed the carriage door shut. The train was just starting to move, the wheels squeaking and clanking, the train’s engine snorting.

“Follow me …”

He ran along the side of the train, hugging close to it to avoid being seen by any passengers inside. On the parallel
track was a long freight train, its engine pointing in the opposite direction. The wagon cars had open tops, covered with gray tarpaulins.

As they reached the end of the departing Innsbruck train, Otto crossed between the tracks to the freight train, and climbed up the short steel ladder bolted on to the end of the nearest wagon. He pulled back the tarpaulin and took a look inside. “It’s all right, come up here …” He sat astride the wagon’s edge and helped the other two to climb in. Then he dropped inside and pulled the tarpaulin over them. In the gloom Leni could see the wagon was loaded with wooden boxes.

She grabbed hold of his arm. “Otto!” she hissed. “What was that all about?”

There was another sharp blast of a whistle.

“I’ve never been on a train,” said Angelika excitedly. “And now I’ve been on two!”

“And this will be even more of an adventure,” Leni said to the girl soothingly, then raised her eyebrows at Otto, waiting for an explanation.

The wagon suddenly shunted backwards, knocking them off-balance. They all sat down on the wooden boxes.

“I’m sorry to spring it on you like that, but as I was sitting in the other train, I saw this one come in and I remembered what we were told to do.”

“Er, would that be: Get on the Innsbruck train?” said Leni.

“No, not that. It was, ‘Trust your gut.’”

Angelika frowned. “What does that mean?”

Leni ignored her. “Is that what this is? Your instinct?” She was feeling panicky and cross.

“That’s right, don’t you see? As soon as they discover she’s gone, where’s one of the first places they’ll start looking?”

“You tell me.” Leni now felt less sure of herself.

“Well, the roads obviously, but also the passenger trains. And the first one to leave Rosenheim is the one to Innsbruck. They’ll check that, but they won’t think about the cargo trains.”

“Maybe so, but we don’t even know where this one is going.”

“It’s got to be Munich. It’s going north and that’s the first city on the line. It has to stop there.”

He pulled out the silk map of the area and spread it out on one of the wooden boxes.

Leni leaned over to look. “But we’re going deeper into Germany.”

“Only a little bit. And besides, they wouldn’t expect us to do that, would they? We can change trains in Munich and get one going west to Kempten. With a bit of luck we might make the border even faster, by nightfall.”

Leni followed his finger as he traced the route from Munich till it stopped at the Bodensee. It all looked so straightforward, so simple when you just drew a line across a map. Leni didn’t know what to say. There was a logic to what Otto was proposing, and perhaps it was a clever thing to do, but it didn’t feel
right. She just couldn’t put her finger on why. There was another shriek from the whistle and the wagon lurched forward, smacking into the one ahead. Another lurch and it was slowly moving.

It was too late for her to object now.