Hitler's Secret (20 page)

Leni caught up with Otto and Angelika at the end of the hamlet. She skidded to a halt, revving the engine to make sure she didn’t stall it. Angelika and Otto threw themselves into the sidecar, and Leni kicked it into gear. They raced away from the hamlet and Heydrich, heading east.

“You’re going in the wrong direction!” shouted Otto above the din of the engine.

“No! We have to go this way,” she shouted back. “The search patrols went west; we’d run straight into them.”

Leni kept her eyes on the narrow lane. It would join the main road in a couple of miles. Behind them came the sound of the other motorbike combination. She glanced around. There it was, about half a mile back.

“Faster!” Otto shouted, pushing Angelika down and, with his good hand, grabbing hold of the machine gun fixed on the
sidecar. He swung the gun around so that it was pointing backwards. Leni tried to keep the bike steady so that he could line up the forward sight with the headlight of the pursuing bike.

Someone on the other bike had had the same idea.

Tracer rounds pulsed towards them — fierce, phosphorous beads of fire. Trying to ignore the pain in his hand, Otto squeezed the trigger and the sidecar’s machine gun chattered back, flame shooting from the muzzle.

But the bullets kept coming, and Leni decided to take evasive action, swinging the bike from side to side, even though this made things more difficult for Otto. He fired again. Behind them, the headlights of the motorbike swerved violently and smashed into the side of the road. Seconds later the fuel tank caught, a bright yellow ball of flame erupting skywards.

“Yes!” Otto shouted in triumph.

“Nice shooting,” yelled Leni. She slowed the bike as they reached the junction to turn right onto the main road. “How long do you think we’ve got?”

“Not long. We need to get as far away from here as fast as we can, and then dump the bike.” Otto helped Angelika up from the floor of the sidecar.

“It’s all right, Angelika, we’re safe now,” Leni shouted.

Angelika nodded uncertainly, but she was staring at the blood-soaked handkerchief wrapped around Otto’s hand, her eyes full of anxiety. “Does it hurt very much?”

“It’s not so bad.” But now that the adrenaline of the chase was fading, it was pretty bad. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. Angelika leaned against him.

Leni looked at her passengers anxiously. Otto was obviously in a lot of pain. And she could only imagine how Angelika must be feeling right now, after the gunfire and the explosions. Leni turned onto the main road, and kept up the speed on the motorbike. The wind whipped at her face but she didn’t feel the cold. Her mind was now occupied with a looming dilemma.

She knew she should carry out the mission’s orders and deliver the girl to MacPherson. At the same time, she had a growing feeling that it was the wrong thing to do. She had misgivings about his intentions. Nothing good was in store for Angelika, that was for sure. Her childhood, her whole life, would be destroyed, her innocence ripped away. She’d become a bargaining chip, perhaps, or a propaganda tool. And she would forever be known as Hitler’s daughter. It was not a fate Leni would wish on anyone. Whatever her orders were, her heart was telling her something different.

She kept these thoughts spinning through her head until they reached another junction. They’d seen nothing on the road. Luck had been with them so far. She stopped to check the map. It was time for them to start going west again, and make for the border and the Bodensee. Otto woke with a start and looked around blearily. He’d either been asleep or had passed out. Angelika was still curled up against him.

“Feeling better?” Leni asked, cutting the engine.

He managed a weak smile back. “I feel fine,” he croaked unconvincingly, his voice still raspy from his ordeal. “Where are we?”

“Here.” Leni spread out the map on the front of the sidecar and pointed.

Otto leaned forward and studied it. “Right,” he said. “That’s not too bad.”

“Why don’t you see what supplies we’ve got?”

He nodded. “Come on, sleepyhead.” He gave Angelika a gentle shove.

“Are we nearly there?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Nearly.” Leni folded the map up before she could look.

Otto and Angelika climbed out and stretched. “Let’s see what food we can find,” Otto said, opening up one of the metal panniers on the sidecar. Angelika dived into the other one.

“Look!” she said, holding up half a loaf of bread and a fat length of pepper salami.

Even better than field rations,
Leni thought. She was starving. None of them had eaten anything for hours.

“Well done, Angelika,” she said, and started to check through her own pack. She still had the maps, flares, flashlight, and first-aid kit, plus her knife and the PPK. She also had one last grenade. Otto and Angelika sat quietly on the ground, chewing on the salami and bread. He offered some to Leni but
she shook her head. His pack had obviously been lost, or perhaps was sitting back at the inn.

She opened up the first-aid kit and took Otto’s hand gently. He winced and clenched his teeth as Leni removed his makeshift bandage. She unscrewed the top on a small bottle of iodine and, without warning, poured some into the wound in the palm of his hand. Otto bellowed with the pain.

“I’m sorry, but it’s for your own good,” said Leni a little crossly as she applied a dressing and began to bind it tightly with a fresh bandage.

Otto blew out his cheeks, then breathed deeply. “That’s what my mother used to say.”

“That’s what all mothers say,” Leni said. She finished and went back to the map.

“I wonder if my mother will say that,” said Angelika.

Otto and Leni glanced at each other, then away.

“I’m sure she will,” said Leni, but she felt bad for the lie. “Well, which way shall we go?”

“Let’s head south into the mountains. Once we get to the tree line we’ll dump the motorbike and then walk due west for the Swiss border.”

Leni considered Otto’s suggestion. “We’d reach the woods at the southern tip of the Bodensee.”

“Exactly. We can find the boat and get to the rendezvous point on the water by dawn.”

The wind was beginning to build and large clouds were scudding across the night sky. But the air still felt heavy and humid.

“Summer storm from the north,” said Otto, glancing up.

“I have to
go
,” Angelika announced, getting to her feet.

“All right, but be quick. There’s some bushes over there,” said Leni, and the girl hurried away.

Leni waited a moment or two. “We can’t hand her over to MacPherson,” she blurted.

Otto looked at her, hard. “And why not?”

“I don’t trust him. I don’t trust what he’ll do with her.”

“That’s not for us to decide.” Otto kept his voice low. “We have our orders; we agreed to carry them out.”

“I don’t care. Why can’t we decide?” countered Leni.

“Because we can’t, Leni. Think about who she is. Just think about that for a moment.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing! And you should, too. Everybody wants her for that reason: to use her, exploit her, harm her. Well, forget who her father is and think about who she is for one moment. She’s just a nine-year-old girl who doesn’t know anything. We have to do what’s right for her. We have to protect her from them all.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Well, maybe that’s because it is.”

“How do you know what’s right?” Otto was getting cross, but Leni was just as stubborn.

“Tell me I’m wrong, then,” she said, flipping the debate. “Tell me she’ll be fine with MacPherson. Tell me he’s only got her best interests at heart.” She waited for Otto to deny it.

After a moment he let out a long sigh. “You’re not wrong, Leni.” He leaned down and pulled off his right boot. “Give me your knife.”

Leni handed her knife over and watched as he pried off the heel of his boot. “What are you doing?”

Something dropped out of the hollowed-out heel into his hand. Leni could see in the moonlight it was a small glass vial filled with a clear liquid.

“What is it?” she asked quickly.

“Cyanide. It’s a cyanide ampoule. It kills in less than a minute.”

Leni looked at it, horrified. “Why do you have it?”

“Why do you think?”

“For Angelika?” Leni felt sick.

“MacPherson told me I was to give it to her if things got really bad. He handed it to me the afternoon we left, when you went upstairs to write a letter. Under no circumstances was she to fall back into enemy hands. Those were his words, and he said they were an order from the very top.”

“You mean the prime minister?”

“I don’t know, I suppose so.”

“Oh my God,” Leni said, her face very pale.

Otto shook his head. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but he gave me another order. That you were not to know. He said you’d get too emotional, that it was up to men to make the tough decisions. Or something like that.”

“And what decision have you made?” Leni looked at him intently, at the vial still resting in his palm.

After a moment or two, Otto closed his fist and hurled it out into the darkness.

“The right one.”

Leni smiled with relief and for a second she wanted to hug him.

“Yes, you have. You’ll see, it’s for the best.”

“Maybe,” replied Otto tentatively.

Leni stepped towards him until they were almost touching. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Otto touched her arm. “I should be thanking you, for coming back to save me.”

Angelika trotted back to them, saw them standing close together. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Of course,” said Leni. “But Otto wants to say thank you.” She turned to him. “It was Angelika who insisted we come back for you.”

“You did?” said Otto, staring at her.

Angelika shrugged self-consciously, then nodded.

“Why did you do that?”

Angelika looked back at Otto pensively. “I didn’t want you to die.” She said it quietly but firmly.

Otto stepped forward and hugged the girl. “Thank you, with all my heart,” he said.

Leni felt as though she might cry.

Heydrich paced up and down outside the village inn, trying to keep his anger and frustration in check. Almost two hours had elapsed since the children had escaped and he still hadn’t been able to communicate with the other units. The girl had taken one motorcycle combination; the other had crashed in pursuit of the children, it seemed; and it was impossible for the Flettner to fly at night. His shortwave radio had been comprehensively ruined along with his prized Mercedes, and the girl had taken the precaution of cutting the lines of the only telephone in the hamlet, the one at the inn. They had been well trained, that was for sure. His only option had been to send one of the soldiers west on the innkeeper’s horse to catch up with his SS units and alert them to the news.

He glanced across at his remaining soldiers, still dowsing the fires, before he stepped back inside the shattered inn and
went in search of Straniak. As he made his way towards the back room he looked at his watch for the fifth time in so many minutes. Every minute that was lost would make his job harder. They had to be near the mountains now, and if they left the roads and headed into them it was going to be a very difficult undertaking to flush them out. The only consolation was that the Flettner had not been damaged and Straniak was just about in one piece. It was not over yet by any means, Heydrich resolved.

He found Straniak skulking in the back room, suffering from nothing more serious than a bloody nose. He had wedged cotton gauze up his nose to staunch the bleeding, and there was a bandage holding his glasses together. He was holding his pendulum over the map once more, but it appeared to be swinging aimlessly.

Heydrich walked behind the bar, selected a clean glass, and poured himself a beer. He drained it in a single draft. “I trust you will have something for me soon,” he said.

Straniak looked cross. “It’s impossible!” he complained. “There is a terrible ringing in my ears, all my senses are damaged. My work, if it is to be successful, requires absolute calm and peace.”

Heydrich walked over to Straniak. He leaned down slowly, grasped the top of Straniak’s shirt, and pulled him up from his seat.

“I understand that, and I want you to understand something, too,” he whispered. His face was inches from Straniak’s.
“We are undertaking a personal — and I stress the word
personal
— mission for the Führer himself. Your failure to provide me with information will be a taken as an act of treachery to the Reich. And I have no need to explain how we deal with traitors.”

Heydrich let him go, and Straniak massaged his neck.

“Forgive me,” he said hoarsely. “The explosion must have clouded my judgment. I am honored to be able to help the Führer and I will redouble my efforts.” He pulled the cotton plugs from his nose and saluted stiffly. “
Heil
Hitler!”

Heydrich let him go back to his work, and strode towards the front door to await the arrival of his men. As he reached the door he noticed the innkeeper’s dog, some sort of Bavarian hound, sniffing at the boy’s backpack, which they had retrieved from the barn. There was probably some food in it, thought Heydrich.

Then he had another thought. A good one.