At least a dozen military policemen ran forward, some carrying machine pistols, others rifles and paused in a semi-circle three or four yards away. A tall sergeant aimed his rifle and Steiner got a hand in Frank's tunic and held him close, screwing the barrel of the Luger in hard.
'I wouldn't advise it.'
An engine coasted through the station at five or six miles an hour hauling a line of open wagons loaded with coal. Steiner said to the girl without looking at her, 'What's your name, child?'
'Brana,' she told him. 'Brana Lezemnikof.'
'Well, Brana,' he said, 'if you're half the girl I think you are, you'll grab hold of one of those coal trucks and hang on till you're out of here. The best I can do for you.' She was gone in a flash and he raised his voice. 'Anyone takes a shot at her puts one in the major here as well.'
The girl jumped for one of the trucks, secured a grip and pulled herself up between two of them. The train coasted out of the station. There was complete silence.
Frank said, 'They'll have her off at the first station, I'll see to it personally.'
Steiner pushed him away and pocketed his Luger. Immediately the military policemen closed in and Ritter Neumann called out, 'Not today, gentlemen.'
Steiner turned and found the lieutenant holding an MP-40 machine pistol. The rest of his men were ranged behind him, all armed to the teeth.
At that point, anything might have happened, had it not been for a sudden disturbance in the main entrance. A group of SS stormed in, rifles at the ready. They took up position in a V formation and a moment later, SS Brigadefuhrer and Major-General of Police Jurgen Stroop entered, flanked by three or four SS officers of varying ranks, all carrying drawn pistols. He wore a field cap and service uniform and looked surprisingly nondescript.
'What's going on here, Frank?'
'Ask him, Herr Brigadefuhrer,' Frank said, his face twisted with rage. 'This man, an officer of the German Army, has just allowed a Jewish terrorist to escape.'
Stroop looked Steiner over, noting the rank badges and the Knight's Cross plus the Oak Leaves, 'Who are you?' he demanded.
'Kurt Steiner - Parachute Regiment,' Steiner told him, 'And who might you be?'
Jurgen Stroop was never known to lose his temper. He said calmly, 'You can't talk to me like that, Herr Oberst. I'm a Major-General as you very well know.'
'So is my father,' Steiner told him, 'so I'm not particularly impressed. However, as you've raised the matter, are you Brigadefuhrer Stroop, the man in charge of the slaughter out there?'
'I am in command here, yes.'
Steiner wrinkled his nose. 'I rather thought you might be. You know what you remind me of?'
'No, Herr Oberst,' Stroop said. 'Do tell me.'
'The kind of thing I occasionally pick up on my shoe in the gutter,' Steiner said. 'Very unpleasant on a hot day.'
Jurgen Stroop, still icy calm, held out his hand. Steiner sighed, took the Luger from his pocket and handed it across. He looked over his shoulder to his men. 'That's it, boys, stand down.' He turned back to Stroop. 'They feel a certain loyalty for some reason unknown to me. Is there any chance you could content yourself with me and overlook their part in this thing?'
'Not the slightest,' Brigadefuhrer Jurgen Stroop told him.
'That's what I thought,' Steiner said. 'I pride myself I can
always tell a thoroughgoing bastard when I see one.'
.
Radl sat with the file on his knee for a long time after he'd finished reading the account of the court martial. Steiner had been lucky to escape execution but his father's influence would have helped and after all, he and his men were war heroes. Bad for morale to have to shoot a holder of the Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves. And Operation Swordfish, in the Channel Islands, was just as certain in the long run for all of them. A stroke of genius on somebody's part.
Rossman sprawled in the chair opposite, apparently asleep, the black slouch hat tipped over his eyes, but when the light at the door flashed, he was on his feet. He went straight in without knocking and was back in a moment.
'He wants you.'
The Reichsfuhrer was still seated behind the desk He now had the ordnance survey map spread out in front of him. He looked up 'And what did you make of friend Steiner's little escapade in Warsaw?'
'A remarkable story,' Radl said carefully 'An - an unusual man.'
'I would say one of the bravest you are ever likely to encounter,' Himmler said calmly 'Gifted with high intelligence, courageous ruthless, a brilliant soldier - and a romantic fool I can only imagine that to be the American half of him.' The Reichsfuhrer shook his head. The Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves After that Russian affair the Fuhrer had asked to meet him personally. And what does he do? Throws it all away, career, future, everything, for the sake of a little Jewish bitch he'd never clapped eyes on in his life before.'
He looked up at Radl as if waiting for a reply and Radl said lamely, 'Extraordinary, Herr Reichsfuhrer.'
Himmler nodded and then, as if dismissing the subject completely, rubbed his hands together and leaned over the map 'The Grey woman's reports are really quite brilliant. An outstanding agent.' He leaned down, eyes very close to the map 'Will it work?'
'I think so,' Radl replied without hesitation
'And the Admiral?' What does the Admiral think?'
Radl's mind raced as he tried to frame a suitable reply. 'That's a difficult question to answer.'
Himmler sat back, hands folded. For a wild moment Radl felt as if he were back in short trousers and in front of his old village schoolmaster.
'You don't need to tell me, I think I can guess I admire loyalty but in this case you would do well to remember that loyalty to Germany, to your Fuhrer, comes first.'
'Naturally, Herr Reichsfuhrer,' Radl said hastily
'Unfortunately there are those who would not agree,' Himmler went on 'Subversive elements at every level in our society Even amongst the generals of the High Command itself. Does that surprise you?'
Radl, genuinely astonished, said, 'But Herr Reichsfuhrer, I can hardly believe...'
'That men who have taken an oath of personal loyalty to the Fuhrer can behave in such a dastardly fashion?' He shook his head almost sadly. 'I have every reason to believe that in March of this year, high ranking officers of the Wehrmacht placed a bomb on the Fuhrer's plane, set to explode during its flight from Smolensk to Rastenburg.'
'God in heaven,' Radl said.
The bomb failed to explode and was removed by the individuals concerned later Of course it makes one realize more strongly than ever that we cannot fail, that ultimate victory must be ours. That the Fuhrer was saved by some divine intervention seems obvious That doesn't surprise me of course I have always believed that some higher being is behind nature, don't you agree?'
'Of course, Herr Reichsfuhrer,' Radl said.
'Yes, if we refused to recognize that we would be no better than Marxists I insist that all members of the SS believe in God.' He removed his pince-nez for a moment and stroked the bridge of his nose gently with one finger. 'So, traitors everywhere In the Army and in the Navy, too, at the highest level.'
He replaced his pince-nez and looked up at Radl 'So you see, Radl,' Himmler went on, 'I have the very best of reasons for being sure that Admiral Canaris must have vetoed this scheme of yours.'
Radl stared at him dumbly. His blood ran cold. Himmler said gently, 'It would not be in accordance with his general aim and that aim is not the victory of the German Reich in this war, I assure you.'
That the Head of the Abwehr was working against the State? The idea was monstrous. But then Radl remembered the Admiral's acid tongue. The derogatory remarks about high state officials, about the Fuhrer himself on occasions. His reaction earlier that evening. We have lost the war. And that from the Head of the Abwehr.
Himmler pressed the buzzer and Rossman came in. 'I have an important phone call to make. Show the Herr Oberst around for ten minutes then bring him back.' He turned to Radl, 'You haven't seen the cellars here, have you?'
'No, Herr Reichsfuhrer.'
He might have added that the Gestapo cellars at Prinz Albrechtstrasse were the last places on earth he wanted to see. But he knew that he was going to whether he liked it or not, knew from the slight smile on Rossman's mouth that it was all arranged.
.
On the ground floor they went along a corridor that led to the rear of the building. There was an iron door guarded by two Gestapo men wearing steel helmets and armed with machine pistols. 'Are you expecting a war or something?' Radl enquired.
Rossman grinned. 'Let's say it impresses the customers.'
The door was unlocked and he led the way down. The passage at the bottom was brilliantly lit, brickwork painted white, doors opening to right and left. It was extraordinarily quiet.
'Might as well start in here,' Rossman said and opened the nearest door and switched on the light.
It was a conventional enough looking cellar painted white except for the opposite wall which had been faced with concrete in a surprisingly crude way. for the surface was uneven and badly marked. There was a beam across the ceiling near that wall, chains hanging down and coil spring stirrups on the end.
'Something they're supposed to have a lot of success with lately,' Rossman took out a packet of cigarettes and offered Radl one. 'I think it's a dead loss myself. I can't see much point in driving a man insane when you want him to talk.'
'What happens?'
'The suspect is suspended in those stirrups, then they simply turn the electricity on. They throw buckets of water on that concrete wall to improve the electrical flow or something. Extraordinary what it does to people. If you look close you'll see what I mean.'
When Radl approached the wall he saw that what he had taken to be a crudely finished surface was in fact a patina of hand prints in raw concrete where victims had clawed in agony.
'The Inquisition would have been proud of you.'
'Don't be bitter, Herr Oberst, it doesn't pay, not down here. I've seen generals on their knees down here and begging.' Rossman smiled genially. 'Still, that's neither here nor there.' He walked to the door. 'Now what can I show you next?'
'Nothing, thank you,' Radl said. 'You've made your point, wasn't that the object of the exercise? You can take me back now.'
'As you say, Herr Oberst.' Rossman shrugged and turned out the light.
.
When Radl went back into the office, he found Himmler busily writing in a file. He looked up and said calmly, 'Terrible the things that have to be done. It personally sickens me to my stomach. I can't abide violence of any sort. It is the curse of greatness, Herr Oberst, that it must step over dead bodies to create new life.'
'Herr Reichsfuhrer,' Radl said. 'What do you want of me?'
Himmler actually smiled, however slightly, contriving to look even more sinister. 'Why, it's really very simple. This Churchill business. I want it seeing through.'
'But the Admiral doesn't.'
'You have considerable autonomy, is it not so? Run your own office? Travel extensively? Munich, Paris, Antwerp within the past fortnight?' Himmler shrugged. 'I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to manage without the Admiral realizing what's going on. Most of what needs to be done could be handled in conjunction with other business.'
'But why, Herr Reichsfuhrer, why is it so important that it be done this way?'
'Because, in the first place, I think the Admiral totally wrong in this affair. This scheme of yours could work if everything falls right for it, just like Skorzeny at Gran Sasso. If it succeeds, if Churchill is either killed or kidnapped - and personally, I'd sooner see him dead - then we have a world sensation An incredible feat of arms.'
'Which if the Admiral had had his way would never have taken place.' Radl said I see now. Another nail in his coffin?'
'Would you deny that he would have earned it in such circumstances?'
'What can I say?'
'Should such men be allowed to get away with it? Is that what you want, Radl, as a loyal German officer?'
'But the Herr Reichsfuhrer must see what an impossible position this puts me in,' Radl said 'My relations with the Admiral have always been excellent.' It occurred to him, too late that that was hardly the point to make under the circumstances and he added hurriedly, 'Naturally my personal loyalty is beyond question, but what kind of authority would I have to carry such a project through?'
Himmler took a heavy manilla envelope from his desk drawer He opened it and produced a letter which he handed to Radl without a word. It was headed by the German Eagle with the Iron Cross in gold.
