The Serpent's Egg (35 page)

“What’s the next station after that?”

“Freiburg in 43 minutes, and an hour and 10 minutes after that, Basel Central.” 

Neumann slammed the telephone down and picked it up again. He rang the police station at Offenburg and gave them precise instructions and a description of the wanted man. “You will search the train and find this man. He will be using a false identity. He may be traveling with his wife. When you have him, arrest him and remove him from the train. He must not be allowed to cross the border, do you hear me? Make sure you use enough men for the job. Hold him until I arrive.”

Fischer arrived with the car keys.

“I need to make one more call.” Neumann picked up the telephone again. He rang Jürgen Traut of the Gestapo.

“Jürgen? We’ve found Max-Christian Noack. He’s on the Zurich Express coming in to Offenburg. I’ve made arrangements for his arrest and detention.”

“That case is no longer any of your concern, Neumann. Leave it to us.”

Neumann replaced the telephone receiver and sat back in his chair, stunned.

Fischer jangled his set of car keys. “We need to get going, Boss.”

“We’re not going anywhere. It’s in the hands of the Gestapo.”

“Can we trust them not to screw it up?”

“Probably not, Fischer.” He jumped to his feet. “Come on.”

#

Once they’d cleared the southern suburbs of Berlin, Fischer made good time. He kept his average speed as high as he dared. By his calculations, they should arrive at Offenburg by midnight.

Kommissar Neumann sat slumped beside him in the passenger seat, his eyes closed. Fischer didn’t begrudge the man his sleep. A policeman had to take his rest wherever and whenever he could. The workload had been brutal over the past two months.

Neumann opened his eyes. “Where are we?”

“We’re bypassing Frankfurt.”

Neumann sat up in his seat. “I’ll take the wheel for a spell if you like.”

“That’s all right, Boss. I’ll tell you if I start to get tired.”

Neumann closed his eyes again. Thirty minutes later, they reached the northern outskirts of Mannheim.

Neumann woke up again and Fischer said, “I’ve been thinking about Pastor Schlurr. He may be connected to Noack’s family in some way.”

Neumann pinched his nose to stifle a sneeze. “Forget about Schlurr. There’s no such person.”

“What do you mean, Boss? Are you suggesting that Schupo Gretzke was dreaming?”

“No, I’m sure he met Schlurr, but the name was probably a false one. If you look at Noack’s description, you’ll see how similar it is to the one for Pastor Schlurr.”

“So Pastor Schlurr and Max-Christian Noack are one and the same?”

Neumann’s only reply was an explosive sneeze. When Fischer looked at his boss again, his eyes were closed.

Chapter 96

June 1940

The Zurich Express rolled in to Offenburg. Doors opened, passengers got off, passengers got on, doors closed. And the train sat there. Sophie stood at the window to see the guard wave his green flag and blow his whistle, but nothing happened. She tugged at Anna’s clothing. “Mama, Mama, Why has the train stopped?”

Max went to the door of the carriage and lowered the window. Edmund joined him and they looked out. The platform was empty, the locomotive slowly releasing steam. And then six uniformed Schupo emerged from the station house and climbed aboard the train.

“This is not good. You need to go.” Edmund pushed Max to the opposite side of the carriage and opened the door.

“I can’t leave Anna and Sophie.”

“You must. I’ll look after them. Get off the train now.”

Max hesitated. Could he trust this muscleman to look after Anna and Sophie? Did he have a choice?

A beefy fist in the back propelled him from the carriage onto the tracks. The door slammed shut. Max climbed onto the far platform. The driver of the Zurich Express blew his whistle twice and the train began to move. Max watched until it had turned a bend and disappeared from view. Then he slipped out of the station and followed the road into the town.

He sat at a table under a wide parasol in the town square. The other people at the table nodded and smiled at him. There were women and children, old men, and a few soldiers in uniform. Max was aware of curious stares from some of the people around him. As the only young man dressed in civilian clothes, he stood out from the crowd. He was sure they were all wondering who he was. Let them wonder. Unless someone asked him directly for an explanation, he would say nothing and brazen it out.

He paid for a liter of the local beer and considered his next move. Switzerland was no more than 150 km to the south – perhaps two hours by car, maybe 90 minutes by train. Anna and Sophie were his first concern. He would wait two hours. By that time, they should be safely across the border and he could look for a way of joining them.

It was a warm day, the beer refreshingly cold. He drained his first liter and ordered a second. Watching the crowd, he began to categorize them. There were housewives, grandparents, and lots of children of all ages. The schools were well into their summer recess.

A bus drew up, and a group of holidaymakers got out and sat at another table. Max got up and joined them. They all looked seriously dehydrated.

“Where are you from?” he asked a red-faced man.

“We’re from Freiburg.”

“You’re on vacation?”

“We’re on our way home after two weeks in Offenbach. That’s our bus over there.”

“I’m going south myself. My home is in Switzerland.”

“You don’t sound Swiss.”

“I missed the Zurich Express. Would you have room on your bus for an extra passenger?”

The bus driver had several objections, but the red-faced man persisted and Max climbed onto the bus.

#

Max sat with his new red-faced friend, who told him of a municipal bus service from Freiburg to Basel. Max should have no trouble making the connection.

They arrived in Freiburg a half-hour later. Max’s companion pointed out the municipal bus depot and the bus that would take Max to Switzerland. They shook hands like brothers and Max thanked him. He bought a ticket for the municipal bus and joined the queue of people waiting to board.

A uniformed Schupo stood by the door checking the passengers’ identity cards. When it was Max’s turn, he handed his card to the policeman.

The policeman ran a cursory eye over the card and handed it back. “Have a good journey, Herr Noack.”

“Thank you,” replied Max.

The policeman reached for his pistol and Max ran. He ducked into a maze of narrow streets. Police whistles echoed off the buildings making it impossible to tell where they were coming from. He ran, twisting and turning, doubling back when he saw police patrols.

They cornered him in a narrow laneway, put him in handcuffs and marched him to a waiting car. They opened the door and pushed him onto the back seat beside another prisoner.

“Edmund, what are you doing here?”

Edmund responded with a sheepish grin, but said nothing.

“Just tell me the others are safe.”

“They are safe. They must be in Switzerland by now.”

#

Kommissar Ludwig Vogel of the Offenburg Kripo greeted Neumann with a broad smile. “We have Noack safely under lock and key. We caught him attempting to board a bus at Freiburg.” He handed over Max’s false papers and the contents of his pockets – two half packs of cigarettes and some money.

Neumann examined the identity card. “Splendid work, Kommissar. We need to put an immediate alert out for Frau Marten.”

“We did that as soon as we captured Noack, but she had crossed into Switzerland. I’m sorry. However, I have a surprise for you. It’s by way of a bonus.”

Neumann frowned. “I don’t like surprises, Kommissar.”

“We apprehended another subversive on the Zurich Express, a known Communist called ‘Edmund the Hammer.’ He has been on our books for some time.”

“I’m not interested in subversives. You can hand him over to the Gestapo. My only interest is in capturing the killer of a religious pastor. Have you notified the Gestapo?”

“Berlin have a man on the way. I’m under strict instructions to hold these two until he arrives.”

Neumann’s frown deepened. “I’d like a chance to interrogate Noack before those thugs get their hands on him. Their methods leave a lot to be desired. I would have no use for a confession that’s beaten out of a suspect.”

Chapter 97

June 1940

A young uniformed Orpo stood by the door. The expression on his face suggested he would love an excuse to whip out his pistol and empty it into his prisoner. But Max was going nowhere. His legs were shackled together, his wrists handcuffed, the handcuffs padlocked to an iron ring welded to the top of a steel table. His papers, his money and the two cigarette packs sat out of reach on the table.

Max tested the table. It was firmly bolted to the floor, as was the chair he was sitting on. He thought about asking for something to drink, but it seemed unlikely that they would release his arms having gone to all that trouble to restrain them.

The door opened and two men entered. He recognized one of them, the Oberassistent from Berlin. The other was a stranger. They sat at the table facing Max.

“My name is Neumann, Kommissar Neumann. You may remember Oberassistent Fischer, here. He interviewed you in Berlin...”

“In January,” said Fischer.

Neumann picked Max’s false identity card from the table. “Do you deny that your real name is Max-Christian Noack?”

Max shook his head.

“Using a false name is a very serious offense. The country is at war, so you will be tried as an enemy agent. This false identity card alone is sufficient for a judge to sentence you to death.”

Max said nothing.

“We would like to help you. We are investigating a murder. I believe you may be able to shed some light on the case. And if you can, I will do what I can to help you.”

“I know nothing about a murder.”

“We found your cigarette lighter at the scene, and we have linked you to the victim.”

Max looked shocked. “You think I killed someone?”

“We know you murdered Pastor Salvatore Vigo and buried him in the cemetery behind Holy Cross Church. But I’m certain you had accomplices. I need their names.”

“This is nonsense. I know Father Vigo. He officiated at my wedding. He is a friend. Why would I murder him?”

“We don’t have much time, Noack, tell me who helped you with the murder and I’ll talk to the Gestapo on your behalf.”

At the mention of the Gestapo something began to crawl up Max’s spine. “I’m sorry, Kommissar, but you have the wrong man.”

Neumann held up a hand and listed the evidence on his fingers. “We have your fingerprints on the cigarette lighter found at the cemetery, we know the priest conducted your marriage, and we know that you forged your Marriage Authorization.”

Fischer interjected, “Is that why you killed him?”

Neumann said, “There was also the matter of the extortion of 500 Reichsmarks by the Gestapo man, Framzl. As I understand it, Framzl agreed to sign your Marriage Authorization in exchange for the money. You then forged his signature…”

“…and got a Reich stamp from somewhere…” said Fischer.

“This enraged Framzl. He went back to the priest and berated him, maybe he threatened him…”

“And the registrar…”

“After that, I can only suppose the priest came back to you. He was angry. A fight broke out. You snapped his neck. Then you and your friends drove him to the Holy Cross Church and buried him there. So who helped you? Who drove the car?”

“Was it the Communist, Edmund the Hammer?” said Fischer. “Were you hoping to escape to Switzerland together?”

#

The door swung open. A third policeman stuck his head round the door. “The Gestapo man is here.”

Max’s heart sank. His tongue sought out his empty tooth cavity. If only he hadn’t thrown away the cyanide capsule!

The Gestapo man will break every bone in my body, and I will give them every name that I know. The whole resistance network will fall.

“Last chance,” said Kommissar Neumann. “Tell me who helped you with the murder of the priest and I’ll ask the Gestapo to go easy on you.”

Max knew the Kommissar couldn’t keep to his side of that bargain. His situation was hopeless.

The door swung open again and the blond Jürgen Traut strode in dressed in his gray Gestapo uniform. He snarled at the two Kripo men. “Leave us. I will interrogate the prisoner myself.”

Neumann stood his ground. “Herr Noack has information that could help to solve the case of the murdered pastor. I will sit in on the interrogation.”

Jürgen roared at him, “Get out of here, both of you, and close the door.”

Neumann and Fischer left the room.

The Gestapo man sat down opposite Max. He picked up the identity card. “Herr Dieter Marten, a salesman from Belgium. How inventive.” He swept the money from the table and tucked it and the identity card into his left breast pocket. Then he picked up the two cigarette packs. “A heavy smoker, I see. But you have no matches, and we have your lighter in Berlin.” He grinned. “I know these packs contain encrypted information intended for the Soviets. What can you tell me about that?”

Max made no reply. He tried a look of shocked surprise.

“No matter.” He slipped the two packs into his right breast pocket. “I’m sure our counterintelligence men will decipher the messages when we get back to Berlin.

Now tell me, at what point did you decide to renege on our agreement?”

“What agreement?”

“You joined the Red Orchestra to act as Framzl’s eyes and ears. We agreed that you would work with me to bring the Communist subversives to justice…”