The Seventh Secret (43 page)

As an accredited journalist, I had no trouble going from the information desk, where I learned Schmidt's identity, to the publicity department. I came away with a very lovely portrait of Chief Wolfgang Schmidt. Of course, I turned it over to Chaim Golding."

Golding stirred, came forward in his chair, addressing Kirvov in a low voice. "Schmidt was able to join the Berlin police, and rise in rank after the war because his credentials were so excellent. He had proof that he had been an enemy of Hitler, and was one of the leaders in Count von Stauffenberg's attempt to assassinate Hitler in 1944. You know of the von Stauffenberg conspiracy against Hitler, do you not?"

"I read about it, when I was younger, in Soviet history books on the war," said Kirvov.

"To refresh your memory," said Golding, "Klaus von Stauffenberg was an aristocrat and a poet who became an officer under Hitler. Von Stauffenberg had always secretly opposed the Führer
 
because of his misuse of power. Von Stauffenberg and others, who were higher placed, were determined to get rid of Hitler. Six efforts were undertaken which were either aborted or were failures. Finally, after the invasion of Russia proved to be a fiasco, von Stauffenberg determined to bring an end to Hitler. When he was summoned to East Prussia to meet with Hitler and two dozen of the Nazi high command at a wooden building at Wolf's Lair, in Rastenberg, East Prussia, von Stauffenberg stuffed a pair of two-pound time bombs in his briefcase. He joined the meeting around the conference table and propped the briefcase against an upright slab that held the table. With the bomb due to explode in seven minutes, von Stauffenberg excused himself to make a telephone call. Meanwhile, Colonel Heinz Brandt found that the briefcase was in his way, and he moved it aside, farther away from Hitler. Then the bombs exploded, ripping apart the room. Four persons were killed, but not Hitler. He suffered only superficial wounds and burns. Meanwhile, von Stauffenberg returned to Berlin, assuming that Hitler was dead. He and other conspirators began to pass out orders for the takeover of the government. Of course, Hitler caught up with him and the others. Over seven thousand arrests were made, and two thousand suspects executed. Von Stauffenberg was shot to death. He was lucky. Others were garroted with piano wire in the Plotzensee barracks, and then hung from meat hooks. According to government records, a few conspirators got away, and one was Wolfgang Schmidt. He had credentials signed by von Stauffenberg himself thanking him for his role against Hitler. With these credentials, Schmidt was welcomed into the Berlin police department and is now the chief of police. All well and good—"

"It sounds impressive," admitted Kirvov.

"—except for one thing," said Golding. "Schmidt's credentials were a lie, a sham."

"A lie?" echoed Kirvov.

"Wolfgang Schmidt was a tried-and-true Nazi from the very beginning and remains one today. Schmidt was one of Hitler's staunchest and most favored SS police guards at the
Berghof
, Hitler's residence above Berchtesgaden. Hitler even entrusted Eva Braun's protection to him. When the end was near, Hitler took some of the documents confiscated from von Stauffenberg, had them doctored, and gave them to Schmidt as a farewell gift. With his new persona, Schmidt eventually joined the postwar Berlin police force. This secret Nazi, he is the chief of police here today."

"But if you know all this—"

"Why didn't we expose him? Because, my friend, we never knew all this until Tovah checked on Schmidt and led us to investigate him. So you see, Mr. Kirvov, why we cannot depend on the Berlin police. Any effort to rescue Miss Ashcroft, from wherever she is in the Café Wolf, would have to go through Chief Schmidt. I assure you, Chief Schmidt would find some pretext not to be cooperative. Indeed he would endanger all of you further. You understand now, Mr. Kirvov?"

Kirvov was shaken. "I—yes, I do. But ... ?"

"Something must be done for Miss Ashcroft, of course. We must find her as soon as possible. But her disappearance will have to be traced by you, by all of you, and by the agents of Mossad as well. We are undercover here, yet very strong and well equipped. For our part, we will immediately surround the Café Wolf and keep it under observation."

"But what can we possibly do?" asked Kirvov.

"You and Tovah must consult with Mr. Foster at once. Tovah saw him a short while ago. From what I've heard, he may have something to say. If he does, Tovah will notify us. If he doesn't, we will try to instigate some kind of action on our own. It will not be easy. Remember, whoever the enemy is, they have the chief of police of Berlin on their side. Now go on up and talk to Mr. Foster. I hope we can act in time to--to save Miss Ashcroft from harm."

As Kirvov and Tovah came quickly to their feet, Golding also rose.

"Just one more thing, Mr. Kirvov," Golding said, "an amusing and possibly illuminating sidelight. About this Café Wolf. Do you know that when Eva Braun was first introduced to Adolf Hitler in that camera shop, Hitler gave his name as Mr. Wolf? Yes, Mr. Wolf. Now, both of you, Godspeed."

A
fter supervising the ongoing digging at the
Führerbunker
site—Andrew Oberstadt had expected his night crew to break into the emergency exit early this evening—Rex Foster had returned to the Kempinski to wait for Emily. Hunched over the blueprint of the
Führerbunker
, which was spread on the sitting-room desk, he had been puzzling over certain aspects of the drawings and slowly coming to certain conclusions. Foster had even telephoned the architect Zeidler to ask him a question about the blueprint of the
Führerbunker
 
.

When the doorbell rang, Foster responded eagerly. He wanted to tell Emily what was on his mind, and then together they would return to the East German Frontier Zone.

Opening the door, he did not hide his disappointment. Standing before him were Tovah and Kirvov. "Oh, hello," Foster said. "I was expecting Emily—"

"We want to speak to you about Emily," Kirvov said.

Foster drew them into the room. They both sat down, and he drifted back to the desk, keeping his eyes on them. Their expressions were grim, and Foster was at once concerned.

"What is it?" he said. "Is Emily all right?"

"We're not sure," Kirvov replied, "Let me explain . . ."

When Kirvov finished, Foster was pale but controlled. "Why didn't you try to go in there after her, Nicholas?"

"I considered it, even after the place was closed," Kirvov answered. "But I didn't know whether I'd be able to come out of there again, and if I couldn't, no one would know what had happened to either of us. Before she went in—"

"That was damn foolish of her," Foster interrupted, agitated. "I'm sorry. Go on."

"She was determined to go in alone," Kirvov tried to explain. "Before going in, she told me that if she did not come out, she wanted me to find you and you were to get the police—"

"The police should be alerted at once."

Foster was about to reach for the telephone, when Tovah shook her head. -No use, Rex. Now it's my turn. Let me explain."

Hurriedly, she told him about herself and Mossad, and then what she could of Wolfgang Schmidt's back-ground.

"I'll be goddamned!" Foster exploded. "And I actu-ally went to Schmidt to ask his help after Emily was almost murdered. The Nazi son of a bitch." He ex-haled. -Okay, so much for the police. Where does that leave us?"

"With Mossad as our backup, Rex," Tovah told him. "You mean Golding can really help us?"

"He can and will. It's a risky business, but Mossad has the capability to act inside Berlin. Beside the organization's trained agents—I don't know how many are undercover in the city—there are hundreds of other reserves in the Berlin community, anti-Nazis of every type and their offspring, experts at everything from armament to machines, who can be called upon to do whatever is necessary for the cause. Obliteration of the last vestige of the Third Reich is all they care about. Anyway, Chaim Golding wants to know what you think can be done, before he risks taking more obvious action."

"He mustn't do anything obvious," Foster said. -No direct action yet. The police might interfere and stop it all." He swung back to his desk and rapidly reviewed the bunker plans spread before him. "The fact is, I do have one thought."

Still studying the diagram of the
Führerbunker
, Foster said, "There's something definitely strange in this plan of the
Führerbunker
. It would be clear to any architect. Actually, I called Zeidler about this design of his. He knew it wasn't exactly right. He said that Hitler himself ordered his bunker laid out this way, and Zeidler could only follow orders. But there certainly is something missing, and if it is what I think it is, it will tell me the location of the seventh bunker."

Kirvov was confused. "What seventh bunker?"

"This one." Foster pulled his second blueprint out from beneath the one of the
Führerbunker
. "The one underground bunker Hitler ordered that has never been identified. Now I have an idea where it could be. It all depends on what I find when our dig gets into the
Führerbunker
."

"You expect to go into the
Führerbunker
?" Tovah asked with surprise.

Foster was putting on his jacket. "Tonight. By the time I return to the frontier area, the side of the mound should be excavated and there should be access into the
Führerbunker
."

"You think it still exists?" said Kirvov.

"Why not? It was originally built deep underground and reinforced by steel and concrete. Not even the Russians' bulldozing later could have made a dent in it, at least not in the deepest area Hitler used down below."

"You can't go alone," protested Tovah. "Maybe I can—'

"I have a permit to get in," said Foster. "You don't. You and Nicholas stay right here, and let Golding know what I'm up to. If I need you, I'll be in touch, somehow, you can be sure."

W
ithin the East German Frontier Zone, most of the great mound that covered the
Führerbunker
was lost in the darkness of the night. Only one side of the mound, the west side, was brightly illuminated by three gigantic spotlights.

At the rim of the circle of light, Andrew Oberstadt, in soiled overalls and muddy boots, stood observing his night shift as the men cleared away a wider passage that led into a gaping hole in the side of the mound. They were shoveling up more dirt and debris, dumping it on two heaps, when Foster arrived.

Oberstadt acknowledged Foster's reappearance with good cheer. "Well, Rex, I think we've just about done it. Be ready for you any second. It worked, going through the old emergency exit at ground level. I looked in myself a little while ago. Couldn't resist seeing what shape it is in. Not bad, considering forty years and the Russian bulldozing. The concrete roof appears to have protected the Hitler area below. The stairwell seems mostly intact. A few steps near the top broken, but as far as my flashlight could show me, the rest of the stairs seem to be in usable shape. You want to wait until morning to go down there?"

"I want to go down there right now, Andrew."

Oberstadt's reaction was a dubious one. "It's going to be pretty difficult looking for that cameo and the dental bridges in that hole. Even with portable lighting, it'll be difficult to find anything so small."

"That's not what I'm looking for tonight, Andrew. I'm after something bigger."

Oberstadt shrugged. "Well, you know what you're doing. I guess daylight wouldn't make it any easier down there. When do you want to start?"

"This minute."

"Mind if I join you?" said Oberstadt.

"I could use you in the first part of the operation. It would be helpful. If I find what I want, it would be better if I stayed down there alone."

"We'll need some fluorescent hand lanterns," said Oberstadt. "One for each of us."

"I'd like you to bring something else, also," Foster said. "Something that could cut into concrete."

"I have a battery-operated saw."

Foster thought about it. "Bring the saw, and also a chisel and hammer."

As Oberstadt hastened off, summoning a workman to give him a hand, Foster stared mesmerized at the gaping hole in the mound. Since it was partially illuminated by the standing spotlights, he approached it to see the condition of the old emergency exit.

Stepping between the panting laborers, he reached the hole and bent to enter it. There had been a vestibule, he remembered hearing, that led to the outdoors from the four flights of steps. Most of it had been crushed, and now cleaned out, and the opening had since been shored up with timbers by Oberstadt's crew. Vaguely Foster could make out the concrete steps, heavily layered with dirt, several of the top ones misshapen, the rest plunging steeply downward into the darkness.