Traitors' Gate (34 page)

Slipping off the bed, he lit a cigarette for her and after a few puffs she reported that so far all had gone well. Ribbentrop had secured all the necessary papers for her and had explained to the Regent that she had fallen foul of the Gestapo, who might endeavour to have her and her chauffeur arrested on their way out of the country. Horthy had promised to give an order personally to his Chief of Police that she was not to be molested, and one of his secretaries had telephoned instructions to Zagreb that she, her man and her car were to be allowed across the frontier without being subjected to any formalities. But Ribbentrop had again warned her that she must not delay her departure beyond the coming night, as it was certain that Grauber would already have appealed to Berlin for help. By the morning at latest Himmler would be making a personal issue of it with the Regent that Tavenier must be caught and herself hauled in for questioning by the Gestapo.

She had given her solicitor a power of attorney to deal with her affairs and meet her liabilities during her absence, had taken out from her bank in cash all the money that she had immediately available—which amounted to about six hundred pounds—and had collected, to take with her, the most valuable of the Tuzolto family jewels.

‘By Jove!’ Gregory smiled down at her. ‘You have had a day! No wonder you’re tired. Was anything said about, er—your old friend Commandant Tavenier?’

She nodded. ‘Ribb is no fool. I’m sure he believes that you are still here; and he probably guesses that I mean to take you out as my chauffeur. Anyhow, he is extremely anxious that you should not be caught, from fear of what the Gestapo boys might screw out of you. It is a hundred to one they would force you to say that I was an enemy agent and make it appear that he had been guilty of confiding secrets to me that only the inner ring of Nazis are supposed to know. He has told Admiral Horthy that you are one of his private operatives and he has special reasons for not wishing the Gestapo to know that; so the Police are being briefed to ignore any request that Grauber may make for help to catch you.’

‘Well, that’s some comfort. I suppose the next thing is to
fix things up with your chauffeur? I only hope to God he doesn’t refuse to play.’

‘I’ve already done that.’ She gave a tired shrug. ‘I had a talk with Mario first thing this morning. I had to in order to get his passport so that it could be specially visa’d.’

‘Of course. I realise that. But do you mean that he has agreed to let me have it, and to hand over his uniform?’

‘Yes. I felt sure he would. He was one of Kelemen’s most trusted servants, and since his master’s death he has transferred his allegiance to me. When I told him that helping you meant a great deal to me he agreed at once; and when he knew that it was the Germans we were planning to do in the eye he was absolutely delighted. I had great difficulty in persuading the old boy even to accept a present.’

‘The old boy!’ Gregory echoed in alarm. ‘I’m not exactly in the junior subaltern class myself, but if you really think of him as old, I may have difficulty in passing for him, even in the distance.’

‘He is older than you; but not all that much. It’s only his hair’s having gone grey early that makes me think of him as of Kelemen’s generation. You needn’t worry about that though. I mean to lightly powder your hair where it will show beneath the cap.’ Picking up her bag, she took a packet of papers from it, picked one out, handed it to Gregory, and added ‘Look, here is his passport. You had better keep it.’

Opening it quickly Gregory looked at the photograph. To his relief he saw that Sabine had been right. Mario had at least a superficial resemblance to himself. On close examination they could not possibly have been mistaken for one another, but that did not matter as Sabine had a special authorisation for passing the frontier with her chauffeur and they would not have to answer any awkward questions. The important thing was that both he and Mario were of the long-faced type, with straight noses and good chins; so, with the chauffeur’s cap pulled well down, and seated behind the wheel of a car, Gregory felt that after dark there would be a good chance of the watchers, outside taking him for the Italian.

Having expressed his satisfaction, he said, ‘Now, tell me, when you left the house did you see any suspicious types lurking about the courtyard entrance?’

‘Yes. When I first went out, at about half-past ten, there was a man with a barrow of tomatoes; and hawkers don’t come
into these streets as a rule. When I got back, about midday, he had gone but a pavement artist had taken up his position opposite, and I’ve never known one choose that pitch before. I’ve been out and back twice since, and he is still there. There seemed to be one or two loungers farther down the street, too, who didn’t quite fit into the usual scene.’

‘I expected as much. This side of the palace is being watched as well; a knife grinder first thing this morning and later a crippled beggar who is selling matches. When you went out I take it you used your car. Did you drive yourself or have Mario drive you?’

‘Mario drove me all three times. I wanted to keep my mind free to think about things, and not have to be bothered with parking.’

‘Did anyone attempt to stop you?’

‘Oh no, there was nothing of that sort.’

Gregory gave a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God for that. It means they are far less likely to now they are used to seeing the car come out with you in it driven by Mario. You’ve made me much more confident about my chances of passing as him when twilight has fallen.’

‘He is going over the car now—filling her up and seeing that she is in apple-pie order for a long run.’

‘Good! My sweet, you think of everything. You’ve done a wonderful job.’

She smiled a little wanly and stood up. ‘I’ve got to get you out somehow, and myself; otherwise, as soon as Grauber gets some extra backing from Berlin, it is going to be very unhealthy round here for both of us.’

‘You’re dead right about that.’ He put an arm about her. ‘But after your long day, you’re all in, darling. Lie down and rest for a bit on the bed.’

Turning her head she gave him a quick kiss, but pulled away before he could return it. ‘No. I still have to pack. And when I do next lie on your bed it is going to be for twenty-four hours without a break.’

Catching her arm he jerked her back, held her tightly to him for a moment and gave her a long fierce kiss. As he released her he laughed, ‘So you shall, my pet; and that is an earnest of what I’ll do to you. If you want a real rest we’d better shut ourselves up for a week as the Spanish peasants do on
their honeymoons. I’m told they spend the last twenty-four hours sleeping.’

‘Darling!’ she gasped, when she could get her breath. ‘I’m a fool to admit it, because as soon as we’ve left Hungary you’ll be all I’ve got; but I’m crazy about you.’

Her words sobered him a little, but he did not show it. Giving her a swift pat on her small behind, he said, ‘Get your packing done as quickly as you can, then come back to me. We must have a meal before we start, so let’s have it together up here, and while we are eating we can fix up final details.’

She agreed and left him. He then made another attempt to settle down to one of the books. This time, by using considerable concentration, he managed to keep his mind on a novel by Gilbert Grankau called
Three Englishmen
. After he had been reading for about an hour and a half, Pipi came in carrying a chauffeur’s topcoat and a suitcase containing the rest of Mario’s uniform. Unpacking the case, he suggested that Gregory should see how the uniform fitted, then pack in the case such of the Baron’s things as he wished to take with him.

The uniform proved a little tight across the shoulders and slack round the hips, but as he and Mario were much of a height it was otherwise not a bad fit. There was a tin of talcum powder in the bathroom, so he used some of it to make grey the hair above his ears. Then he went through the wardrobe and chest of drawers again, selected the most useful of the Baron’s clothes and packed them into the suitcase.

He had only just finished when Pipi returned with cocktails, and ten minutes later Sabine, having changed her summer frock for a suit of light travelling tweeds, joined him. Now that she could relax, and her mind was no longer occupied with matters it was essential that she should see to, her spirits had fallen to a low ebb. She did not actually reproach Gregory for being the cause of a complete upheaval in her life, but it was clear that she was greatly worried and distressed at having to abandon a position which gave her security, interest and carefree pleasure for a very uncertain future. In the circumstances he could not do less than promise to take care of her, while thrusting into the back of his mind the infernally difficult problem of how he could manage to do so.

After a couple of Martinis she cheered up a little; then Pipi
brought in their early dinner on a wheeled tray. She apologised for the meal being cold but said that the kitchen staff were still in ignorance of his presence in the house and had been told that she was dining out; so Magda and Pipi had had to scrounge food for them from the larder. Gregory refrained from remarking that, even so, it was a feast compared with anything that could have been got in a London hotel after three years of war, and did ample justice to the smoked ham, cold duck and foie-gras. A bottle of champagne followed by a good ration of very old
Baratsch
put good heart into them, and they were both feeling fairly optimistic when, soon after eight o’clock, they went downstairs to set out on their hazardous journey.

To assist the illusion that she was being driven out to dinner Sabine did not wear a hat, and had had her sable coat laid on the floor in the back of the car. Instead of it she put on over her tweeds an exotic cape of white ostrich feathers. For the same reason such luggage as they were taking had all been stowed in the boot, with the exception of a pigskin beauty box containing her jewels, which she was carrying herself and could be hidden under the rug she would have over her knees.

The garage was a part of the old stables occupying the whole of the left side of the courtyard, but it could be reached from the main block of the house by an interior passage. Pipi and Magda escorted them to it and Mario was already there giving a last loving polish to the bonnet of the Mercedes. Gregory had driven many cars so he had no doubts about his ability to handle it; but after thanking Mario for his help with the passport and uniform he got the Italian to give him a thorough run over its dashboard and the engine. Pipi meanwhile went out to reconnoitre the street and returned to say that it was as quiet as was usual at that hour. Gregory ran the engine for a few minutes to get it thoroughly warmed up, Sabine got into the back, the good-byes were said and ‘good luck’ called in low voices by the faithful servants. At Gregory’s signal Mario pulled up the roller shutter at the exit end of the bay. With a gentle purr the car moved forward, turned and headed for the entrance to the courtyard.

It was a fine warm night. In the distance someone was playing a
tizmberlum
and the ping-a-ping-ping of its notes came clearly over the air. That and the voice of a woman calling a dog were the only sounds that disturbed the respectable evening
hush of this rich residential quarter.

A light over the archway to the street showed that the pavement artist who had occupied a pitch opposite to it all day was now gone. As Gregory cleared the arch, out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a man on the near-side of the road tinkering with a motor-cycle. In Hungary, as in England, the unusual custom is followed of driving on the left of the road; so Sabine’s car had its steering wheel on the right. Gregory was therefore on the side nearest to the motor-cyclist, and it was that window of the car which was lowered.

He was about to turn left, down the hill, but before he had time to look in that direction the man had grasped the handlebars of his machine and begun to waggle them. For a moment the beam of the headlight flickered wildly along the side of the Mercedes, then the man got it focused and Gregory’s profile was caught in a blinding glare. Next second a tall blond man sprang out of the nearby telephone kiosk. Thrusting a whistle into his mouth, he blew a piercing blast.

The balloon was up. Nothing could have shown more certainly that Gregory had been recognised. Tensing his muscles he swung the car round the corner. To his relief the way ahead was clear. He put his foot down on the accelerator. Cornering had carried his head out of the beam of light, but it now shone on the back of the car and its reflection in the windscreen momentarily dazzled him. Swinging round in her seat behind him Sabine swiftly pulled down the blind of the back window.

The dazzle ceased, but Gregory gave a mental groan. A hundred yards down the hill a big lorry was emerging from a side turning. He would have bet his last shilling that it had been lying in wait in the side street, and the whistle had been a signal to bring it on the scene. If he were right and its function was to block the road, at his present speed a head-on
crash was inevitable. Taking his foot off the accelerator he put on the brake and for a few seconds kept his apprehensive gaze glued to the lorry. It turned neither to right nor left. Running straight across the road it brought up with a jerk, its fore-wheels coming to rest against the curb of the opposite pavement. The road was too narrow for him to pass behind the lorry, and he could not turn into the street from which it had come by mounting the pavement because a lamp-post barred the way.

There was only one thing for it. He must try the opposite direction. With a screech of tyres, he brought the car to a halt, threw the gear lever into reverse and began to back in a wild zig-zag up the hill. Owing to the narrowness of the street he could turn the car only by backing into the entrance of the courtyard from which he had just emerged. He had nearly made it when the man who had sprung out of the telephone kiosk came rushing at the car. Springing on to its footboard, he seized Gregory by the arm. Gregory tore his arm away. But the violent jerk upon it had wrenched the wheel round too far. There came a crash, a jolt and the car stopped dead. It had just missed clearing the nearest pillar of the archway. To back it further was now impossible, and it had not been backed far enough to make the three-quarter turn needed to drive it up the hill.