Traitor's Gate (42 page)

‘Have you lost it?’

‘No. But I took it home last night, and this morning when I got to the office and opened it, I found a hair stuck in one of the pages. A blonde hair.’

‘Sophie’s?’

Theo shrugged.

‘Was Sophie with you last night?’

Theo glanced at Conrad, his brow furrowed in concern. ‘Yes. Yes, she was.’

Warren turned the corner from Unter den Linden on to Wilhelm­strasse, and hurried to secure himself a good vantage point in the Wilhelmplatz from which he could see the balcony of the Chancellery. It was a starkly modern building, less than ten years old, but already the present Chancellor had out­grown it. For nine months workmen had been building a newer, grander Chancellery next door, and it was nearly finished. The cost was rumoured to be three hundred million marks.

Poor Vernon Sherritt’s father had clung on to life longer than expected, and so Vernon had been delayed. He wasn’t sailing from New York until the following day. This meant that when war was declared, Warren would be his newspaper’s correspondent in Berlin rather than back in Prague. Although sorry for his boss, Warren was happy with this turn of events. Unlike Hitler, he thought it would take months, not days, before the Germans marched into Prague.

War looked to be a certainty. In the last few days, follow­ing Hitler’s unreasonable demands at Bad Godesberg, the British govern­ment had found its backbone at last. The journal­ist rumour mill was working at maximum speed as newspaper­men in London and Berlin pieced together what was happening. The day before, Lord Halifax had issued a press release, apparently with the assistance of Churchill, in which he stated baldly that if the Germans attacked Czechoslovakia the immediate result would be that France would come to her assistance, and Britain would stand by France. Sir Horace Wilson, Chamberlain’s shadowy adviser, had travelled to Berlin to bring Hitler the news that the Czechs had rejected his demands. Hitler had tried to storm out of his own office in fury, but realizing this was pretty silly, threw Wilson out instead. The previous evening Warren had seen the Führer give a speech at the Sportpalast, where he had worked himself up into the worst paroxysm of fury that Warren had ever witnessed. He had promised that if the Czechs didn’t hand over the Sudetenland by 1 October, Germany would take it by force. The French had mobilized fourteen divisions, and the first rumours were just coming through from London that the Royal Navy had been mobilized too.

It was war.

But for some reason, overnight, the German people seemed to have lost all their belligerence. The jaunty air of anticipation had left the streets, to be replaced with sullen caution. People walked differently. Faces that had been purposeful the day before were now anxious.

The Wehrmacht’s divisions were on the move, and Warren knew that one of them had been ordered to march through the city at five o’clock, the time when the streets were thronged with Berliners going home from work. Ordinarily large crowds would have gathered to watch, but this time there were only a couple of hundred people standing outside the Chancellery. Warren was in a good spot to view the balcony, just outside the Kaiserhof Hotel. He spotted Bill Shirer, the CBS correspondent, and one or two other foreign journalists, but for once they seemed more excited than the natives.

The troops arrived, on foot, on horseback, in trucks, an end­less stream of young men staring straight ahead towards war. The crowd, such as it was, remained absolutely silent. The tramp of feet, the clopping of hooves, the grinding of engines seemed unnaturally loud without its usual accompaniment of cheering. Warren saw the doors up on the balcony of the Chancellery open, and Hitler appeared, bare-headed. He gazed at the troops marching along on the street below, and at the small gathering of people opposite. Not an arm was raised in salute. There was not a
Sieg Heil
to be heard. The crowd looked away, as if embarrassed. Hitler turned sharply on his heel and withdrew.

It was one of the most extraordinary sights Warren had seen since he had been in Berlin. Perhaps the most bellicose people in Europe didn’t want war after all.

As Warren made his way back to his apartment, he became aware of an envelope sticking out of his jacket pocket, bearing his name in familiar handwriting. He opened it. Inside was a note and another, smaller envelope, addressed to Lord Oakford in Kensington Square in London.

He scanned the note. It was from Conrad asking him to ensure that the envelope was delivered to his father without the German censors seeing it.

Conrad! How the hell had the envelope got into his jacket pocket? Warren glanced rapidly around him, but all he saw was a mass of Berliners hurrying home, their faces pinched with worry.

For a moment the journalist in him was tempted to steam open the envelope: he had no idea what the contents were, but he knew they would be interesting. But he resisted the temptation. He was probably the only person in Berlin Conrad could trust, and he wasn’t going to let him down.

The Kakadu was nearly empty; Berlin wasn’t in the mood to go out and dance that night. Conrad hadn’t been there since that fateful evening in June. The blonde and brunette barmaids chatted idly to each other. The band played listlessly, and only two couples occupied the dance floor, by the look of them Eintänzer,
employees who were paid to dance with customers. There were some drinkers dotted around the tables, and one of them was Theo.

Conrad threaded his way through the tables towards his friend, feeling conspicuous in the uniform he had been wearing for the last five hours.

‘Ah, Lieutenant Eiche, good evening. Have some champagne.’ Theo, too, was wearing uniform. He poured Conrad a glass of ‘champagne’, the mildly alcoholic sparkling apple juice that the Kakadu had resorted to in those times of shortage. ‘How was Captain Heinz?’

‘He seems very capable,’ Conrad said. ‘And very tough.’ He had spent the evening with Heinz and about forty young German officers, going through the plans for the following day. ‘The others are all staying in various flats around Wilhelm­strasse tonight. I’m going back there after this. Are you joining us tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ said Theo. ‘I’ll meet you at army headquarters at six a.m.’

‘Are you certain it’s going ahead?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Theo. ‘Hitler has publicly committed himself to invading before 1 October. Case Green calls for two days’ preparation before the invasion. If he intends to invade on the thirtieth, that means he must issue the orders tomorrow, the twenty-eighth. And he told the British that he expects to hear back from the Czechs by two p.m. on the twenty-eighth.’

‘What if the British give in? Or the Czechs?’

‘They won’t. The British have just given the order to mobilize their fleet. Your father was right: Halifax was the man to per­suade. And the Czechs are brave. As for Hitler, he’s equally determined.’ Theo smiled. ‘No, tomorrow is the day.’

Conrad sipped his champagne. He didn’t want to drink too much: he hadn’t had much sleep over the last couple of days, and it was unlikely he would get much that night. ‘Are you sure you want me here when you talk to her?’

‘Yes. And I think this is the right place. I know Sophie. This will bring back Joachim. By the way, she told me she wouldn’t be able to meet me until eleven because her shift at the hospital finished at ten. I checked. She was off at four.’

‘So where has she been?’

‘That’s something else I will ask her. Look out, here she comes.’

Conrad’s back was towards the entrance of the bar, and he didn’t turn around. He heard Sophie’s light step draw near behind them. ‘Hello, darling,’ she said, and kissed Theo on the cheek. She turned to greet the stranger, and then stopped when she saw Conrad.

‘Hello, Sophie,’ he said.

‘Conrad! I thought the Gestapo were after you?’

‘They are.’

‘And what are you doing in that uniform?’

‘Conrad is doing me a favour, darling,’ Theo said.

Sophie reddened and sat down. ‘Pour me some champagne, please, Theo.’

Theo obliged and she took a large gulp.

‘Where have you been?’ Theo asked mildly.

‘At the hospital, I told you.’

‘That’s funny, they said you finished at four when I went round there today.’

‘Oh,’ said Sophie, blushing again. ‘Um... I had to cover for Susanne. Her mother is ill.’

‘I see.’ Theo’s voice was still reasonable, almost kind. ‘And did you read anything interesting in my notebook?’

‘What notebook?’

‘The one I write my plans in.’

‘Your war plans?’

‘No, my coup plans.’

Sophie looked at Theo and Conrad in panic. ‘I have to go,’ she said and scrambled to her feet.

‘Sit, Sophie,’ said Theo, his voice firm, but still not threaten­ing. ‘Sit and tell me all about it.’

A tear rolled down Sophie’s cheek. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Theo. I’m so sorry.’

‘Why did you do it, Sophie?’

‘I did it for the Führer. I had to do it. I couldn’t allow him to be kidnapped or killed. You must understand that.’

‘I didn’t know you cared a fig about him,’ Theo said.

‘I always have,’ said Sophie. ‘Ever since I first saw him with my father in 1931. He’s an amazing man, Theo, a wonderful man. Just to hear him speak is incredible. He understands us, all of us. I don’t know how you could never see that.’

Now it was Theo’s turn to look shocked. ‘You never told me you felt this way.’

‘Of course not. You wouldn’t have understood. Neither would Anne­liese. Sometimes you intellectuals are just too clever for your own good; you can’t see the obvious.’

‘The obvious?’

‘That the Führer has saved Germany. That he will lead us to a glorious future if only we follow him.’

‘Did you talk to Klaus Schalke about Joachim and his idiotic rumour?’

Sophie nodded. ‘Anneliese told me what she had overheard. She said he was planning to assassinate the Führer.’

‘And so Klaus killed him.’

‘Klaus said it was an accident. He said Joachim had a heart attack.’

‘While he was being drowned by Gestapo gorillas.’

Sophie put her head in her hands. ‘I know. I feel very bad about that.’

‘And yet you spoke to Klaus again, didn’t you? Recently. About me.’

Sophie looked directly at Theo. ‘I had to, don’t you see? I read your notebook. I knew what you were planning. And Klaus promised that you would be kept out of trouble. He also said he would get Anneliese out of the concentration camp.’

‘He was the one who put her in there,’ muttered Conrad.

‘But how could you do that to me?’ Theo said, his voice an angry growl. ‘I thought you loved me?’

‘Oh, I do, Theo, I do. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. For days I did nothing. But I couldn’t let you destroy the Führer. Then I thought: What would you do? I mean, if you had to choose between me and what you thought was your duty. I knew the answer and I made my decision.’

Conrad could see that Theo was fighting to maintain his self-control. ‘So where have you just been, Sophie?’ he asked quietly.

Sophie looked down. ‘With Klaus. Last night I took your keys and got out your briefcase. I copied out your notes, or some of them anyway, and then put everything back as I had found it. I gave my copy to him.’

Theo closed his eyes.

‘What’s in it?’ Conrad asked.

‘Everything,’ Theo answered. ‘Timings, targets, participants, although I have used codenames for those.’

‘Will Klaus be able to break the code?’

‘Probably.’ Theo glared at Sophie, his eyes full of fury. ‘You ignorant, stupid bitch! You know you have consigned all those people to death? Including me and Conrad and probably yourself?’

Sophie’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘That’s what you’ve always thought of me, isn’t it? That I’m ignorant? That I’m stupid? That I’m a bitch? I’ve loved you totally, completely, and you’ve taken me for granted. Of course I put up with it – I was desperate not to lose you, so I put up with it. But I have my opinions too! I did what I thought was right. You of all people should respect that.’

‘What you thought was right?’ Theo sneered.

Conrad reached out a hand and grabbed his arm. ‘Theo! Stay calm. You
must
stay calm. We have to work out what to do.’

Theo shut up, but his eyes were burning. Sophie crumbled as her anger turned to misery. She covered her face with her hands and slumped in her chair, head down, sobbing. A group of Luftwaffe officers a couple of tables away turned to look.

‘We have to get Sophie’s notes back, before Klaus shows them to his bosses,’ Conrad said in a low voice. ‘There’s still time for the Gestapo to thwart the coup.’

‘It’s probably too late,’ muttered Theo.

‘Not necessarily,’ said Conrad. ‘Sophie, what did you copy Theo’s notes into?’

‘A school copybook I bought a few days ago,’ Sophie said between sobs. ‘It’s blue.’

‘And you gave this copybook to Klaus?’

‘Yes. Only half an hour ago. In the Tiergarten. I came straight here afterwards.’

‘Was this the first time you told him about the plot?’

‘No. I told him a few days ago, but he said he needed written evidence. It sounded as if he had to convince someone.’

‘And how much is written in there?’

‘Several pages,’ Sophie said. ‘I spent nearly two hours doing it, in the kitchen, while Theo was asleep.’

Conrad was thinking. ‘Right. If Klaus has to convince some­one that the plot is real, he will want to read the notes carefully before he shows it to anyone. Perhaps try to work out who the codenames refer to. We might still have some time, if we can find him. Sophie, do you know where he lives?’

‘No,’ said Sophie. ‘But I have his telephone number at home and at Gestapo headquarters.’

‘Even if we could track him down, what if he is at Gestapo HQ poring over the notes right now?’ Theo said. ‘We could never get at him in there.’

‘We need to lure him out.’ Conrad tapped his chin, thinking rapidly. ‘Sophie, will you help us?’

‘Help you do what?’

‘Get the notes back.’

‘No,’ Sophie said. ‘No. I gave them to Klaus for a reason. To save the Führer.’