The hollow sound when the van stopped told him he was in some kind of garage; there was the squeak of the door opening and he was hauled out, one man on each elbow hurrying him along through a doorway, then a couple of corridors, so he had trouble keeping his feet. He was taken into a bare room with a single chair in the middle, the sinister single light bulb above, then sat and tied down, realising as he moved that the legs were fixed to the floor. Then he saw the battered table against the wall with the rubber truncheons on it.
And then he was alone, but not for long, and the smiling blond fellow who entered gave him a shock, which he was not able to hide; this was bad, very bad, worse than Göring reneging. The last time he had seen Gottlieb Resnick had been on a Black Sea dockside, and the German had wanted to just shoot him then; he would want more now.
‘Mr Jardine,’ Resnick said in his accented, horribly ungrammatical English, ‘you did not me believe when auf Wiedersehen I said, but here are we, once more with each other in company.’
‘Are you still an Oberstürmbannführer or did you get busted to Gefreiter for that cock-up in Constanta?’
‘It had on me no effect, but when you to hell get there is waiting a very damaged Romanian colonel to greet you.’
‘He’s dead.’
‘Painfully so, but before he expired finally he express did the wish that you would as he did suffer.’
‘Something you are looking forward to carrying out.’
‘Tut, tut, Jardine. My rank allows that I watch others pain inflict, though in case yours I might an exception make, the payment for a fool making me look.’
‘You really ought to do something about your English, it’s bloody awful.’
Resnick came close and bent low, so his nose was nearly touching Jardine’s.
‘You joke now, but beg to die you will and listen I will not. If these walls could speak maybe Yiddish you would hear the voices of those before you gone, the shits who think that the Reich they can cheat and take elsewhere their stolen money.’
The laugh was more chilling than the words. ‘They all think they their loot will keep hidden – that is the word, is it not? – but they tell, maybe when they have seen raped and sodomised their wife before their eyes by criminals diseased from the Hamburg jail, then to lie on the floor forced and clean Aryan piss drink. Even then some hold out, but when their pizzle is electric fried they talk.’
How long had they known he was in Hamburg? Did they know about Lette? Was there any point in even thinking about that?
‘I have been away from Hamburg too long; anything I can tell you is long cold.’
‘I from you want nothing of information. This is for my pleasure alone. You have out of me a fool made, I will make a wreck of you and maybe see how to die long it takes you.’
‘I don’t think I’m in a position to stop you, but there are people who know I am here in Hamburg.’
‘But not in this room! First, a little bubble I puncture. You will wonder how you in Germany I know.’ He went to the table and brought back a folder. ‘When a certain fellow you approached, he was not sure if you were who you said, so he contacted German embassy.’
Resnick produce two photos, one showing blurred figures and spots of light. ‘Hard to get right in dark, but in morning light, look at this.’
The second picture was as clear as day, not surprising given it had been taken at dawn. It showed him smiling and waving at the taxi in which MCG’s wife, Elena, was departing the Grande Bretagne Hotel.
‘Makes a whore of his wife, does he?’
‘She is not his wife, just secretary, and for extra pay, she plays a part.’
Clever little bastard, Cal thought, I certainly underestimated him. How the hell had he managed it so smoothly?
The door opened and the two men who came in looked like what they were: inflictors of pain, thick-necked, hairy forearms, muscles to spare and faces only a mother could love. One had a knuckleduster which he was keen Cal should see him play with, the other a long spike which he knew was soon going to be inside him and twisted.
You never know if you can stand this, all you can do is hope that somehow you keep a bit of your dignity. He had made a right chump out of Resnick in Romania and had enjoyed rubbing a little salt into his open wound. Positives? No mention or show of Lette or her children; she would have been bad enough, but if they started on Inge?
Was it better to plead for mercy quickly – appear to break early, scream and plead? Resnick was not after information but personal satisfaction. Too early and it would not work – maybe once they had his teeth out with that knuckleduster and had broken a few bones. Or was it the wires on his cock?
That the door burst open was not remarkable; that Colonel Brauschitz was standing there, looking as elegant as he had previously, seemed extraordinary. He held up a paper with a very large eagle on it.
‘Resnick, I have an order here from the deputy Führer. This man is to be released immediately.’
‘No.’
Brauschitz shook his head and gave a wan smile. ‘You have a choice, Herr Obersturmbannführer. You can either obey this order, or rest assured you will yourself be tied to that chair before the day is out.’
Unable to obey, Resnick just stormed out.
‘Be thankful we tap the telephones of those we do not trust, and also that General Göring has the power to frighten a man like Resnick.’
As well as having, Cal thought, the certain knowledge that without me there would be no payment.
‘The railway trucks.’
‘Are at the quayside.’ Brauschitz looked at his watch. ‘Nearly unloaded by now, I should think. The telephone connection has been set up in the harbour master’s office, so you may make your call to Athens.’
‘The arrangement was when she weighs.’
‘If you wish to wait till that ship departs without you …’
The rest was left hanging in the air. Hamburg right now was not a good place to be left behind in.
‘Harbour master’s office it is.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
There was no feeling of relief even when the SS Barhill closed her hatches then cleared her berth. It was a long way to the mouth of the River Elbe and the North Sea, and even then, with the string of inshore islands that lined the coast, it took a request to the captain to get the ship directly out to sea, instead of hugging the shore, so Jardine could get out of German territorial waters. Even then he was not sure he was beyond the reach of the likes of Resnick – the Nazi state was a criminal enterprise and no respecter of anyone’s laws.
It took time for him to calm down and stop his nerves jumping; facing death was one thing, what he had faced in that barren room was likely to be a recurring nightmare, but as of now, the sea air and the motion of the boat got to him, and after the tensions of the last few weeks, he fell into a long and deep slumber. From then on the days melded into a week in which he was in limbo.
On the high seas they were safe, it was when they came inshore that the trouble would surface. The master had to get the ship through the Straits without too deep an inspection and they were patrolled by the Royal Navy, a subject he was obliged to raise with the long-time seaman who, prior to a good dinner, poured him what he called a ‘stiff one’.
‘Are you aware, sir, of my instructions?’
‘No. I was not party to the arrangements.’
‘I have a manifest that says I am carrying agricultural machinery to Greece, but we both know that is not the case. My concern is for myself and my crew, for if we are caught breaking the embargo, as my destination suggests we will, then we will be in real trouble.’