Replacing the receiver, Gregory pushed his way through the crush back to the crowded dinning room where the Fordyce’s and Freddie were sitting.
"Is anything wrong?" Mr. Fordyce inquired, on seeing Gregory's anxious face.
"Yes." Gregory bent down and lowered his voice. "A Gestapo agent has made off with my papers."
"How damnable Was there anything very important amongst them?"
"They may make the difference between peace and war here in the next twenty-four hours."
Fordyce stood up quickly. "Is there anything that I can do to help? An introduction to the Chief of Police? I'll take you round to him personally if you like."
Gregory shook his head. "No; thanks all the same. We mustn't involve you in this owing to your official position. My situation is a very complicated one. Freddie will tell you all about it. Fortunately I know the man who stole them; he's an old enemy of mine namedGruppenführer Grauber, so I've at least got that to start with."
"What, the chap you told me all about?" Freddie exclaimed… "The fellow whose eye you bashed in on the night of the Army Putsch in Berlin?"
"Yes, that's the man. I must fly now and pull every gun I know to get possession of those papers again before Grauber can send them out of the country."
"When can we expect you back?" asked Freddie.
"I can't say for certain, but I'll try to return between five and
six. Still, don't bother about me. You're out of all this now and it's your own affair if you stay here or make arrangements for getting back to England."
"Good lord, no 1 I'm not quitting at this stage," Freddie announced quickly, "and I'll be standing by to give you a hand any time you want one."
"Thanks, Freddie, thanks. I'm glad you feel that way, because the chances are that I'll need all the unofficial help that I can get."
With a nod Gregory hurried away. The porter got him a taxi and he drove through the cold, sunny streets lined with their snow-covered buildings to the address of the von Kobenthals. It proved to be a long, low house standing in its own grounds, above one of the many bays along the shore, with a fine view of the scores of little islands which fringe the coast-line of South Finland.
He gave the name of Colonel-Baron von Lutz to a trim maid, who was evidently expecting him for she led the way straight across the hall to a comfortable sitting-room that overlooked the sea. Erika was waiting near the window, her eyes fixed on the door, waiting for him.
Inside the room he paused, drinking in once more all the perfection of her loveliness; her golden hair, her widely-spaced, deep-blue eyes, her generous mouth, the regal carriage of her lead, her slim, beautifully-moulded figure. He knew that she was twenty-eight, but, in spite of her hard youth when half Germany was starving and the life of intrigue she had led since, she did not look a day over twenty-five. She was one of the very few German women he had ever known who had both the taste to dress well and the courage to ignore Nazi convention, which decrees that women's duty is to be useful rather than decorative she was dressed very simply now but not a hair of her head was out of place and she carried herself with the air of a princess.
For a long moment they stood gazing at each other. The door closed behind Gregory; then without a word she was in his arms. They clung together as though they would never let each they go; not kissing, but cheek to cheek, straining together in fast embrace. Suddenly Erika gulped and began to cry.
"Darling," Gregory murmured. "Darling, what is it? We're together again now."
"I know," she echoed, "I know. But it's too much; I can't bear it."
He laughed gently. "But, dearest, I've never seen you cry before."
"I- I haven't cried for years. I'm hard as nails-you know I am-at least, I was before I met you. I despise women who cry, but this-oh, I can't believe it's true." She dug her pointed nails into his shoulders.
"Yes, it's true, my sweet." He began to kiss her very tenderly; then with increasing passion until their mouths were locked in a long, breathless kiss.
Ten minutes later she was curled up on his knees in an armchair listening as he began to tell her how he had found out where she was and how he had managed to reach Finland himself. He left all details till later, giving her only the bare facts of how he had been shot down on his way out of Germany the night they had parted taken refuge in the woods. managed to get back to Berlin to look for her… seen Goering… become the Marshal's secret emissary and had his papers stolen by Grauber less than an hour before.
When he had done, he said: "Now where D’you think Grauber will have taken that packet? To the German Legation?"
She shook her golden head. "No. Goering has too many friends there, so Grauber wouldn't trust those papers to the Legation safe."
"Wait a minute," Gregory interrupted. "He can have no idea-thank God where I got all that stuff. My letter of introduction from Goering is still in my pocket so the Marshal's not involved. Grauber will assume that I managed to get back to Berlin and stole those papers somehow."
"Good. I'm glad for Hermann's sake that Grauber doesn't know the part he played. He's quite capable of looking after himself but its better that he should choose his own time to have a row with von Ribbentrop on the question of major policy."
"That's exactly what he said to me himself."
"But what about the report? Won't that give things away?"
"No. I might have drafted that myself or it might have been compiled for me by a high-up German official in the pay of the British. Grauber will know that I couldn't have stolen all those documents without some sort of inside help. The thing is-what will he do now he's got them?"
"It's difficult to say," Erika replied thoughtfully. "There's no point in his sending them back to Berlin unless he can find out where you got them. That would simply be sending coals to Newcastle. He certainly won't hand them over to the Finnish Government, because he is Himmler's man and Himmler and von Ribbentrop are hand-in-glove. Von Ribbentrop naturally wants Finland to accede to Russia’s demands without fighting so that there should be no further excuse for Russia’s delaying supplies which he is counting on from her. Grauber won't pass the papers to the Soviet Legation here, either; there would be no point in doing that and it would only show how much we know of Russia’s real weakness. As far as I can see, he will simply put them in his own safe at Gestapo headquarters."
"They have a headquarters here, then?"
Erika smiled, showing her small, even, white teeth. "Is there a capital in the world where the Gestapo have not got a headquarters? Their H.Q. is a fair-sized private house in the north eastern suburbs of the city. It's almost country out there and I suppose that's why they chose it; they didn't want too many people constantly watching their comings and goings. Every German in Helsinki knows it, though."
"Well, it's one of the things I wanted to know and it looks is if our chance of getting back my packet is by robbing the safe there." '
"That's easier said than done."
"Don't I know it, darling? D'you think we could get any help 'from the Finns?"
"It all depends. To whom was your letter of introduction 'from Goering addressed?"
"It's not addressed to anyone but he told me to present it to Monsieur Wuolijoki, at the Finnish Foreign Office."
"Oh, Wuolijoki-he's a grand little man; I've met him at parties several times during the last few weeks. He's very pro-German; but by that I mean he's pro my kind of German not Hitler's."
"Yes, I gathered that from Goering. But what matters now is-do you think he's the sort of chap who would be prepared to risk his job by adopting very unorthodox methods in the service of his country?"