Chavasse nodded. “In the main – Bormann died some months ago in a village in the Harz. Apparently, he’d spent most of the postwar years in Portugal. His valet, a man called Muller, got hold of the manuscript of the memoirs and tried to make himself a little money. He approached a firm of German publishers and got the Nazi underground on his track. He then tried a British firm – that’s how we got onto him.”
“Did you ever meet this man Muller?” von Kraul asked.
Chavasse nodded. “I was present when he was beaten to death by Steiner and another man in Nagel’s castle at Berndorf.”
“This is all beginning to sound very involved,” von Kraul said. “And how does the young woman you were hoping to meet here fit into things?”
“She was working for an unofficial Israeli underground organization,” Chavasse told him. “The same people who tracked down Eichmann.”
“I see,” von Kraul said dryly. “She and her friends were also after Bormann. It would appear that everyone was in on the affair – except for German intelligence.”
“She telephoned me at the Atlantic an hour or so ago,” Chavasse continued. “Without going into details of how and why, she found Bormann’s manuscript waiting for her when she returned to the apartment this evening. It had been delivered by mail.”
“Presumably, that’s what the opposition were after when they came here,” von Kraul said.
Chavasse shook his head. “I think they were looking for Anna. It was just luck that she happened to have the manuscript.”
“It must make interesting reading.”
Chavasse nodded. “I understand Bormann washed a lot of dirty linen in public and gave names. People who’ve always insisted they never really supported Hitler – important people.”
“Presumably, Nagel must be included,” von Kraul said.
“He probably has a chapter to himself,” Chavasse told him, and at that moment the phone rang.
He lifted the receiver and said, “Yes, who is it?” knowing full well who it was.
Steiner’s voice floated over the wire. “Now, that’s a superfluous question. Surely you expected me to call?”
“How did you know I was here?”
“Because I’ve had the place under observation since we left.” Steiner sounded full of confidence.
“Let’s cut the talk and get down to business,” Chavasse told him. “What have you done with the girl?”
Steiner laughed harshly. “You know, you’re not as bright as I was led to believe, Chavasse. You allowed us to follow you all the way from Berndorf to the girl’s apartment.”
“You’ve got the manuscript,” Chavasse said. “What more do you want?”
“Ah, yes, the manuscript. Providential that she had it with her when we called. I’m sure you’ll be interested to know that I’ve reduced it to ashes in the furnace of the establishment from which I am now speaking. It made a fine blaze.”
Chavasse sat down. There were beads of sweat on his forehead and the room seemed unbearably warm. He cleared his throat. “You’ve got what you wanted. Why don’t you let the girl go? She can’t harm you now.”
“But that’s exactly what I intend to do,” Steiner said, “with your cooperation, of course.”
Von Kraul was crouched beside Chavasse, his ear as close to the receiver as possible, and he looked up, eyes expressionless.
Chavasse moistened his lips. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’m so glad you’re being sensible,” Steiner said. “To be perfectly honest, we’ve found you a nuisance, Chavasse. We’d rather you were out of Germany. Now that the Bormann affair is finished, there’s really nothing to keep you here. A London plane leaves the airport at ten o’clock. If you’ll give me your word not to trouble us any more, you and the girl can leave together on that plane.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” Chavasse asked.
“You don’t,” Steiner replied, “but if you feel like taking a chance, be outside Altona station at nine o’clock. A car will pick you up there and take you to the girl.”
“Take me to a quiet grave more likely,” Chavasse told him.
“Just as you please,” Steiner said coldly. “But make your decision quickly. I don’t have a great deal of time to spare.”
Chavasse glanced at von Kraul, and there was pity in the German’s eyes. Chavasse said desperately, “How do I know the girl is still alive?”
“You can judge for yourself.”
There was a murmur of conversation at the other end and then Anna’s voice sounded, clear and calm, but somehow far away. “Is that you, Paul?”
He found difficulty in speaking. “I’m sorry, Anna. I’ve made a fine mess of things.”
“Don’t listen to them,” she said calmly. “They mean to kill you.”
There was a commotion and the receiver was pulled from her hand. Chavasse heard the confused sounds of a struggle and Steiner’s cry of alarm. “Stop her, you idiot! She’s making for the window.”
There was a crash of breaking glass and then the sound of three shots, so close together that to anyone other than an expert, they might have sounded like one.
Chavasse got to his feet, a terrible coldness seeping through him. There was a slight click at the other end of the line and Steiner said calmly, “All bets are off, Chavasse. It appears we no longer have anything to discuss.”
Chavasse dropped the receiver into its cradle. He felt a hand on his shoulder and von Kraul said, “I think it would be better if you were to sit down, my friend.”
Chavasse brushed the hand away. “I’ll be all right,” he said. “Just give me a minute, that’s all.”
He went into the kitchen and searched the cupboards until he found a half-full bottle of Polish vodka on a lower shelf. He pulled the cork with his teeth and tilted back his head.
The liquor burned its way into his stomach and he coughed and leaned over the sink. After a moment, von Kraul appeared at his side. “Do you feel any better?”
Chavasse turned and looked at him with staring eyes. “She did it deliberately. She made him shoot her. That way, she solved my problem for me.”
“She must have been a very wonderful young woman,” Colonel von Kraul said.
In impotent fury, Chavasse smashed the bottle against the sink. “I only want one thing, to wrap my hands around Steiner’s throat. I don’t give a damn what happens to me as long as I can do that.”
Von Kraul gently moved away. “Then I suggest we leave. We have not got a great deal of time.”
Chavasse followed him without a word, and it was as if for the moment his mind had become frozen, so that the sights and sounds of the streets as they drove out toward Blankenese had no meaning for him.
He stared out of the windshield into the night and remembered that the last time he had driven out along this road, Anna had been by his side. As they entered Blankenese and passed the station, he looked down toward the direction of the Elbe, remembering the café on the Strandweg and the lights over the water and the feel of her in his arms, the plans they had made. It was all like something that had never really happened, a dream already half-forgotten and fast-fading, so that now when he tried to picture her clearly, he found it to be impossible.
Nagel’s house was a large, imposing mansion with grounds running down to the Elbe, and the road that ran past the main gates was lined with parked cars. Von Kraul took the car to the end of the road and turned into a small, dark cul-de-sac, where he braked to a halt and switched off the lights.
“The terrace of the ballroom is at the rear of the house and looks down toward the river,” he said. “There is a little gate in the hedge which is mainly for the use of tradespeople. It will be our best way in.”
He found the gate with no difficulty, and Chavasse followed him through and they crossed the wide lawn toward the great house. The place was ablaze with lights, and several windows were half-open so that Chavasse could hear the murmur of conversation and occasional snatches of careless laughter.