With a smile, von Below said, `Oh, Protze, I don't think you've met our new colleague. The Reichsfьhrer has sent him to replace Fegelein. This is…: The rest of the introduction Gregory did not even hear. The other man had turned towards him and he found himself staring into the solitary eye of Obergruppenfьhrer Grauber.
26
Out of the Blue
FOR a moment neither man moved. On Grauber's face there was a look of incredulity; on Gregory's, before he could check it, one of consternation. It was just such a chance meeting with his old enemy that he had feared when Goering had first had the idea of sending him and Malacou to Fuhrer H.Q.
Since then he had become so immersed in the tremendous drama being played out in the bunker as the Nazi-controlled legions were being beaten to their knees, and in his growing influence over Hitler, that he had not given Grauber a thought.
Now he cursed himself for having failed to realize that in the chaos that was swiftly destroying all organization in the Reich such private Intelligence services as Goering's would have broken down, and that men like Grauber would not remain to die fighting with a defeated Army but scurry back to the seats of Nazi power where, for the time being at least, their lives would be safe.
Had Gregory not been caught off his guard and been able to greet Grauber with bland politeness he might, just possibly, have made the gorilla-like Obergruppenfьhrer doubt the evidence of his eye. But Gregory's jaw had dropped and his eyes had shown acute alarm. In that instant, despite the extreme improbability of a British agent's having penetrated the Fuhrer's headquarters, Grauber identified him beyond all question. With a cat like agility amazing in a man of his bulk, he jumped backwards and his hand slapped on to his pistol holster.
But it was empty. He had momentarily forgotten that before entering the bunker he had had to leave his weapon in the outer guard room… Knowing that Grauber's recognition of him spelt death, had Gregory been armed he too would have whipped out a gun, in the hope of shooting Grauber first then shooting his way out of the bunker. Being used to having to check in his pistol before coming downstairs, his reaction was entirely different but equally swift.
Raising his eyebrows in surprise at Grauber's backward spring, he glanced at von Below and said, `I’m sorry, Colonel, but I did not catch the Obergruppenfьhrer’s name.'
Grauber's high-pitched voice came in a screech of mingled hate and triumph. `He knows it well enough! And I know well He is the ace British Secret Agent, Gregory Sallust.'
Von Below looked quickly from one to the other, then smiled and said, `My dear Herr Obergruppenfьhrer. What you suggest is absurd. I…'
`It is not absurd. It is a fact,' snapped Grauber.
Gregory managed to raise a smile and shook his head. `I had no idea that I resembled this apparently famous character so closely. But my name is Protze, and I am a member of the Reichsmarschall's staff.'
`Then you have tricked him,' Grauber snarled. `As you have many other people by your perfect German. I know you for who you are and now, at last, I've got you.'
`Really,' protested von Below. `I'm sure you are mistaken. Major Protze has been with us since the beginning of March. He could not possibly be a British agent. All of us here--'
`You fool!' Grauber piped in his feminine falsetto. `I tell you I know him! I've known him for years. Ever since the beginning of the war. We've been up against one another half a dozen times and each time he's slipped through my fingers. But not now. Not now!'
At that Gregory resorted to a show of anger and stormed back, `You are talking nonsense! The strain we are all under these days has addled your wits. I've never met you before in my life. I'm as much a German as you are. The Reichsmarschall will vouch for me.'
`I'll take my oath he can't. At least for only during the latter stages of the war. He cannot have known you as an officer of the Luftwaffe in '39 or '40 or even in '42.'
The rank Grauber held made him the equivalent of a full
General but, like most regular officers, von Below disliked and despised Himmler's people; so he stood up for Gregory as an officer of his own service and said sharply, 'Herr Obergruppenfьhrer, this accusation you bring against Major Protze rests solely on your word. He has shown himself to be a loyal servant of the Fьhrer, who has developed a high regard for him. Should you persist in this and be proved wrong you will have cause to--'
Grauber's pasty moonlike face had gone white with rage and he cut in, `How dare you threaten me in the execution of my duty! I insist that this man be arrested and taken to the Albrecht Strasse. Round there we've plenty of ways to make him admit his true identity.'
Von Below drew himself up. `Your suggestion is outrageous. Under torture anyone will admit anything. To have an officer tortured simply because he resembles a British agent that you used to know is unthinkable. No one can stop you from practising your barbarities on Jews and foreigners. But this is Fьhrer Headquarters and the loyalty of every man in it is beyond question.'
For a moment Gregory took heart at von Below's stout defence of him. But Grauber shrilled, `That does not apply to this one. I order you to fetch the guard. Whether you like it or not, I intend to remove him.'
`They will not obey you. They take their orders only from Herr Parteifьhrer Bormann.'
`Then I demand to see him.'
Von Below gestured towards the partition. `He is in there at the Fьhrer conference, so cannot be disturbed. And it may go on for hours.'
'Gott im Himmel!' Grauber suddenly exploded, driven to madness at the thought of the least delay in wreaking vengeance on his hated enemy. `Then I'll arrest him myself. There are plenty of S.S. men upstairs who'll obey my orders and take him to the Albrecht Strasse.' As he spoke he shot out one of his enormously long arms and grabbed Gregory.
Once out of the bunker, Gregory knew that he would be finished. Even if von Below later secured from Bormann an order for his release, long before he could be got out of
Grauber's clutches the Gestapo would have reduced him to a gibbering, bleeding wreck. Jerking himself-away, he hit out but missed. Grauber came at him in a bull like rush. A chair went over with a crash. They fell to the floor together struggling wildly and yelling curses at one another.
Gregory had Grauber by the throat, but was underneath him and held down by his great weight. The Gestapo Chief had both his thumbs under Gregory's eyes, endeavouring to gouge them out. The pain was excruciating. Gregory screamed, but managed to wrench his head aside. Then he fixed his teeth in. Grauber's right hand. The deep bite brought forth a yell of agony.
The door in the partition opened. Bormann appeared and shouted angrily, `What the hell is going on here?'
Spreading out his arms in a helpless gesture, von Below cried above the din, `The Obergruppenfьhrer’s declares Major. Protze to be a British spy.'
`Stop it!' bellowed Bormann. `Stop it, you two!' And, taking a pace forward, he kicked at the writhing bodies on the floor. His heavy boot caught Grauber on the thigh. Gregory unclenched his teeth. They rolled apart and, panting heavily, came unsteadily to their feet.
Hitler had emerged behind Bormann and was surveying the scene with dull eyes, as Bormann rapped out at Grauber, `Explain yourself, Herr Obergruppenfьhrer’s. On what do you base these accusations?