Hitler's Secret (25 page)

Heydrich stared down through his binoculars to the valley below. His plane was now a smoldering wreck and two armed people were making their way up the mountain. Clearly the children’s welcome party had arrived. That could make things a little more difficult if he didn’t find them soon.

“Who are they?” asked Straniak anxiously.

“I would have thought, given your ability, Herr Straniak, that
you
would have told
me
that, not the other way round.”

Heydrich was tired of the man. Since his initial pinpointing of the children in that hamlet he had singly failed to find them again with his stupid pendulum. Straniak had protested that he could do nothing if they were buried under twenty feet of snow but Heydrich was not convinced. The man was a fraud who had been lucky once, he thought. And yet Heydrich had caught the man staring at him strangely when
he thought Heydrich wasn’t looking. Almost as though he knew something about him … about what the future might hold. Remembering Straniak’s strange reaction when they had first shaken hands, a chill went through him, like a shadow over his grave.

A small rockfall showered down on them. Heydrich dodged the stones bouncing past his head and looked back up the mountain. For an instant he caught a flash of a Hitler-Jugend shirt. It had to be the boy. He, at least, was alive. It was incredible.

“Up there, to the right!” he shouted to Müller, who opened fire, bullets ricocheting off the rocks.

“Come on!” Heydrich was galvanized into action. “They can’t outrun us …”

He flew up the track. Behind him, Straniak stopped. Heydrich continued to climb. He didn’t need the mystic anymore. But his wounded leg was aching badly now. And behind him, Müller was huffing and puffing from the thinner air. He was more used to the police and Gestapo offices of Berlin than the Alps. Rocks continued to bounce and fall towards them. The children were obviously hoping one might hit them. It was clearly the only weapon they had left, but they were right — a blow from even a small stone dropped from a height could be deadly.

He climbed for another five minutes, then noticed that the rocks had stopped falling towards them. He stopped and
listened. He could hear nothing. Wait … There was something, very faint. A man’s voice. Straniak’s. He climbed onto a large boulder and looked down the mountain with his binoculars. Sure enough, there was Straniak frantically waving his spotted handkerchief and gesticulating wildly with his other arm. He was jabbing downwards.

Heydrich swore as he realized he’d been double-crossed. Then he saw the boy’s head below them, just for an instant.

“Down!” he yelled at Müller just as he reached him, panting. “We go down!”

“What?” said Müller.

Heydrich started scrambling over the loose rocks, anxious not to lose his balance and fall. A sprained ankle would finish the chase once and for all.

Within ten minutes he had got back down to Straniak, sweat pouring down his face, flecks of spit at the corners of his mouth.

“Are you certain?”

“The pendulum cannot lie,” Straniak said pompously.

Heydrich shook his head, tired of this man’s pseudo-mysticism. “Well, if it does, I shall leave you on this mountain.” He glanced up at Müller still stumbling over the rocks and boulders. “Keep up, Müller! We can still catch them.”

“Why are you stopping? Are you hurt?” Leni called back.

“Otto,” Angelika said. “What about Otto?”

Leni felt the question like a stab to her heart. They’d both heard the machine-gun fire up the mountain. They’d found the dead farmers on the track. Leni had even had the presence of mind to grab one of their rifles. And Leni knew if Heydrich caught them they would be dead, too.

“Angelika …”

“We have to wait for him,” Angelika insisted.

They had reached a rope bridge. It was a typical Alpine arrangement of four strong plaited ropes, two at the bottom supporting the wooden foot planks and two at the top as a handrail. Vertical ropes were attached between top and bottom to act as spindles. It looked solid but didn’t feel it, swaying and bouncing as they made their way across. Angelika stopped as they reached the other side.

“We can’t, Angelika. Not this time. We have to get you to safety first. Then I’ll go back, I promise.”

“It’ll be too late by then.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s what Otto would want us to do,” Leni said.

“You don’t know that. You’re just saying it to make yourself feel better.”

The longer we’re together, the more that girl can read me like a book,
Leni thought.

“All right,” she snapped. “What do you suggest we do?”

“What about that?” She pointed to the grenade clipped to Leni’s belt. “We have to try, Leni. We have to.”

Leni knew, in her heart, that she couldn’t leave the mountain without Otto. Not after all they had been through together in the last forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours. It felt like an eternity.

“All right. Quickly now.” She led Angelika off the track. Once out of sight, Leni dropped the farmer’s rifle, then pulled off one of her shoes and removed her sock. It was made of thick wool and she bit the top of it, breaking the yarn. Carefully she started to unravel it. “Make a ball,” she said to Angelika, who picked up the end of the strand and started to wrap it around itself.

More shots rang out. They would have to hurry. Leni looked up the mountain and prayed that Otto was still alive.

Higher up the track, Otto was trying to stay ahead of his pursuers. He’d fallen over three or four times, each tumble skinning a knee or elbow. The hand Heydrich had stabbed was on fire and swollen. His head hurt, his mouth was dust dry, and he thought the little finger on his good hand might be broken. It was bent at a funny angle. Funny, too, because Otto couldn’t for the life of him remember how he had done it. At least it wasn’t his trigger finger.

Coming across the dead farmers had been a nasty shock but, like Leni, he’d scooped up the remaining hunting rifle. It was slung over his back now as he ran, and it thumped against his shoulder blades, adding another facet to the pain he was already suffering. As he rounded the last bend he saw the rope bridge ahead.

Otto willed himself forward, trying to put on an extra
spurt of speed to make it across before Heydrich and the others caught him. Machine-gun fire rattled out behind him, bullets fizzing past his head. The next round would probably hit him. But he was determined to make it to the bridge.

A searing pain punched into his left calf, throwing him off his feet. He hit the ground with his shoulder and rolled. There was a fair-sized boulder to his left and he crawled behind it. He unslung the rifle, then hazarded a look down at the injury. A bullet had channeled through his calf muscle, and blood was pouring out. He ignored the wound for a moment, letting the blood run into his boot, and instead pressed the rifle’s butt into his left shoulder and stared down the barrel. A flash of black uniform appeared, and he fired. Returning fire sent him ducking back down. His whole body was hurting.

He worked the bolt on the rifle, ejecting the spent cartridge and feeding another into the breach. He’d have to abandon any hope of crossing the bridge now and try to hold them where he was for as long as he could. He wondered how many shots there were in the magazine. Not many, that was for sure. He popped up and fired again. A burst of machine-gun fire came back. He would be the first to run out of ammunition. He should probably save the last bullet for himself. He ejected the magazine to check. There was only one bullet. This was it. The blood was squelching in his boot, thick and viscous. If he tried to run with this leg he wouldn’t get five feet before he was mown down.

“Put down your weapon!” Heydrich’s voice cut through the mountain air.

Otto shook his head. Never. The only question was this: Was it better to be shot in the back or to do the job himself? He turned the rifle around and looked at the dull black, little hole. He could smell the cordite as he rested his forehead against the end of the barrel. He leaned forward and put his left thumb on the trigger, his bandaged right hand holding the muzzle against his head. It was a bit of a stretch. About a pound of pressure on the trigger and oblivion. He heard the crunch of boots on the path. They were close.

And then, before he realized what he was doing, he was on his feet, the rifle tossed aside, running and hopping down the path to the rope bridge. Behind came gunshots but no sledgehammer punch into his back, just the hornet’s buzz of bullets as they passed his head. He pumped his arms as hard as he could. He was going to make it. Then he was shoved violently forward and he sprawled onto the hard ground, skinning his left eyebrow. A second later, a boot was on the nape of his neck, pinning him down.

“You have gone as far as you will ever go, Munich Boy,” said Heydrich.

Otto wiped at the blood running into his left eye and stared ahead. The rope bridge was only fifty feet away. He felt like crying. Then realized he was.

Leni and Angelika were well hidden but still had a clear view of what had happened. Leni had the hunting rifle against her shoulder, the foresight dancing over Heydrich’s black uniform. He had leaned down and dragged Otto up to his feet. By his hair. Leni wanted to scream out, even more so when she saw Otto’s bloody face and leg.

“Shoot! Shoot!” Angelika urged Leni. “What are you waiting for?”

Leni took a breath, the way she’d been taught, to steady the heavy rifle. She tried to keep the sight fixed on Heydrich’s torso but her vision was too blurry. It was impossible to get a clear shot. The range was well over five hundred feet and now Otto was stumbling along in front of Heydrich. She knew if she fired she’d just as likely blow Otto’s head off.

Heydrich was walking him slowly towards the bridge. What was he going to do?

“I can’t shoot, Angelika, my eyes aren’t good enough.”

“Let me do it,” said Angelika.

Leni looked at her. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

The girl looked back gravely, then nodded.

“Angelika …”

“Let me do it. I can see clearly. He’s going to kill Otto.”

“Are you sure?” Leni was wavering still.

“I don’t care if it’s a bad thing. Saving Otto is all that matters to me.”

Leni nodded. Everything seemed unreal now. Only survival mattered. “All right, but I’ll help you.”

Leni handed the rifle to Angelika, who sagged a little at its heft.

“Here, rest the barrel on my shoulder,” Leni said, kneeling down in front of her. With Leni bearing the brunt of the weight, Angelika then pressed the hard wooden stock into her own shoulder and wrapped her tiny finger around the trigger. She looked down the barrel. Leni could hear her suck in her breath. A moment passed, then the rifle jumped up from Leni’s shoulder.

The bullet hit the silver Totenkopf badge on Heydrich’s peaked cap and tore the hat clean off his head.

He pulled Otto into the side of the rock face, his arm around the boy’s neck, the muzzle of his pistol jammed against his temple. “So you’re still here!” he yelled. “Excellent.”

Leni pushed the rifle to one side. She looked at Angelika. “You nearly got him, well done,” she said, but she couldn’t hide her disappointment. It had been their best chance of saving Otto. Angelika looked crestfallen.

“What are you doing here?” Otto called out, his voice cracking. Heydrich clipped his ear with the pistol barrel and he yelped.

“Your friend raises a good point. Why are you here? I hope it is not misplaced loyalty.”

Leni and Angelika didn’t move a muscle as Heydrich, with Otto now pulled tight in front of him, stepped out from his cover and approached the bridge. He shoved Otto onto the first tread. The bridge swayed slightly.

“That’s far enough!” Leni called out.

Heydrich’s head swiveled in their direction. “As you wish.”

He drew the hammer back on his pistol. “We’re waiting.” His voice was almost singsong. “And we won’t wait forever.”

It was time for Plan B. Angelika nodded her head. Leni knew there would be no dissuading her.

“All right! You can have the girl on one condition,” she shouted.

“No!” Otto shook his head. Another clip to his head prevented him from saying more.

“The girl for the boy. A simple exchange, is that it?” Heydrich shouted back.

“That’s right,” answered Leni.

“Why are you doing this?” Heydrich shouted back.

Leni and Angelika looked at each other. Leni didn’t know what to say, but she had to say something before Heydrich worked out it was a double cross.

“She’s doing it because she’s in love with Otto,” Angelika shouted back. Her voice was high and childish, but it carried to the rope bridge.

Otto looked confused. Heydrich scoffed.

“I agree.” His voice boomed back across the ravine. “Let us be quick about it.”

“Angelika will walk to the middle of the bridge,” Leni shouted. She glanced at the girl. “You’re sure?”

Angelika nodded. “It’s going to be fine.” She stood up and made her way through the bushes out onto the path.

“When she is in the middle of the bridge, let the boy go. Once he has walked past her, the girl will come to you.”

Leni’s voice was getting hoarse.

They were at the endgame now.

Otto waited tensely, with Heydrich’s forearm clamped across his neck. He was so tired and in so much pain, he didn’t even notice the muzzle of the pistol jammed against his temple. He just wanted Heydrich to let him go, accept the barter, even if he didn’t understand what was going on. Perhaps Heydrich didn’t, either. Perhaps that was why he was hesitating, wondering if it was all an elaborate trick. Otto didn’t believe Angelika’s
reason and he knew that Leni would never sacrifice the girl; she just wouldn’t.

“Very well!” shouted Heydrich, having made up his mind, his voice ringing in Otto’s ears. “Come forward, child!”

Otto felt the vicelike grip slacken a little as Angelika emerged from a thick clump of bushes to the right, and walked slowly but purposefully towards them. She looked very calm and very serious, almost serene. Otto heard Heydrich give a small gasp, then the sound of footsteps behind them.

“Stay back!” Heydrich shouted to Müller and Straniak. Otto realized he didn’t want anyone to do anything that might spook the girl.

Angelika reached the middle of the bridge and stopped. The whole thing was swinging gently from side to side. She held on to the left support rope with one hand.

Heydrich leaned forward and put his mouth next to Otto’s bloody ear. “Now that this is over, Munich Boy, I’m going to find out who you really are, who your family is.” His voice was soft. “And when I have, I will not only kill them, I will expunge any record of their existence. And after I have done that, I am coming for you. I will see to it that you and your family are erased from this earth now and forever.” He shoved Otto forward with the heel of his hand.

Otto didn’t look back. The threat had made the tears well up in his eyes and he didn’t want to give that man the satisfaction
of seeing him cry. His leg was burning but he limped on, finally reaching Angelika. “What’s going on?” he whispered, wiping at his eyes.

Angelika smiled brightly. “You’ll see. Just get to the other side as fast as you can.”

Otto glanced down then, and saw that Angelika’s middle finger was looped tightly with a piece of yarn that dropped to the wooden slat at her feet. There, unseen to Heydrich, more yarn had been wound around the wood. Otto frowned. What had Leni and Angelika planned?

“Go, Otto, go,” Angelika said.

Otto pressed forward, thinking hard.

The instant he had passed her, Heydrich stepped onto the rope bridge.

“Come along, child!” he ordered.

But Angelika remained where she was, looking back to check Otto had reached the other end.

“Come at once!” Heydrich raised his voice. He strode forward, the bridge swaying and bouncing under his weight.

Otto turned to watch. Angelika pulled the yarn wrapped around her finger, and ran back towards him, away from Heydrich.

Then Otto realized what she had done. Remembered Leni’s last grenade.

Five
.

“Stop!” Heydrich yelled. He couldn’t run, the bridge was too unstable. He dropped to one knee, tried to take aim with his pistol.

Four
.

Angelika was catching up with Otto. Heydrich fired, but the swaying bridge meant the bullet went harmlessly wide.

Three
.

Heydrich had to grab at the rope to stop himself from falling over.

Two
.

Heydrich got up again, staggered forward.

One
.

Heydrich was almost at the middle of the bridge, Angelika a couple of steps from the end. Otto was clear.

Leni’s grenade exploded, severing the ropes as cleanly as a hot knife through butter, neatly bisecting the bridge. Each half slammed back towards the opposing rock face.

On one side Angelika was holding on to the wooden treads about fifteen feet down. And on the other was Heydrich, swinging from the very bottom tread. The impact had knocked his pistol from his grasp and then he’d lost his grip on the handrope. But his right leg was lodged firmly between two treads and so he found himself hanging upside down, staring back at Angelika. Otto heard the tinny clatter of his gun as it cannoned off the rocks below.

He scrambled down the broken bridge to rescue Angelika.

“Shoot! Shoot the child!” Heydrich was desperately trying to swing himself upright so he could climb back up the shattered bridge.

Müller edged along the side of the rock wall, trying to see the child, but she was below his line of fire. A single shot rang out and Müller staggered back, clutching at his left arm. A lucky shot. Leni had used her last rifle bullet well. But Müller didn’t know that.

“I’m hit,” the Gestapo chief shouted out. He rolled onto one side and emptied his last magazine in the direction of the bridge.

“Hurry up, Otto!” cried Leni. She crawled out of the bushes and ran for the bridge.

Otto stretched out his hand to Angelika just as the frayed and burned rope suddenly snapped. He managed to throw himself to the side, his good hand catching the edge of a ledge. He stared down, expecting the worst, but somehow Angelika had grabbed a tree stump jutting out of the rock face.

Opposite, Heydrich had pulled himself upright and was inching his way back up the rope.

Otto edged his way down until he was leaning on the stump himself. He stretched out his hand again.

“Take it!” he urged her. She was holding on to the end of the stump with both hands, swinging gently above the ravine. Slowly she let go with her right hand and found Otto’s left hand. They gripped each other’s wrists.

“I’ll pull you up.”

There was terrible crack and the tree stump came away. Otto managed to wedge his bandaged right hand into a cleft in the rock face. He screamed with pain, but held on to Angelika, who dangled at the end of his left arm.

She stared back up at him. “I can’t hold on,” she whispered.

Otto felt her grip on his wrist slacken. “Yes, you can!” he said, but he knew that his bandaged hand was also going to give way. Her grip was weakening all the time, and his good hand was sweaty around her wrist. It was only a matter of time.

“You can’t hold on either, can you?” she said.

“Yes, yes, I’ve got you,” he replied, but she was beginning to slip from his grasp.

“I’m pulling you down.” Angelika looked up at him, her eyes wide.

“Please, Angelika, please hold on … we can make it,” he begged. But her hand was sliding through his, no matter how hard he tried to hold on to it.

“I can’t,” she said quietly. “It’s all right, really …”

Then she was gone. Falling.

Otto shut his eyes and his good hand, now free, automatically found a handhold in the rock. He clung on to the rock face. He had so nearly joined her.

Otto opened his eyes and looked across to Heydrich, who was staring down at the ravine. Otto forced himself to look, too, and saw the broken little body at the bottom. Together they watched the meltwater catch her and roll her into the mountain cascade, before the fast-flowing torrent carried her over the rocks and away. Then he felt a hand on his wrist, pulling him up.

It was Leni. “Come on!” she yelled, and Otto struggled to climb.

“Müller!” Heydrich yelled as Otto pulled himself up over the lip of the ravine and dragged himself to his feet.

Müller emerged from his cover. He stumbled towards Heydrich, his pistol in one hand, his right arm drenched in blood from the rifle wound.

“Shoot them!” shouted Heydrich.

Müller pointed the pistol and fired, but the gun was empty. He struggled to change the magazine with his injured arm.

Otto stood and stared at Heydrich. If he managed to survive, he would do everything in his power to see that evil man dead. Then he saw Heydrich grab the gun and the magazine from Müller, heard Leni’s urgent shout to run, and he turned and ran like he had across the sand at Dunkirk, not even feeling the pain from his wounded leg, until he caught up with Leni; and together they ran on and on, down the mountain, the last of Heydrich’s gunshots dying in the morning air.