Spook's Gold (25 page)

Suddenly something grabbed his wrist and he flinched and gasped in fear, then realised that it was Lemele’s own hand. “Calm down and stop acting like a schoolgirl in a haunted house,” she chided. Pulling once more on his hand, she guided it to the recess. He explored the outer edges of the hatchway with his finger tips and then reached into his bag, fumbling around to locate his service dagger. Years of grime and settled dust had sealed the panel firmly in place; he was obliged to patiently work the blade tip several times around the seam, levering and twisting before it finally shifted.

The light that blinded him was a welcome return to the world of the living and he did not think or hesitate before pulling the hatch upwards and discarding it behind him. He poked his head down and saw a bedroom, well lit from the open curtains. In the bed were a couple, maybe late twenties in age, still deeply asleep despite the daylight streaming through the window and the racket that he and Lemele had been making above their heads.

Gripping the hatchway frame, he lowered his head and shoulders to descend through it upside-down, curling his body around in mid-air to let his legs follow and leave him hanging from the hatchway; a parody of the manoeuvres he had practiced on the bars in school gymnastics. At least his exit from the roof space had been more graceful than his entry. He dropped lightly the last few centimetres and motioned Lemele to pass the bags, indicating with finger to lips and pointing to the bed for her benefit.

Now it was Lemele’s turn; she dropped her legs through and managed to reach a position with her elbows resting on the hatch frame, but then could not work out how to finish the manoeuvre; how to move from being supported up on her forearms to finish hanging down from her hands. Realising that there was a problem, Marner moved to grab her legs for support, wrapping his arms around her thighs which were at his chest height. Lemele was not expecting this attack and, unable to see anything below, suddenly let go with her arms, lancing them straight up in the air to allow herself to free-fall through without touching the sides. Marner in turn was not prepared to take the sudden full load, in particular of such a top-heavy weight. Lemele was pivoting at the waist and further destabilising them so that he staggered and was left with no choice but to pitch her forward onto the end of the bed for a soft landing, as he collapsed onto his knees.

The sleeping couple jerked upright in bed, instantly awake and the girl screamed, only moments later realising that she should also pull the sheet up above her exposed chest. The man leapt out of bed and made towards them, although from the confused look on his face he was clearly unsure whether he was attacking or defending, but determined to do something about this intrusion.

Lemele jumped up and put out a placating hand. “Please help us, we’re in trouble. The Gestapo are hunting us,” she improvised.

At this, the man stopped and relaxed. “Ah, okay. You gave us one hell of a surprise though. Look, I’d like to help but you can’t stop here. And you could have picked a better hiding place; don’t you know that there’s a hotel full of those scum next door?”

“Of course,” smiled Lemele. “We’ll go out the door and not trouble you any further.”

If the man was aware of or embarrassed by his nakedness, he made no indication, just stood there indicating towards the door with an outstretched palm.

Marner gathered up the bags and stumbled after Lemele, mumbling apologies. They exited the bedroom and paused in the small lounge of the apartment. Lemele stopped to examine her reflection in the full length mirror there and noted that her stockings were wrecked at the knees. She pulled another pair from her bag and hoisted her skirt to change them, lowering her face into Marner’s line of sight to give him the message that he should not be looking. Taking the hint, he turned his back and began brushing his clothes down. The trousers were very dusty and stained with something on one leg; his ministrations succeeded in removing the worst but he knew that he looked extremely scruffy. Peering over his shoulder he could see that some of the lining was protruding from the torn stitching of his jacket.

Having finished her stocking change, Lemele was able to cover up the state of the rest of her clothes by donning the light overcoat that was in her bag. This completed, she turned to help Marner poke the lining back into the seam as best as possible and then began beating down his shoulders and back to remove the dust there.

As they prepared to leave the apartment they passed a telephone on a stand by the door. Marner dialled Boris’s number and he picked up immediately. “Boris, what the hell is going on?  Can you talk?”

“I don’t have that file here I’m afraid. I think that it is in Meuser’s office so I will have to go and find it down there. Give me thirty minutes and meet me in Meuser’s office,” and Boris hung up.

“What did he say?” asked Lemele. “What on earth is going on?”

“Boris could not tell me, he is probably being watched or something is making him very cautious. But he’ll meet us in thirty minutes. Let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty Five

They emerged from the apartment block onto the front street, having tried the rear entrance and discovered that it shared the alleyway with the hotel, meaning that they would have to pass in full view of the waiting soldiers to reach the main boulevard. Marner went first and alone; he glanced briefly up and down the street but saw no evidence of anyone watching and then strode briskly away in the opposite direction from his hotel. After waiting a further sixty seconds, Lemele saw no one pursuing Marner and so followed.

Boris’s use of the phrase ‘Meuser’s office’ was in fact referring to the Bar Legende, a departmental joke. Oberleutnant Meuser was an officer who had been despatched back to Berlin to an unknown fate, having been implicated in the murder of a dancer. Prior to his disgrace, Meuser could invariably be found in the bar at any time between eleven o’clock in the morning and mid-afternoon, and would then take up residence again from early evening onwards.

The murder had been one of Marner’s first cases after his posting to Paris. The case had attracted the attention of Kripo because the girl was linked with a number of German officers. In fact ‘linked’ was a euphemism for the fact that she had entirely quit her dancing job and was living off earnings gleaned from her patrons. Meuser had been guilty as far as Marner could establish, although the evidence was entirely circumstantial and it would have been a challenge to obtain a conviction in a civilian court of law against an even half-competent defence lawyer. The case never came to a court, civilian or military; Meuser was dismissed back to Germany and Marner was advised to let it go, with hints that Meuser was getting his just desserts.

When Marner arrived at the south end of Avenue Kléber, on which the Legende was located, the unmistakable bulk of Boris was lingering on the far corner of the junction. He had been concerned that Boris might be planning to meet inside the bar, which was not a good idea since it was a popular location with many SD and Wehrmacht officers. However, on spotting him, Boris turned and walked along the street away from the bar. Marner paused for a moment to see if anyone else moved, anyone possibly watching Boris. There was no one as far as he could see, so he crossed the junction and went to the same corner. He did not want to walk on in pursuit of Boris yet; he needed to wait until Lemele caught up. She appeared at the corner that he had just vacated, saw him in turn, and followed. Thus in a bizarre relay they walked on two blocks into back streets of small shops and apartment buildings until finally Boris chose a small café.

When Marner entered, Boris was already seated and bellowing an order for three coffees to a diminutive, elderly lady who was profoundly deaf. By the time that Lemele had come in and joined them at their tiny table in the corner, the coffees had been delivered and the lady had retired to the obscurity of her sitting room beyond the bar.

Boris looked at the dishevelled state of Marner’s clothes, then at Lemele who had shrugged out of her coat, hot after the rapid pace of the walk from the hotel. “So you two are cooperating again,” he beamed. “Or are you systematically trying to destroy that expensive good suit?” he demanded of Marner.

“Very amusing, but I don’t have time for humour. Thanks for the warning this morning, by the way, it was a very close thing. Now please tell me what is going on.”

Boris immediately became serious. “I have not figured it all out yet. I was dragged into the office very early this morning. Two goons from Department VIII,” and here Boris raised his eyebrows knowingly at Marner, “turned up at Chantal’s apartment. Now how would they know to find me there?  Never mind, not important.”

Department VIII did not actually exist. It was the nickname given by the other seven services within the Avenue Foch community to a small sub-group within the RHSA who were tasked with investigation of the German military itself. This elite group had been formed in early 1943 following the confirmation of serious and credible assassination attempts on Hitler by traitors within the German forces. Since then, the group had grown and now had personnel stationed wherever the Reich military empire had a large presence. Their remit was to investigate any potential security risks from within. Boris continued, “I was told that I was not under arrest but it was made clear that we were going, no objections and no choice, to Odewald’s office immediately. When we got there the place was pandemonium, but that’s another thing. In the office there was Odewald, Kreutzer who runs VIII, plus some senior hawk from Kriegsmarine and another individual in a civilian suit that I’ve never seen before. Odewald was really pissed about Kreutzer running a show in his own office against his own people, but could do not much since Kreutzer carries the full SD-Leiter rank and reports directly to Muller in Berlin.”

Boris went on to explain that he had been questioned at length by Kreutzer regarding what he knew about Marner’s investigation and activities. “I simply told him that we had shared the trip to Toulouse and our notes on Carlingue characters that were known to us and maybe implicated in the murders in Toulouse and Paris, but that is all. Then, after I was dismissed, that lackey of Odewald – what’s his name?  Ah yes, Tripp! – he comes racing down to my office with a message from Odewald that you are in some kind of jam and that if I know where you are, I should warn you.”

Marner’s mind was too full of other questions and confusion to be surprised at Odewald’s uncharacteristic concern for his welfare. “Did Kreutzer give you any idea of what I’ve done to warrant one of his snatch squads coming after me?”

“Nothing at all. I got the impression that the civilian in the suit was someone big because Kreutzer kept looking at him; very deferential. Kreutzer just asked me if I knew what you were working on; in particular he kept asking about submarines and cargoes. I denied any knowledge about that. But get this: the reason that the office is in pandemonium is that Graf was busted out of the cells in the night!” Before Marner could transform his shock into words, Boris continued, “Yes! And not only did he escape, but he actually had the nerve to then go to Kriegsmarine headquarters. He shot a radio operator there and disappeared again.”

Marner sat for several moments trying to work out what this chain of events might signify, but could not. “Do they suspect me of helping him escape?  That’s absurd! Why would I hand him over into custody and then go and break him out hours later?”

“I don’t think so. If they really thought that then I doubt that Odewald would have tipped me off to warn you. Apparently, a detail showed up in the early hours of the morning at Foch with orders to transfer Graf to custody at Sevres. They had realistic uniforms and papers; maybe the papers are even genuine, they’re still being examined. So Foch let him go in the company of these guys and ‘poof’ – disappeared into thin air. Well, with the exception of his appearance at Kriegsmarine, that is. There’s a full bulletin out on Graf to all police, militia and military. But there is nothing public on you. Apart from Kreutzer and his squad that he sent over to your hotel, plus a few of them still hanging around the office, whatever you are involved in is being kept quiet.”

“I am utterly confused. What on earth could I have done?  I gave a full report to Odewald yesterday evening. He seemed completely satisfied with how the case had been resolved.”  They sat for a while longer, drinking their coffee, then Marner asked, “What went on over at Kriegsmarine?”

“I don’t really know. We know that Graf went there at around four o’clock this morning and waltzed in through the front entrance, them not having been informed of his arrest. The guard on the main desk confirms that he left again about ten minutes later. It was only when the radio operator was found dead that our office was alerted and the fact that Graf had been there came to light. It takes some audacity to go to his own office whilst on the run.”

“But why go there, why take the risk?” asked Lemele.

“He undoubtedly needed something from his office, or maybe there was something vital there that he wanted to hide or destroy,” proposed Marner.

“Or kill!” added Boris.

Marner stood up abruptly and picked up his bag.

“Where are you going?” demanded Boris.

“To Kriegsmarine headquarters,” he stated patiently, as if to imbeciles.

“What?!” cried Lemele and Boris in unison. “Are you insane?  You’ve got Department VIII hunting for you and you are really going to a German military installation?  Dieter that is just plain stupid! You need to go to ground and look after yourself.”

“I don’t agree. And what options do I have anyway?  Whatever mess I’m in, it has to be linked to Graf and the only way to resolve it is to find him. I have no lead on him so I can only hope to find something in his office. If there is nothing there of use, nothing that points us to where he may be going, then we have nothing else.”  Marner flopped back into his seat, as if already weary. “Look, Graf knows that what he revealed means that the submarines will be stripped and the crews held as soon as they reach port. It is highly unlikely that he will go to Bordeaux or any of the other Kriegsmarine bases, because there of all places he is known and will be arrested on sight. So I really need to find out if there is anywhere else that he might go to ground.”