They Used Dark Forces (62 page)

Gregory and Malacou entered on their usual act. For some moments the occultist rambled, then he produced the following predictions which Gregory translated as: In less than a week the Führer would receive the support and encouragement that it had been earlier foretold would come to him unexpectedly in mid April. This support was associated with the Moon and must, therefore, come from a woman. Although the Russian front was holding it presented a greater menace to Berlin than did the breakthrough by the Allies in the West. The Anglo-American armies would be halted while still some distance from the capital, but the Russians would be in the outskirts of Berlin before the month was out. The event which could alter the whole political outlook of the Allies was the death of President Roosevelt, and it would occur on the 12th.

At that Hitler jumped to his feet, exclaiming, ‘We are saved! I knew it. My intuition is never at fault. There is to be another Miracle of Brandenburg! The President's death will alter everything. The Americans and British will become our allies against the accursed Communists.'

Then he swung round on Bormann. ‘But there remains one danger. We must not be caught in Berlin before the Western
Allies can come to our assistance. We will adopt the plan that we have so often discussed. The Bavarian Alps are a natural fortress. Among them the employment of armour is almost impossible. There is certain to be some delay in agreeing terms with the Americans, so for a while we may have to continue to fight on two fronts. Unless Berlin is seriously threatened, I shall remain here; but preparations must be made for a move to Berchtesgaden. Give all the necessary orders.'

‘
Jawohl, mein Führer.
' Bormann shot out his arm in the Nazi salute; the others did likewise, then they all left the room.

Next morning the exodus began. As the Führer intended to remain in Berlin for as long as it could be held, Obersalzberg was too far distant for the headquarters to be established there as yet; but it was decided to form one at Krampnitz from which Keitel and Jodl could come into Berlin daily; so a number of the junior staff officers were sent to make the necessary preparations, while all but a handful of the servants were packed off to Berchtesgaden.

Among those who left was Himmler's liaison officer, Obergruppenführer Fegelein. That evening the ex-jockey got very drunk and took no pains to hide his joy at having received permission from his Chief to join him at Hohenlychen. At intervals between pouring brandy down his throat he mercilessly twitted the others on their ill-luck in having to remain in the hell of Berlin and the madhouse that the bunker had become.

For all the senior officers the following day proved one of the worst they had ever experienced. News came in that the American spearheads had reached the Elbe the previous evening and that the Russians had secured bridgeheads over the Oder. The German front there had broken and the Bolsheviks were crossing the river in many thousands.

At the midday conference Hitler demanded that heads should roll, and that the troops be called upon to die fighting where they stood. From beyond the partition there came an unceasing flow of curses, denunciations, reproaches and abuse. Hours later the Generals who had been present trooped out, white-faced and weary. Old Koller had had such a lashing because of the failure of the Luftwaffe to prevent the Russians gaining a
foothold on the west bank of the Oder that he was again in tears.

All through the afternoon and evening Gregory hovered about the outer regions of the bunker waiting for the news to come in from the United States; but midnight came, the 12th April was over and there had been no announcement of the President's death. About two o'clock, by then extremely worried, he went back to the Air Ministry, but only to spend an anxious, restless night.

In the morning he went to the Ministry of Propaganda to see Goebbels' assistant, Heinz Lorenz, and ask if there was any news of special interest; but, apart from reports of fresh disasters on the Oder front, there was nothing. Returning to the Air Ministry he tackled Malacou, who could tell him only that Roosevelt's horoscope had shown him to be in great danger at this period, and that he would actually leave his present body on the 12th had been conveyed by the familiar spirits who, in all other matters, had proved correct.

There now seemed little doubt that on this occasion they had misinformed Malacou, and as Gregory walked over to the Chancellery he dreaded the reception he expected to receive. It was not so much that Hitler would pour out his vials of wrath upon him that he feared, but that all his careful planning would be brought to naught by the failure of this one prophecy to mature, and that having won the Führer's confidence by great art and skill he would now find himself completely discredited.

Down in the passage sitting room Bormann was talking to Keitel and Burgdorf before they went in to the midday conference. On seeing Gregory he said with a sneer, ‘How is the President's health this morning,
Herr Major
? It seems that you and your Turk have been made fine fools of by the spirits. I'm not surprised, though. You have lasted longer than most of the occult gentry we've had here and done better even than the Reichsführer's man, Wulf; but you all come a cropper in the end.'

‘That is not certain yet,
Herr Parteiführer
,' Gregory replied stoutly. ‘It is quite possible that the Americans are holding up the news for reasons of their own.'

They had better be,' snapped Bormann, ‘or the Führer will have your head off for having misled him.'

When they had gone in to the conference Gregory went through to the mess passage, to get himself a badly needed drink. He remained there for some time, talking with some of the other adjutants. He then returned to the sitting passage. Just inside the doorway two men were standing. One was von Below. The other, a shortish man with very broad shoulders and rolls of fat showing above the collar of his black S.S. uniform, had his back to Gregory.

With a smile, von Below said, ‘Oh, Protze, I don't think you've met our new colleague. The Reichsführer 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 Obergruppenführer Grauber.

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 Führer 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 realise that in the chaos that was swiftly destroying all organisation 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 Obergruppenführer 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 Führer'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 Obergruppenführer's name.'

Grauber's high-pitched voice came in a screech of mingled hate and triumph. ‘He knows it well enough! And I know his! 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 Obergruppenführer
. 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 Obergruppenführer
, this accusation you bring against Major Protze rests solely on your word. He has shown himself to be a loyal servant of the Führer, 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 Führer 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 Parteiführer
Bormann.'

‘Then I demand to see him.'

Von Below gestured towards the partition. ‘He is in there at the Führer 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
Obergruppenführer
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 Obergruppenführer
. On what do you base these accusations?'

‘I know the man,' Grauber piped. ‘I've known him for years. His name is Sallust and he is the most dangerous agent in the British Secret Service.'

‘When did you see him last?' Bormann asked.

‘In the summer of 1942,
Herr Parteiführer
,' Grauber replied promptly.

‘But damn it, that is getting on for three years ago. However good your memory may be for faces that is a bit long for you to be so sure you recognise a man. Can you produce anyone else who could identify him as this British agent?'