End of Spies Alex Gerlis (cat reading book .TXT) 📖

at Bourne and Sons in Cork Street in the West End of London. I can assure you it’s a very well-established and respectable business. I would imagine…’ he paused to allow a weak smile, ‘you are not familiar with the art market. If you were, you’d know it is perfectly common for paintings to be purchased from contacts in such a manner.’

‘Buying a painting on the black market in Germany doesn’t sound like the height of respectability to me, Mr Falmer. One can only imagine where the painting was looted from. Tell me, please, about how you were going to obtain it?’

‘I was to go to a square off Guiollettstrasse, if that’s how one pronounces it, at ten o’clock on the Sunday morning. There is a flea market of sorts there, and a one-armed man – which I know may sound somewhat clichéd – would be selling a painting of a kestrel. I was to give him the package and he’d give me the painting. It’s as simple as that.’

‘What is the man’s name?’

‘I have no idea – Hans, I would imagine, they’re all called Hans, aren’t they?’ He laughed nervously and then stopped abruptly, as if he’d said something wrong.

‘And you’re sure you’re telling me the truth, Ulrich – this isn’t another excuse?’

Friedrich Steiner was pacing up and down the lounge of the safe house in Königstein like an angry animal, glaring at Ulrich as if he’d just challenged him to a fight and was awaiting his response. He paused by the window and pushed open the shutters, ignoring the other man’s warning to be careful. He pulled hard on his cigarette and flicked the ash onto the floor.

‘Will you please calm down and come and sit here,’ Ulrich said. ‘You’re making me nervous walking around like that. I told you, it’s just a setback.’

‘For how long?’

‘I don’t know, I need to speak with your father. Maybe a few weeks. We needed the money the courier was bringing – without it, we have problems.’

‘I really don’t see why we need all this money.’

‘Because, Friedrich, we’re setting up a proper escape line for people like you and me. We need to pay for safe houses like this one, to arrange transport, buy false papers and bribe people. It’s a very expensive business, far more so than you’d think. These people were meant to be helping us.’

‘And the man who was meant to give you the money – do you think he ran off with it?’

‘Sit down, Friedrich, and listen. He was arrested – wait, just listen. All he knew was to go to Elsa-Brändström-Platz, approach a one-armed man and ask how much the painting of the kestrel was, and that’s how I’d get the money. We think he was arrested the night before. But he didn’t know my name and he certainly doesn’t know about this place, so it’s not nearly as calamitous as it could be. There’s something else, though…’

Friedrich was silent, sitting quite still as he stared at Ulrich through the smoke from his cigarette.

‘We have a contact in Frankfurt, the IG Farben building off Fürstenbergerstrasse: it’s the building where the Americans have their headquarters. A man and a woman – British, we think – were there to question this courier.’

‘But you said he doesn’t know about us.’

‘Not quite, Friedrich. Apparently they were asking about der Fluchtweg Falke – and I’m afraid they also asked about you by name.’

Chapter 13

Germany, October 1945

‘You seem somewhat shocked, Mr Falmer.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes: I’d say you appear to be taken aback.’

‘I would say I’m surprised rather than shocked: pleasantly surprised, though. I’d not expected that outcome.’

‘Well as I say, Mr Falmer, you are fortunate that both the American and British authorities accepted your explanation that the money found in your possession was intended to be used for the purchase of paintings. We checked out your story, and there is indeed a market on Elsa-Brändström-Platz off Guiollettstrasse where paintings are traded, as well as an art gallery called Bourne and Sons in Cork Street. Furthermore, the American administration have consulted their lawyers, who are of the view that they handled the matter improperly from the outset, in that you were the victim of an alleged crime and therefore should not have been treated as a suspect in another crime.’

Prince stared at Charles Falmer, daring him to believe what he was telling him. It wasn’t proving to be too difficult: Falmer looked pitifully grateful.

‘Personally, Mr Falmer, I have to say I think you’re most fortunate: the money is not being confiscated for procedural reasons more than anything else.’ Hanne was managing to look aggrieved as she spoke. ‘But there we are. My advice is to return to Cologne. A report will be passed to your superior officer, but he will be advised that no further action is being taken.’

There was a pause as an incredulous Charles Falmer smiled and glanced first at Hanne, then at Prince.

‘Well, thank you very much indeed. I presume I’m free to leave now?’

They waited as he was led away to another office, where his briefcase was returned to him, and then stood at the window to watch his diminishing figure leave the building and walk across the rubble towards Fürstenbergerstrasse.

‘Do you really think he believed us?’

‘I hope so, Hanne. Don’t you?’

‘I’m not so sure. Yesterday we were telling him he’d committed a serious crime, and twenty-four hours later we inform him he’s free to go, and by the way, here’s all that money we apparently had such a problem with yesterday.’

‘That’s true, but don’t forget he wants to believe it. That counts for an awful lot. You and I have enough experience of interrogating suspects to know how biddable they are.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That they’re easily persuaded: if you tell a suspect you believe he’s innocent or admit there’s no evidence against him, he’s hardly likely to argue with you, is he?’

‘That’s true.’

‘Anyway, even if this is something of a long shot, it’s the only way we’re going