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

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Do we know whether one of the two was Friedrich Steiner?’

‘We know one of them was definitely the one-armed man who was followed from Frankfurt – Sorensen’s team had a good view of him. Hanne saw the other chap better than I did, sir.’

‘I spotted them when they emerged from the other house. They were across the road, so all I can say is that one of the men had one arm and the other was quite young, possibly late twenties or early thirties.’

‘Similar age to Steiner.’

‘Yes, sir. I had to look after Richard because I didn’t know how badly injured he was, and also I didn’t have a gun. If I had, I could have got closer to them.’

‘So it’s a fair assumption it was Friedrich Steiner?’

‘In so far as we established a link to the Kestrel Line, yes, sir. It’s not proven, of course, but if I were investigating this as a crime, I’d say he was a likely suspect.’

‘And he got away?’

‘Yes, sir, I’m afraid so. The jeep was found abandoned the following day in a town called Bad Kissingen, which is about fifty miles due east of Königstein. No sign of them after that.’

‘The Americans let stolen jeeps drive around their zone, do they?’ Tom Gilbey shook his head and then let it rest in his hands as he closed his eyes in thought, before standing up and walking over to the window, looking out of it as he spoke.

‘The problem I have is whether we can afford to carry on with what may well be a wild goose chase.’ He paused and turned round to face them, looking down at the carpet, his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets. ‘I fully appreciate that I told you hunting down the Ferret was regarded as a debt of honour by my friend Charles Lean, and that I had assumed the obligation on his behalf, and you have done terribly well to establish that the Ferret is this Friedrich Steiner. But whether it is right to have you two continuing to run round Europe looking for him, I’m not sure…’

‘But he’s a war criminal, sir, surely?’

‘He is indeed, but I’m afraid Europe is teeming with them. There are literally thousands of former SS and Gestapo officers who did the most dreadful things, many if not most of them far more senior than Friedrich Steiner. Now, my superior, Roland Bentley, has caught wind of this, and while he fully understands my involvement, he does wonder if…’ He trailed off and turned back to the window.

‘Are you suggesting we drop the case?’

‘We have Friedrich Steiner’s name. It’s on our watch lists. Sooner or later we’re bound to find him. I’d love to get stuck into these Nazi escape lines, but I fear it’s not a priority at the moment.’

Prince nodded, but Hanne shook her head angrily.

‘You’re forgetting a possible British connection – what about Charles Falmer? I know he was murdered on the train and the money wasn’t with him, but surely that all points to something going on here.’

‘That would be a matter for the Security Service or Special Branch.’ Gilbey had returned to his seat alongside theirs. ‘Richard knows all about that – your last case involved Nazi sympathisers in this country.’

‘Yes, sir, and I have to say I believe Hanne is right, actually. There certainly seems to be a very strong case to be made for saying that Falmer was probably a courier, bringing money from London to help fund the Kestrel Line. If that’s true, then surely there’s an obligation to investigate further – after all, we know about this art gallery, don’t we? If we find out what’s going on here, it could open up the Kestrel Line for us.’

‘I suppose I could argue that as we came across this intelligence while on an operation overseas, we can justify continuing the investigation here. After all, we don’t want to be presenting gifts to the Security Service after we’ve done all the hard work, do we?’

Hanne and Prince both said they agreed.

‘We’d better keep you chaps out of it at this end – Prince, you’re known from your last investigation, and in any case it’s possible that word about you may have got back here from Germany, you never know. You go back to Lincoln; I imagine you’ll be wanting to see your boy, won’t you? If anything crops up and it’s worth reopening the case, I’ll be in touch. You have my word.’

He leaned forward and shook hands with both of them rather formally.

‘And who will investigate matters here, sir?’

‘I have just the man in mind.’

There was a certain confidence in Sir Roland Pearson’s step as he turned from Old Bond Street into Burlington Gardens. For the first time in weeks, the fog of lethargy that had hung over him was lifted.

Sir Roland took the view that his life was unquestionably made up of more achievements than setbacks, though he was aware that one of his failings was to dwell far too much on the latter, and he’d certainly been doing plenty of that recently.

Early in 1940, Winston Churchill had appointed him to his staff at Downing Street, where his role was to coordinate the activities of the various intelligence and security agencies. It was a job that was hard to define and even harder to get right, but he very quickly proved to be indispensable. He was in many ways an invisible man: no one outside Whitehall and the intelligence agencies knew of him, but for those who did, he was all-powerful. He had, as people would say, ‘Winston’s ear’.

But when Winston lost the election, he had nowhere to go other than his apartment overlooking Birdcage Walk, and his club. It was from Boodle’s that Tom Gilbey had rescued him with the offer of the mission he was now embarking on. He had done his homework and it all sounded rather fun.

From Burlington Gardens he turned into