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

October, he gave you a telephone number to contact him in the event of you having a message from Bormann. That is correct?’

‘Yes, sir and I gave that number to Herr Hoffman when I met him and a very charming lady colleague of his on Kurfürstendamm. Do you not remember, Paul?’

‘I know you gave him the number, Kühn, I’m not disputing that: I have it here in front of me. What I want to know is whether Steiner gave you any idea as to where he was?’

Kühn shook his head. ‘I did ask him where he was based – I think that’s how I put it – but he didn’t tell me. That’s when he gave me the telephone number. Why don’t you try and trace it?’

‘Thank you very much, Kühn, I had no idea you’d make such a brilliant detective – maybe you could join Hoffman in the Volkspolizei. Yes of course we’ve tried to trace that number. Fyodorov…’

‘It’s untraceable sir: obviously we checked it out as soon as we got it. The Nazis had a sophisticated telephone system in many respects, and it seems they were able to set up numbers and then remove any record of where they were located. Our engineers suspect they may have used some kind of shadow system, where a property has a primary telephone number and then a secondary number operating from the same line that no one knows about.’

‘And there’s still no way of tracing it?’

‘The only possible way is if we were to intercept the number on an outgoing call, but the chances of that happening are so remote as to be impossible.’

‘Thank you, Leonid – I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that makes sense. So you see what our problem is, Kühn? We want to discuss some matters with Herr Steiner and it looks like the only way we can make contact with him is through you. So take your coat off and come over here – in fact, you can sit at my desk.’

‘And what do you want me to do?’

‘To make a bloody telephone call!’

Frau Moser was on the landing before him, standing by her bedroom door in her enormous flannelette bed dress with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

‘It’s all right, Frau Moser, let me answer it.’

‘Who calls at eleven o’clock at night?’

Wolfgang Steiner told her – a bit too sharply on reflection – to go back into her room, and hurried downstairs into the draughty hall.

‘Hello?’

‘Hello… it’s Willi.’

Steiner rubbed his brow. He’d been woken from a deep sleep and was still a bit dazed. When it suddenly registered who Willi was, he was shocked, not least that he was using his proper name. He should have agreed a code name. ‘Willi, yes… Don’t use my name… Is everything all right? Where are you?’

‘I’m in Berlin. Look, I’m sorry to call you so late, but I thought you ought to know I’ve heard from your friend Graf – you’ll recall he was a former colleague of mine… Graf?’

‘Yes, yes, Graf… I know… Where is he?’

A pause: Steiner wondered whether Bormann could be with Kühn. It sounded as if someone was.

‘He’s here in Berlin – he made contact with me yesterday and I saw him today and he instructed me to contact you: he wants you to come and rescue him. He says you have to, only you, and—’

‘How do I know this is true? Is there any proof?’

‘Do you think I’d have called you if it wasn’t true? Our friend – Graf – is desperate: he was seriously injured in May and has been recovering, but the place where he was staying is no longer safe and now he feels well enough to travel. He insisted I call you. Where he is now, he can only stay for another day or two.’

Steiner felt all his anxieties sweep back. He leaned against the wall and tried to gather his thoughts. This was either a trap and he should ignore it, or it was true and at last he had an opportunity – an honour indeed – to rescue the Reichsleiter. If only this had happened before he’d gone to Munich. If he hurried, there’d be time to get Bormann on the boat from Trieste to South Africa: it would be the most enormous act of service to the cause. But he realised that whatever he decided, he needed to do it now. He took a deep breath.

‘I’ll set out for Berlin first thing in the morning. You remember the place we met in October?’

‘Yes. You mean the—’

‘Don’t say where it was: be there at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Wait for half an hour, and if I don’t show up, return at eight o’clock the following morning. Again wait for half an hour, and if you’ve not seen me by then, return at two that afternoon.’

‘And if you’re not there then?’

‘Then I won’t be there at all.’

When Willi Kühn replaced the receiver, sweat was pouring from his brow and his hand felt quite numb from gripping the phone so tightly. He breathed an enormous sigh of relief and looked up at the Russian, who nodded and said well done.

‘And what happens now?’

‘We wait to see if he shows up at four o’clock tomorrow. You could have asked him where he was coming from.’

‘I doubt he’d have told me. What if he suspects something is up? He could try and shoot me.’

‘I don’t imagine a wanted Nazi is going to shoot someone in the middle of Berlin, not even in the French sector. In the morning, you’ll show us where it was you met him, and then we can make arrangements. In the meantime, we’ll find you a bed for the night.’

‘Can’t I go home?’

Iosif Gurevich laughed. ‘No, Willi, that wouldn’t be a good idea.’

Chapter 27

Berlin and Austria, December 1945

According to the luminous dial on his bedside clock, it was around a quarter to three. It was pitch dark, and no sound