End of Spies by Alex Gerlis (best free ereader txt) 📗

kind of civilian role in the British Liaison Office, and most importantly he had security clearance. Almost as importantly – certainly as far as Prince was concerned – he also had use of a car, a khaki-coloured Humber Snipe with Union Jacks painted on the two front doors. Bemrose sounded rather put out when he explained he’d not been able to get hold of a driver so would be doing the honours himself, as he put it.

‘Here are your papers.’ He handed them a large brown envelope. ‘Not much, I’m afraid, but hopefully enough to get you through the checkpoints. They’ll impress our side more than theirs, but then that’s always the case. Where is it you want to go?’

‘Behrenstrasse. I’ll tell you which building once we’re there.’

‘I’m not terribly good at finding my way round the Soviet sector.’

Prince said not to worry, he’d be able to navigate.

They crossed the border at Potsdamer Platz, where the NKVD Border Guards officer in charge seemed unimpressed with their papers. He explained very slowly in basic German that it was most unusual to let people across if it was not a routine visit or if they didn’t have an appointment. He shook his head, and Bemrose muttered something about having told them so and whistled something jolly from a musical.

Hanne then spoke in Russian: it wasn’t very fluent, with a lot of pauses and gesticulating, but she smiled as she spoke and when the officer – clearly impressed – asked her something, Prince distinctly heard the word ‘Ravensbrück’ in her reply.

She turned to him. ‘Remind me of the name of the man we’re hoping to see?’

‘Iosif Leonid Gurevich, Podpolkovnik Gurevich: NKGB. We want to go to his office on Behrenstrasse.’

The officer straightened up and shouted orders to his men, and the barrier was raised.

‘I didn’t know you spoke Russian?’

‘We had Russian prisoners at the camp; I picked up a few words and the odd phrase from them. He seemed impressed when you mentioned Iosif.’

‘Let’s hope he’s there.’

Since his last visit in June, the NKGB headquarters had been smartened up. Bemrose seemed annoyed when Prince told him to wait outside. They explained who they wanted to see and were shown to some seats, but less than five minutes later, there was a shout of joy and Prince looked up to see Iosif Gurevich bounding across the entrance hall towards them. The Russian grabbed him by the shoulders to look at him properly, and then enveloped him in a warm embrace, slapping him on the shoulder when he eventually released him. As he did so, he spotted Hanne.

‘Is this really you?’

She promised him it was, and tears streamed down his face. He kissed her on both cheeks and told her he’d done many good things in the war – along with one or two bad things, of course – but helping find her was undoubtedly the best.

‘Please, come with me. I imagine you want some favour?’

‘Why would that be the case, Iosif?’

‘Because why else would you come to this shithole?’

Iosif Leonid Gurevich occupied the same office where Prince had first met him, but he had some news, which he recounted with an air of considerable pride.

‘I’ve been promoted, my friends.’

‘Congratulations – to what?’

‘I’m now a commissar – a one-star commissar,’ he said, tapping the gold epaulettes on his green uniform.

‘Which means you’re a…’

‘A general! It was a big promotion, I didn’t expect it. They’re very pleased with how things have gone in Berlin. There have been some problems with discipline among our troops here and I’ve been effective in dealing with it; I seem to be able to get my way with you British especially – the Americans too. The French are more difficult, but… Imagine, after everything, a Jewish general in charge here in Berlin!’

The three of them laughed and Gurevich opened a bottle of German brandy and handed it round. They toasted his promotion, followed by a toast to peace between their nations, and when they told him they were now married, he poured more brandy and toasted that before going over to a wall piled high with boxes, oil paintings stacked alongside them.

‘Please, you must choose a wedding present.’

Eventually they got down to business. Speaking in German but dropping in the occasional word or phrase in Russian, Hanne explained everything. When she’d finished, the Russian nodded gravely and glanced at the notes he’d been making. ‘So this Alphonse Schweitzer is a prisoner of ours?’

‘Have you not come across him?’

‘Ha! Do you know how many Nazis we have in custody – thousands of them, literally thousands. We’re running out of prison space. If I’m honest with you, not all of those we’ve captured have gone through the system, so to speak. Many of them have been dealt with in a summary manner, much as they treated our troops they took prisoner. We’re processing the rest as fast as we can and sending most of them to camps in Siberia, so I wouldn’t know about an individual such as this. You’re certain he’s in Berlin?’

‘Yes.’

‘And remind me where he was arrested?’

‘Colmar – it’s a French city in Alsace, but it was annexed into the Third Reich.’

Gurevich nodded. ‘Very well then: give me an hour and I will have some information. You say you have a driver waiting for you?’

‘He’s outside.’

‘Send him away: I’ll look after you. I’ll tell my aide to get you something to eat.’

Bemrose was dozing in the Humber when Prince tapped on the window. He seemed annoyed at being woken up, and even more so to be told he was no longer needed. He said he was going to tell Mr Gilbey that he wasn’t a chauffeur.

An hour later, Hanne and Prince were back in Gurevich’s office.

‘I’ve found him!’

‘Alphonse Schweitzer?’

The Russian nodded and looked pleased with himself as he opened a box of cigars and clamped one between his teeth. ‘Being a commissar unlocks many doors. I just have to ask a question and people fall over themselves to