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

they’d have to stay in Klagenfurt, Prince said that was a pity but not the end of the world. Evans replied that he wasn’t sure, Klagenfurt seemed very much like the end of the world, and the car rocked as he laughed out loud. He repeated the joke periodically until they arrived in the town. They could see what he meant.

Major Stewart couldn’t hide his annoyance at having unexpected charges thrust upon him. He adopted the manner of a schoolteacher who’d had a disruptive pupil brought before him once again.

‘I suppose we’ll have to find somewhere for you to spend the night. Just do me a favour and stay inside Innere Stadt. I know you’re both prone to wandering off, but not here, please. The town’s still a bloody mess and there’s a good deal of resentment towards the Eighth Army.’

Half an hour later, they were in a small hotel just off the Alter Platz. As soon as they were alone, they left by a rear door and hurried through the narrow streets. Dusk was beginning to fall on the old town centre, and with half the buildings damaged and empty, it felt like a journey into the dark. Some of the streets were impassable, blocked with piles of rubble that reached as high as the first floor of those buildings still standing. In the shadow of the cathedral they turned a corner and spotted a pharmacy with its lights on: Wörthersee Apotheke.

‘You speak, Hanne, your German’s much better than mine. Remember to say that—’

Hanne stopped and turned to face her husband. ‘You asked me to speak, Richard, didn’t you? So leave it to me!’

There was almost an apologetic air to Wörthersee Apotheke, as if the shop was embarrassed to be the only one left unscathed on the street. An elderly couple stood behind the counter, clearly grateful at the prospect of customers.

Hanne stepped forward to the counter and Prince closed the door, standing in front of it. The couple looked at her expectantly.

‘We are sorry to disturb you, but we need to know if you have a telephone?’

They nodded, their heads moving in unison.

‘We need a telephone for a private matter, and if we could use yours, that would be very much appreciated.’

The pair looked anxiously at each other, trying to work out whether there was a catch.

‘Of course it goes without saying that we would pay for any inconvenience.’

The man began to say of course, but the woman stopped him. ‘How much?’

Prince stepped forward and spread some Alliance schillings on the countertop. The occupation currency was much in demand, and he had calculated he was offering them a generous sum. The wife raised her eyes in surprise and quickly gathered up the notes.

‘The telephone is here in the back, in our little office.’

‘When do you close?’

‘In ten minutes,’ said the husband.

‘Close now,’ said Hanne, clearly giving an order. ‘Lock the door and turn out the lights. I’d be grateful if you could allow us some privacy.’

They left them alone in the office, explaining that they’d be upstairs in their apartment.

Prince rang the Vienna number he’d memorised.

‘Ludwig.’

The deep voice had answered far more quickly than he was expecting. He hesitated slightly before giving the response Iosif had instructed him to. ‘It’s Horst: I need to talk with Joachim about a problem with a package.’

‘Is this to do with the watches?’

He hesitated once more. He knew that unless he replied correctly, the man would terminate the call. ‘No, the boots.’

‘Very well – and you can be reached on this number?’

‘Yes, but not for very long.’

‘There’ll be a call from Joachim within the hour. Make sure you’re there.’

Hanne called up to the couple, who quickly emerged onto the first-floor landing. There was a family problem, she explained, quite a distressing one and of a confidential nature, and her husband had to wait to be called back. Would it be possible to have use of the office and the telephone for another hour – and of course we will pay for your troubles?

Iosif Gurevich rang back within half an hour. Through the static it sounded as if he was shouting into the phone from the other side of a room.

‘I’m in Berlin – this call is being connected via Vienna. I’m not sure how it works and nor am I sure how secure it is, so you’d better be quick.’

Prince explained everything: how they’d tracked the Kestrel Line to Trieste, where they were convinced Friedrich Steiner was hiding in a warehouse by the port, and how they’d been instructed to call off the operation and had been driven to Klagenfurt, where they were waiting to be flown back to England.

‘Who is with Steiner?’

‘Another German – we think he escorted Steiner from Frankfurt – and an English couple, one of whom is an important Nazi spy I was hunting last year: a traitor. It’s outrageous that they’re being allowed to escape just to please the Americans.’

‘It doesn’t surprise me.’

‘You don’t sound too shocked, Iosif.’

‘Of course I’m not shocked, my friend – we’re up to it too! It’s only you British who are shocked by this kind of thing. What about Bormann?’

‘He could be with them, we’re not sure.’

‘So what are you asking me to do?’

‘Tell the Slovenians they can do what they want with Friedrich Steiner, but we don’t want the others to get away: they must be detained somehow.’

There was no immediate response from Iosif, just the static down the line, but then he came back and asked how long they’d be in Klagenfurt, and when Prince replied until the next day, Iosif said something that was hard to make out and then told him to leave it with him. He couldn’t promise, but… and then the line went dead.

Kommissar Iosif Gurevich put the phone down and gazed out of his office window high on Behrenstrasse over the jagged and ruined roofscape of Berlin. The few minutes between the end of dusk and the start of night were now ticking past,