Angel of Doom (Anna Fehrback Book 5) Page 8

  ‘That is our counter-attack,’ Udermann said, proudly.

  *

  After what seemed an eternity they landed at Posen. The last time she had come here she had flown to Warsaw, further east.

  ‘It is safer here,’ Udermann explained. ‘The Russians are approaching Praga. That is the suburb on the east bank of the river, you know. And there is some trouble in the city itself.’

  ‘You mean Warsaw may fall?’ So quickly, she thought.

  ‘It is very strongly defended,’ he pointed out.

  The trouble with landing at Posen was that to get to the internment camp they had to go east, over a succession of bumpy roads, all clogged with troop movements. But they were flying an SS flag, and the driver was wearing the dreaded black uniform; once he hooted his horn, space was always made for them, while the exhausted men all gazed hungrily at the woman in the back of the command car, much to Udermann’s obvious pleasure; he was seated beside her and able to give a convincing impression of being in charge of her.

  Then they turned off along a deserted track, and the pine forest loomed in front of them.

  ‘You have been here before?’ Udermann asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Ah.’

  The wire fence and the high gates were as she remembered. The driver hooted, and a sergeant emerged from the little guard house, beaming as he recognized the flag.

  Udermann stepped down. ‘I am Major Udermann,’ he announced.

  The sergeant stood to attention. ‘Herr Major! You have brought the orders?’

  Udermann approached the gate. ‘What orders?’

  ‘Why, Herr Major, to get out of here. The Ivans get closer every day.’

  ‘The Ivans are still a long way away,’ Udermann pointed out. ‘Now open the gate. I have orders for the removal of two of your prisoners.’

  ‘Two!’ The sergeant looked past the officer at Anna. She was wearing her hat but had left her hair loose, and although she was travelling in an SS car it was obvious that she was not a prisoner. ‘Lucky for some,’ he remarked, and opened the gate.

  Udermann returned to the car and they drove through, watched now by the other three members of the guard.

  ‘I will telephone to let them know you are coming, Herr Major,’ the sergeant said. ‘Then they will keep the dogs under control.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  They followed a winding track through the trees, which clustered so thickly that even the July afternoon sunlight was diluted. ‘A gloomy place,’ he remarked.

  ‘Yes,’ Anna agreed. And Mama and Papa have been here for six years, she thought.

  ‘You are not afraid of the dogs?’

  ‘No. I have met them before.’

  ‘Supposing these are the same dogs, eh?’

  They swept round a last bend and came in sight of what might have been a holiday camp, a collection of neat little logwood cabins surrounding a larger building. But the relaxed image was dispelled by the two armed guards lounging outside the headquarters, and the two large Alsatians chained to a post.

  As the car stopped, an officer, wearing the insignia of a major, emerged from the doorway. Anna opened her door and stepped down, and the officer came forward. ‘Fraulein? You have business here?’

  ‘I have come for Herr and Frau Fehrbach.’

  The major looked at Udermann.

  ‘We have the release papers,’ he announced importantly.

  Anna opened her shoulder bag and took out the required document.

  The major scanned it, and raised his head; his complexion had paled. ‘You are the Countess von Widerstand?’

  ‘Who else should I be?’

  He licked his lips. ‘And you have come to . . .?’ His gaze moved up and down, looking for the weapon she would use to carry out her assignment.

  ‘Remove two of your prisoners, Herr Major. I am also in a hurry. I wish to be in Berlin by tonight.’

  He gulped. ‘Of course, Countess. If you will come inside. Please do not get too close to the dogs.’

  Anna approached the two animals, who growled and bared their teeth. She stroked their heads and they began to pant contentedly. The two officers, and the guards, stared at her in consternation. ‘Those dogs are trained to kill,’ the major said.

  ‘Thus we are in the same line of business,’ Anna pointed out, and went inside. The officers trailed behind her like delinquent schoolboys. An orderly rose from behind his desk like a startled pheasant. ‘What I would like you to do, Herr Major, is inform the Fehrbachs . . . I trust they are well?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Yes, yes. They are well.’ Her tone had contained a considerable degree of menace.

  ‘Excellent. Now, you will inform them that they are to leave this place, and therefore that they must pack their belongings as quickly as possible. As soon as that is done, have them brought here.’ She needed to act her role of SD officer and possibly executioner, to the very end.

  ‘Of course. You heard the countess, Luther. Jump to it.’

  The orderly hurried from the room.

  ‘Would you like a glass of schnapps while you wait, Countess? Herr Major?’

  ‘Thank you.’ Anna sat in the chair before the desk.

  He poured. ‘I am Hans Neudorf.’

  ‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance. This is Major Udermann. I’m afraid I have forgotten your first name, Udermann.’

  Udermann took the proffered glass. ‘It is Pieter. Countess. Prost.’

  Anna drained the glass and placed it on the desk.

  ‘Another?’ Neudorf asked.

  ‘Thank you, no.’

  ‘Well, then . . .’

  ‘Ignore me,’ she said. ‘Go on with your work.’

  This he clearly found difficult to do, so she ignored him. She was trying to conceal her nerves. She told herself that it had to be the height of absurdity for a woman who had experienced so much, who had been in imminent danger of her life so often, who had carried out so many fearful coups, both for the Allies and the Reich, to be nervous at the thought of meeting her parents after so long. But she was terrified. And as she had realized earlier, if she was to get them to the safety of Switzerland, they would have to see her at her blazing best . . . or would they regard it as her demonic worst?

  The minutes ticked past, and Udermann pointedly started looking at his watch. But at last the orderly reappeared. ‘I have the Fehrbachs outside, Herr Major.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Neudorf said, and stood up. ‘Countess?’

  Anna drew a deep breath, and also stood. The orderly held the door for her, and she went outside. Johann and Jane Fehrbach stood together, and Anna took another sharp breath. She knew that neither of them was yet fifty years old, but they looked well past that figure. Her father, never a big man, seemed to have shrunk – he had certainly lost weight – and his hair was white. Her mother – after whom she took – was still a tall woman although she also was thinner than Anna remembered. Her once golden hair was also streaked with grey, and if the superb features that Anna had inherited remained untarnished, the weight loss had them too outlined, and her blue eyes were dull where once they had bubbled with Irish vitality. Above all, the pair were shabby. That was understandable, as they were wearing the same clothes as six years ago, darned and patched, and because of their weight loss the garments hung on them. But even their two suitcases looked shabby.

  Both seemed unable to believe their eyes as they gazed at their daughter. ‘Anna?’ Jane asked. ‘What . . .?’

  ‘I am to take you to Germany,’ Anna said, resisting the overwhelming temptation to take her in her arms.

  ‘Are we at last to be executed?’ Johann asked.

  ‘I am to take you to a place of safety.’ Anna gestured at the car.

  ‘Do you know these people?’ Neudorf asked.

  ‘They are my parents,’ Anna told him.

  *

  They left him in a totally confused state, obviously realizing, in view of the complete absence of any fondness in her
demeanour, that she was even more of a monster than her reputation indicated.

  Udermann sat in front beside the driver, Anna in the back, her mother in the middle, her father on the other side. No one spoke until they were past the gate and well on to the lonely road leading to the highway. Anna was totally concentrated upon what had to be done. She hated carrying out cold-blooded executions, but she had waited six years for this moment, and Udermann was SD, while the driver was SS; if she were to make a move and hesitate for a moment, give them the slightest opportunity, she, and her parents, would be done. When she was satisfied that there was no one in sight in any direction, she asked, ‘Did you not use to have a car, in Vienna, Papa?’

  ‘Is that of interest now?’

  ‘It is to me. Can you still drive a car?’

  ‘Of course I can,’ he snapped.

  ‘That is very good. I have never learned how to drive.’ She opened her shoulder bag. ‘Stop the car, Udermann.’

  ‘What?’ He turned round and found himself looking down the barrel of Anna’s Luger. ‘Are you mad?’

  Jane gave a little shriek and clutched her husband’s arm.

  ‘Stop the car,’ Anna said again. ‘Or I shall shoot you. And you,’ she told the driver.

  He braked.

  ‘Switch off the ignition.’

  He obeyed.

  ‘Now get out, and you, Udermann.’

  ‘You . . .’ His hand hovered above his belt; there was obviously a holster concealed by his jacket.

  ‘Touch that, and you are a dead man. Get out of the car and put your hands on your head.’

  He gulped, but obeyed. ‘Herr Himmler—’

  ‘Is a very long way away. Turn round. You,’ she told the driver. ‘Stand beside him.’

  He obeyed.

  ‘You cannot just leave us here,’ Udermann protested.

  ‘You have nowhere to go,’ Anna pointed out, also getting out. ‘And the world has no more use for you.’

  She shot him through the back of the head. The driver started to turn, and she shot him through the temple. Both men fell without a sound.

  ‘My God!’ Jane gasped. ‘You shot them. Two men. Just like that.’

  Thirty-one, Anna thought. ‘They were SS, Mama, who would have shot you, without compunction, if commanded to do so.’

  Her father was staring at her with his mouth open. ‘Believe me,’ she said, ‘I know. I belong to the same organization.’

  She dropped the pistol on the ground beside Udermann’s body. When they were found, the bullets would be identified, but as both she and the dead man were wearing gloves, there was no way of telling who had used the gun. Of course, if her plans went as they should, it would not matter if she could be identified as the killer, but her years of training, of learning to cover every possible angle, made her act instinctively. She stooped beside Udermann, drew the pistol from his holster. It was, as she had expected, exactly the same make as her own and would use the same cartridges, even if the barrel would leave a different imprint. She dropped the pistol into her shoulder bag and returned to the car.

  ‘Anna!’ Jane said. ‘Please tell us what is going on? We don’t understand.’

  ‘There is no time to explain: we must be far away from here before anyone comes along. Just remember three things. One is that I am your daughter, and that I love you more than life itself. Two is that I am trying to save your lives and get you away from Nazi Germany. Three, and this is the most important, until I give you the word, you are, and you act, my prisoners being removed to Berlin. Just act that part and leave any talking to me. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jane said. ‘Yes, we understand. But those men . . . should we not . . .?’

  ‘Now is not the time. Papa, will you drive? I will sit beside you.’

  He got behind the wheel; his hands were trembling. ‘That gun . . . you had it all the time? You have used it before?’

  ‘Yes, Papa. It is my profession.’

  ‘Using guns?’

  ‘Killing people.’

  *

  Both of their brains were clearly teeming with questions, but fortunately only a few minutes later they had reached the highway and were back in the middle of the unceasing traffic flow. As it was six years since Johann had last driven, he needed all his concentration, and even so they several times scraped or banged against another vehicle. This brought curses but little else, as they were still flying the SS flag, until they had a heavier than usual prang, and were waved to a halt by an irate colonel, who had been a passenger in the vehicle they had just struck. ‘Who are you?’ he shouted, coming up to them. ‘Where did you get that car? Where are you going?’

  ‘We are going to Posen, Herr Colonel,’ Anna explained, politely.

  ‘In an SS car?’ He advanced to stand beside it. ‘You are under arrest.’

  ‘And you are very tiresome,’ Anna said. ‘I am in a hurry. These people must be in Berlin tonight.’

  ‘What? What?’

  Anna opened her shoulder bag and took out her carte blanche. ‘Perhaps you would like to look at this.’

  He frowned as he glanced at it. ‘This is signed by the Reichsführer.’

  ‘I congratulate you on your eyesight. You are therefore capable of reading the rest of it.’

  His frown deepened as he read. Then his jaw dropped as he raised his head. ‘You are the Countess von Widerstand?’

  ‘Yes. I am.’

  He stared at her as if seeing her for the first time, then handed the paper back. ‘My apologies, Countess.’ He turned. ‘Get out of the way,’ he shouted. ‘Clear a passage for this car.’

  ‘I think we can move on now, Papa,’ Anna said softly.

  The car jerked forward, and then Johann got it under control.

  ‘You, are the Countess von Widerstand?’ Jane asked.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve heard of me?’

  ‘The guards spoke of you. They said you are the most deadly woman in the world.’

  ‘People do tend to say nice things about me,’ Anna agreed.

  *

  Half an hour later they were in Posen. There was a check point as they approached the airfield, but the lieutenant was immediately obsequious as Anna showed her pass. ‘Countess!’ He saluted. ‘Your escort is waiting.’

  A sudden lump of lead formed in Anna’s stomach. ‘Escort?’

  ‘Of course. The Reichsführer does not wish any risk to be taken with your safety.’

  Anna looked past him at the four Messerschmitt 109 fighters drawn up immediately in front of the Storch.

  A Matter of Morale

  Shit! Anna thought. Shit, shit and shit. Perhaps Himmler had not, after all, intended her to be captured or killed by the Russians. Perhaps the appearance of these planes, which could surely have been put to better use elsewhere, meant that he really valued her. Or that he did not really trust her?

  But whatever the reason for his solicitude, her plan was ruined. She might still be able to take over the Storch, but there was no way her escort was going to allow her to fly anywhere than to Berlin.

  So . . . practice that determined patience that had kept her alive for six years. ‘Thank you, Herr Lieutenant,’ she said. ‘You may drive on,’ she told her father. ‘But slowly,’ she added in a low voice.

  Johann obeyed.

  ‘Something has happened,’ Jane said.

  ‘Yes,’ Anna agreed. ‘I did not expect these planes. This makes it impossible for us to fly to Berne as I had intended. We will have to accompany them to Berlin.’

  ‘Then we are not going to escape,’ her father said.

  ‘At this time, no. I am more sorry than I can say. But you must not give up. Please listen very carefully. You know my secret now. I have preserved it for six years, have done everything I have had to do, to reach the day I could get you out. Please remember that one careless word from you will condemn us all to death. Your freedom has only been postponed. I will get you out, I swear it. Wherever you are sent, j
ust wait for me to come for you. Will you do that?’

  She was staring straight ahead as they slowly approached the waiting pilots. Now Jane touched her on the shoulder. ‘Of course we will do that. And Anna, my dearest Anna, may we beg your forgiveness for everything we have thought of you over those six years?’

  At least, Anna thought, there is so much happening that they have not asked about Katherine. She smiled at the pilots as the car stopped.

  *

  ‘Countess?’ the Storch pilot inquired as they boarded. ‘Is Major Udermann not with you?’

  ‘That is obvious,’ Anna pointed out.

  ‘There has been no trouble?’

  She had already determined how this had to be handled. ‘Yes, there has been trouble. We encountered a Russian patrol. Shots were fired. Major Udermann and our driver got out to engage the enemy, and told us to drive on as fast as I could. This I did.’

  ‘But you do not know what happened to them?’

  ‘No,’ Anna said sadly. ‘They were brave men.’

  ‘Brave men,’ the pilot agreed.

  *

  It was just dusk when they landed at Rangsdorf Military Airport, without having seen any sight of Russian aircraft. Two cars were waiting, and a bevy of black-uniformed SS men. ‘Welcome, Countess,’ the major in command said. ‘We have been worried about you. Are these your prisoners?’

  ‘They are not to be harmed.’

  ‘Those are my orders, certainly.’

  ‘So where are we going?’

  ‘You are to return to Berlin, immediately.’

  Alarm bells again jangled in Anna’s brain, but she asked, ‘And the prisoners?’

  ‘Are to go to Potsdam tonight. They will be moved to their destination tomorrow.’

  ‘Where is that?’

  ‘I do not know, Countess.’

  Almost she stamped her foot in irritation. Instead she turned to her parents. ‘It seems that I must say goodbye, for the time being. Remember everything I told you, and you will prosper.’ She took her mother in her arms and hugged her tightly. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘I do,’ Jane whispered.

  Anna turned to her father, hesitantly. But he opened his arms as well. ‘I am so sorry,’ she said as they embraced.