Colin Forbes - The Leader And The Damned

Fifteen minutes earlier she had witnessed an extraordinary scene. Lindsay had been sitting on the sofa while they talked about the worsening atmosphere of tension as Hartmann and Gruber pursued their separate investigations.

The door had been thrown open and the Fuhrer stood motionless, his dog on a leash. Wearing his military great-coat and peaked cap, he had stared hard at them while Lindsay and Christa stood up. He then spoke abruptly.

'Get your coat on, Wing Commander. We must talk. We will walk in the forest where no one can overhear us..'

Stunned, Lindsay had donned his own coat and Russian-style fur hat, provided by Guensche, who seemed to have taken the Englishman under his protection. He followed the Fuhrer across the compound and through the first checkpoint.

Now they had passed through the three checkpoints. They strolled alongside each other across the broad track between the minefields in the depths of the snowbound pine forest. The cold was raw, damp and penetrating. The dense silence of the weird desolation closed round them as the Fuhrer talked.

'You say there is a peace party in London but they cannot overthrow Churchill yet. Is London crazy? What would happen should I fail in my great mission in the East? The Communist hordes would sweep across Europe. Great Britain and America would be confronted by an implacable enemy whose only purpose would be to destroy them. They would never again live in peace – even if the Soviets were compelled for a few years to accept some division of Europe, you would still never have freedom from fear – the fear that sooner or later the barbaric Communist Asiatics would grow so strong they would overwhelm you. Then a new Dark Age would descend on Europe. America would be isolated. It would be only a matter of time before the Communist plague swept east into China and Japan. I alone stand between the West and barbarism..'

'There are people in high places in London – and Washington – who see this,' Lindsay replied, his face turned to catch every flicker of expression on his companion's face, every intonation of the flow of words which tumbled out like a torrent.

'Then why, in the name of God, do they not act…?'

'As yet,' Lindsay interjected firmly, 'they do not have the power. A great German victory in the East would help…"

'That is coming! I tell you, that is coming!!' Hitler's voice rose and was not muffled even by the drifting fog. 'Wait only for the summer!!! The summer of '43 will turn the hinge of history.' His voice and manner changed abruptly. He spoke quietly, amiably. 'The Duke of Dunkeith, your uncle, sent you to me as an emissary of this peace party? I knew it intuitively as soon as I heard of your arrival.'

Hitler had answered his own question. Lindsay was learning rapidly. Volunteer as little as possible. The German leader had his own ideas and required only confirmation. So far, Lindsay had found him remarkably well-informed. Tugging at the leash to control the dog, the Fuhrer continued.

'I have definite peace proposals for you to present to Churchill and your other friends. In return for cessation of all hostilities between us I will withdraw all German troops from France, Belgium, Holland – the whole of occupied Western Europe. Then you leave me to finish off Stalin and his hideous creed. The Americans cannot operate without British help and the use of your island base..'

'Churchill himself might be interested in such proposals,' the Englishman replied. 'He himself is beginning to worry about just how far the Red Army might penetrate Europe..

'The proposals must be worked out in full detail. I will leave that to Ribbentrop. It's time he did something to earn his keep,' the Fuhrer commented sardonically. 'It's a pity Lord Halifax was sent off to Washington as Ambassador,' Hitler ruminated. 'He was one of the leaders, of the peace faction. Is that not so?'

'And to think,' Lindsay replied cautiously, 'that when Chamberlain was forced to resign, he first offered the premiership to this same Halifax. If you had had him to deal with after Dunkirk..'

'Britain and Germany would have joined hands as equal partners in the crusade against Bolshevism. Moscow would no longer exist. My only reason for attacking France was to clear my rear before the great campaign against Stalin. And no one seems to understand why I acted as I did..'

Hitler was speechless at the thought. They continued walking in silence for several minutes. In places the track was thick with moss and spongy to the tread – as though they moved on the edge of a swamp. The smell of damp, moisture-laden pines filled their nostrils.

They were about to turn back to return to the compound. Hitler had started speaking again when the sound of the rifle crack came. Lindsay saw the bullet embed itself in a tree trunk well to the right of the track. Snow fell to the ground. Hitler was on his left. The Englishman spoke quickly.

'Fuhrer, please return with all speed to the Wolf's Lair. I will try and locate the assassin..'

'The bloody cowardly swine! They can't even shoot straight..'

Hitler turned on his heel and walked back the way they had come, shoulders erect like a marionette, not varying his pace. Lindsay waited five minutes after the silhouette of the Fuhrer vanished, standing motionless, listening. Hitler thought he had survived yet a further attempt on his life. Lindsay knew better. The bullet had been aimed at himself. It had shot past well clear of the German leader.

Arriving back at the first checkpoint he was put under arrest. 'For complicity in the attempted assassination of the Fuhrer..'

Christa Lundt approached the but where Lindsay was confined. An SS guard with a machine-pistol moved in front of the door as she held the tray of covered dishes.

'No admittance. Herr Gruber…'

She stared straight at the SS man, her manner cold and contemptuous. Her voice was sharp and cutting.

'This is his lunch. By order of the Fuhrer! You want to find yourself on the Eastern front? You have five seconds to get out of my way..'

The guard hesitated. Indecision was written all over his face. Christa began to turn away. The SS man moved swiftly to one side, so shaken by her reference to Russia he forgot to check the contents of the tray. She indicated that he should open the door.

'You have the manners of a pig,' she commented. 'Close the damn thing behind me..'

Lindsay was stretched out on the sofa, reading a newspaper. He jumped up and cleared a table for her to put down the tray. She sat down on the sofa, her voice low.

'Start eating while it's still hot. Now, what's all this nonsense about your trying to kill the Fuhrer?'

'That Gestapo bastard.' Lindsay lifted off the covers. Veal with potatoes. He was famished. He ate and talked between mouthfuls. 'Gruber alleges he searched my but while I was away in the forest. He produced a set of photographic copies of the latest military directives. Says he found them hidden. Underneath the mattress in the bedroom here. What a brilliant hiding-place!'

'The latest directives? I could disprove that. You'd need access to a copying device…'

'That isn't all. This veal is good..' Lindsay forked more into his mouth. Always eat at every opportunity. Number One instruction in the Ryder Street training manual. 'Gruber alleges I led the Fuhrer into a trap, an assassination attempt..'

'The Fuhrer doubts that,' Christa interjected. 'Gruber wanted to fly you straight back to his place in Berlin. The Fuhrer said "No". The furthest he'd allow Gruber to go was to confine you to your but until the incident has been investigated.'

'That's something.' Lindsay wiped his mouth with the napkin she had brought and looked at her. 'You'd better know – Gruber is trying to tie the two of us into this thing together. He's sent a teleprinter message to Berlin for your complete file.'