Colin Forbes - The Leader And The Damned

Gruber was frozen stiff. He began to suspect Jaeger was subjecting him to this ordeal by cold deliberately. And he was right. Jaeger continued his explanation in a leisurely manner.

'The staircase continues to the main hall and entrance. A car will be left empty where he can see it from the window at the end of the corridor on his floor. All guards will be withdrawn from that part of the Berghof.

'Go on..'

'God in Heaven! Don't you see? If he is waiting his chance to escape he will seize it, take the car and drive away. I suspect he may be accompanied by Fraulein Lundt. Have you not observed they spend time together? My guards have clear orders…'

'So they leave in the car, according to your theory. How far do they get?'

'The detail guarding the first checkpoint on the road to Salzburg will be withdrawn..'

'Supposing they do actually escape? No, they have to drive on past two more checkpoints..

'All guards withdrawn from the second checkpoint, and from the third. The road to Salzburg wide open!'

'Good God man – you are crazy!' Gruber gasped.

Jaeger grinned, looking down at his small companion. Gruber's face was turning blue with exposure to the freezing temperature. The colonel was enjoying himself. He went on speaking.

'Except that both those checkpoints will be heavily reinforced with concealed troops.' He gestured towards the low parapet separating them from the four hundred foot drop to the abyss below. 'This is where Commandant Muller is alleged to have committed suicide, is it not?' he remarked.

'It was an accident,' Gruber said, bewildered at this unexpected turn in the conversation.

'The Romans used to throw men from the Tarpeian Rock..

'What does that mean?' Gruber demanded harshly. 'I wonder. Shall we go back to the lift..

Without waiting for a reply Jaeger led the way. He had ended the conversation leaving the Gestapo man in a state of anxiety. In some ways his technique was not unlike that of Hartmann: he kept the opposition off balance.

Sunday dawned with the threat of heavy snow. The sky was leaden, obliterating the peaks, and the view from the corridor window on the floor occupied by Lindsay was dramatic and menacing.

The first thing the Englishman noticed after rising early and shaving quickly was the absence of the usual SS guard outside his door. An eight-hour roster was normally operated. Was it possible that because this was Sunday fewer guards were available for duty? He walked quietly down the staircase into the main entrance hall.

The same unnatural quiet met him. No guards. He walked over to the giant double entrance doors and examined them for alarm systems. Another memory of the crash programme at Ryder Street. A cockney electrician had put him through his paces.

'Look for concealed wires, mate. No wires, no alarm system. If it's the SS you're up against they rely on brute force – they think no further than a man with a gun. The Abwehr? A tricky bunch, that lot. They've got tradition, which means they rely on patience. Finally, our old friends the Gestapo. They'll use anything, including alarm systems…'

But the Gestapo had no permanent control of security at the Berghof. Lindsay grasped the large handle of the right-hand door and eased it downwards. Slowly he eased open the massive door on its well-oiled hinges. At any moment the muzzle of a machine-pistol would be shoved in his face.

Nothing…

Lindsay peered out and the cold came in and met him, chilling his face. There was no one anywhere in sight. They must be relying on the checkpoints lower down the road on the way to Salzburg. He closed the door and heard a slight sound behind him. What a fool he had been to assume the main entrance would be deserted.

He turned round, thankful he was at least on the inside of the doors, his mind juggling with reasons for his presence. Christa Lundt stood staring at him, framed in an open door. She wore ski pants and a weatherproof suede jacket. One finger raised to her lips warned him to remain silent. She gestured for him to join her.

Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and let out her breath as Lindsay walked round a large anteroom, checking the room he had not been inside before. There were no other doors, no open fireplace which might conceal a hidden microphone.

When he turned round Christa was in the same position, with a certain look which disturbed him.

'I think we could make the attempt today,' she said. 'There is a car outside. I suppose you saw it from the corridor window upstairs?'

'No, I didn't. And I came downstairs only a few minutes ago…'

Puzzled, Lindsay went over to the window and stared. A large green Mercedes with snow on the running-boards was parked to one side of the window. The vehicle was empty, the windscreen frosted over.

As he studied the car Christa joined him, linked arms and nestled close to him. He remembered the affectionate way she had watched him from the door and felt even more disturbed. Was she growing too fond of him?

He cursed himself for indulging in the passionate act they had performed at the Wolf's Lair. Because that was all it had been for him – a reaction to the extreme tension he had laboured under. For her, had it been something more?

'Lucky we both got up so early,' she murmured. 'There is no need to start up that car and risk someone hearing the engine as we leave. Don't you see!' She tugged at him impatiently. "The front wheels are perched at the edge of the road where the slope begins. We put it in gear, release the brake, give it a push and jump aboard. The momentum will carry us a kilometre down the hill before you have to switch on the motor..'

'I didn't see that car from the corridor window upstairs because it is parked just out of sight. If it was further to the right – so I could have seen it – then it would not be at the top of the slope..

'What are you on about, for God's sake? I know there is a most appalling risk but..'

'I'm wondering when it was parked there,' he speculated.

'Oh, I can tell you that. Not ten minutes ago. Two SS guards pushed it round from the garage at the back, then went away – to their barracks, I suppose.'

He stared down at her. 'I'd like to get this clear – exactly what happened. You say the guards pushed the Mercedes? Why the needless expenditure of energy? Why not drive it from the garage to park it here?'

'Because then they might have woken up the Fuhrer, silly! You know he goes to bed at the ridiculous hour of three in the middle of the night and doesn't rise until about eleven in the morning. And his bedroom suite is round the side, right above where they would have had to drive the car..

'There's no one about. No sign of a guard. Is that usual at this hour in this part of the Berghof?'

'How should I know? I'm not usually up myself this early. And I'm in another part of the Berghof except when I arrive and leave.'

Lindsay was in a quandary. He could feel the warmth of her body pressed into his side. He liked her – but that was all, and her behaviour unsettled him. Her explanation about why the car had been pushed made sense. Everyone in the Fuhrer's staff was house-trained to avoid causing him the slightest inconvenience or discomfort.

'It's all pretty convenient,' he commented. 'That car just waiting for us to take off..'

'I've brought a small case down. You'd better pack your things quickly so we can leave before someone does arrive.'

There was a sense of her rising impatience – due, he guessed, to her taut nerves. She wanted to get on with it. At least she was not one of those women who hesitated at a crucial moment.

'I wonder how much petrol is in the tank,' he mused while he decided whether she was, after all, right. 'Christ! Go out and find out!'