Colin Forbes - The Leader And The Damned

'Milic is most pleased to meet the Englishman… the girl bulleted by the Nazi was very close friend?'

'He means, Paco interjected in her direct manner, 'were you in love with her. Were you?'

'No,' Lindsay said tersely.

'But I think she was in love with you,' Paco continued. She had a soft, appealing voice which contrasted strangely with her poise, the erect way she held herself. Her slow-moving, wary eyes watched him closely.

'It was a tragedy,' Lindsay replied.

'There is so often one who loves, one who is loved – I think your writer, Somerset Maugham, said something like that.' She changed the subject abruptly. 'I will tell you a little about myself.'

Paco – it was a code-name – was twenty-seven years old. She had been born of an English mother and a Serbian father, a professor of languages at Belgrade University. Educated at the Godolphin, an English boarding-school, she had gone on to a Swiss finishing-school and then returned to Yugoslavia. She was fluent in English, German and Serbo-Croat.

'When Hitler bombed Belgrade both my parents were killed. In one night I became an orphan. No need for sympathy, Wing Commander – it has happened to so many in England also. I joined the Partisans. In Yugoslavia it is almost as common for a woman to carry a gun as a man. And my German is useful – it allows me to operate inside the Third Reich.

'You must have contact with London,' Lindsay suggested.

'There is a limit to what you need to know,' Paco said brusquely. 'But a little information about the people your life now depends on – and equally whose lives may depend on you at a critical time – will help us to work as a team. You know, Wing Commander, I have to point out you are a novice at this dangerous game..'

'I did escape from the Berghof,' Lindsay snapped. 'True.' Her greenish eyes surveyed him. 'I do find that a most promising omen for the future.' She became stern again. 'Bora. He has killed many Germans and trusts no one. His wife was killed in the bombing the same night as my parents died. But I think he found his natural vocation as a fighter. You would not believe it – he was a furniture-maker, carving fine chairs..'

'You find that amusing, Paco?' Bora, who had been cleaning the machine-pistol, leaned forward, his manner aggressive.

'I find it strange – you use your skilled hands to build complex explosive devices. Once you created, now you destroy..'

'It is the war.'

The girl was not in the least disturbed by Bora's attitude. As she lit a cigarette, Lindsay was struck by the serenity which never seemed to desert her. She stroked her blonde hair, gazing at the- third member of- her group.

'Now Milic here…' Her tone of voice became more affectionate '.. he was a stone-mason who once worked in the quarries. He has no idea what has happened to his wife and two children. They were on holiday in Zagreb when the war came. He is very strong – and very controlled. You follow me?'

'I think so,' Lindsay replied; not looking at Bora.

'So now,' Paco went on, 'we have to move very quickly – to take you out of Germany before the highly-efficient Nazi apparatus has time to get organized. No later than tonight.'

'That's quick,' Lindsay commented.

'I just hope it is quick enough. You may stay here. Milic and I have to go out to see what is happening before we escort you to safety…'

'May I ask where is safety?'

'Switzerland.'

Colonel Jaeger stood with his hands on his hips surveying the scene inside the main station at Munich. A cold wind was blowing, sending pieces of paper scuttering along the rail tracks, chilling everyone. Jaeger was glad of his fur-lined military greatcoat and his deputy, Schmidt, who had just joined him, clapped his gloved hands together.

'All the barricades to Switzerland are manned,' Schmidt informed his chief. 'There is the usual desperate shortage of personnel but they will not slip through by road.'

'Nor by train,' Jaeger affirmed. 'Every train to Switzerland is carrying a special team. They have the Englishman's description, orders to check the papers of all passengers irrespective of that description. We may scoop up other interesting fish in our net…'

He paused and Schmidt followed his gaze. A tall, blonde-haired girl in her late twenties had just been stopped by one of Jaeger's patrols. She wore an expensive leather coat and a fetching black fur cap perched on the top of her head. She glanced across, her eyes met Jaeger's, then she resumed her conversation with the two soldiers.

'She's a beauty,' Jaeger said appreciatively. 'Maybe the lady could do with a little help.'.

He left Schmidt who smiled cynically. The Colonel was noted for his keen eye for attractive women. As Jaeger approached, the two soldiers stiffened to attention and saluted.

'What seems to be the trouble?' Jaeger enquired affably.

'These men are harassing me.,.' Paco turned her eyes and held Jaeger's in a long look. 'I am the Baroness Werther, the niece of General Speidel..

'I think you can leave this to me…' Jaeger dismissed his men with a curt gesture, his eyes still on Paco as he returned their salute. 'They are looking for an English spy,' he explained, 'so they sometimes show excessive zeal.'

'I look to you like a spy, Colonel?' asked Paco.

'Of course not, Baroness.' Jaeger bowed. The girl really had an instantaneous effect on him and Jaeger regarded himself as something of a connoisseur of the fair sex. Of course, all this Aryan propaganda was claptrap, but the sceptical Colonel began to wonder whether there was a point to it as he continued to stare at this vision.

'Since you have military connections,' he suggested, 'could you possibly join me for lunch so I may, express my regrets in a practical way at the inconvenience you have just suffered? I do have a table permanently reserved at the Four Seasons…'

He waited, somewhat surprised at his impulsive action and even more surprised when he realized he was almost holding his breath for her reply. She looked at him steadily, taking her time while she considered his proposal. It would be a rejection, Jaeger felt sure.

'Is that the real reason why you extend this invitation, Colonel? Simply to express regrets?'

She was holding him on a tightrope of anticipation. It was quite ridiculous but he desperately wanted to get to know her better – and she had thrown him completely off balance.

'It would be an honour,' he said frankly, 'to walk into the Four Seasons graced by your company. Simply lunch – I promise you as an officer..'

'And a gentleman?' She smiled to take the sting out of her playfulness. 'I would be very glad to join you – for lunch…' said Paco calmly.

'Alfred,' Jaeger informed Schmidt, 'this is the Baroness Werther, niece of General Speidel. You will assume command of the operation while we take lunch at the Four Seasons. Good hunting!'

Paco dipped her head a fraction in acknowledgement of Schmidt's bow, her eyes catching briefly those behind the rimless glasses of Jaeger's thin-faced deputy. Something about the man disturbed her.

The Colonel was a buoyant, full-blooded personality who enjoyed life and radiated a warmth of feeling, a man a woman could understand – even if at times he might prove a handful. 'Alfred', she sensed, was a very different proposition.

'Who was that man you introduced me to?' she asked as Jaeger escorted her from the station to his waiting car.

'Schmidt, my deputy,' Jaeger replied impatiently. 'A good man – but hardly your type. Before the war he was a policeman! Now, in a matter of minutes we can get to know each other better in the comfort of the Four Seasons..'

The little alarm bell at the back of Paco's mind kept on ringing.

It was quite true that in peacetime Alfred Schmidt had been in the police force. Blessed with a sixth sense that the Fuhrer would have appreciated – and a first-rate mind – Captain Alfred Schmidt had been Chief of Police in Dusseldorf.