Colin Forbes - The Leader And The Damned

When the war came on 1 September 1939 his obvious destination was the Gestapo. Schmidt, a man with a wide knowledge of international police forces and security organizations, appreciated some specialist outfit was needed to guard the state. He knew that England had its Special Branch, America the FBI, and so on.

But the Gestapo had already built up a certain reputation – to put it bluntly Schmidt didn't like the smell of it. To avoid being co-opted into the Gestapo he volunteered for the SS. Even after several years of war his policeman's instincts had not deserted him.

For one thing no one had checked 'the Baroness's' papers. He had observed the two soldiers had been shown nothing by the time Jaeger arrived. He had noted the girl's long glance in the direction of his chief. The Colonel he highly respected and liked was lunching with a girl whose credentials were quite unknown.

Schmidt was in a dilemma. To check on Jaeger's lunch companion he must use a 'safe' telephone – which meant driving to the SS barracks, and the Colonel had left him in charge at the station.

It was probably all a wild goose chase anyway, but – like Paco – the ex-police chief had a sixth sense which warned him that something was wrong. With such a beautiful escort he estimated Jaeger would be away at least two hours. He made up his mind.

'Klaus!' he called out. 'Take command of operations here – I'll be back later..

He drove himself to the barracks, leaped from behind the wheel and ran upstairs to his office. The lines were busy – so it took twenty minutes to get through to Gestapo headquarters in Berlin. He asked to be put through to Gestapo chief Heinrich Muller.

'It is lunchtime,' a bored voice informed him. 'He is out. Who did you say was calling?'

'SS Colonel Jaeger's deputy from Munich. Who am I speaking to? It is an urgent matter…'

'Brandt. I have been seconded here temporarily. No, everyone else is out – I told you, it is lunchtime..'

'Then you must deal with this personally. Can you check the General Records? Good. I need information as to whether there exists a Baroness Werther, niece of General Speidel. How long will that take? You can't say? God Almighty…'

He arranged for Brandt to phone back the information to his secretary, replaced the receiver and instructed his secretary.

'Type out the reply from this half-wit, Brandt. Have a despatch rider standing by. Give him the reply in a sealed envelope and tell him to race like hell to the main station and hand it to me.'

He drove back to the station and was relieved on arrival when Klaus reported nothing had happened in his absence. Now it was a matter of waiting for the reply. If something was wrong he could phone Jaeger direct at the Four Seasons.

It was 4 pm when the despatch rider from the SS barracks pulled up his machine in front of Munich station bringing a sealed envelope for Captain Alfred Schmidt. Since Jaeger had still not returned, his deputy assumed he must really be enjoying himself with the Baroness.

'Dumb-head!'

Schmidt swore to himself as he watched the motorcyclist brake at speed, causing his machine to skid alongside the kerb and very nearly hurl its rider over the handlebars to kingdom come. And all because a group of SS troops stood watching. Sheer, stupid bravado!

'If I ever see you behave like that again I'll have your stripes, Sergeant!'

'Sorry, sir..'

The despatch rider held out the envelope. He was going to make the excuse the brake had slipped but something in Schmidt's eye warned him to keep quiet. Taking the envelope, Schmidt glanced behind the sergeant, stiffened and spoke quickly.

'That is all, Sergeant! Back to barracks immediately!'

A Mercedes had just arrived and Jaeger was climbing out of the vehicle. He seemed to be in high good humour, pausing while talking to the SS troops and saying something which caused them to laugh. A popular officer, Jaeger. Schmidt, anxious to conceal the message he had just received unless it was alarming, tore open the envelope and pulled out a folded message sheet.

He had taken a chance. No senior officer, even one as comradely as Jaeger, likes a junior snooping on his private excursions. He heard another burst of laughter, this time from Jaeger himself, as he swiftly scanned the wording his secretary had typed after hearing from Brandt.

The news was alarming – from two sources. Milic arrived back first in the basement hideaway. He wore cleaner's overalls and an old peaked cap. He looked serious as he removed his cap, nodded to the Englishman and scratched his thatch of grey hair.

'Well?' Bora demanded.

'Switzerland is the trap,' Milic said, speaking in his careful English for Lindsay's sake. 'We go that way and we see Gestapo prison…'

'Why?' asked Bora impatiently. 'Give details…'

'I cycle three roads south.. every road has the barrier. Many troops. They look at papers, use their telephones…'

'The station then,' snapped Bora. 'We take him out by train…'

'No train.' Milic shook his head. 'At the station I watch the trains to Switzerland. Men – not in uniform – are on these trains. They look at the papers…'

He broke off as Paco arrived and closed the secret door. She took off her fur cap and dropped it on a crate. Gazing at Lindsay she used her hands to tidy her blonde hair. He could read nothing in her expression.

'We have a problem,' she said quietly. 'The Swiss route is shut down. They have sealed the border. Any attempt to smuggle you there will end in disaster.' She paused. 'I have just had an excellent lunch with Colonel Jaeger of the SS…'

'You've done what!'

Bora jumped up from his crate, staring at her as though she were mad. His eyes swivelled briefly to the door and back again to the girl.

'You could have been followed. We had better leave at once – if it is not too late already…'

'Bora…' She placed her hands on his shoulders and stared at the Serb. 'You think I am an amateur? Of course I was not followed. I took all the usual precautions, although they were unnecessary. Now,

Sit down and listen! '

She turned to Lindsay and produced a large envelope which she held under his nose. He took the envelope, extracted the documents and read them. Each carried at the head the German eagle clutching the swastika between its claws. All of them carried the signature of Egon Jaeger, Colonel, SS.

'My God, these are transit papers to Vienna. Why Vienna?'

'Now, you listen! I obtained these for myself, and my servants travelling with me, from this Colonel

Jaeger…'

'How did you manage that?' asked Lindsay.

'Not by going to bed with him – which I can see is what you're thinking. Would it have worried you had I done so?'

Lindsay did not reply at once: he was uncertain how to react and he was aware the greenish eyes were watching him with a hint of amusement. He bit his lip and avoided the subject.

'They are for travel by train…'

'Don't you see!' She punched him as though irked by his slow-wittedness. 'You very recently travelled by train from Salzburg to Munich. The route to Vienna is from Munich via Salzburg. At the station I noticed they are not watching the Vienna express. The Nazis will never dream you would dare to go back the same way you came in…'

'One of these documents is for a Franz Weber, chauffeur…'

`You will be Weber. I want you to try on the uniform Bora wore when we snatched you from in front of the Frauenkirche. I'm sure it will fit – you are about his height and build. You speak excellent German.' Paco went on, her tone confident. 'You can drive? You drive the car to the station.'

'Yes. What will I be driving?' Lindsay asked.

'The Mercedes, of course. There is nothing else and a baroness is expected to travel in style. Munich is full of green Mercedes staff cars – and I'm certain no one recorded the registration in the panic we created…'