Jack Higgins - The Bormann Testament (The Testament of Caspar Schultz)

She blushed and started to turn away. He pulled her into his arms. “Have you any objections to spending a honeymoon with me?”

She smiled. “No, not really. After all, I suppose it’s the only one you’re likely to give me.”

He crushed her against him. “I shouldn’t count on that if I were you.”

She pulled away from him. “Then there’s still hope for me,” she said, and pushed him toward the door. “Go and sit down and I’ll bring you something to eat.”

He went and sat on the divan, and she placed the small table in front of him and brought in the food and sat in the chair opposite and watched him eating.

Afterward, as she cleared away the things and made coffee, he leaned back, content and, for the moment, happy. For the first time, it occurred to him that they might make a go of it, that after this job was over he would tell the Chief he was through.

But is anything ever that easy? he thought to himself. Even when she came and curled up beside him, her arms around his neck.

It was a damp, misty morning when they set out, and they halted in Hamburg only for as long as it took Anna to purchase a ready-made tweed jacket for Chavasse and a cheap gold wedding ring for herself.

Berndorf was only twenty miles out of Hamburg on the road to Lubeck. Chavasse did the driving, and after forty minutes, Anna tugged at his sleeve as they approached a signpost. He swung left into a narrow lane that plunged into thickly wooded country, and three miles farther on, they came to the village.

It consisted of a single street of stone-built houses and looked completely deserted. The inn lay beyond it, an old two-storied building in heavy, weather-beaten stone, with great wooden gables that seemed almost too large for the house.

They parked the car and entered through a door that had the date 1652 carved on the lintel. The main room was long, with a low roof crossed by great beams, and had a huge fireplace in which a man might comfortably stand. There was a bright fire burning and Anna stood in front of it warming her hands, while Chavasse went to the small reception desk near the door and rang the bell.

After a while, there was movement in the dim interior and an old woman with a face wrinkled and bright entered and bobbed a curtsy.

“We’d like a room for a couple of days,” Chavasse said.

She nodded her head. “You must see Herr Fassbender. I will fetch him.”

She disappeared into the rear of the house and Chavasse lit a cigarette and waited. After a moment or two, a large, red-faced man, with close-cropped hair, emerged from the kitchen. “You wish for a room, mein Herr ?”

Chavasse nodded. “Yes, for my wife and myself – just for a couple of days.”

He tried to look suitably embarrassed, and Anna moved beside him and they linked hands. “Ah, I understand, mein Herr. I have a very nice room available, as it happens.”

He went behind the desk and produced a register, which Chavasse signed in the name of Reimarch. Fassbender took down a key and led the way upstairs. “A pity the weather is so bad, but then, it takes more than a little rain to spoil a holiday.”

He opened a door and led the way in. It was a pleasant room with a fireplace, dark oak furniture, and a large double bed in one corner. “This should suit us admirably,” Chavasse told him.

Fassbender smiled again. “I will have a fire lit for you. Would you like something to eat now?”

Chavasse shook his head. “No, we’ll wait. I think we’ll spend a little time exploring, shall we, darling?” He looked inquiringly at Anna.

She smiled. “I think that would be very nice.”

Fassbender nodded. “There is not a great deal for you to see, I’m afraid. To truly appreciate the beauty of this region, it is necessary to visit us in the summertime.”

“Any special places of interest?” Chavasse asked casually.

Fassbender shrugged. “There is the castle, of course. You can have a look at it, but it isn’t open to members of the public. There’s a path through the woods which will take you there. It starts from the yard at the rear of the inn.” Chavasse thanked him and they went outside.

As they followed the path between the fir trees, he said with a grin, “How did you like my performance? Did I resemble the young man trembling on the brink of his wedding night?”

“You almost overdid it.”

“Well, you looked frightened to death when you saw the bed,” he said.

She laughed. “It was the most enormous bed I’ve ever seen.”

“I bet I’d have the devil’s own job catching you in it,” he said brazenly, and her face colored so that she looked exactly like what she was supposed to be – a young, newly married girl on her wedding day.

There was a gleam of water as the trees thinned, and then they came out onto the shores of a lake and saw the tall, Gothic towers of the castle rearing out of the mist in front of them. It had been built on a small island and was reached by a narrow causeway about a hundred yards long that started a little further along the shore.

“It’s like something out of the Brothers Grimm,” Anna said.

Chavasse nodded slowly without speaking. The mist seemed to be getting thicker and it was difficult to see the castle clearly. He took her arm and turned away from the direction of the causeway. As they walked, he said, “It’s certainly going to be tough getting inside.”

“How are you thinking of doing it?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I’d like a closer look at the place first.”

As they walked along the wet shingle, visibility seemed to grow even worse, and then a boathouse loomed out of the mist in front of them.

“I wonder,” he said softly.

He clambered up onto the lichen-covered slipway that sloped down into the water. Floating on the other side of it, tethered to a ring bolt, was a small rowing boat. It looked as if it hadn’t been used for a while and there was water in the bottom, but the oars were there, and an old cane fishing rod.

He pulled Anna up beside him and pointed. “Who do you think it belongs to?” she said.

“Perhaps our friend Fassbender,” he replied. “Not that it matters – I’m going to borrow it anyway.”

“Don’t you think it might be dangerous to show too much interest in the castle?”

He shook his head. “Not in this mist. It’s a first-rate chance to get a closer look. I’ve got to find a way in, Anna. It’s no use coming back after dark and hoping for the best.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said calmly. “Do you want me to come with you? It would look better.”

He shook his head. “No, you wait here. If anything does go wrong, I want you out of it.”

He dropped down into the boat and untied the knot of the wet rope with some difficulty. There was so much water in the bottom of the boat that it covered his shoes, but he ignored the sudden, clammy chill that began to spread through his body, and fitted the oars into their rowlocks and pushed away from the slipway. Anna raised her hand, and then she was gone and he was alone in a cocoon of mist.

He looked over his shoulder and could just distinguish the pointed tops of the towers as they floated above the mist, and he pulled strongly toward them. The strangest thing of all was the quiet, which was complete and absolute. Only the slight splash of his oars as they lifted from the water disturbed the silence, and no bird sang.

And then, somewhere in the distance, he heard the dull, throbbing note of an engine, curiously muffled by the mist. He stopped rowing at once and listened intently. Gradually, the noise increased until it was almost on top of him, and then it passed. Through the mist, a distinct ripple ran across the water and splashed against the hull.