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

Chavasse quickly shipped his oars and reached for a fishing rod. The line was knotted and tangled into a hopeless mess, and he wrestled with it for a moment until he heard the sound of the engine coming back. He gave up the struggle and held the rod out over the water, its point only a few inches above the surface. His free hand was in his pocket, ready to draw the Mauser he had taken from Steiner at the clinic.

The boat rocked violently as the other vessel approached, and then the engine was cut. Chavasse huddled over the rod, keeping his face down, and then a launch drifted out of the mist and bumped gently against the rowing boat.

A familiar voice said, “Had a good catch, my friend?”

Slowly, Chavasse turned his head and looked over his shoulder. Steiner leaned over the rail of the launch, an affable smile on his face. “You don’t seem very talkative this morning, Herr Chavasse.”

“To be perfectly frank, I’m rather at a loss for words,” Chavasse replied. His thumb pushed back the safety catch of the Mauser and his index finger gently crooked around the trigger.

“Fassbender, like all tenants of this estate, is extremely loyal,” Steiner said. “But come, my friend. You seem to be soaked to the skin. A glass of schnapps will do you a world of good.”

Chavasse stood up slowly and turned to face him. “I hope you aren’t going to try anything foolish,” Steiner said. “As you can see, Hans has the perfect remedy.”

Hans was black-bearded and dangerous-looking and the shotgun he was holding to one shoulder was as steady as a rock.

To draw and fire before the shotgun blasted his head off was an impossibility, but Chavasse had only one thing on his mind – the need to warn Anna. He allowed his shoulders to drop, and sighed, “It looks as though you win this trick, Steiner.” At the same moment, he threw himself backward into the water, drew the Mauser, and fired it blindly into space.

The sound of its report seemed very loud in his ears, but not so loud as the thunderous roar of the shotgun. The pellets sang past him, and then he was under the surface. He hadn’t had time to take in much air, and he pulled himself downward desperately and swam under the keel of the launch, surfacing on the other side, where he hung onto a rope ladder.

He listened for a moment to Steiner’s shouting and then started to peel off his raincoat. His only chance was to swim for the shore, hoping the thick mist would hide him, and the coat would only be a hindrance.

He finally managed to get it off. As he struck out from the launch, a bullet chopped into the water beside his head, and Steiner cried, “Hold it right there, Chavasse.”

Chavasse paused, treading water, and Steiner went on. “Now turn and swim back to the launch and I warn you – the slightest attempt at any funny business and I’ll shoot you through the head.”

Suddenly, Chavasse was cold and tired. He swam back to the launch and hauled himself up the rope ladder. As he neared the top, Hans reached over and jerked him across the rail so that he stumbled and fell.

He got wearily to his feet and stood there, shivering as the wind cut into his wet clothes. Steiner came forward, a Luger in his right hand. He smiled. “You’re quite a man, Chavasse. Under different circumstances, I think we’d have got along together. However, you carelessly chose the wrong side.”

“Stupid of me, wasn’t it?” Chavasse said.

“As you’ll soon find out,” Steiner told him, “because I always pay my debts. Here’s something on account.” He moved with surprising speed for such a large man, and before Chavasse could duck, the barrel of the Luger slashed across his right cheek, drawing blood. At the same moment, Hans moved in from behind and chopped him across the back of the neck. Chavasse doubled over and the deck lifted to meet him.

For what seemed an age, there was only the pain and he lay with his cheek pillowed against the deck, eyes closed. Vaguely, he was aware of the engine coughing into life, and then water was dashed in his face and he shook his head and got slowly to his feet.

Steiner threw the bucket carelessly into a corner and laughed. “You look quite a sight, my friend. I wish you could see yourself.”

Chavasse ignored him and turned to the rail. They were very close to the castle, and on this side the walls dropped sheer into the water. They were moving toward a dark archway, and Hans cut the engine to half speed and took them in slowly.

As they entered, Chavasse was conscious of the terrible coldness of the damp air, and he shivered and wiped his face with the back of one hand. It came away covered with blood.

The launch bumped gently against the side of a stone jetty, and Hans ran along to the bows quickly, vaulted over the rail, and tied up to a large metal ring.

“After you!” Steiner said, and gestured over the rail.

Chavasse moved forward and stepped onto the jetty. A flight of stone steps lifted out of the gloom to a landing above their head and he mounted them, Steiner and Hans close behind him.

Hans brushed past him and opened the door. Chavasse found himself in a long, stone-flagged passage. Hans led the way to the far end, opened another door, and climbed a short flight of steps, which entered directly into an immense hall.

Great, curved beams of black oak arched into the gloom, and Chavasse paused. At the far end there was a wide marble stairway, and above it a gallery. At one side, a log fire blazed in an immense medieval fireplace.

Steiner said, “Quite a sight, isn’t it? Used to belong to a prince, but things have changed since the war.”

Chavasse moved on without answering and crossed the hall to the door that Hans had just opened. He hesitated on the threshold, and Steiner pushed him roughly inside.

The room was comfortably furnished and there was a luxurious carpet on the floor. Dr. Kruger and another man were sitting in front of the fire, and they both stood up as Hans pushed Chavasse forward.

“This is the man, Herr Nagel,” Steiner said.

Nagel was tall and elegant in a suit of dark broadcloth and scrupulously white linen. The iron-gray hair was brushed carefully back on each side and his face was as cold and austere as that of any sixteenth-century Calvinist minister.

He screwed a gold-rimmed eyeglass firmly in place and examined Chavasse. “I must say he looks rather less formidable than I had imagined and considerably the worse for wear.”

“We had to be a little rough with him,” Steiner explained. “He tried to go for a swim.”

Kruger pulled on his beard with one hand and the dark eyes gleamed in the gaunt face. “That’s a nasty cut on your face, Herr Chavasse. You must allow me to stitch it for you. I’m afraid I don’t happened to have a local anesthetic with me, but I’m sure a brave man like you can bear a little pain.”

“You remind me of a slug I once found under a flat stone,” Chavasse said.

Rage glowed in Kruger’s eyes, but he raised one hand to stop Steiner, who had taken a step forward. “No, leave him, Steiner. His time will come. Bring in the other one.”

Steiner opened the door and spoke to someone outside. As Chavasse turned, Anna was pushed into the room and behind her, he saw the smirking face of Fassbender.

“I’m sorry, Anna,” Chavasse said quietly.

She managed a smile. “It’s all right, Paul. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have used my brains,” he said, “but we all make mistakes.”

“Is this the Jewish one?” Nagel said. “I must say she’s charming. Quite charming.”

Kruger was regarding her with a peculiar, fixed stare. “You know my opinion of the race, my dear Kurt,” he said to Nagel, “but their womenfolk have always appealed to me.”