Dennis Wheatley - Traitors' Gate

'Gut, sehr gut, Herr Leuinant,' Grauber nodded to Puttony. 'And now, Herr Major,' he turned with a gesture of invitation to Szalasi.

The Arrow Cross leader had not so far uttered a word. Now he looked a little uneasily at Ribbentrop, then said half apologetically, 'As far as I am concerned the Lieutenant's report is accurate. He asked me urgently for help to catch a spy. I collected my Headquarters Staff and rushed them here in a wagon. We surrounded the block and I can vouch for it that nobody answering the wanted man's description has left it since our arrival.'

With a smirk of triumph Grauber turned back to Sabine. 'You see, Gnadige Frau Baronin. There is no room for doubt. Sallust is somewhere here in your palace; and I mean to have him. Be good enough to spare us any unpleasantness by giving him up.'

Stubbornly she shook her head. 'You are wrong, Herr Gruppenführer. He left, just as I told you, after I had bathed his head. That Would have been about the time that your friend the Lieutenant was telephoning from the kiosk. By remaining in the shadow thrown by the houses on this side of the street it would not have been difficult to slip away unobserved.'

'Nein!' Grauber's shrill negative cut the tense atmosphere like a knife. 'I have been patient. You abuse your privileged position too far. I will be trifled with no longer. We have plenty of men outside. Give up this man, or I will order the house to be searched.'

Gregory took the little automatic from his pocket, so that there should be no delay in clicking a bullet up into its chamber. He knew that once a search started he could give up all hope of escape. But he did not mean to be caught alive. And he meant to take Grauber with him. This was not the first time that he had had the chance to kill him out of hand; but on those previous occasions, although he had known them to be absurd, scruples had restrained him from shooting down his enemy unawares. Now, he had no such feeling. The circumstances were different, and this was the last throw. If he had to die he could at least rid the world of a monster before he choked out his last breath. With not a ripple of doubt ruffling his conscience about the Tightness of the act, he decided that when the moment came he would put no less and no more than three bullets through Grauber's stomach.

He wondered then if he ought to shoot Ribbentrop as well. After all, Ribbentrop was Nazi No. 4 and, even if indirectly, had been responsible for an incalculable number of deaths and tidal waves of misery. Yet, unlike Grauber, there was nothing positively evil about him. He was rather a pleasant person; an exceptionally gifted playboy whom a strange fate had given the opportunity of jumping on to the biggest of all bandwagons. There was another thing. While he remained alive there was a chance that he might protect Sabine. As Gregory was himself impotent to do so, he decided that, after the gallant fight she had put up on his behalf, the least he could do was to leave her the one man who was powerful enough, and might have the inclination, to save her from the Gestapo.

While these thoughts had been rushing through Gregory's head, Ribbentrop had come to a decision. Turning on Grauber he said sharply, 'Herr Gruppenführer, you forget yourself! The initiation of any action to be taken here rests with me.'

'Herr Reichsaussenminister,' Grauber piped aggressively, 'with due respect I cannot agree. Foreign affairs are your province and Security mine. This is a security matter.'

'More hangs on it than this man's immediate arrest.'

'Much more!' The sneer in Grauber's voice said as plainly as though he had spoken the words. "The proof that this pretty mistress of yours has been harbouring a British spy." Swinging round he cried to Szalasi:

'Herr Major, please bring in your men. We will search this palace from attic to cellar; and if we fail to get our man I'll drink the swine's blood out of that basin before you all.'

'Herr Major!' Ribbentrop's voice held cold fury, but there was just a quaver of panic underlying it. 'We are grateful for the help you have rendered. But this is now a matter between the Herr Gruppenführer and myself. Be pleased to withdraw your men, and take the French Captain and the Lieutenant of Police with you. I need hardly add that, if you wish to retain my goodwill, you will regard this affair as of the highest secrecy.'

Fascinated, Gregory peered down at the two angry men who had squared up to one another in the hall below him the German Foreign Minister, well built, good-looking, suave, authoritative; the Gestapo chief, physically gorilla like, his face a mask of malice, cunning and habitual cruelty, incredibly forceful in his determination not to be baulked of his prey. Upon the outcome of this battle of wills Gregory knew that his life, and probably Sabine's as well, now depended. But, temporarily at least, both of them had put the onus of decision on Szalasi.

The bulky Arrow Cross leader looked desperately uncomfortable. Gregory had no doubt at all that his sympathies were with Grauber, who was obviously carrying out his duty; but Ribbentrop's prestige outweighed that of any Nazi other than Hitler, Goering and Himmler. After a moment's hesitation the Major said:

'Herr Reichsaussenminister. No one can dispute your ability to judge what is right in such a matter. You may rely on my discretion.'

With a quick bow, and another to Sabine, he made a sign to Puttony, who gave a hand to the almost comatose Cochefert, and the three of them left the room.

Gregory was suddenly conscious that his forehead was damp with perspiration. Stuffing the automatic back into his pocket, he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his face. As he raised his hand, his elbow brushed against the leather surcoat of the armoured figure immediately behind which he was standing. Unseen by him in the darkness, it gave off a small cloud of dust. A moment later he felt a slight tickling in his nostrils.

Ignoring it, he continued to stare down into the hall, still anxious not to miss a single word, but fairly confident that Sabine had now spiked Grauber's guns. She had proved right in her contention that Ribbentrop would not allow the house to be searched; but, at the same time, she had landed both him and herself in an appalling mess. There could be no laughing off the fact that she had aided and concealed, and was presumably still concealing, a British secret agent; and that Ribbentrop had deliberately used his authority to prevent that agent's arrest. He might be able to stop Szaiasi's mouth, but he could not stop Grauber's. What a story it would make; and perhaps, what a nail in his coffin if, next time he had done something to annoy Hitler, Himmler produced it with juicy trimmings as proof that the Foreign Minister was so under the thumb of his Hungarian mistress that he could no longer be trusted to act in the best interests of Germany and the Parti.

No sooner had the door of the vestibule closed upon Puttony than Grauber, made bold by the knowledge of the whip hand he held, put Gregory's thoughts into words. He no longer bothered even to refer to Sabine by her title. His chin thrust forward aggressively, he sneered:

'I had thought you cleverer, Herr Reichsaussenminister, than to suppose that by getting rid of the others you can get the better of me. The man Sallust is my personal enemy, and I mean to have him. This woman of yours has lied and cheated. She is a traitress and…'

'That is enough!' Ribbentrop exclaimed, going pale with anger.

'It is the truth!' Grauber retorted. 'First she led you to believe that Sallust was a Frenchman; yet all the time she knew he was English and, knowing that, she got him out of prison. Then she lied about having brought him back here, but we forced her to confess that she did. Lastly, she still swears that she has not hidden him in this house; yet we have proof that he cannot have left it. For less I have cut off women's breasts and chopped them up and made them swallow the pieces.'