Dennis Wheatley - They Used Dark Forces

He had left the bunker a little before three o'clock. Having come by train for over half the distance he had made the journey in only a little more than three hours. It was ten past six when he crossed the causeway to the small island on which the villa stood. At his first glimpse of it through the still standing trees his heart gave a lurch. Another bomb had hit it squarely, reducing it to a pile of rubble.

When had the bomb fallen? Less than three days ago Malacou had been at the villa and had brought back a letter from Sabine; so it must have been since then. Erika had driven out there the previous morning and, if she had arrived there safely, must have been in it for the past thirty hours. If she had been there when the bomb came down it was a hundred to one that her mangled body lay buried somewhere among the pile of bricks and masonry.

Gregory began to run again, and as he ran he prayed, `Oh God, don't let it be! Don't let it be!'

It took him five agonizing minutes to reach the remains of the villa. Even the partition walls that had formed the rooms were unrecognizable. The upper storey’s had buried the lower rooms in a great pile of debris from which, here and there, pieces of smashed furniture protruded.

In a forlorn hope he turned and ran to the garage, on the outside chance that they had-escaped the bomb and taken refuge there. That too had been partially destroyed by the blast, but he forced his way through the shattered doors. It was empty. There was no sign that anyone had temporarily occupied it and neither Erika's van nor Sabine's car was there.

Tears started to his eyes and ran down his lean haggard cheeks. Dazed by this last terrible blow after having survived so many perils to reach the villa, he staggered round into the garden behind it. For some moments he stood staring dull-eyed at the pile of ruins, then he turned and looked towards the lake. On the roof of the boathouse there was a splash of colour.

Could it be? Yes, by God it was! A small Red Cross flag had been spread out and weighted down on the boathouse roof. A surge of new strength suddenly animated his limbs. He pelted across the lawn and burst in through the door. On a bench inside Erika and Malacou, propped up by cushions from the boat, were dozing.

For the next few minutes Gregory and Erika were incoherent. Both had almost given up hope of ever seeing the other again. With tears of joy streaming down their faces they clung together.

In jerky sentences between kisses they gave one another the gist of what had happened to them during the past day and a half. Gregory gasped out that Hitler was dead; that he had actually seen his body being carried up to be burned. That meant that the war was as good as over.

Erika then told him of her drive out of Berlin with Malacou. It had been a ghastly journey. Two-thirds of the streets they had tried had been blocked by craters or rubble. A low-flying Russian 'plane had then machine-gunned them from the air, riddling the roof of the van with bullet holes. Finally, driving down the road along the shore of the Havel a Russian shell had exploded within twenty yards of them. Blast from it had turned the van over and they had been lucky to escape only with bad bruises. But the van had then caught fire, so had to be abandoned. They had walked the last two miles, only to find the villa in ruins and, it was to be assumed, Sabine and Trudi buried somewhere under them.

Malacou added his quota and gave full vent to his delight that Hitler was really dead. With sudden gravity he added, `I was right in my prediction that I would outlive him. Now I have nothing left to live for. I have a small fortune in Sweden and could make more money if I wished; but my beloved Khurrem is dead, so I can foresee no future happiness for myself. As you are both aware I have made obeisance to Him whom you term the Evil One, but that has enabled me to avenge my race; so I do not regret it. He is the Lord of this World and to this World I shall return, perhaps again as His henchman with a further opportunity to penetrate the great mysteries. Or it may be that as a child of ignorance I shall be set upon another path to atone for such ill as I have inflicted on my fellow beings in this and my past lives. Whatever may be my present fate and unforeseeable future, I am now content at any time to pass on.'

Erika said quickly, `God's mercy is infinite, and you used such weapons as you had to fight for your people. Hitler's death will save the lives of many thousands of them in the Bavarian and Austrian camps whom he would have had murdered if he had lived on for another few months.'

`That's true,' Gregory nodded, `and it encourages me to hope that I'll be forgiven for having countenanced the methods that we used.'

There was a moment's embarrassed silence, then Erika said to Gregory, `Darling, have you brought any food in that little case you were carrying? All of ours was destroyed when my van was burnt. The only thing I managed to save was the flag from its bonnet. We've had nothing to eat for twenty-four hours so we're absolutely starving.'

Instinctively, Gregory had clung on for the past two hours to the weekend case he had stolen and he had thrown it down only to embrace Erika. He shook his head. `No, it contains only a Russian uniform. But there's plenty of food in the villa if only we can get at it. Sabine kept a big store of tinned stuff in the cellar.'

The three of them quickly crossed the lawn and climbed up into the rubble. Having known the house so well Gregory had no difficulty in locating the place beneath which lay the stairs down to the cellar. As twilight fell they set about heaving aside loose bricks and lumps of masonry. Fortunately no beam too heavy to move had fallen across the cellar entrance. After three-quarters of an hour's hard work they succeeded in uncovering it and, with a small torch that Erika had in her handbag, Gregory led the way down.

The cellar was undamaged, although the floor was an inch or more deep in wine, for the concussion of the bomb had broken the greater part of the bottles. As he descended the steps Gregory feared that he would find Sabine and Trudi, dead from the shock of the explosion that had taken place immediately above, but to his relief they were not there. There were two beds, a table, chairs, an oil stove and cooking utensils, so it was evident that Sabine and Trudi had slept and spent a good part of their time down there during the worst of the bombardment. There were two candies on the table and oil in the stove. Malacou lit them and Erika selected from Sabine's stores some tins of soup, sausages and fruit to make a meal. Gregory removed the broken glass from a bin of hock until he came upon two unbroken bottles.

While they ate they discussed the situation and their prospects of getting away. Gregory said he thought it certain that the Chancellery would fall that night; but the last news to come in had been that Axmann's fanatical Hitler Youth were still holding the bridges over the Havel, and there were still many large pockets of resistance such as that in which the villa was situated.

He added that he had learned from General Krebs that German units were now surrendering right, left and centre and that Berlin would have fallen several days previously had it not been for the foreign contingents incorporated in the S.S. These were composed of men from almost every nation in Europe: tens of thousands of collaborationists, many of whom from quite early in the war had volunteered to fight for Germany. For them there could be no future if they returned to their own countries, only death as traitors; so most of them would fight on to the bitter end.

There could be no doubt that Berlin was completely surrounded and, in spite of the scores of miles that such a belt of encirclement must cover, Gregory felt that by now the Russians must be thick enough on the ground everywhere to prevent any vehicle getting through. Even if they had still had Erika's van all the odds were that in spite of its Red Cross the Russians would have commandeered it for their own use and, suspecting them to be spies or escapers, have made them prisoners. As things were it seemed that their best hope was for them to set off when full darkness had come, keeping away from the roads as far as possible and, by using the cover of woods and buildings, endeavour to dodge the Russian patrols.