Glenn Meade (53 page)

Weaver kept the headlights off for
the entire journey, following the track the Arab had left on the desert road,
until eventually they spotted the motorcycle's dust cloud. The only light came
in from the quarter-moon, and every now and then the motor cycle wove
drunkenly, as if the driver were having difficulty steering.

Weaver tried to watch the road, to
make sure they kept well enough behind, hoping they wouldn't be spotted, and
when they'd gone a couple of miles, he said to Helen Kane, 'I might be wrong,
but from the way he's driving he could be injured. Don't take your eyes off him
for a second. I don't want to lose him.'

 
At that hour of the morning there was barely any
traffic, and they crossed the
English
Bridge
ten minutes later
and came to 'l the city outskirts along the sparsely populated western bank.’
They passed several big old Nile villas set in their own grounds, J and saw the
Arab turn down a narrow private track alongside the !' river. A mile further on
the motorcycle disappeared in through the open gates of a white-walled villa.

Weaver immediately pulled the car
in off the road, killed the f: engine, and
fora
few
seconds heard the throb of the motorcycle engine before it died abruptly. He
stepped out of the car and peered into the darkness.
 
Helen Kane frowned. 'What do you think he's up
to?' Weaver checked the Colt pistol, tucked it into his waistband.

Stay here. I'm going ahead to have
a look. If I'm not back in twenty minutes, get to the nearest telephone and
contact Sanson.'

She saw a kind of possession in
his expression. 'Harry, you're being reckless. What can it achieve? Why don't
we simply contact Sanson now?'

'I've come this far, I might as
well follow it through.

Remember - stay here.'

They moved Hassan into a chair,
and Deacon went to get a towel and a bowl of water. When he came back, he
dabbed the badly gashed cheek.

'What happened?' Haider said
anxiously.

The Arab gritted his teeth in
agony, held the towel to his jaw, his speech broken. When he had managed to
tell them, Deacon exploded with rage. 'The conniving bastard - Salter's
double-crossed us and ruined everything.'

'Anger won't get us anywhere,'
Haider admonished. 'What concerns me is how the army knew about the airfield.
Not Salter's fault, surely?'

Hassan shook his head, words an
effort. 'All I know is the aircraft can't land. Not with the army and British
Spitfires waiting to shoot them down.'

Haider sighed, resignation on his
face. 'Are you sure you weren't followed?'

The Arab struggled from the chair,
still holding the towel to his face. 'I'm sure of nothing, except I've killed
that pig Salter.'

'Kleist, get outside and have a
good look around.' Haider made the decision instantly. 'Then we're getting out
of here.'

The SS man left hurriedly, and
Deacon said, 'You mind telling me where?'

'Anywhere will do for now, until
we figure out what to do next. If the army knew about the airfield, there's no
telling what else they know. To remain here would be madness. You'd better get
a signal off to Berlin, fast as you can, while there's still be enough time for
Skorzeny to abort. Make absolutely certain they acknowledge the message. Then
get out to the boat. We'll stick to the river - it might be safer than the
roads.’

As he went to fetch Rachel, Deacon
grabbed his arm. 'Listen to me, Haider. We can still finish this. If one of us
could make it through the tunnel-'

Haider pulled his arm away. 'See
sense, Deacon. Without our paratroops, it's hopeless. If you want to volunteer
for a suicide mission, be my guest. But for me, it's over. You have my orders -
send the signal, and let's get out of here.'

There was a footstep behind them.
'It's over for all of you.'

They looked round. Weaver stood on
the patio. 'No one's going anywhere.'

He moved into the room,
brandishing the Colt. 'All of you put your hands up where I can see them. Very
slowly.'

Haider obeyed, Deacon and Hassan
followed. 'Now take the gun out of your holster, Jack, nice and easy, then
place it on the floor and kick it over here.'

Haider did so, tipped the weapon
with his foot and slid it across. The shock hadn't left his face. 'It seems the
fateful day has come. I wasn't relishing this, Harry. You and me face to face,
up against each other, like in some cheap western. It seems to tarnish whatever
good there was between us. You mind telling me how you found me?'

Weaver flicked the pistol towards
Hassan. 'I followed your friend. The other one's Deacon, I presume? The second
half of the double act.'

Tm impressed, Harry. Obviously
you've been hotter on our trail than I thought.'

Hassan said sourly, 'You should
have let me kill him when I had the chance.'

'Regrets, I'm afraid, will get us
nowhere,' said Haider, and he looked over at Weaver. 'Simply to satisfy my
curiosity, how did the army know about the airfield?'

'Those stolen trucks of yours led
to Salter. The rest I'm sure you can guess.'

'I see.' Haider looked totally
resigned. 'Then I suppose the only question is what happens next?’

'I think you already know the
answer, Jack. Sanson and his men are on their way. After that, it's either a
rope or a firing squad. That uniform you're wearing is in itself enough to
warrant a bullet, for impersonating a US Army officer.'

'You wouldn't be lying about Sanson,
would you?'

'Not a chance.'

Haider said, hopelessly, 'Then try
not to forget the lily on my grave, will you, old friend? I never was one for
roses, I'm afraid.'

Weaver knelt, picked up Haider's
gun. 'Where's Rachel?'

'She's not a part of this, Harry.'
There was a pleading look on Haider's face. 'The rest of us are as guilty as
sin, but she's been used from the very start. You have to let her go.'

'I asked where she is.'

'I'm here.'

There was a noise behind him, and
Weaver turned.

Rachel moved into the doorway,
Haider's M3 machine pistol cradled in her hands.

'Now, please, put down the gun,
Harry.'

Kleist appeared behind her,
holding Helen Kane roughly by the arm, his pistol aimed at her head. 'Let go of
me-'

She struggled to get free, but
Kleist manhandled her into the room. 'I found her outside, a friend of the
American's. Waiting alone in a staff car back along the track.'

The SS man glared over. 'You heard
the order. Put down the gun.'

Weaver made to raise the Colt in
anger, but Kleist said viciously, 'Another move like that, and the bitch won't
have a brain.'

'Harry, I think you'd better do as
he says,' Haider said quietly. 'It seems the tables have turned. So perhaps you
should drop the weapon and introduce the lady.'

Weaver stared back at Rachel, said
hoarsely, 'You don't know what you're doing-'

'Shut up,' Kleist interrupted.
'Drop the gun, and be quick about it.'

Weaver dropped the Colt, it
clattered to the floor, and Deacon picked it up, while Haider crossed the room,
his hand held out to Rachel for the machine-pistol. 'For a woman who hates
firearms, you did remarkably well. Now, you'd better give me that, before
someone gets hurt.'

She made no move to hand over the
weapon. 'Move away, Jack.'

Haider frowned, totally confused.
A shadow crossed his face.

He was about to speak, but Rachel
gestured with the machine pistol. 'Over there, by the wall. You too, Harry.'
She nodded to Kleist. 'Take the woman down to the cellar. Tie her securely.

Make sure she can't go anywhere.'

Kleist roughly bundled Helen Kane
out of the room, and Rachel said to Hassan, 'Go outside and keep watch. If you
see or hear anything, get back here, quickly.'

The Arab looked totally bemused,
his pain forgotten, and Deacon snapped, 'You heard the order. Obey it. I'll
explain later.'

When Hassan had left, Rachel
looked at Deacon. 'Send
Berlin
the signal. You know what to tell them.'

Deacon left the room hurriedly,
his footsteps fading into the cellar, and then the three of them were alone.

The blood had drained completely
from Weaver's face, a terrible truth dawning, and Haider was as white as death.
'You know, suddenly I've got this horrible feeling Harry and I have lived with
a delusion for years.'

'I think it's time you both knew
the truth.'

Schellenberg had just finished a
late supper in his private rooms at SS headquarters when the signal was
delivered to him personally in a wax-sealed envelope. The bombing had stopped
and he had returned to his office on the second floor, heavy rain streaking the
taped windows, a blanket of dismal clouds hanging over night-time
Berlin
. He broke the red
wax seal and read the decoded contents quickly. His face tightened, then he
picked up the internal telephone and summoned his adjutant.

'Call Admiral Canaris at once.
Inform him I wish to see him urgently.'

'Herr General, it's after
midnight-'

'I'm well aware of the damned
time! Just do it.'

Half an hour after Schellenberg
had made the necessary phone calls, a rain-soaked Canaris finally arrived, looking
tired and bothered as he was led in by the adjutant, who then withdrew. 'What
is it you want?'

Schellenberg handed him the signal
flimsy. 'Some urgent news just in from
Cairo
.
I thought you'd want to see.'

When Canaris had finished reading,
he grimly shook his head, tossed the flimsy on the desk with a damning
flourish. 'It's just as I thought. The whole thing has come to nothing in the
end. Lives wasted for nothing. No doubt they'll all be apprehended and shot.'

Schellenberg picked up his
cigarette case from the desk, selected a cigarette, lit it and inhaled slowly,
as if
savouring
what was about to come. 'It's a
calamity, no question. And so close to the end. Skorzeny's aircraft had already
taken off, and were en route. I've had to give the order that they return to
Rome
- the Allies would
certainly have shot them out of the skies before they landed. But there's an
unfortunate communications problem with
Rome
- the signal keeps breaking up and we can't get in touch. We'll keep trying, of
course, but as a precaution I've urgently instructed that our Luftwaffe night
fighters operating out of Crete try and intercept Skorzeny's
Dakotas
before it's too late. Let's just pray we can get to the colonel in time. The
Fiihrer is bitterly disappointed, of course. I spoke to him by telephone before
you arrived, and his mood really wasn't the best after I'd told him. But he's
not completely without hope.'

Canaris stared at Schellenberg as
if he were insane. 'Not without hope? But it's over, for God's sake.'

'Not yet. In fact, the interesting
part just begins.'

Canaris scowled. 'I don't follow.'

Schellenberg stood up from his
desk. 'I didn't think you would. But now, my dear Wilhelm, it's time you knew
the truth. No doubt you recall the first rule of good intelligence work - one
must always try to be one step ahead of the game.

You see, I've kept my best card
until last. And I think you're going to be surprised.'

Schellenberg crossed to the
window, looked out at the teeming rain, one hand behind his back, a cigarette
poised in the other. 'I recall you admitted having heard rumours about my
agent, Nightingale?'

'I've certainly heard whispers.
Why?', 'And what exactly did the gossip-mongers say?'

Canaris shrugged. 'That no one but
the Fiihrer and a handful of trusted, high-ranking SD know his real identity.
That he's the best agent your organization ever trained. Ruthless. Clever.

Totally dedicated.'

Schellenberg gave an approving
nod. 'An accurate appraisal.

Nightingale was certainly one of
the most professional agents we ever recruited. Highly intelligent and
extremely resourceful.

Calm under pressure, totally
lacking in fear, and absolutely committed to the task in hand. I think you'd
agree those same attributes would probably describe a very capable assassin?'

Canaris's mouth went suddenly dry.
'What are you trying to say?'

'Nightingale is among the team we
sent to
Cairo
,
and will attempt to succeed where Haider and Skorzeny have failed.'

Canaris stared at him blankly as
Schellenberg went on. 'I told you, Wilhelm, above all
Roosevelt
is our prime target. As of now, he's our only target. And Nightingale is our
last card - the only remaining hope we have for the success of the mission. Our
ace in the hole.'

Canaris was astounded. 'But - who
is he?'

Schellenberg shook his head. 'Not
he. She. To be precise, Rachel Stern.'

The shock on Canaris's face was
total. Schellenberg let the impact sink in. 'Not her real name, of course, but
it'll do perfectly well for now.'

'This is some kind of joke,
surely.'

Schellenberg looked affronted as
he came back from the window and sat. 'This is not a matter I'd jest about.'

'But - but it's quite
unbelievable.'

'There are some facts you should
be aware of. Before the war, she was our top agent in Egypt, and provided us
with much invaluable information. About military installations, about the
nationalist groups which were a thorn in the British side, and much else
besides.' Schellenberg raised an eye, smugly. 'Believe me, you've really no
idea how good she was back then. Better than all of our people put together.
She'd have made even the best of them look like complete amateurs.'

'But - Rachel Stern is half
Jewish?’

Schellenberg smiled broadly. 'Ah,
now that's where it becomes a little devious. When we first decided to send her
to
Egypt
,
she needed a plausible background. Professor Stern and his wife were, in fact,
SD agents all along. His wife's Jewish background and the professor's anti-Nazi
sentiment were a fabrication, all part of their cover story, of course, and an
excellent ready-made one at that. So, someone in the SD office simply invented
a daughter for the Sterns - I think you can imagine the rest.'

Canaris's mind was ticking over
furiously. 'And their arrest by the Gestapo when they were returned to
Germany
?'

'More trickery, I'm afraid. A
Kriegsmarine vessel was scheduled to pick them up en route to
Istanbul
,
when the
Izmir
sank.

Fortunately for us, the professor
and Nightingale were rescued.

But their apparent arrest was
simply to protect their cover. They were, in fact, taken away for debriefing.'

'But - why was she imprisoned at
Ravensbruck?'

Schellenberg smiled. 'I'm
surprised you can't see the reasoning behind it, Wilhelm. But then I can see
you're still in shock. It was another trick, pure and simple.'

'I don't follow.'

'Haider hadn't seen Rachel Stern
since they parted company in
Cairo
.
The professor's anti-Nazi remarks and his wife's supposed Jewish blood would
have suggested an unpleasant fate for the family had they returned to Germany.
Which is exactly what Haider would have expected - anything less would have
made him suspicious. As for the camp, it was an easy enough matter to arrange -
a ragged camp uniform, a doctor to administer small amounts of cordite to give
her a washed-out appearance. And to top it all, a fictitious camp officer who
had been a pupil of her father's, to explain why she was still in reasonably
good health, and hadn't been all that badly treated.'

Canaris said palely, 'It seems you
thought of everything.'

Schellenberg grinned wickedly. 'I
always try to. Details are so important. It was never a case of Haider making
certain the woman did what was expected of her, but the other way round.

He might have been the ideal man
for the job, but Himmler had some doubts from the very start about Haider's
true allegiance, considering he's part American - and whether he'd really do
his best to carry the whole thing through. The woman was there to make sure he
did. And with the future of the entire Reich at stake, we had to have a back-up
plan if we couldn't get Skorzeny's paratroops into
Cairo
or if Haider failed.'

'Why didn't you simply tell him
the truth from the start?'

'It was perfectly obvious Haider
still had feelings for Rachel Stern. And he'd do his utmost to make sure they
made it to
Cairo
,
whatever the obstacles. If we had told him the truth it would have completely
shattered his illusions. Then there was the risk he might not even have agreed
to go along with us in the first place.

'We also wanted Nightingale's
cover story to be believable and beyond suspicion. If she was caught, she would
simply be a victim, used by us, and not one of
Germany
's most brilliant agents, to
be tried and sent to the gallows by the Allies. That would have given them
something to boast about, and wouldn't have done our esteem any good at all.'

There was a long pause, and
Canaris suddenly looked angry.

'Why did you keep all this from
me?'

'Not my doing, Wilhelm. The
Fiihrer decided that keeping it secret was the best course - the less who knew
the better.'

'And no doubt he's enjoying a laugh
at my expense. I've always known he doesn't trust me,' Canaris said without
bitterness. 'This only confirms it.'

Schellenberg shrugged. 'That's a
matter for you to pursue.'

The curiosity was palpable in
Canaris's voice, hoarse and very quiet now. 'Who is she, Walter? What's her
background?'

Schellenberg lit another
cigarette. 'Does it really matter at this late stage?'

'For someone to risk laying down
their life on a last-ditch mission like this, she must either be a fanatic or a
fool. Why would she agree to it?'

Schellenberg smiled thinly.
'Because these are desperate times we find ourselves in. And she's a patriot.'

Canaris looked
sceptical
.
'That sly look on your face says there's more to it. I have a feeling there's
another reason.'

'You always look for an ulterior
motive, don't you, Wilhelm? And rightly so.' Schellenberg blew out smoke,
sighed grimly.

'Very well, I shall give you one.
General Pieter Ulrich. You've heard of him?'

Canaris nodded. 'By reputation,
he's an upstanding and highly respected Wehrmacht officer. A brave and
honourable man, much decorated.'

'He's also the woman's father. And
no longer a respected officer, but one of these insane, traitorous plotters
against the Fiihrer. In fact, the last time I paid him a visit in the Gestapo
cells, he really had gone quite mad. Solitary confinement appears to have sent
him over the edge.'

'The - the general has been
imprisoned?' Canaris stammered.

'The last I heard, Ulrich had been
posted to the Russian front.'

'I'm afraid it's much worse than
that. He and his entire family were arrested secretly some months ago on a
charge of treason.

All, that is, except his daughter.
She wasn't considered party to his crime. Nevertheless, we decided to offer her
a proposition.'

Canaris's face darkened knowingly.
'You played the same dirty game with her that you played with Haider?'

Schellenberg gave a shrug. 'It's
an old routine in our business, as you well know, but always effective. In her
case, all charges dropped against her family - if she agreed to go along with
this, and if necessary, to give up her life for the Fatherland. A small price,
I think you'll agree, for the survival of the Reich and the release of her
entire family. Both her parents, and her two younger brothers, who are also
presently being held in the cellars.'

'But General Ulrich's sons - I
think I met them once. They must be only in their teens. Boys, both of them.
How could they be guilty of such treason?'

Schellenberg gave a shrug. 'You'd
have to ask Himmler that - their arrest had nothing to do with me. But I've
been keeping a close personal watch on all of them, you'll be glad to know, and
they're being reasonably well treated - no more beatings or interrogation. At
least until this is over and their fate decided.'

Canaris's mouth tightened with
disgust. 'And what if the general's daughter fails?'

'Let's try not to contemplate
failure,' Schellenberg answered moodily. 'I've had quite enough for one night.
And the truth of it is, you must believe me when I tell you that the woman
probably stands as good a chance as Skorzeny's paratroops.

Haider will probably be devastated
if he's learned the truth.'

Canaris sat back, dazed, his brain
racing, trying to fit the rest of the pieces into place. 'What will happen to
him now?'

'Assuming, of course, there are
survivors, the same plan we arranged with Deacon still applies - to fly them
out when it's over, Haider included. Not that I honestly expect such an
outcome. But certainly if Nightingale manages to carry this off, she'll be the
toast of the Reich. Dead or alive, her name will have established its place in
history.'