Bright Dart Read online

  ‘There’s no alternative; I don’t have the time to waste on lame ducks.’

  ‘You’re planning on some wastage in training then?’

  ‘Are you trying to pump me?’

  Ottaway smiled. ‘I guess I’m curious.’

  ‘I can afford to lose one more before things get critical.’

  ‘Of course, I don’t know any of the details but I do have some idea of what you have in mind, which is more than can be said for the rest of your people.’

  ‘Apart from Gerhardt.’

  ‘Yes, well I guess he is the founder member.’

  ‘Why don’t you come to the point?’ Ashby said quietly.

  ‘I figure you’re depending on the German Underground to set Bormann up for you, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can they do it?’

  ‘I’ll know ten days from now.’

  ‘I just hope they don’t let you down.’ Ottaway picked up a stick and threw it into the stream. ‘From what our agents over there tell us, I wouldn’t bet on them.’

  Ashby grinned. ‘I’m not asking you to,’ he said.

  With only a slight variation in time alternating between nine o’clock and twelve noon, the 8th Air Force was beginning to establish a pattern of daylight attacks on the capital. Kastner, working at his desk in the Gestapo headquarters on Prinz Albrechtstrasse, ignored the alert and waited for his call to Dortmund to come through. The sudden urge to speak to Wollweber had been inspired by a photostat copy of a letter addressed to a Georg Thomas, care of the Bishop’s Palace, Münster, Westphalia, which had been posted in Geneva on 24th September.

  Following the July Bomb Plot, all letters addressed to local government officials and members of the church which bore a foreign postmark, had been subjected to a more rigid scrutiny than had previously been the case, and this note, signed by Baron Pierre Damon of the Credit and Merchant Bank, had been 59

  intercepted and opened at the main sorting office in Münster. It read:

  I am pleased to report that your proposals have been most favourably received and I am very hopeful that in the near future I shall be asked to act as an intermediary on their behalf. I understand that they were much impressed by your representative, but I should warn you that they will require confirmation from the highest possible source that the articles of agreement can be implemented and if necessary enforced.

  In this connection they have stated that they are not prepared to deal with any of the present hierarchy with the possible exception of ‘Rudi’.

  I appreciate that in the circumstances it may be difficult for you to arrange a meeting at short notice but it is essential that I see ‘Rudi’ immediately I am authorised to do so. As a guide, the third week in October would be appropriate.

  I am, of course, sending a copy of this letter to Count Folke Bernadotte in order that he is kept fully informed.

  Although it was written in veiled terms, Kastner felt sure that by implication Damon had agreed to act as an envoy in any peace talks with the British. Remembering his conversation with Osler, he was quite ready to believe that ‘Rudi’ was none other than Martin Bormann, and he wondered if Gerhardt was the representative to whom Damon referred in his opening paragraph.

  The phone on his desk trilled and, answering it, he heard the girl on the switchboard say, ‘I have Sturmbannführer Wollweber on the line for you, sir.’

  It was, he thought, typical of Wollweber that he should use his SS rank whenever possible.

  Kastner said bluntly, ‘Has anyone been in touch with the Gerhardt woman yet?’

  ‘No—she’s leading a very quiet life—I’d soon know if she had a visitor.’

  ‘You sound very confident.’

  ‘With reason, Herr Kastner. I arranged for one of my ablest officers to be billeted in the house—Frau Gerhardt thinks she’s been bombed out of her home in Essen.’

  ‘Do I know this officer?’

  ‘Her name is Ursula Koch; I think you met her about eighteen months ago.’

  Kastner remembered Ursula Koch all right, a muscular woman of about forty-five with a face like granite. ‘I think she’ll serve our purpose,’ he said.

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  Wollweber cleared his throat noisily. ‘What purpose have you in mind, Herr Kastner?’

  ‘I want Koch to harass the Gerhardt woman and frighten her out of her wits.’

  ‘I see. You do realise that if, as a result, the Gerhardt woman makes a complaint to the police, I may be forced to remove Koch and it may not be so easy to plant another agent in the house?’

  ‘If Koch plays it intelligently, I think she will get in touch with her friends and not the police.’

  ‘Well, of course you know best, but I must point out that I am reluctant to accept …’

  ‘The trouble with you, Wollweber,’ Kastner said harshly, ‘is that we all know you’re afraid of responsibility and that’s why you’ll never progress further than Sturmbannführer. Now, just do as I tell you and stop arguing about it.’ He slammed the phone down just as the battery of 88mm guns on top of the Zoo flak tower began to open fire.

  There were six hundred B17 Flying Fortresses escorted by over four hundred and fifty P51 Mustangs and they were heading straight for the centre of Berlin. The first wave began to drop their bombs on the Lehrter Station north of the River Spree shortly before Kastner reached the air-raid shelter in the basement.

  After spending more than two hours in the same room with Pitts and his Siamese cats, it was natural that Dryland should want to be with Laura Cole. From Cadogan Gardens to the flat in Grenville Place where she lived was just over a mile and, although he could have taken the tube out to Gloucester Road, he preferred to walk even though it was drizzling with rain. He needed a drink to take away the sour taste in his mouth but the only pub on the way to Laura’s flat had a sign outside which read: Sorry we are closed—no beer.

  The photographs which Leonard had given him could be a way of getting at Ashby through Gerhardt, but if it was handled badly, it would appear that he had a grudge against the man. Proving that his evaluation of Gerhardt had been correct had become something of an obsession, for it was his intention to enter the Diplomatic Service eventually and it had been suggested to Dryland that it would be to his advantage if he gained some experience with the Allied Control Commission before he applied. For the past year, he had worked to build a reputation for himself in Whitehall as an expert on German affairs to the point where he thought he was almost bound to be offered a post on the High Commissioner’s staff when Germany was finally defeated and occupied by the Allies. Now, thanks to Ashby, his credibility was 61

  fast being undermined and that coveted post was in jeopardy. He had hoped that Pitts would be able to torpedo the Bormann project but clearly Leonard was too bloody windy. He had crawled, wheedled, lied and allowed himself to be pawed in return for a miserable selection of photographs which might do him more harm than good.

  He turned into Grenville Place and with a sense of relief and impending pleasure, he rang the bell of the flat and waited for Laura Cole to answer it.

  Presently, a muffled voice said, ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It’s me, Tony,’ he said lamely, ‘may I come in?’

  ‘Must you? Everywhere’s in a frightful mess.’

  ‘It’s important I see you,’ he said plaintively, ‘really it is.’

  ‘At this hour?’

  ‘It’s only just gone nine.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you to call round tonight.’

  ‘Please let me in, I won’t stay long.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘I’ve just said so.’

  ‘Well, all right, but I warn you, I look awful—this is my make do and mend night.’

  The door was opened reluctantly and he stepped into the room.

  Laura Cole was not the most glamorous sight. She was wearing her husband’s dressing-gown over an apricot pink slip and her damp hair was up in curlers. Laid out on the bed was a t
riangular piece of nylon and what seemed to be a dressmaking pattern.

  Dryland said, ‘What’s that in aid of?’

  ‘I’m making a slip for myself. One of the girls in the typing pool has a boyfriend in the RAF and he scrounged the material—it’s part of a nylon parachute and I’m hoping there will be enough left over to make a pair of panties as well.’

  ‘Have you run out of clothing coupons?’

  ‘Of course, ages ago, and at three shillings a coupon I can’t afford to buy them on Black Market.’

  Dryland removed his raincoat and hat and hung them on the back of the door. ‘I’ll get you some,’ he said.

  ‘I bet.’

  ‘And they won’t cost you anything either.’

  ‘Why this sudden generosity?’

  ‘Because I’m very fond of you.’

  ‘Or because you want me to do something for you?’

  ‘To me would be more appropriate.’

  A blush suffused her face. ‘You really are disgusting at times,’

  she said. ‘To think that before I met you, butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth. Would you like a cup of tea?’

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  ‘To start with.’

  ‘That’s all you’re getting tonight.’ She removed the pile of darning which littered the armchair and stuffed it into a drawer. ‘Make yourself comfortable while I put the kettle on,’ she said.

  Dryland lowered himself gingerly into the chair in case he inadvertently sat on a needle. The photograph of the gallant warrior on her dressing-table seemed to be watching him anxiously, and for a moment or two he spared a thought for Frank Cole in far-off Algiers. There was one soldier who, expecting to find the same demure little wife he’d left behind, was in for a big surprise when he returned home from the war.

  Laura Cole said, ‘I had a telephone call from Colonel Ashby this afternoon.’

  Dryland rose from the chair and walked into the kitchen. ‘Oh,’

  he said casually, ‘and what did he want?’

  ‘He’s coming up to London tomorrow.’

  ‘Is he now? Did he say why?’

  ‘It’s something to do with an exercise he’s planning.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘At least, that’s what I gathered. He’s asked to see Truscott at two and the Director of Military Training at three, and he stressed that it was important.’

  ‘I find that interesting.’

  ‘I thought you would,’ she said drily.

  He caught hold of the cord around her waist and drew her close.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Can’t you guess?’

  ‘My guess is that you are a very provocative little minx.’

  ‘I’m not sure I approve of that description.’

  ‘Suppose I said you were a very attractive one?’

  ‘Even with my hair in curlers?’

  He untied the cord and slipped his arms inside the dressing-gown. ‘Even with your hair in curlers.’

  She let him kiss her, and her lips gradually parted, and there was this tingling sensation as he slowly raised the slip above her hips. ‘The kettle’s boiling,’ she whispered.

  ‘So what?’

  ‘You wanted a cup of tea.’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind.’

  ‘I thought that was supposed to be a woman’s prerogative.’

  ‘A man should be allowed to change his mind occasionally.’

  ‘We’d better turn the gas off.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you do that.’

  She reached out, groped blindly for the tap and turned it off.

  The gas jet plopped into silence.

  ‘I thought elastic was supposed to be a girl’s best friend?’

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  ‘It is, but it’s almost unobtainable now.’

  ‘I can’t undo this wretched button,’ he said impatiently.

  She placed both hands against his chest and half-heartedly tried to push him away. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she said quietly.

  ‘I’m trying to undress you.’

  ‘Is this the reason why you had to see me?’

  ‘Can you think of a better one?’

  ‘You’ve got a one-track mind,’ she said weakly.

  He moved forward and gently pushed her into the other room.

  ‘The bed’s in a frightful mess.’

  ‘Who needs a bed?’

  She sniggered. ‘You really are a terrible man, Tony.’

  He left her standing in front of the gas fire and, as he walked across the room to put out the lights, Laura Cole hastily grabbed hold of the photograph and laid it face down on the dressing-table.

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  8

  THE FILE WHICH Heydrich had started in 1934 now ran to three volumes and it provided a rare insight into the private and public life of Martin Bormann. Its contents embraced hard facts, conjecture, rumour and malicious gossip, and although its principal contributors were Himmler and Kaltenbrunner, various observations made by Hitler, Goebbels, Goering, Ribbentrop, Keitel and Jodl over the years had been included without their knowledge. Seen on another plane, this portfolio also reflected the mutual distrust, petty jealousies, backbiting and schisms within the leadership, and not surprisingly, its circulation was therefore strictly controlled on a need-to-know basis. Excluded from this category, Kastner, aware that Himmler still maintained a tenuous friendship with Bormann, was obliged to seek out Kaltenbrunner who signed the necessary docket giving him access to the file.

  In starting the search for a connection between ‘Rudi’ and Martin Bormann, Kastner checked the list of contents inside the flyleaf of the master file, turned to Index One and extracted the personal data card. As a means of refreshing his memory, it made dull but informative reading.

  Bormann, whose father was a middle-grade civil servant in the post office, was born in Halberstadt on 17th June, 1900.

  Academically he was not gifted, and his formal education was interrupted briefly when he served as a gunner in the 55th Artillery Regiment from June 1918 to February 1919. Following his release from the army, he resumed his agricultural studies until, in August 1920, he obtained the position of farm manager on the Treuenfels estate near Parchim in the northern province of Mecklenburg. Bitterly resentful of conditions in post-war Germany, he joined the Rossbach group of extremists late in 1922 and became its section leader and treasurer in Mecklenburg.

  On 31st May, 1923, Bormann and other members of this group murdered Walter Kadow, a twenty-three-year-old schoolteacher who had failed to repay a loan of thirty thousand marks to the Party funds and who was also suspected of being a communist informer. Since Germany was then in the grip of raging inflation, the value of this sum of money in real terms was about ten marks.

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  Arrested two months later for his part in the crime, Bormann was eventually brought to trial before the State Court for the Defence of the Republic in Leipzig and sentenced to one year in prison.

  After his release, he drifted into the Frontbann, a league of ex-soldiers who had supported Hitler in the disastrous Munich putsch of 1923, until on 17th February, 1927, he joined the Nazi Party in which, as a comparative latecomer, his membership card number was 60508. Thereafter, his rise to power was spectacular.

  After a short spell as Press chief and Party business manager for the Thuringia province, he was appointed to the staff of the Supreme Command of the SA in November 1928, staying there until 25th April, 1930, when he left the Stormtroopers to head the Aid Fund of the Nazi Party. His advance to this post was not altogether surprising because, in the September of the previous year, Hitler had served as a witness of his marriage to Gerda Buch, the daughter of Major Walter Buch, chairman of the Nazi Party Court. From July 1933 onwards when he became Chief of Staff to Rudolf Hess, the deputy leader, he strove to make himself the indispensable confidant of the Führer, and in so doing, ultimately gained control of the Party machine.

  In appearance he was unprepossessing. Short and sto
cky with hunched shoulders and a bull neck, his rounded face with its strong cheekbones, broad nostrils and wary dark eyes reminded Kastner of a sly but ruthless fighter. The straight black hair, thinning in front, was parted backwards and added to this first impression.

  Contained in the three volumes was a wealth of information which showed Bormann in an unfavourable light and illustrated precisely why he was feared and hated by everyone except the Führer. He scorned popularity and made no attempt to establish friendly relations with his colleagues who privately referred to him as ‘The Bull’. They believed that he was capable of almost any act which would enhance his power and influence and, when Walter Schellenberg who was then deputy chief of Amt VI, first heard the news that Heydrich had been assassinated in Prague in May ’42, he immediately concluded that Bormann had arranged it.

  He was devoted to Hitler and certainly this feeling also extended to his wife by whom he had fathered ten children but, surprisingly enough, Gerda’s view of marriage was somewhat unconventional.

  Aware that he was having an affair with a minor actress whose fiancé had been killed in action, she proposed that they set up a ménage à trois, a suggestion which Bormann had rejected out of 66

  hand. Coyly referred to as ‘M’ in their letters to one another, Kastner was unable to discover any further clue to the identity of this little-known actress.

  Of greater interest to him was a certain Margerete Axmann of the Linz Foundation. Although she still owned a small art gallery on the Kurfurstendamm, Axmann now spent most of her time scouring Europe for works of art for the Führer Museum and was in constant touch with Bormann. In a footnote to this item, Goebbels had hinted that they were on rather intimate terms, and if this was so, Kastner wondered if she had an endearing nickname for her lover.

  If nothing else, the portfolio had convinced him that Bormann was quite capable of making a deal with the British if he thought it was in the Führer’s interests, and although he had failed to discover a link with the man known as ‘Rudi’, he was not discouraged. He thought it would be politic to know a great deal more about Margerete Axmann.

  Under the heading of Escape and Evasion, Ottaway wrote: If captured, try to make a break before you wind up in a PW