‘Down there?’ Devlin shuddered. Td rather have a corned beef sandwich.’
The Mercedes drew into the car ramp and an SS sentry approached. In spite of Schellenberg’s uniform the sentry checked their identities thoroughly before allowing them through. Devlin followed Schellenberg down a seemingly endless passage, concrete walls, dim lighting. There was a soft humming from electric fans in the ventilating system, the occasional blast of cold air. There were SS guards here and there, but no great evidence of people, and then a door opened, a young corporal emerged and behind him Devlin saw a room crammed with radio equipment and a number of operatives.
‘Don’t make the mistake of thinking there’s no one here,’ Schellenberg said. ‘Rooms everywhere. A couple of hundred people tucked in all over the place like that radio room.’
A doo’r opened further along the passage and to Devlin’s astonishment, Hitler emerged followed by a broad, rather squat man in a nondescript uniform. As they approached, Schellenberg pulled Devlin to one side and stood at attention. The Fuhrer was talking to the other man in a low voice and totally ignored them as he passed and descended the stairs at the other end of the passage.
‘The man with him was Bormann,’ Schellenberg said. ‘Reichsleiter Martin Bormann. Head of the Nazi Party Chancellery. A very powerful man.’
‘So that was the Fuhrer?’ Devlin said. ‘And me almost getting to touch the hem of his robe.’
Schellenberg smiled. ‘Sometimes, my friend, I wonder how you’ve managed to last as long as you have.’
‘Ah, well, it must be my good looks, General.’
Schellenberg tapped on a door, opened it and led the way in. A young woman, an SS auxiliary in uniform, sat at a typewriter in the corner. The rest of the room was mainly taken up by filing cabinets and the desk behind which Himmler sat, working through a file. He glanced up and removed his pince-nez.
‘So, General, he’s arrived.’
‘God bless all here,’ Devlin said cheerfully.
Himmler winced and said to the girl, ‘Leave us. Come back in fifteen minutes.’ She went out and he carried on. ‘I expected you in Berlin sooner, Herr Devlin.’
‘Your railway system seemed to be having trouble with the RAF,’ Devlin told him and lit a cigarette, mainly because he knew Himmler detested the habit.
Himmler was annoyed, but didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, he said to Schellenberg, ‘You seem to have wasted an inordinate amount of time so far, General.
Why didn’t Herr Devlin return from Lisbon with you?’
‘Ah, the General did a fine job,’ said Devlin. ‘It was me had plans for Christmas you see. No, the General was very reasonable. More than I can say for the other fella, Berger. We didn’t get on at all.’
‘So I understand,’ Himmler said. ‘But that scarcely matters as SturmbannFuhrer Berger has other duties to take care of.’ He leaned back. ‘So, you think this thing can be done? You believe you could get Steiner out?’
‘Depends on the plan,’ Devlin said, ‘but anything’s possible.’
Himmler nodded. ‘It would be a remarkable coup for all of us.’
‘That’s as may be,’ Devlin said. ‘It’s getting back in one piece that worries me. I only just made it last time.’
‘You were well paid then and I would remind you that you’re being well paid this time.’
‘And that’s a fact,’ Devlin said. ‘As my old mother used to say, money will be the death of me.’
Himmler looked extremely annoyed. ‘Can’t you take anything seriously, you Irish?’
‘When I last had the pleasure of meeting your honour, I gave you the answer to that one. It’s the rain.’
‘Oh, get him out of here,’ Himmler said. ‘And get on with it, General. Needless to say, I expect a regular progress report.’
‘Reichsfuhrer.’ Schellenberg ushered Devlin out.
The Irishman was grinning hugely. ‘I enjoyed that.’ He dropped his cigarette on the floor and stamped on it as Berger came round the corner, a rolled-up map under his arm.
He was in uniform and wore the Iron Cross First and Second Classes. He stiffened when he saw them and Devlin said cheerfully, ‘Very pretty, son, but it looks to me as if someone’s been spoiling your good looks.’