every newspaper in the civilized world after I’m deadl You will be hunted
down for what you aref A madman, a murder-
339
er, a thief I And every man in this room. every investor in Zurich, will be
branded your associate if they let You live this nightl”
An uncontrollable rage exploded in the misshapen eyes of Heinrich Kroeger.
His body shook with fury as be lashed at a chair in front of him sending it
crashing across the floor. To kill was not enough. He had to kill at close
range, he had to see the life and mind of Elizabeth Scarlatti detonated
into oblivion ‘in front of his eyes.
Matthew Canfield held the trigger of his revolver in his right-hand pocket.
He had never fired from his Pocket and he knew that if he missed he and
Elizabeth would die. He was not sure how long he could wait. He would aim
in the vicinity of the approaching man , s chest, the largest target facing
him. He waited until he, could wait no longer.
The report of the small revolver and the impact of the bullet into
Scarletts shoulder was so much of a shock that Kroeger, for a split second,
widened his eyes in disbelief.
it was enough, just enough for Canfield.
With all his strength he crashed into Elizabeth with his right shoulder
sending her frail body toward the floor out of Kroegees line of sight as
he, Canfield, flung himself.to the left. He withdrew his revolver and fired
rapidly, into the man called Heinrich Kroeger.
Kroeger,s huge pistol went off into the floor as he cnimpled over.
Canfield staggered up, forgetting the unbearable pain in his left arm,
which had been crushed under the weight of his own body. He leaped on
Ulster Stewart Scarlett, wrenching the pistol from the iron grip. He began
hitfing the face of Heinrich Kroeger with the barrel. He could not stop.
Destroy the facel Destroy the horrible facel
Finally he was Pulled off.
“Gottl He’s deadl Haltl Stopf You can do no morel” The large, strong Fritz
Tbyssen held him.
Matthew Canfield felt weak and sank to the floor.
The men of Zurich had gathered around. Several helped Elizabeth, while the
others bent over Heinrich Kroeger.
Rapid knocking came from the door leading to the hall.
340
Von Schnitzler took command. “Let them inf” be ordered in his thick German
accent
D’Almaida walked swdtly to the door and opened it. A number of chauffeurs
stood at the entrance, It occurred to Canfield as be watched them that
these men were not simply drivers of automobiles. He had good reason. They
were armed.
As he lay there on the floor in terrible pain and shock, Canfield saw a
brutish-looking blond man with closecropped hair bent over the body of
Heinrich Kroeger. He pushed the others away for the briefest instant while
be pulled back the misshapen lid of one eye.
And then Canfield wondered if the agony of the last hours had played tricks
with his sight, corrupted the infallible process of vision. –
Or had the blond man bent his head down and whispered something into
Heinrich Kroeger’s ear?
Was Heinrich Kroeger still alive?
Von Schnitzler stood over Canfield. “He will be taken away. I have ordered
a coup de grace. No matter, he is dead. It is finished.” The obese von
Schnitzler then shouted further commands in German to the uniformed
chauffeurs around Kroeger. Several started to lift up the lifeless form but
they were blocked by the blond
with the close-cropped hair. He shouldered them out of the way, not letting
them touch the body.
,He alone lifted Heinrich Kroeger off the floor and carried him out the
door. The others followed.
soves sher, Canfield gestured toward Elizabeth, who was seated in a chair.
She was staring at the door through which the body had been taken, staring
at the man no one know was her son.
“Finel She can make her call nowl” Leacock was tryIng his best to be
decisive.
Canfield rose from the floor and crossed to Elizabeth. He put his hand on
her wrinkled cheek. He could not help himself.
Tears were failing down the ridges of her face.
And then Matthew Canfield looked up. He could hear the sound of a powerful
automobile racing away. He was bothered.
Von Schnitzler had told him hed ordered a coup de grace.
341
Yet no shot was fired.
A mile away, on the Winterthurstrasse, two men dragged the body of a dead
man to a truck. They weren’t sure what to do. The dead man had -hired them,
hired them all to stop the automobile heading to Falke Haus. He had paid
them in advance, they had insisted upon it. Now he was dead, killed by a
bullet meant for the driver of the automobile an hour.ago. As they dragged
the body over the rocky incline toward the truck, the blood from the mouth
sprewed onto the perfectly matted waxed moustache.
The man named Poole was dead.
342
PART FOUR
-1
CHAPTER 45
Major Matthew Canfield, aged forty-five-about to be forty-six-stretched his
legs diagonally across the back of the army car. They had entered the
township of Oyster Bay, and the saUow-oomplexioned sergeant broke the
silence.
“Getting close, Major. You better wake up.”
Wake up. It should be as easy as that. The perspiration streamed down his
fam His heart was rhythmically pounding an unknown therne.
…11hank you, Sergeant.” –
The car swung east down Harbor Road toward the ocean drive. As they came
closer to his home, Major Matthew Canfield began to tremble. He grabbed his
wrists, held his breath, bit the front of his tongue. He could not fall
apart. He could not allow himself the indulgence of self-pity. He could not
do that to Janet. He owed her so much.
The sergeant blithely turned into the blue stone driveway and stopped at
the path, which led to the front entrance of the large beach estate. The
sergeant enjoyed driving out to Oyster Bay with his rich major. There was
always lots of good food, in spite of rationing, and the liquor was always
the best. No cheap stuff for the Camshaft, as he was known in the enlisted
man’s barracks.
The major slowly got out of the car. The sergeant was concerned. Something
was wrong with the major. He hoped it didn’t mean they’d have to drive back
to New York. The old man seemed to have trouble standing up.
“Okay, Major?”
345
“Okay, Sergeant … Hoved you Me to bunk in the boathouse tonight?” He did
not look at the sergeant as he spoke.
“Surel Great, Majorr It wu where he always butiked. The boathouse apartment
bad a. full Idtchen and plenty of booze. Even a telephone. But the sergeant
diddt have any signal that he could use it yeL He decided to try his IucL
“Will you need me, Major? Could I call a couple of friends herer
The major walked up the path. He called back quietly. “Do whatever you
like, Sergeant Just may away from that radiophone. Is that understood?-
‘You betcha, Majorl” ne sergeant gunned the engine and drove down toward
the beacL
Matthew Canfield stood in front of the white, scalloped door with the study
hurricane lamps on both side&
His home.
Janet.
The door opened and she stood them The slightly graying hair, which she
would not retouch. The upturned nose above the delicate, sensitive mouth.
The brigK wide. brown searching eyes. The gentle loveliness of her face.
The comforting concern she radiated.
“I heard the car. No one drives to the boathouse like Evansl Matthew.
Matthewl My darlingl You’re cryingr
346
I CHAPTER 46
The plane, an Army B-29 transport, descended from the late-afternoon clouds
to the airport in Lisbon. An Air Force corporal walked down the aisle.
“Please buckle all seat beltsl No smokingl Well be down in four minutes.”
He spoke in a monotone, aware that his passengers had to be important, so
he would be more important, but coiineous, when he had to tell them
something.
The young man next to Matthew Canfield had said very little since their
takeoff from Shannon. A number of times the major tried to explain that
they were taking air routes out of range of the Luftwaffe, and that there
was nothing to worry about. Andrew Scarlett had merely mumbled understood
approval and had gone back to his magazines.
The car at the Lisbon airport was an armored Lincoln with two OSS personnel
in the front. The windows could withstand short-range gunfire, and the
automobile was capable of 120 miles an hour. They had to drive thirtytwo
miles up the Tejo River road to an airfield in Alenguer.
At Alenguer the man and boy boarded a low-flying, specially constructed
Navy TBF with no markings for the trip to Bern. There would be no stops.
Throughout the route, English, American, and Free French fighters were