In ordinary circumstances, after satisfying himself of the bona fides of the Sturmbannfuhrer’s identification, the Gestapo agent would have turned a blind eye to the extra currency he had in his possession.
But there had been an urgent teletype message from Berlin that morning.
The body of a Gestapo agent had been found near the Swiss border the previous evening.
He had been brutally stabbed to death before being thrown from the Baseler-Frankfurter Express. The murderer was believed to be a Swiss national, or at least someone equipped with a Swiss passport, in the name of Reber. “Reber” had disappeared from the train, and there was not much of a description available of him, but what there was fitted the Sturmbannfuhrer.
It was a delicate situation for the Gestapo agent. If this young officer was on the personal staff of the Reichsfuhrer-SS, then clearly he had friends in high places, friends who were going to raise all kinds of hell if he was dragged off the train and accused of being either a Swiss black marketeer or an enemy agent. But on the other hand, duty was duty. It simply called for a little tact.
“I am sure the Herr Sturmbannfuhrer will understand the situation,” the Gestapo agent said.
“What situation?”
“There is a certain situation which I do not wish to discuss in public,” the Gestapo agent said.
“You would like to talk to me in private,” Fulmar said, and stood up.
“If you would be so kind,” the Gestapo agent said.
“Very well,” Fulmar said, and stepped out of the compartment.
The Gestapo agent led him to the vestibule at the end of the car.
I’m going to get bagged five kilometers from the fucking border!
“Would it terribly inconvenience the Herr Sturmbannfiihrer to give me a number we could call of someone who could vouch for the Herr Sturmbannfuhrer?”
“What’s this all about?” Fulmar demanded impatiently. “What is it you did not want to discuss before the others?”
“There was an incident, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer, in which a Gestapo agent lost his life. There was a teletype this morning, giving a description of the man who is the prime suspect.”
“And you think I’m the man you’re looking for?” Fulmar asked.
“Incredible!”
“The Herr Sturmbannfuhrer will, I am sure, understand my position.”
“Well, let’s get it over with,” Fulmar said. “Can we get through to Berlin from here? Standartenfuhrer Muller will vouch for me. Would that suffice?
Or will it take the Reichsfuhrer-SS himself?”
“Herr Sturmbanafuhrer, ” the Gestapo agent said, “the Gestapo agent was brutally murdered. He was stabbed to death. It is believed that his murderer is an enemy agent. The situation, as I’m sure you will understand, calls for extraordinary measures, even to the point of checking out someone like the Herr Sturmbannfuhrer.”
“Well,” Fulmar said, “you should have told me the situation right off. No apologies are required. To the contrary, I should offer, and do, my apologies for my resentment. You say there is a phone here?”
“In the Grenzpolizei office, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer.” Muller, obviously, has changed his mind about this whole thing When he comes on the phone, he is either going to say he never heard of me, or tell this guy to arrest me, that I’m an agent. In either case, I have between now and the time Muller answers his phone to do something.
The only chance I have now is to get alone with him, before he gets on the phone, and kill him, and hide the body, and get back on the train, and hope the body isn’t discovered until we’re across the border.
I’m bagged, and that’s it. Shit, and so close!
Well, if the Gestapo doesn’tgo ape shit when theylnd they’ve bagged me, and the Dyers don t go ape shit when they find out I’ve been arrested, they may make it The obvious solution to this situation is for me to check out now.
If they interrogate me, Elizabeth’s name will come out Fulmar swiped at his face as if at an insect, and knocked his hat off.
The Gestapo agent quickly bent and retrieved it, and handed it to him.
“Danke schon, t’ Fulmar said, and brushed the front of the crown.