At Fermanville, Max was enjoying a drink in the mess in the early evening when Bubi Hartmann walked in. Max excused himself from a group of officers and went to greet him.
‘Bubi, what brings you here?’ and then he frowned. ‘Is there a problem? My mother?’
‘In the corner,’ Bubi said. ‘We need privacy.’
The other officers stared for a moment, then turned from Bubi’s frown.
Max said, ‘What is this?’
Bubi waved the mess waiter away. ‘Do you know a place called Château Morlaix about forty miles from here?’
‘Of course. There’s a Luftwaffe feeder station there. We often use the emergency strip.’
‘I landed there early this afternoon. Flew down from Berlin in a Storch with your mother and her maid.’
Max looked anxious. ‘Is she under arrest?’
‘Not in the way you mean. Read this, Max.’ He took an envelope from his pocket, extracted a letter and passed it over. It was quality paper and the heading was embossed in black.
Berlin, April 1944
DER REICHSFÜHRER – SS
The bearer acts under my personal orders on business of the utmost importance to the Reich. All personnel, civil and military must assist him in any way he sees fit.
Heinrich Himmler.
It was countersigned by the Führer.
Max handed it back. ‘Your credentials would appear to be impeccable. In the circumstances, I really would appreciate a drink.’ He waved to the waiter. ‘Cognac – large ones.’ He turned back to Bubi. ‘Dolfo Galland’s at Abbeville tomorrow. He wanted me to fly up there.’
‘I know and he’s been informed that as of now you are detached from Fighter Command.’
‘As bad as that?’ The waiter appeared with the cognac. Max took his down in one long swallow. ‘So, Bubi, what do we have here? I heard an SS Panzer unit had taken over Château Morlaix?’
‘Yes, and they are now under my direct orders. A ring of steel around the place.’
‘Because my mother is there? Come on, Bubi.’
‘No, because your brother is there.’ Bubi swallowed his cognac. ‘If you could collect your kit, we’ll be off.’
‘Harry at Château Morlaix?’ Max was very pale. ‘Tell me.’
‘On the way, Max. Please hurry and remember, this is top secret.’
Max didn’t bother calling his orderly, but packed himself. As he was finishing, the door opened and Major Berger, the station adjutant, came in. ‘Hartmann flourished an order from Himmler himself that chilled my bones. You’ve been posted to the SS command at Morlaix.’
‘So it would appear.’
‘But what goes on there? I’ve been ordered to detach an ME 109 to the Morlaix feeder station. Again, it will be under Hartmann’s command.’
Max zipped up a bag. ‘Who are you sending?’
‘I thought young Freiburg.’
‘Not a bad choice. He’s got potential.’ Max picked up a bag in each hand. ‘I must get off.’
‘Max,’ Berger said. ‘We’ve been friends for a long time. Are you in trouble?’
‘No more than we’ve all been since the Führer took over in ’33.’ Max smiled. ‘Watch your back,’ and he went out.
The car was a Citroën, long and black, and Bubi drove it himself. Max sat beside him, smoking a cigarette.
‘So what happened to Harry?’ he asked.
‘He was dropping an agent off in a Lysander from Cold Harbour in Cornwall. I expect you recall the name.’
‘Why should I?’
‘Max, your brother was shot down in a Hurricane some weeks ago, while covering a Lysander on its way back to Cold Harbour with a very important French officer. He took out two ME 109s and went into the drink. It was Himmler who pointed out to me that the pilot of the third ME on the scene was you. What happened, Max?’
‘All right, Bubi.’ Max laughed. ‘I’ll tell you then you tell me.’
‘Agreed.’
When Max was finished, Bubi said, ‘Remarkable and I’m not condemning you. I hope I’d have done the same.’
‘So what about Harry?’
‘It would seem he was dropping one of those Resistance leaders off, an in-and-out job, bicycle lamps on the heath. He went too high into the radar level after being fired at by Allied naval forces. Can you believe that?’
‘Oh, I can believe anything.’
‘Anyway, boys from your base strafed the landing area and brought him down. He got out as the Lysander fireballed. Strangely enough he was saved by a Panzer patrol which just happened to be in the area. They got his burning flying jacket off him before it did more than singe him, but his left ankle was badly broken.’
‘But otherwise, he’s all right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does he know I’m coming? Does my mother know?’
‘Not at the moment.’
‘I understand you’ve asked for an ME 109. They’ve allocated young Freiburg. Why?’
‘A precaution only, in case we get unauthorized aircraft in the area and that’s common enough these days.’
Max lit two cigarettes and passed one to Bubi. ‘Look, what is this? The Reichsführer isn’t into happy families. What does he want?’
‘Later, Max, later. That’s all I can say for now,’ and Bubi concentrated on the driving.
At Morlaix, Elsa and Rosa had been installed in an apartment suite, Major Müller all courtesy. As with everyone else, the sight of Bubi’s letter from Himmler had had a salutary effect.
‘Colonel Hartmann has gone to Fermanville to pick up Baron von Halder, Baroness,’ he told her. ‘He has left instructions that, when you are ready, you may see your son.’
‘Ah, you know about that,’ she said.
‘Of course. As an officer of the SS I swore a holy oath of obedience. In this matter I am under orders from the Reichsführer himself.’
‘Say no more,’ Elsa told him sweetly. ‘In the circumstances, I would appreciate seeing my son as soon as possible.’
‘Of course, Baroness.’
Harry was propped up in bed, his left leg in a plaster cast across a pillow, flicking through a copy of Signal, which showed in graphic detail how Germany was still winning the war. The door clicked open and Müller stepped in.
‘Colonel Kelso, I have your mother here.’
Elsa stepped into the room and Müller withdrew, closing the door. Harry looked at her and smiled. ‘My God, Mutti, you haven’t aged at all. It’s incredible.’ He dropped the magazine and held out his arms and she ran to him.
Later, she sat beside the bed. ‘So you’ve no idea what’s going on here?’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘I’ve told you all I know. Bubi Hartmann, Himmler. Max, of course, told me of your warning when you went down in the sea and he saved you. Where did you get your information?’
‘I do special flights for British Intelligence. The people I deal with have contacts in Berlin.’
‘I see. So, you haven’t married?’
‘Mutti, I’m still only twenty-six years old.’
‘Your father was twenty-two when he married me.’
‘Well, I have been rather busy.’
She lit a cigarette. ‘So, I don’t know what’s going on here and neither do you?’
‘So it would appear.’
She nodded. ‘Is there a girl in your life, a proper girl?’
‘Perhaps. Her mother was English, killed in the Blitz. Her father’s an American general.’
‘She sounds promising.’
‘She’s a few months older than me and a brilliant surgeon.’
‘Couldn’t be better. I’m impressed.’
‘Don’t be, Mutti, she deserves better.’
Before she could reply, the door opened and Bubi appeared. ‘Another guest for you, Colonel.’ He stepped back and Max moved into the room.
Dinner was served in the château’s magnificent dining room. Harry was carried down in a chair by two SS orderlies. Müller, Schroeder and two young lieutenants joined the party. The food was excellent: turtle soup, mutton roasted to perfection, an excellent salad, good champagne and a fine claret, a pre-war Château Palmer.
Elsa said, ‘I must say the SS do know how to do things well, Major Müller.’
‘Anything else for you would be totally unacceptable, Baroness,’ he replied gallantly and raised his glass. ‘To brave men everywhere and to Colonel Kelso and the Baron von Halder, brothers in arms.’
Everyone stood, except Elsa and Harry, and drank the toast. Bubi said, ‘And now, Major, if you could excuse us.’
‘Of course, Colonel.’
As Müller and his officers made for the door, Schroeder turned and said, ‘I’ve been in touch with the local doctor, Colonel Kelso. He’ll have crutches for you here tomorrow.’
‘That’s kind of you,’ Harry said.
The door closed, Bubi got up and reached for the claret and went round the table topping up the glasses.
Max said, ‘All right, Bubi, what’s the game?’
Bubi stood by the fire. ‘Everyone thinks the important question about the invasion is where the Allies are going to land. The Führer doesn’t agree. He thinks we should put our efforts into something really worthwhile.’ He paused. ‘Such as assassinating General Eisenhower.’
There was total astonishment on every face.
‘But that’s crazy,’ Max said.
‘It is, but unfortunately Himmler agrees with him. I have agents in London, separate from the Abwehr and still at large. Through them, Colonel Kelso, I know all about Brigadier Dougal Munro, Major Carter, Cold Harbour and SOE in Baker Street. I know you have a lady friend, a Doctor Sobel, whose father is a general on Eisenhower’s staff. I know you often fly him as a courier pilot. I told the Reichsführer that we couldn’t oblige the Führer, that I had no one in London capable of such a task and that at this stage in the war, I didn’t think one of our own people, however capable, would ever get near Eisenhower, even if we managed to get someone into England.’
‘So?’ Kelso asked.
‘Things have changed, however, with you falling into our hands, and this has led to the Reichsführer coming up with, in his opinion, a brilliant solution to our dilemma, and in mine, a bizarre one.’
He paused and Max said, ‘Go on, Bubi.’
‘It goes something like this. Colonel Kelso escapes, steals the Storch on the landing strip and flies back to Cold Harbour to a hero’s welcome. Eisenhower will wish to see him. If not, he is certain to fly the General on some occasion, as he has before. At a suitable moment, he assassinates him.’
There was a profound silence then Harry laughed out loud. ‘And how do I accomplish all this? I’m not getting crutches until the morning.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Bubi told him. ‘It wouldn’t be you, it would be Max.’
Elsa said, ‘Oh, my God.’
Max drank a little claret and put down the glass. ‘And why would I do such a thing? I fly fighter planes, Bubi, that’s what I do. Whatever else I am, I’m no assassin.’
Bubi came to the table and poured more wine, considerably agitated. ‘I’m just an errand boy. I’ve got Himmler’s hand on my throat too. This is none of my doing.’
‘All right,’ Max said. ‘Just tell us the worst.’
‘The Baroness, regrettably, has enjoyed entirely the wrong circle of friends. Eighteen arrested, twelve executed, several of them generals, two women. It’s called guilt by association. Let’s put it this way. If you don’t co-operate, you two, it will be very much the worse for her.’
Elsa tossed wine into his face. ‘You bastard.’
Max jumped up and caught her arms. ‘Don’t be stupid, he’s got just as much choice in this as we have.’
‘To hell with that kind of talk,’ Harry said. ‘If you did this you’d need my co-operation, Max. My life in detail, my girl Molly, Munro, my friends at Cold Harbour, Eisenhower, Southwick House.’ He shook his head. ‘I won’t do it.’
Bubi wiped his face and Max turned to him. ‘Give us some time.’
‘Tomorrow morning,’ Bubi said. ‘That’s the best I can do. Sleep on it,’ and he turned and went out.
Back in his room, he telephoned Himmler at Prinz Albrechtstrasse and found him still in his office. ‘I thought I should bring you up to date, Reichsführer.’ When he was finished, he said, ‘What shall I do?’
‘I’ve told you what to do, Colonel. Let them think it over. Not much sleep there, I think. Breakfast, everything nice and orderly. Then at, let’s say ten o’clock, let the axe fall. I doubt if you’ll have any further trouble.’
‘Very well, Reichsführer.’
‘I must go, Colonel, I’m needed in Paris. I intend a night flight. If you need me, I’ll be at Gestapo Headquarters there.’
‘As you say, Reichsführer.’
Bubi replaced the phone, imagining Himmler’s personal JU 52 lifting into the night. If only an RAF Mosquito could appear on schedule and blow him out of the sky, but that, of course, would be expecting too much.
Elsa had retired, and the SS orderlies carried Harry back to his room and helped him on to the bed. After a while, the door opened and Max came in.
‘Not one, but two sentries on the door. They are taking good care of you,’ he spoke in English.
‘I like the uniform,’ Harry told him. ‘Very handsome.’
Max crossed to the chair where Harry’s tunic hung. He examined the medal ribbons. ‘You’re not doing too bad yourself.’ He pulled a chair forward and took out his cigarette case. ‘So, here we are, brother, together again.’ He gave Harry a cigarette and a light. ‘The only thing missing is Tarquin. How is the old boy?’
‘Don’t ask,’ Harry said. ‘Every mission I flew, he was there in his jump bag in the bottom of the cockpit. Right through the Battle. I jumped for it over the Isle of Wight and Tarquin went with me. Twice into the drink.’
‘And what happened this time?’
‘They shot me up real good, I clipped trees coming down.’ Harry shrugged. ‘The Lysander came apart, then flamed. I was dazed. I remember grabbing at the jump bag as I dived out, but my flying jacket was on fire. To give them their due, those SS guys came right in for me. As they dragged me away the Lysander blew up.’
‘And Tarquin went with it?’
‘So it would appear. He was my good luck, Max, and now he’s gone.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense. You were your own good luck. A great pilot.’ Max smiled. ‘Almost as good as me.’ He shrugged. ‘Still, I’ll ask Bubi to have some of his men search the area.’
‘Speaking of Bubi, where exactly does he fit into all this?’
‘Oh, we flew in France in the old days while he was in the Luftwaffe.’ Max carried on and told him the story. As he concluded, he said, ‘It’s true what he said. He’s just as much in Himmler’s power as the rest of us.’
He went to the window and peered out and Harry said, ‘What happens now?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll hear what Bubi has to say in the morning. We’ll see.’
‘You mean you’d actually go through with this thing? Kill Eisenhower?’
Max turned. ‘He’s nothing to me, Harry, he’s the other side. I’ve killed a lot of people and so have you. It’s called war.’
‘Okay, but there’s still a difference. What if the shoe was on the other foot and they wanted me to assassinate Himmler, a Nazi bastard like that?’
‘To people in America and England, I’m a Nazi bastard.’
‘Like hell you are. The vast majority of the German people aren’t members of the Nazi party. They got sucked in when Hitler took the country to war. They had no choice.’
‘Oh, we all had a choice. It’s just that we left it too late.’ Max went to the door and turned. ‘This young woman, the doctor? Do you love her?’
‘She loves me. I don’t really know what love is. I didn’t seem to have the time. Mainly the odd one-night stand. You know how it is?’
‘I’m afraid I do. Isn’t life hell?’ Max opened the door. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
At Lisbon airport, Joel Rodrigues waited as he’d been ordered at the main entrance. It was raining hard and he was thoroughly miserable after a flight from Berlin in an ME 110, a twin engine fighter often used now for courier work. He hadn’t even been given the opportunity to see his family. He was not happy, not happy at all.
A black limousine drew up, a chauffeur got out and opened the rear door and a young man in a black overcoat approached. He had thin lips and dark, intense eyes. His name was Romão and he’d met Joel on his arrival.
‘There you are, Rodrigues, the minister wants a word.’
Joel hurried after him, the rear window was wound down and Nunes da Silva looked out, his white hair silver in the lamplight, the eyes pale in a shrunken face.
‘So you are Rodrigues?’
‘Yes, Minister.’
‘You know what you have to do?’
‘Yes, Minister.’
‘I know nothing of Reichsführer Himmler’s instructions to you and I do not wish to. You proceed to London as an embassy courier and link up with your brother. Rodrigues, both of you, you’re greedy little men. The fix you’re in is of your own doing.’
‘But how long do I stay, Minister?’
‘Until I tell you otherwise.’ Da Silva turned and said to Romão, ‘What time is the flight?’
‘One a.m., Minister, a TAP Dakota. They prefer to fly at night. The Germans are thorough, but even they can make mistakes.’
‘You see, Rodrigues?’ da Silva told him. ‘You could end up going down in the Bay of Biscay and it’d serve you right. See him on his way, Romão, then join me at the apartment.’ He wound up the window and the limousine drove away.
Rodrigues went back to the entrance and picked up his case. Romão said, ‘Isn’t he the original old bastard? Still, he’s got a point. They recently shot down a passenger plane carrying Leslie Howard, of all people. You know, the film star.’
‘Thanks very much.’
‘If your luck is good, you’ll be in London for breakfast. Wonderful city and they are winning the war.’ He smiled. ‘Of course, I’ll always deny I said that.’
In any case, the flight was not good. There were thunderstorms over Biscay, the Dakota was crowded, every seat taken. Many people were airsick and the smell left a great deal to be desired. Somehow, Joel survived, helped by a half bottle of brandy he’d had the forethought to put in his pocket.
At Croydon airport, he waited in a queue to pass through customs and security, and was suddenly aware of his brother on the other side of the barrier, waving to him. Joel waved back and reached the head of the queue.
‘Passport, sir,’ the security officer said.
Joel passed it across. ‘I have diplomatic immunity. I’m going to the Portuguese embassy here.’
‘I see, sir,’ and the officer examined the passport.
How often in life small things carry the seeds of disaster, for Joel Rodrigues had committed a serious blunder that others – Himmler, da Silva, Romão – should have foreseen. His passport carried arrival and departure stamps for Berlin.
Special Branch from Scotland Yard always had a presence at the airport. By chance that morning, Detective Chief Inspector Sean Riley was doing his weekly check and was standing not too far away – a tall, thin London Irishman with a scarred cheek from a broken bottle.
The security officer nodded and Riley stepped forward. He didn’t take the passport, simply glanced at it, saw everything, looked up and smiled. ‘Welcome to London, sir.’
Joel moved through and embraced his brother. ‘I’ve got a car waiting,’ Fernando said and picked up his brother’s suitcase.
As they moved away, Riley beckoned to a young man in a shabby raincoat. ‘Your chance to make sergeant, Lacey. You follow those two to the ends of the earth.’
‘My pleasure, Chief Inspector,’ and Lacey went after them.
The British secret intelligence services have always differed from other countries’ in one major respect. Their agents have no powers of arrest. This is why they always work closely with Special Branch of Scotland Yard. As it happened, Riley regularly worked closely with Section D at SOE and Munro. It was eight-thirty when he phoned Baker Street and Jack Carter took the call.
Riley explained about Joel Rodrigues. ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘there was a Portuguese embassy car waiting and my lad Lacey heard the chauffeur call the other man Rodrigues too.’
‘Really?’ Jack Carter said. ‘That is interesting. Anything else?’
‘Yes, they stopped off at a flat near Kensington Gardens, Ennismore Mews, got rid of the suitcase, then carried on to the embassy. Lacey drove back and checked out the flat. It’s in the name of a Fernando Rodrigues. I’ve already looked him up. He’s Senior Commercial Attaché.’
Jack groaned. ‘They always are, Sean, but I think this is a good one. Let me check with the Brigadier and I’ll get back to you.’
Munro was in his office going through some files and signal flimsies. He looked up. ‘There you are. We had another message from Jacaud. He can’t help much. This SS outfit has Château Morlaix and the general area wrapped up tight. They did see a Storch land at the airstrip yesterday afternoon, but that’s about it.’
‘So, he could still be there, sir?’
‘He could still be anything, Jack, alive, dead, wounded. Who the hell knows? Anyway, what have you got?’
Carter explained about the Rodrigues brothers. Munro listened and nodded. ‘Riley’s a good copper and he was right. The Berlin stamps in the passport, that’s the thing.’
‘So what do we do, sir?’
‘Tell Riley full surveillance. I want details of who they meet, photos, the whole business.’
‘I’ll get right on to it, Brigadier.’
Breakfast at Morlaix was a private affair. Harry had managed to make it down the stairs, assisted by Schroeder’s crutches, and sat at one end of the table. Elsa was on his left, Max on the right. Bubi sat at one end. They ate in silence, served by an SS orderly in a white jacket. Scrambled eggs and bacon, toast, excellent coffee.
‘You do well, you gentlemen of the SS,’ Elsa said.
‘We aim to please.’ His humour was forced. They heard the sound of a plane overhead and he got up and went to the window. ‘Ah, the ME 109 from Fermanville.’
‘Freiburg,’ Max said.
Bubi turned and looked at his watch. ‘Nine-thirty, I’ll be back at ten. I’ll expect your answer then,’ and he went out.
‘He can go to hell,’ Elsa said and nodded to the orderly, who poured more coffee.
Max said, ‘It isn’t that simple.’ They spoke in English.
‘Remember who you are, Max. Baron von Halder, the Black Baron, possibly Germany’s greatest ace. What can they do to you?’
He shook his head. ‘You still don’t see it, Mutti, do you? In the hands of people like Himmler we are nothing.’ He turned to his brother. ‘Tell her, Harry.’
Harry said, ‘He’s right. We’re in one hell of a fix here.’
‘You mean you’d go along with this ridiculous notion?’
‘He certainly couldn’t carry it off without my co-operation.’
‘I despair of both of you.’ She stood up.
Max said, ‘Mutti, we have to think of you.’
She drew herself up. ‘I am Elsa von Halder, Reichsmarschall Goering is my friend. They wouldn’t touch me.’
She went out of the dining room like a ship under sail and the door banged behind her.
In the south sitting room Bubi supervised the setting up of a sixteen millimetre projection camera. He’d chosen the room because the end wall was plain white. He dismissed the orderly who’d helped him, took a reel of film from a tin can and carefully threaded it through the projector. Behind him, the door opened and Müller came in.
‘Anything I can do?’
‘Yes, bring them here now then wait outside. I’ll send for you when I need you.’
Müller shrugged and went out.
‘All right, Bubi, what is this?’ Max demanded a few minutes later. He was standing by the window and Elsa and Harry occupied the couch.
‘Early in the day for a film show, I’d have thought,’ Elsa told him.
Bubi said, ‘Before we start, let me say again that I’m only obeying orders. I have no choice in this matter.’
‘Oh, get on with it,’ Harry said. ‘Let’s hear the worst.’
At that moment, a plane roared overhead, obviously descending. Max looked out of the window. ‘JU 52. Now what in the hell is it doing here?’
It couldn’t be possible and yet, in his heart, Bubi knew it was. ‘Wait here,’ he said and went out.
Müller was walking along the corridor to the room he was using as an office. Bubi said, ‘What do you think?’
‘I’ll phone through to the airstrip now. We’ll soon know.’
They stood in the office, smoking cigarettes, and waited impatiently for the sergeant on the phone to come up with an answer. Finally, he said, ‘I understand,’ replaced the phone and turned, awe on his face.
‘Reichsführer Himmler has just landed in the JU 52. He’s on his way.’
It took all the strength that Bubi had to help him stay in control, then he said to Müller, ‘Form an honour guard, of course, then bring him to the south sitting room. I think you’ll find that’s why he’s here.’
‘At your orders, Colonel,’ and Müller hurried away, his eyes shining with excitement.
Bubi said to the sergeant, ‘Would there be a little cognac available?’
The sergeant smiled. ‘Not exactly the best, Colonel.’ He opened a drawer and produced a half bottle.
Bubi drank deeply from the bottle itself. ‘I see what you mean.’ He handed the bottle back to the sergeant. ‘It does hit the right spot though,’ he said, and he turned and went out.
They were still waiting when he returned. Elsa said, ‘Are we to sit here all morning?’
‘I’m sorry. Things have taken a rather dramatic turn. Reichsführer Himmler will be here in a few moments. That was his plane.’
It was perhaps at that moment that the gravity of the situation really struck home to Elsa. She put a hand to her mouth and it was Max who said, ‘That bad, Bubi?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
It was ten minutes later that the door opened. Müller led the way in, turned and raised his arm in salute and Himmler walked in wearing black uniform and cap, his eyes glittering behind the steel-rimmed glasses.
‘Ah, there you are, Hartmann. Is this matter resolved?’
‘I’m afraid not, Reichsführer.’
‘As I feared, which is why I decided to divert my plane, but I really don’t have time to waste. I’m due in Paris as soon as possible, so let’s get on with it.’ He turned to Max, Harry and Elsa. ‘Colonel Hartmann has told me that he has explained the purpose of your presence here. It would seem you are being difficult.’
Elsa, proud to the last and close to tears, said, ‘You can’t treat me like this. I’m Baroness von Halder and –’
‘You are a traitor to the Reich,’ Himmler said tranquilly. ‘Many of your wretched associates have already paid the price for their treachery. If I’d had my way, you would have gone down the same road. However, you do serve a purpose.’
Max was on his feet. ‘Damn you!’
Himmler said to Müller, ‘Colonel, you will relieve this officer of his pistol.’
Müller drew his own weapon, went forward and complied. It was Harry who said, ‘Look, let’s get on with this farce. What is it you want?’
‘Conspiracy against the Führer carries only a summary sentence. Death by hanging with piano wire, the execution to be filmed as a record to, shall we say, encourage the others.’ He nodded to Müller. ‘The curtain.’
Müller did as he was told and Bubi started the projector.
The film was absolutely horrific, one wretched victim after another brought in by SS guards, all rank insignia removed from their uniforms. With piano wire nooses around their necks, they were lifted up to be suspended from meathooks. Some defecated in death and the final convulsions were appalling to see. Particularly harrowing were the executions of two women, one who appeared to be at least seventy.
When the film ended, there was a stunned silence. Suddenly Elsa gagged, got to her feet and lurched to the fireplace and was sick. Müller went and pulled the curtains. It was Himmler who spoke first.
‘I deplore violence of any sort, but when confronted with treachery, the Third Reich must protect itself. Men and women, all traitors must accept the same punishment.’ He turned to Max and Harry. ‘In your case, you have the chance to perform a great service. In return, your mother’s life will be spared. If you persist in being difficult …’ He shrugged. ‘You’ve seen what happens. There is only one penalty. The Führer’s express order.’ Elsa lurched back to the couch, a handkerchief to her face, and Himmler turned to Max. ‘You intend to be sensible, Baron, I trust.’
‘Yes, damn you!’ Max told him.
Himmler turned to Harry. ‘And you, Colonel?’
Harry remained silent, his face white.
Himmler leaned in and spoke quietly. ‘I need hardly point out that if your mother has to pay the ultimate penalty, then so shall Baron von Halder. Are you ready to sacrifice them both, Colonel?’
‘You lousy little bastard,’ Harry said, but Himmler saw that he had won.
‘Excellent.’ Himmler turned to Bubi. ‘I’ll be on my way again. I leave this matter in your capable hands, Colonel, and envy you your inevitable success.’
He nodded to Müller, who followed him out. Elsa sobbed quietly, while Max lit a cigarette and Harry stared at the wall. ‘Do you really think I can carry this off, Bubi?’ Max asked.
‘With your brother’s assistance. You’ve got twenty-four hours to go over it together, then you go.’
‘You swine,’ Elsa said. ‘How can you be a party to this?’
‘I told you Himmler had me by the throat,’ Bubi said. ‘I’m part Jewish. I didn’t think he knew, but that devil knows everything. It taints my family – my wife’s dead, but there’s my old father and his sister and that’s just the beginning.’
Max said with genuine compassion, ‘I’m truly sorry.’
‘So am I. However, we’re stuck now.’ He took a deep breath. ‘All right, first things first. Now that we’ve established that you’re going, we must do something about your face.’
‘My face?’
‘Yes, your brother has a prominent scar on his left cheek. We’ll have to take care of that.’
Max and Harry exchanged questioning looks.
‘But how?’
‘Schroeder’s come up with an idea. I’ll let him tell you.’
‘Let’s get on with it, then,’ Max said and let Bubi lead the way. When the others had gone ahead, he put his hand on Harry’s arm. ‘We’ll figure something out, brother.’ Harry nodded grimly and left the room.