Gregory had an excellent memory. He did not need to be reminded of what Grauber had done with the lighted end of a cigar to poor old Tom Archer’s eyes, only six weeks before, on his secret visit to London. He recalled, too, with the utmost vividness the acid-bath in the secret Gestapo Headquarters in Hampstead and the frightful death which Grauber’s lieutenant, Karl, had inflicted upon the unfortunate Jacob Rosenbaum. No-one had better reason than himself to know that the Gestapo were every bit as merciless outside Germany as in it if they once got an enemy into their clutches.
With racing brain he endeavoured to assess his own chances. Now that the firing had ceased and he had not rejoined Wuolijoki the diplomat would know that the attempted burglary had failed and would assume the raiding party to be wounded or dead. Wuolijoki had made it quite clear that, anxious as he was to have Goering’s report for submission to his Government, his official position made it impossible for him to play any part in this legal affair. Finland was not only at peace with Germany but in the Finnish War of Independence Germany had been her sole ally. For twenty years the relations between the two countries had been excellent—right up to the time of the Russo-German alliance in the previous August—and, in spite of that, were still good. They might be most seriously damaged by a Finnish Foreign Office official’s participating in what amounted to be a gangster-raid on the Helsinki Gestapo Headquarters. Gregory felt that he could not possibly count on any help from Wuolijoki.
Erika and Fredeline von Kobenthal would still be waiting anxiously outside. But what could they do apart from endeavouring to comfort each other for the non-reappearance of their men out of the desperate shooting-affray which they must have heard? Other people, too, must have heard the shooting, even in such a sparsely-populated neighbourhood. The fire was still roaring, so by this time quite a crowd must have gathered outside; but during the hectic quarter of an hour which had elapsed since the bombs went off Gregory had not heard the clanging of the fire-engine bell, so he felt certain that the fire-brigade had not yet got out there.
What would happen when the fire-brigade did turn up, or when the police, some of whom must be on the premises by now, began to ask questions? The local civilians would certainly tell them about the shooting. Grauber would satisfy their inquiries by saying that a gang of bandits had attacked the place and been driven off; upon which it was unlikely that further inquiries would be made until the morning; and Gregory had good reason to believe that by the morning he would have cashed in his cheques after a lingering and most painful death.
As two of the Nazis began to drag him towards the door a third said: “Is it safe to put him in the cellar, Chief? They haven’t got the fire under yet.”
Grauber’s one eye narrowed and Gregory saw his last hopes fading as the Gestapo Chief considered the best means of preventing any interference between himself and his prisoner. “True,” he said; “and the fire-brigade may be arriving at any moment. Go and get Flugel.”
As they waited there Grauber filled in the time by getting a little of his own back on the enemy who had caused him such acute mental and bodily distress. While the two Nazis held Gregory upright the Gruppenführer swung his fist and caught him a smashing blow in the middle of the face. His upper lip was cut against his teeth, his nose began to bleed and the pain from it caused the water to start to his eyes and run down his cheeks.
“How do you like that, Mr. Sallust?” Grauber asked in his thin, piping voice. “It is only one-thousandth part of what is coming to you.”
He swung his fist again, this time hitting Gregory not on the chin but just below it so that his collar-stud was driven home, like a small hammer, on to his Adam’s apple. The pain was excruciating and by reflex action Gregory immediately began to vomit.
Gregory knew both these blows and had used them himself upon occasion; one to make a man cry, the other to make him sick; and in his pain-racked mind he wondered what the Gestapo Chief would deal out to him next. Perhaps he would put on one of the leather gloves that still lay on the desk and strike him a glancing blow across the cheek, which Gregory very well knew, by the sharp drag of leather on skin, would lay his face open from the corner of his eyebrow to his chin; but he was saved from that by the appearance of a short, gorilla-like man who had the look of a professional wrestler.
“Well, Flugel?” Grauber turned to him. “How are you doing?”
“We’re getting the fire under, Chief. Good thing we had those chemical extinguishers; but we had no chance to fetch them from the bedrooms until we’d mopped up the men outside. A crowd has collected out in the street, but so far only three policemen have put in an appearance. I told them that we’d been attacked by Jewish Communists who had made their escape into the darkness after an exchange of shots. As all the Finns loathe Communists they seemed to think it a pity that we hadn’t killed some of them, and now they’re helping our fellows to put out the fire.”
At that moment they all caught the sound of a clanging bell and shouting from the street as the fire-engine drove up.
“They’ll be coming through the house in a minute,” Grauber said quickly. “We don’t want them to see that we’ve taken any prisoners so we’d better not take this man out through the hall.” He nodded at the two men who were holding Gregory. “Get him out through the window and take him down to the shed at the bottom of the garden. No-one is going to look down there for the people who attacked us. Take his little friend who forced the safe with him, and if either of them starts to shout bang them over the head. But don’t kill the Englishman; I’ll attend to him myself later.”
Gregory knew that it was no use trying to argue. If he attempted a big bluff, that they had better be careful, as friends of his in Helsinki knew where he had gone and would come in force to rescue him if he did not return to them by eleven o’clock, Grauber would first laugh at the threat and would then probably kill him on the spot in case there was some truth in his assertion.
The two Nazis marched Gregory towards the back window; a third hauled the groaning Suki to his feet. Gregory could hear the firemen stamping into the front hall now; but he dared not shout for help as it would only have resulted in his being knocked out.
Suddenly a head appeared in the window at the side of the house and a gruff voice said in German, with a heavy Finnish accent: “What’s going on here?”
The whole party turned to stare as a police captain hoisted himself up over the sill and slid into the room. To Gregory’s unutterable relief he was followed by Wuolijoki; and more men came crowding in behind them. The Finnish diplomat had arrived with a squad of police.
As Grauber recognised the officer’s uniform his manner changed instantly; he became again the urbane, plausible, mild-mannered business man which was his usual pose when outside Germany.
“Ah! How timely your arrival, Herr Hauptman!” he smiled. “We have been attacked by Jewish Communists; they placed a bomb at the far side of the house which has partly shattered it and started a fire. While we were trying to put it out they broke open our safe to steal important papers which are the property of the German Government.”
“That’s a lie,” Gregory interrupted. “You were not attacked by Communists and we did not come here to steal papers that are the property of the German Government.”
Grauber ignored him and hurried on: “Fortunately, we discovered them before they managed to get away; but they fired on us, wounding a number of our men, and in self-defence we were compelled to fire back. Some of them are out in the grounds, but these two we took prisoner here.”
“Those papers that you are holding,” declared Gregory impressively, “are the property of His Britannic Majesty; you secured them this morning, under false pretences, from the management of the Hotel Kamp with whom they had been lodged for safe-keeping. I came to demand them back and you and your men fired upon me and my friends without warning.”
The story was thin—thin as tissue-paper—since it did not account for the bomb or the looted safe and the presence of Suki, who was known to the Finnish police as a safe-breaker. Yet, while he could not say that the papers had been given to him by Marshal Goering, by dragging in the British Government he gave himself at least some sort of title to them, and he knew that the Finns would think twice before allowing British official documents to remain in German hands after an allegation that they had been stolen. Moreover, it was just the cue that Wuolijoki needed.
Stepping forward the little man extended his hand abruptly to Grauber. “I am an official of the Finnish Foreign Office. Those papers will be safe in my keeping until such time as this dispute has been settled and we have ascertained to whom they rightly belong. Kindly hand them over to me.”
“I protest,” exclaimed Grauber swiftly. “In the name of the German Government, of which I am a high officer, I demand the right to retain this packet.”
“As a representative of His Britannic Majesty’s Government I demand that it should be handed back to me,” Gregory declared with equal force.
“You see?” Wuolijoki shrugged his shoulders and looked from one to the other. “The only possible course is that I, as a neutral, should take charge of it until the question of their ownership is settled.”
“No,” said Grauber. “I don’t know you; I refuse to give these papers up.”
“I know the gentleman all right,” said the police captain; “he is Monsieur Wuolijoki, of the Finnish Foreign Office. There’s been quite enough trouble here tonight already. You’d better do as he suggests.”
“And if I resist?” Grauber’s face went deadly white and his hand moved towards the pocket into which he had slipped his automatic.
“Then we’ll have to take them from you.” The captain jerked his head over his shoulder. “I’ve got six men here and there are plenty more outside. You’ll find yourselves in grave trouble if you resist the police. Now then, hand those papers over!”
As Grauber reluctantly extended the packet to Wuolijoki Gregory sighed with relief. Goering’s report would be laid before Field-Marshal Mannerheim in less than an hour. He had fulfilled his mission after all.
The police captain glanced towards the two Nazis who were holding Gregory. “Release that man.”
Grauber stepped forward. “I will not allow this. He is a bandit; he broke into this house; he fired upon my friends. It is monstrous that he should be allowed to go free.”
“Easy, easy,” replied the officer. “Who said he was to be allowed to go? I’m taking him and the whole lot of you to police headquarters; and you’ll remain there until we get to the bottom of this affair.”
“What?” From deadly white Grauber’s face suddenly became crimson as the blood rushed into it. “You mean to arrest me and my friends? What about the fire? And look; this room that has been half-wrecked—all my papers scattered about the floor.”
“That’s all right. The fire-brigade will deal with the fire and I shall leave a couple of my men on guard here. Nobody will interfere with your papers.”
“But many of them are secret documents.”
“I can’t help that. There was shooting on both sides, so all of you are coming with me.”
Gregory had the greatest possible difficulty in suppressing a grin. His only regret, apart from his anxiety as to what had happened to Freddie and von Kobenthal, was that he had not had time to destroy Grauber’s papers once the safe was open; but he felt certain that Wuolijoki would have the good sense to get one of the Finnish Secret Service people out there in order to go through them during the night.
The police captain suddenly stepped towards Grauber and laid a hand on the pocket that bulged with his automatic. “I’ll relieve you of this for the time being,” he said, and signed to his men, who collected the pistols of the other Nazis.
The whole party was then led across the hall, out of the front door and through the garden, to the street where, in a space that had been cleared of a curious and growing crowd, two police-vans were waiting. Another squad of police was sent in to collect the Nazis who were still dealing with the fire and to search for others in the house and grounds. Meanwhile the first batch of prisoners was sorted out.
Grauber and his men were put into one van, and Gregory and Suki into the other. As he stepped into it Gregory was immensely relieved to find Charlton and von Kobenthal there. Freddie was only just recovering from a blow from a pistol-butt which had caught him on the back of the head as he was standing at the window and had temporarily knocked him unconscious; but von Kobenthal was wounded both in the shoulder and in the right arm.
They had barely exchanged greetings when the torch of the policeman who was lifting Gregory into the van shifted, revealing Erika further inside it. Caution demanded that she should conceal her elation in front of the policeman but she could not altogether repress the look of joy which suddenly suffused her face as she saw Gregory alive and unharmed, and immediately the van doors were closed she flung herself into his arms.
“What on earth are you doing here, my pet?” Gregory whispered as the van jolted into motion.
“I was caught by a civilian,” she answered quickly, “a man who entered the lane from my end just before the bomb went off. I stopped him and pretended I had lost my way, just as we arranged. Then the explosion occurred and he thought that I must have had something to do with it, so in spite of my protests he hung on to me until the police turned up. But what does it matter—what does anything matter except that you’re alive and safe? My heart nearly choked me with every shot that was fired.”
Gregory grinned into the darkness of the speeding van as he held her tight. “Yes. It was a pretty tough business and I was lucky to come out of it better than the rest. But we got the packet all right; Wuolijoki has it now, so it’s on it’s way to Mannerheim.”
“Oh, splendid, darling—splendid! Did you see Grauber?”
“Did I not!” Gregory could still taste the salt blood that had been running from his nose. “The swine cornered me and I’m afraid I won’t be much to look at for the next few days, darling, but the police arrested him and all his friends as well as us and they’re on the way to police headquarters in another van.”
“How about Fredeline?” Erika suddenly asked; and von Kobenthal answered out of the darkness:
“She got away all right; I saw her standing among the crowd as I was led out. She saw me, too, so—thank God—she knows that I’m not dead.”
“What d’you think they’ll do to us?” Freddie inquired.
“Nothing,” said Erika promptly. “Wuolijoki will fix it somehow so that we’re released tomorrow morning.”
At police headquarters the wounded were helped out and the little party was put into a bleak waiting-room furnished with pitch-pine. A large stove roared in the corner and the heat was almost unbearable after the intense cold outside. The police captain came in to take their names. Erika, Charlton, von Kobenthal and Suki gave theirs without hesitation, but Gregory found himself in a most disagreeable quandary. As he had claimed to be a representative of the British Government the officer would think it extremely strange if he gave the name of von Lutz; yet if he gave that of Gregory Sallust the British Legation in Helsinki would equally disclaim all knowledge of him. However, it didn’t much matter what the police thought, so long as Wuolijoki was not given the least reason to suppose that there was anything phony about Marshal Goering’s emissary. Wuolijoki would have assumed, Gregory felt certain, that he had only claimed to be British in front of Grauber as a ruse to contest the true ownership of the papers and provide a reason for their being given into a neutral’s keeping. The diplomat would expect Gregory to disclose his German identity once he was out of Grauber’s presence, so after having pretended for a moment not to have heard the officer’s question Gregory gave his name as Colonel-Baron von Lutz. The captain blinked, but he was a stolid man; he made no comment and went off to make his report, leaving two policemen with them.
A few minutes after he had gone a doctor came in to make a first examination of the wounds of von Kobenthal and Suki. He declared that none of the injuries was serious, and having applied first-aid dressings, said that he would later attend to them properly. Twenty minutes elapsed; then the party was led along a passage to the room of the Chief of Police. The officer who had arrested them was with him.
The Chief of Police was a grizzled-haired man with a sweeping moustache. He spoke in German, telling them all to be seated. He then signed to the captain and the men who had brought them to leave the room and, when the door was closed, said abruptly: “I don’t pretend to know what lies at the bottom of this affair but I have received a note from Monsieur Wuolijoki asking me to give you every consideration possible. In consequence, if you are prepared to pledge me your word that you will not attempt to escape I shall not put you in cells for the night.”
They all voiced their agreement to his proposal and he went on:
“That is satisfactory, because as two of you are wounded they would normally be sent to the infirmary; but owing to the crisis every hospital in Helsinki has now been evacuated in case of an unprovoked air-attack. We wish to keep every bed free; but I can give you a room where beds will be made up for you and those of you who are unwounded can then look after the others.”
“I am quite prepared to act as nurse,” Erika volunteered.
The police chief nodded. “In that case you can remain with your friends, Frau Gräfin; otherwise I was going to provide you with separate accommodation.” He pressed a buzzer on his desk and a police orderly appeared. Having thanked the Chief of Police for his courtesy they said good-night and filed out into the passage.
The orderly led them up to the fourth floor and into a room which looked as though it was used as a lounge by some of the Finnish detectives. It had a large table, numerous chairs and three sofas. The doctor rejoined them a few minutes later, bringing with him two more orderlies who carried piles of bedding.
Von Kobenthal and Suki were helped to undress and their wounds were properly bathed and bandaged while Gregory washed the blood from his bruised face. One bullet had gone through the fleshy part of von Kobenthal’s arm and the other was lodged in his shoulder. Extracting it was a painful business but he stood it well and they then got him into a bed that had been made up on one of the sofas. Suki’s wound was only a long cut where a bullet had grazed the upper part of his thigh and he declared himself quite comfortable when they had tucked him up in a second bed. Three others were then made up, one on the remaining sofa for Erika and two on the floor for the un-wounded men; after which the doctor and the orderlies departed, locking the door behind them.
Gregory dimmed the light so that the wounded men should have a better chance of getting off to sleep; then he sat himself down beside Erika on her sofa and told her in a low voice the details of what had occurred inside the Gestapo Headquarters.
When he had done she smiled, and said: “Well, thank God that’s over, and I feel sure we’ll all be free tomorrow. It’s rotten luck, though, that we should have to spend the first night of our reunion like this.”
Gregory felt as badly about it as she did but they tried to console themselves with the thought that they were at least together again, and after a while he urged her to lie down and get some sleep. But she would not hear of it, as she meant to look after von Kobenthal and Suki through the night and the doctor had left with her various items, such as Veganin tablets to give the men if they were in pain and barley-water for them to drink if they were thirsty.
For a time the two of them sat silent in order to give the others a chance to get off to sleep; then, when snores told them that their object was accomplished, they lay down together and exchanged more detailed accounts of all that had happened to them during the three weeks they had been separated.
At seven o’clock police orderlies came in to rouse them. A police matron appeared, who took charge of Erika and led her away to the women’s section where she was able to have a steam-bath and tidy herself; while the orderlies took Gregory and Freddie to the men’s baths where they had their first experience of the national manner in which the Finns cleanse themselves. They stripped, and, instead of an ordinary bath, were led into a steam-room where the temperature was very high and they sweated profusely. Afterwards they were given large towels with which to rub themselves down and were lent razors so that they could shave.
On returning to their room they found Erika washing the two wounded men and, in due course, a good, plain breakfast for all five of them was brought up. The doctor appeared at nine o’clock and after examining the two invalids he reported that the wounds were clean and that both were doing well. Suki’s wound was so slight that the doctor measured him for crutches and said that he would be able to get up the following day.
The doctor having gone Gregory insisted that Erika should get some sleep and Freddie said that Gregory ought to do so too, volunteering to look after the other two while they slept; but they did not get very long, as at half past ten Fredeline von Kobenthal was shown in, having obtained permission to see her husband.
When she had fussed over Oscar and assured herself that they were being well looked after she told them that in spite of the fact that the Finns still remained outwardly calm the underlying feeling that in a few hours the crisis would reach a head was stronger than ever. From an early hour that Wednesday morning—long before the late winter dawn—everybody in Helsinki had been out and about making feverish preparations against the Russian onslaught, as rumour now had it that the Finnish Government had definitely determined to resist; which looked as though Goering’s report was having due effect.
Fredeline was allowed to stay for an hour and, being satisfied that her husband was not dangerously wounded and that they would all be released quite shortly, she amused them with her chatter. Soon after she had gone a midday meal was served, but no official came up to see them so they remained in ignorance as to how their case was being regarded, until Wuolijoki was shown in at half past four. He looked extremely worried and when they questioned him he said at once:
“After seeing the report Marshal Mannerheim determined to make the strongest possible stand and early this morning he submitted his views, together with the report, to the Cabinet, who are still considering their decision. But I did not come about that.” He turned his glance on Gregory. “I wish to know who you are?”
Gregory stimulated blank surprise. “But I told you yesterday, I am Colonel-Baron von Lutz.”
“I’m not quite satisfied about that.”
“Really!” Gregory shrugged. “My credentials are all in order. You saw both my passport and the letter from Field-Marshal Goering, so what possible reason can you have for suddenly questioning my identity?”
“But you had two passports,” Wuolijoki persisted; “the German one which you showed me, and a British passport—in the name of Mr. Gregory Sallust—which you presented on your arrival at the air-port here. Then, last night in front of me you claimed that you were acting on behalf of the British Government.”
“True. But I couldn’t possibly admit, in front of members of the Gestapo, that I was acting on behalf of Field-Marshal Goering. I had to lay some claim to the papers—and that seemed to me as good as any.”
“It is curious, to say the least of it, that you should have arrived here piloted by a British Air Force officer.”
“Flight-Lieutenant Charlton agreed to fly me to Helsinki as the price of his liberty. I told you that yesterday.”
“Perhaps. But having carried out his part of the bargain why should he involve himself further in your affairs? He is an Englishman; while you say that you are a German. England and Germany are at war. It is not natural that two enemies should agree to risk their lives together in the way that you two did last night.”
“It was my idea entirely,” Freddie volunteered. “I simply couldn’t resist the chance of having a cut at some of those swine in the Gestapo.”
“Well—we shall see,” Wuolijoki said non-committally; and Gregory did not like his tone at all.
Although he did not show it he had an unpleasant premonition that he might soon find himself in very serious trouble. This impostor business was a great game so long as nobody could check up on one, but in order to keep Goering out of it he had had to play a dual rôle in Finland—landing there as an Englishman so that the Gestapo should not suspect that he had come from Germany, then posing as a German so that Wuolijoki should readily accept him as Goering’s envoy. He remembered Goering’s telling him that Wuolijoki was half-German, through his mother, which accounted for the fact that the diplomat was distinctly anti-British in his outlook. He had accepted Freddie without open hostility the night before, evidently considering him as no more than a pawn in the game, but if he once secured definite proof that Gregory was also an Englishman the fat would be in the fire. He would regard himself as having been tricked, start looking for hidden motives which did not exist and probably withdraw any protection he was at present prepared to give them, and on which their fate now hung, on account of his inbred enmity for the British.
“I take it we can rely on you to get us out of this?” Gregory said with an assurance he no longer felt; and he waited with acute anxiety for the Finnish diplomat’s answer.