The Cairo Code (15 page)

Halder glanced away, towards the hospital grounds. “God only knows. All that seems a long time ago and another life.”

“If it's any consolation, I've told Schellenberg I want to be kept fully abreast of developments—after all, you're one of my best men, and I feel a certain responsibility.” Canaris hesitated, his face troubled. “One other thing. Walter may be a reasonably likable rogue compared to some of his SD comrades, but I still wouldn't trust the little weasel an inch.”

“What do you mean?”

Canaris shrugged. “Call it intuition, if you like, but no doubt it's years of experience in this unpleasant business that's sending off warning bells inside my head—I've got a distinct feeling he may not be telling us the entire story, and that he's up to something behind our backs. You know how much he delights in his cunning little plots. It's like an elaborate game with him.”

“Up to what?”

“I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea. But you've been warned, so tread carefully.”

Halder slipped the envelope inside his jacket. “I'll try to. Do me a favor, Willy.”

“Anything.”

“Take care of Pauli for me while I'm away. And make sure he's looked after if I don't make it back. Promise me that?”

“Of course.” Canaris put a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, Jack. That's really all I can say. And try and come out of this alive and in one piece.”

Ravensbruck concentration camp had been built in 1935 on Heinrich Himmler's orders, one of the first camps exclusively for female prisoners. Constructed on a reclaimed marsh, it housed a variety of political offenders, gypsies and Jews, prostitutes, female prisoners of war, captured Allied agents, and
résistants.

It was dark and raining that evening as the Mercedes turned off the Potsdam autobahn and headed north. Sitting in the backseat, Halder wore a black leather trench coat and a slouch hat. The dark evening clouds were lit up by flashes of antiaircraft fire, and parts of Berlin's northern suburbs were peppered with flames.

“A filthy night,” he said to the driver.

The sergeant glanced round. His passenger had the look of Gestapo about him in the hat and leather coat. “And going to get worse before it gets better, by the looks of it. The Allies have been bombing us the last three nights. Dangerous times we're living in.”

Halder rolled down the window as the Mercedes turned off the main road. A sign said Ravensbruck, and there was another underneath.
Entritt Verboten.
Entrance forbidden.

At the end of the road was a set of heavy wooden gates, high barbed-wire runs either side, a sentry command post beyond. Halder felt a chill go through him. For some inexplicable reason his heart was pounding in his chest. A couple of SS guards wearing rain capes came out, one of them with a leashed German shepherd. When the Mercedes halted, the sergeant showed their papers and they were allowed through.

•  •  •

A room had been set aside in a drafty wooden hut with a table and a couple of chairs. Halder was alone, and the wait seemed endless as he anxiously tapped his fingers on the table. He had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, fear and a strange kind of excitement. The door finally opened and two female SS guards came in, Rachel between them. She looked pale, and wore a drab, striped camp uniform, her blond hair cut short, but not completely cropped.

“Hello, Rachel.”

For a moment or two she couldn't seem to take in his presence. “Jack—?”

Despite her pallid appearance, she was still striking—the high cheekbones, the wide, blue eyes, the generous mouth—and Halder was aware of a sudden unbearable tightness in his chest. He dismissed the guards. “Leave us.”

When the door banged shut, Rachel stood facing him, silent, and then he slowly crossed the room, put a hand gently on her cheek. “My poor Rachel, what have they done to you?”

“I—I can hardly believe it's you. I'm so glad to see you. So glad.”

It all seemed too much for her. He saw tears at the edges of her eyes, and in a moment she was in his arms. He was conscious of the warmth of her body through the thin material of the camp uniform, and for several moments they remained like that, holding on to each other as if for comfort. “It's all right. It's all right. Please, sit down.”

He led her to the table and they sat. “It's been a long time. How are you?”

She wiped her eyes. “Alive. I suppose that must count for something.”

“Forgive me, but I only just heard what happened to you and your parents. If I'd known sooner—”

His voice trailed off and Rachel said, “Is that why you came to see me?”

“No, that's not the reason. But I'd like to talk. Do you feel up to it?”

“Talk about what?”

He placed the file on the table in front of him, opened it, and looked up. “You've had a hard time of it, by all accounts. A prisoner here for four years, and your father in Dachau. I'm sure it's been far from pleasant.”

For a moment she didn't reply, and then there was an unexpected flash of defiance in her eyes. “Who are you working for, Jack? The Gestapo?”

“Hardly.”

She looked at him, noticing the slouch hat and leather coat. “The way you're dressed might suggest otherwise.”

He shook his head. “A bad choice, then, I'm afraid. I'm a major in the Abwehr. Military intelligence. I have a proposition for you, Rachel. Or rather my superiors have a proposition they'd like me to put to you. How would you like to go back to Egypt with me?”

He saw the puzzled reaction on her face. “Bear with me while I explain. Do you want to see your father again, and for you both to go free?”

She looked completely taken aback. “Of—of course.”

“Then I can promise that he'll be released from Dachau, quartered in an excellent private hospital, and receive the services of a top physician to help regain his health. But best of all, I can promise that you'll both be freed and allowed to leave Germany. In return, you'll agree to be part of a mission. It's a rather straightforward operation—to gather some important intelligence information in Cairo. No doubt you're unaware, but the city is in Allied hands.”

“I don't understand. What kind of information?”

Halder shook his head. “That's a security matter, and doesn't concern you. All you'd have to do is be part of an undercover team, on the pretext of being a group of archeological experts stranded in North Africa because of the war. It's as simple as that. A few days' work at most, and then you and your father are released.”

“On whose word?”

“On the word of Heinrich Himmler, Reichsführer of the SS, and Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, the head of the Abwehr.”

She stared at him as if he were mad, then she laughed. Halder said, “What's so funny?”

“I'd sooner trust Satan himself. You want
me
to help the Nazis? How can I trust them after what they've done to my father and me?”

“The answer is you can't. But let's just say I'm stuck in the same boat. Caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea.”

“How?”

“A long story that doesn't really concern you. For now, all you have to do is decide.”

“And what would happen if I agreed?”

“You'd be released and transferred to a barracks in Berlin, where you'd meet the rest of the group and be briefed on exactly what's expected of you. Soon after that, we'd be flown to Egypt. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't an element of danger. If you were caught on Allied territory, you'd run the risk of being shot as an enemy spy. But if everything goes according to plan, the risks should be minimal. When our mission is complete we'll be flown back to Germany. After that, you and your father would be set free and put on a ship for Sweden within twenty-four hours.”

“And if I don't agree?”

Halder stood very slowly, crossed to the window. The rain was coming down in sheets. He hesitated before looking back. “If you don't, I'm informed you'll both be shot by morning.”

She stared back at him with no expression, like a woman who had long used up all her emotional reserves. He shook his head, his own distaste obvious. “I'm sorry, Rachel, this is none of my doing. I'm simply a messenger, and an unwilling one at that. But if you ask me, a few days in Egypt and a chance of freedom sounds a lot better than a firing squad. I know you're wondering if you can believe the promises you've been given. But you'll have to trust me when I tell you that I have to believe them, too.”

“You're really serious about all this, aren't you?”

“Very. No doubt you wondered why they gave you extra rations, and the camp doctor seemed interested in your health all of a sudden. Now you know. But as I told you, I'm just a messenger. The fate of you and your father is beyond my control. Nothing I could say or do would change matters.”

He came back to the table and sat down. He felt a catch in his throat. “But there is something I have wanted to tell you for a long time, if it's any consolation. And whatever you choose, I'd like you to know.”

“What?”

“Something I never told you because I knew Harry felt the same way. And because we were always such close friends, I didn't want to ruin that friendship. But the first time I saw you at Sakkara, I fell instantly in love.
Coup de foudre,
the French call it. The thunderclap. The most potent kind of love of all.”

She didn't reply. There was a strained silence between them. Halder stood, and pushed back hís chair. He was conscious of a powerful emotion welling up inside him as he looked down at her face.

“I'm going to leave you for a while, and let you think about the offer.”

•  •  •

It was after midnight when the driver dropped Halder back at the Wannsee cottage. The rain was still coming down in sheets as he went up the veranda. There was a black Opel sedan parked on the gravel in front of the house, two leather-coated Gestapo men sitting inside. Schellenberg's Mercedes was parked next to it, and he was already waiting in the front room, smoking a cigarette and relaxing on the sofa, the fire lit and blazing, a glass of champagne in his hand. “A filthy night, so I thought I'd make myself at home and help myself to some refreshment. I hope you don't mind?” He grinned. “Well, how did it go?”

Halder shook rain from his coat and said angrily, “She agreed. Though it hardly surprises me, the offer you put to her.”

“The way of the world, Jack.” Schellenberg seemed excited and got to his feet. He drained the champagne and put down the glass. “It really looks like we're on our way. Excellent.”

“I just hope she's up to it.”

“Nonsense. She's in reasonably good health. And it's too late to find someone else, even if we could. You'll just have to keep an eye on her, and make sure she does what's expected. Naturally, I'll give her an account of the war situation—having been in Ravensbruck, she won't know the present state of play.” Schellenberg smiled. “It'll be a selective account, of course. Just as much as she needs to know.”

“I want you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“My son needs morphine. The hospital says its supplies have been cut. I don't want Pauli to be in any more pain than he is already. And I'd like him transferred to a hospital outside Berlin, somewhere where there's less bombing.”

Schellenberg nodded. “Very well. I'll see what I can do.”

Halder flared. “Don't
see,
just do it,”

“Temper, Jack,” Schellenberg snapped back. “I promised he'd be looked after and I intend keeping my pledge. What's got into you?”

“Let's just say I'm not overly fond of your tactics. And you know something? I've got a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling indeed.”

“Nonsense. It'll work—it has to.”

“Another thing. If Rachel Stern gets out of this alive, you'd better keep to your promise. Otherwise, I'll come gunning for you, Walter. On my life, I will. Even if it means a firing squad.”

“Harsh words indeed, and I'm not sure I like your tone,” Schellenberg answered firmly. “But the promise will be kept, you can be sure of that.”

Halder tossed his wet coat on a chair. “What happens now?”

“You get to meet your fellow travelers tomorrow morning. Seven a.m. at Lichterfeld SS barracks. The girl will be transferred there tonight. I'll send a driver to pick you up at six-thirty.”

“Then what?”

“Time is against us, so we need to move fast. There'll be a rigorous briefing, starting early tomorrow, for yourself, Kleist, and Doring, to explain the plan in detail and go over your cover story—that should take no more than three days—then you'll have the following day to all get acquainted. After that—assuming our U-boats or the Luftwaffe haven't miraculously succeeded in doing the dirty deed for us, and with Himmler's final approval—you'll be flown to Rome and from there on to Egypt, probably on the same night. A detailed message will be on its way to our principal agent in Cairo, informing him of our intentions, and with instructions to obtain what equipment you'll need, and to prepare for your arrival.”

“It all sounds too rushed to me.”

“Apart from the obvious time constraints, the long-range weather reports for the Mediterranean regions are pretty grim. So I want you well under way in case we can't make the drop later. We simply can't take the risk of having to delay or cancel.”

“Then I'll need to see my son one last time before I go.”

Schellenberg shook his head. “Not possible, I'm afraid, for obvious security reasons. From this moment on, you're all committed to the mission and under my protection. By right, you should be sleeping in Lichterfeld barracks tonight.”