The Grave of Truth (31 page)

The girl's disappointment showed for a brief second, and then submission took its place; she bowed her head slightly. ‘Thank you, Reverend Mother.' She gave them a look that seemed to touch on each of them personally; Max saw Holler's reaction. He recoiled, as if he had been given a shock. It was Curt Andrews who held the nun's gaze; she had large blue eyes, and they were brilliant, as if there was a light behind them. Max had never seen such eyes in anyone before. ‘One moment, Reverend Mother,' he heard Andrews say. ‘I'd like to hear Sister Francis answer that question—the one you said you couldn't answer for her.'

‘I don't think that's advisable,' Holler interrupted sharply. He had turned very pale.

‘You promised me a guarantee,' Andrews said. ‘The young lady is the only person who can give it. I have the President's authority to speak to her myself.'

Minna had got up; Max saw her move slowly out of her chair, and step back, as if she didn't want to be part of what was happening. And he knew now what Andrews was going to do, and he also saw from Holler's face that the Intelligence Chief had been taken by surprise.

‘Sister Francis,' Andrews said. ‘I'd like to ask you a question.'

The girl was still looking at him; the sad submission had been replaced by an expression of intentness. Max had the feeling that the controversy had excited her.

‘I'll answer it, if I can,' she said.

‘Do you intend to spend the rest of your life as a nun?'

The pause before she answered seemed interminable. The transformation that came over her was gradual; visibly, it went with a mental calculation. She seemed to straighten, the blue eyes roved over their faces; Max was again aware of their unusual colour and luminosity. One hand reached up to the veil that covered all but a line of dark hair at her forehead. Long, sensitive fingers touched it; he thought she was going to tear it off. But the gesture was enough; its significance was obvious.

‘No,' she said. ‘Not if I have any choice.'

She turned to face Holler when he spoke. His eyes were narrowed, and the look on his face shocked Max. He heard Minna draw her breath. She had come to stand behind him.

‘You have no choice,' Holler said. ‘Understand that. You'll stay in the custody of the nuns for the rest of your life. And be thankful for it!'

‘Custody?' Sister Francis said. ‘I've always felt I was a prisoner. Now I know it. And, of course, I know why.' She turned to the Reverend Mother; her voice fell to a soft, almost gentle tone. ‘I don't blame you, Mother. You had to make me join the community. My aunt helped to persuade me, even though it was against my will.' She gave Curt Andrews another long, communicative stare. ‘My aunt was very religious; she wanted to save my soul. She told me who my father was because she thought I'd spend my life as a nun in reparation for his sins.' She gave the Reverend Mother a slow smile. ‘I thought it was silly at the time. But she was dying, and I wanted to make her happy. But I knew someone would come and rescue me.'

‘Sister Francis,' the nun said, and anger had made her breathless, ‘you are free to leave this House at any time. I, personally will be delighted!' She said furiously to them all, ‘No one ever put pressure on her to enter religion. She has been perfectly free to go or stay.'

‘Sister Francis,' Curt Andrews said, ‘if you want to leave here, I am authorized to offer you the protection of the United States government.'

‘I would be glad to accept it. From today.' The hand came up again and slowly drew off the white cap and the floating veil. Her hair was almost black and it formed a smooth helmet to a striking face. When you knew what to look for, the resemblance was incredible, even to Max who had only seen photographs. Not Eva Braun, with her round, dimpled face and fair hair, but the features, the colouring, and the eyes of Adolf Hitler. Holler had seen it when he looked at her; the magnetism had been passed to her too. She dominated the room. She was more effective and evocative precisely because she was a woman and not a carbon-copy male.

‘No,' Holler said loudly. ‘No, Andrews. You won't get away with this.' He spoke in English.

‘She's too potentially valuable to our enemies,' Andrews said, ‘and she can't be kept against her will. The story will get out.…' He paused to emphasize the point. ‘And if anything happens to her, to a simple nun, dedicating her life to God—it could bring your government down, Holler. The best place for her is safe with us. The Russians aren't going to get their hands on this stick of dynamite.'

Sister Francis took a step towards him. ‘Please take me with you. One day I shall have something to offer my country. I've always known it.'

Curt Andrews saw it first; Max heard a movement behind him, and then Andrews shouted and sprang forward. But he was too late; Minna Walther had fired twice before he reached her, and both bullets struck the smiling figure, bareheaded in her nun's dress. The third went wide, smashing the little red glass lamp that glowed in front of the Sacred Heart picture. There was a cry as Andrews struck, and the gun skidded across the floor. Max acted instinctively to protect her, but she had already crumpled to the ground, her right arm smashed from the savage open-handed blow. He held her against him, and she whispered to him, before she lost consciousness. ‘I had to do it—forgive me, darling—' He saw Holler and the Reverend Mother kneeling beside the girl, Andrews bending over her. It was Holler who spoke first. ‘She's dead,' he said to Andrews. ‘You can take her with you now, if you like.'

Afterwards, when he was trying to remember what had happened, Max could isolate certain incidents with clarity; the rest merged into confusion. He knew that the Reverend Mother had come to help him lift Minna, and he remembered the whiteness of her face and the expression in her eyes as she looked up at him. ‘Thank God for her courage. That brute has broken her arm.…' He kept seeing the dead girl, the triumphant smile frozen on her mouth, the nun's headdress still grasped in her right hand. The Reverend Mother had blood on her skirt. The American was coming over to Minna, and Max stood to bar his way. He had a clear recollection of the fury on the other man's face, and the way he clenched his hands into fists as if he wanted to hit her again and again.…

‘She'll be put away for life!' The words were snarled at him. ‘We'll make sure of that—' The door had slammed behind him so hard that the furniture shook.

Then Holler, very pale, but with a strange look of calm about him.

He had taken charge; the Reverend Mother was advised to change her clothes, gather her community into the chapel and stay there for the next hour. She had seemed to understand when he spoke to her in a low voice; Max heard only the words, ‘Leave everything to me.' Then Holler began telephoning. Minna regained consciousness when they moved her. She cried out in pain. They wouldn't let him go with her in the ambulance. Holler's men had arrived, efficient and silent moving; they barred his way. The dead woman was removed, and someone was cleaning the bloodstains off the floor. Then Max too was taken; there was a gun in his side when he started to protest. He was pushed into a car outside and driven through the city. He was hurried up the steps into the police headquarters and shut up in one of the interview rooms. Somebody brought him a cup of coffee, but when he tried to ask about Minna they went out and locked the door. It was late at night when Holler came to see him.

He walked into the room and when Max tried to speak he held up his hand. His eyes were cold. ‘Before you say anything, you'll listen to me. Sit down.'

‘How is she? What have you done with her?'

‘She's in hospital. I told you to sit down. I don't want to be unpleasant, Herr Steiner, but I shall ring this bell for my assistants, and you'll soon do as you're told. That's sensible of you. Cigarette?' He took one and lit it; Max shook his head. Holler set one of the chairs in front of Max, and sat down. He drew deeply on his cigarette.

‘Did you know she was going to do this?'

‘No,' Max said. ‘For Christ's sake, if I'd had any idea, I'd have stopped her going near the place!'

‘That's what I thought,' Holler said. ‘She used us both very cleverly. You're her lover, aren't you—did you think Minna was capable of killing anyone? No, of course you didn't. Nor did I. But I should have seen through it. I should have known why she wanted to see the other half of Janus.'

‘She said she had to do it,' Max mumbled. ‘She said she was sorry.…' He raised his head; Holler saw the total weariness and despair in his face. ‘What's going to happen to her?'

‘We'll come to that in a moment,' Holler said. ‘I'd like some coffee—have you had anything to eat?'

‘I'm not hungry,' Max answered.

‘You may change your mind, when you see food. I'll get some sent in.' Holler pressed the call bell. Max closed his eyes and waited for a moment. Minna. Minna. He could have cried her name out loud. He drank the coffee when it came, but he couldn't bring himself to eat. Holler smoked and ate sandwiches. The silence seemed interminable to Max.

‘Tell me something,' the Chief of Intelligence said at last. ‘Did you see the resemblance, or was it my imagination?'

‘I saw it,' Max answered, ‘the moment she took her headdress off. I was looking for it, I suppose, but there was no mistake.'

‘She had the same eyes,' Holler said. ‘The same colour blue, the same power to draw you.… I used to watch him subduing other people, men of intelligence and education, generals, staff officers, people who should have seen through him at once. They couldn't withstand his power, whatever it was. She had it too. The nun recognized it.'

‘She said it was evil,' Max said.

‘She was right,' Holler said quietly. ‘The Americans thought they could use her—Hindenburg and the army thought they could use her father. Who sups with the devil needs a long spoon.' There was a curious, twisted smile on his face. ‘I'm having trouble with my American colleague. He's threatening to expose the whole story unless I take action against Minna. Not official action, of course. And I can't let the story come out.'

‘What are you going to do?' Max asked him. ‘You can't punish her—'

‘I wouldn't have let that woman leave Germany alive,' Holler said. ‘Minna forestalled me, that was all. She saw what could happen if Adolf Hitler's daughter came on to the political scene, masterminded by the politicians. If she'd been a fool, or even an ordinary woman, it would still have been dangerous for Germany. But his genes had passed to his child; his capacity to lie and to mesmerize. Andrews didn't even realize how she was working on him. Minna Walther did the best thing possible for us all. I hope you realize it. I hope you still love her, Herr Steiner, because she's going to need you. Now I've got work to do. You won't mind staying the night? They'll give you a bed.' He got up and stretched a little, nodded to Max and went out. The room was hazy with his cigarette smoke. A uniformed policeman came and escorted Max to a cell, where he was given pyjamas and asked if there was anything he wanted.

He shook his head. In his ears were still the words ‘Minna Walther did the best thing possible for us all. I hope you realize it.' He dropped down on to the cot, and lay staring at the bare ceiling. Nobody had locked the door. She was in hospital somewhere in the city, under sedation. She had carried the gun in her bag, knowing that she was going to use it.

Holler said he hoped that he still loved her.… Her own whispered words to him before she fainted: ‘I had to do it. I'm sorry, darling.…' He fell asleep, exhausted, without having answered his own question. The sleep was black and empty, like an abyss into which he had fallen.

‘You put her up to it,' Curt Andrews said. ‘You knew you couldn't hold the girl if she decided to come with me, so you fixed Walther's widow up with a gun and a guarantee if she had to use it. Very clever; no one can accuse you of acting against US interests, and you'll keep the whole mess under wraps. But you're not getting away with this, Holler. I'm going to string you up by the guts!' Andrews didn't shout; he had a powerful enough voice, even in a low key, to convey that he was capable of any threat he made. Prisoners in Vietnam Interrogation Centre 3 had learned to fear the anger in Curt Andrews's voice. It presaged dreadful pain. Holler hadn't spoken; he listened to Andrews with a lack of expression that was infuriating in itself. He didn't even light one of his interminable supply of cigarettes. Andrews was so angry that the muscles on his thick neck were standing out; he had taken up a fighting stance as he towered over the West German, balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to strike. He had always resorted to violence as the ultimate solution, and the habit had never died. The knowledge that all through he had been in contention with a brain even keener than his own increased his frustration. ‘I've been watching you at work,' he said. ‘You're no friend to the Western alliance: you're a Red, Holler, and you always have been—we had our suspicions about your friend Walther, right from the start—
détente
with East Germany, reunification—all the idealistic crap that you people have always fallen for.… It wasn't the Russians who killed him, your Department were just trying to mislead us! He was killed by the left wing, because they knew he was looking for Hitler's children, and exactly what would happen if he found them—only he was dead, so you got the widow to do it for you!'

‘And is this your personal opinion, or is it the view of your State Department?' Holler asked; he sounded disinterested.

‘You'll find that out,' Andrews snapped back at him. ‘I'm going to put in a report about this whole business, and if there's anything left of you and your Communist-infiltrated service, it won't be my fault. We've had enough bullshit from people like you, Holler, trading on the goodwill of the United States—this time, you've tried to give it to the wrong man. I smelt out Reds for two years in Vietnam, and I've had you and the Walther set-up in my nose ever since I got here!' He glared at Holler. ‘I'm going to root you out,' he said. ‘And none of you are going to like it.'