The Grave of Truth (33 page)

‘No, thanks,' Andrews said. ‘I shan't be making a report. If you're offering hospitality I'd rather have a scotch and ice.'

Holler smiled. ‘I'm sure we can manage that,' he said. Sunlight radiated through the big plate-glass window, shedding a nimbus of light around his small figure, with uncountable millions of dust motes floating gently downward through it. The office was high above the city, and there was a fine view from the window. Holler didn't like looking out; ever since his arrest by the Gestapo he had been afraid of heights. His own office in Bonn was on the first floor. He studied the American; he wore his well-cut suit and the blue shirt with buttoned-down collar; he looked like a man in transit. He gave no sign of hostility; he was as neutral as a machine-gun with the cap on its muzzle. Andrews nodded towards the file.

‘Why did you hold this back?'

‘I had to be sure it was right,' Holler answered. ‘We didn't have time to investigate very deeply, but we found the first clues in the flat. Mühlhauser had an address book, and we checked out on the names. One of them didn't exist, nor did the address. But the phone number given was real enough. We traced it to a firm of contractors with business connections in Leipzig. That was his East German controller. My guess is, he was recruited soon after he was repatriated. And the fact that the Odessa helped get him settled in a good job here was just a bonus for them.' He waited while a tray of coffee, whisky and ice was brought into the office. He poured a strong drink for Andrews and filled it with ice. ‘Odessa were told we were going to question him,' he said quietly. ‘I knew it was an internal leak. We haven't traced it yet, but we will. So Kramer took a second look at the good Party member Mühlhauser, and decided to ask him a few questions. Your arrival was a godsend to him. He'd saved his life by telling Kramer what he hadn't told the Russians; and not just for that reason.'

‘Why then?' Andrews asked.

Holler sipped his coffee. ‘Because he was a Nazi deep down,' he said. ‘He'd kept alive, but he consoled himself with the idea that he hadn't betrayed
everything
. And when he told about the twin, he hoped she'd be used by the right people. Either Kramer's friends or else a third party, like the CIA.… Someone who'd see a use for her in Germany's destiny, and he probably believed that her heredity would do the rest. And of course he was going to feed his Russian masters everything he picked up while you were nursing him in Washington.… Anyway, now you know.'

‘Sure,' Andrews said. ‘Now I know I've personally recruited a Soviet agent and sent him to the bosom of the family. That makes me all set for promotion.'

‘I thought the report you were submitting about the incident in the convent was going to do that,' Holler said gently. ‘But if you were to forget about that, and unmask Mühlhauser yourself when you get back—'

‘Or use him to pass disinformation,' Andrews said. ‘That's the way I thought of playing it. On the understanding that you don't pass that file on to Washington before I have a chance—'

‘My memory for sending in reports is no better than yours,' Holler said.

‘I've forgotten mine,' Andrews said.

‘That's good,' Holler nodded. ‘When are you leaving for home?'

‘I'm catching a flight this evening.'

For a moment they sat in silence; each looked at the other. Neither showed any emotion, each made a private vow not to present the other with a chance of balancing the score. Andrews had lost out, and it would always rankle. Holler would need to be very careful in the future. He got up and held out his hand. Andrews hesitated for a second and then took it; the handshake was brief.

‘Safe journey,' Holler said. Andrews gave him a slow, hard look.

‘Thanks,' he said. ‘I won't forget this trip.'

Holler waited till he left the office. Then he picked up the telephone. His conversation was sparse; mostly he asked questions. ‘You're sure this contact is genuine? No, no deal for Franconi. All right—it'll have to be a very big fish, if they want him let off the hook. No, I don't intend to, but play it along and see what you get. Right.' He set the receiver back, and took out a cigarette; he poured himself more coffee and drank it; it was no longer very hot. The ends were tying up; Andrews was disarmed, at least on this occasion. And the capture of Franconi had produced a very interesting offer from a source in Switzerland. The name of the top Soviet agent and head of the European assassination department of the KGB. It was very tempting; Franconi had given nothing away under interrogation. It was obvious to Holler that he was protecting an accomplice as well as himself. And it must be the accomplice who was bargaining for Franconi. He could be released through lack of evidence: intelligence was a game in which the scales of justice were adjusted according to what was most politically valuable. Holler had adjusted the scales many times before. He was going to do the same for Minna Walther. What happened to the multi-murderer Franconi was a different problem. He had silenced Curt Andrews and he could protect the widow of his old friend. It was time to let Max Steiner leave the hotel and go to see her.

‘I've sent her home to Hamburg,' Holler said. ‘Her arm is healing well; there's no reason to keep her in hospital any longer.'

‘Then you're not going to take any action against her?' Max asked.

Holler shook his head. ‘No. She did Germany a service. Fortunately I don't have to admit that anything happened, which makes life easier.' He gave Max a slight smile. ‘It needed a little negotiating, but it worked out. So Minna is safe from prosecution. And you can see her now.'

‘Why didn't you let me know before she left Munich? Why wait to tell me after she's gone home?'

‘There was a reason for that,' Holler admitted. ‘You don't act on impulse in my kind of work. There always has to be a reason. And this one was quite simple, really. Now she's gone home, you don't have to see her if you don't want to. You have been her lover; it would have been difficult to refuse to go to the hospital. Now you have an easy exit if you want one.'

‘What kind of a bastard do you think I am?' Max demanded.

Holler pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘I don't think you're a bastard at all,' he said. ‘Minna wound you round her finger like a piece of ribbon. She has a way of making people love her. Sigmund worshipped her for nineteen years. I'm a little cynical about women, Herr Steiner, and it probably colours my view of the best of them. But Minna Walther is different. The women I've known have all been sensible, pragmatic; that's the new word, isn't it? They're supposed to be such impulsive creatures, ruled by the heart not the head—' Max saw the smile again, and this time it was a little sour and twisted. ‘They're the most cold-blooded, the most calculating of the species. All they want is to survive, to protect their children and maintain the status quo. I speak from experience, but that's not important. Now and again history throws up the exception to the rule. Women prepared to die for an ideal. Or to kill for it. Do you still love her, Herr Steiner? That's why I sent her back home, because I owe her something. I wanted her to feel secure in her own house, among the people and the things she knows. If not—' He left the sentence unfinished. ‘Her eldest son is with her.'

‘Does he know?' Max asked.

‘No,' Holler said. ‘I told him she'd had an accident. He's very like Sigmund, but he has the strain of Prussian fanaticism dressed up as modern Liberalism. He's never understood his mother because he's got too much of her in him.' He paused. ‘Do you want to go to Hamburg? Please understand; there's no obligation.'

‘No,' Max Steiner said, ‘there isn't. I can walk out of here and catch the plane back to Paris; I can write a long article about her husband and mention her in passing.… I can probably persuade my wife and children that I didn't mean it when I said I was finished with them and in love with someone else—no, there's no obligation on me to see Minna. I can file and forget, as the saying goes.'

‘I haven't heard that before,' Holler said. ‘There's a flight to Hamburg at eleven o'clock. I'll send a car if you want to catch it.'

‘Thanks,' Max said. ‘I'll be ready in half an hour.'

The memory of the first time he came to the house in Hamburg was so strong that for a moment he hesitated before going up the steps to the front door. Minna had met him at the airport, driving a fast car. He had remarked on the way she drove; there was an indication of the hidden side of her nature in the single-minded determination of her driving. It was an unusual trait in a woman. He remembered feeling uncomfortable as they cut through the traffic. So much had happened, and so quickly, since they entered her house together. He had been powerfully attracted to her even at that stage, going forward deliberately into a situation which was dangerous, because whatever Minna Walther was, she wasn't the type for a casual affair. He stopped at the front door and pressed the bell. Waiting there he felt as if he were going to see a stranger. The door opened and the housekeeper let him in, standing aside as he came into the hall.

‘Good evening, Herr Steiner. Fräu Walther is in the sitting room. I'll go and tell her you're here.'

The house had a smell of lavender polish and Minna's distinctive scent; he glanced at the staircase. Her bedroom was on the landing facing the stairs. The big draped bed, and the chill of linen sheets. The changing tempo of making love to her. He would know in a few minutes whether it had meant as much to her.

‘Come in, please, Herr Steiner.' The housekeeper held the door open for him and he went inside. There was a fire burning, in spite of the warm weather, and Minna was sitting close to it. Her right arm was in plaster and it was difficult for her to get up. He came quickly to her, and caught her outstretched hand. She looked very white and drawn, the grey eyes seemed larger, and the smile was uncertain. He couldn't put his arm round her because of the clumsy plaster; he saw tears swimming in her eyes, and felt the prick of them himself. He kissed her hand and held it. ‘Oh, my darling,' he said. ‘My darling.'

They didn't talk about anything for some time; he sat beside her, holding her hand. The fire flickered hypnotically and Max let himself drift, knowing only how much he loved her and that nothing else mattered. She had recovered herself; she was very still, leaning against him, gazing into the fire. There was an idyllic quality about the time they sat there together, not breaking the silence. He didn't want to question her; he didn't want to spoil the harmony between them. He felt closer to her than ever before. But it was Minna who spoke of it first.

‘Do you still love me, after what's happened?' She didn't turn to look at him.

‘You know I do,' Max said. ‘More than ever.'

‘I wasn't sure,' she said. ‘I saw the look on your face immediately afterwards. There were times when I was certain you'd never come back. That you couldn't accept what I'd done.'

‘I've got to accept it,' he said. ‘Because I love you. Perhaps I don't quite understand it. Why you, Minna? Why not leave it to Holler—'

‘I couldn't take the chance,' she said slowly. ‘I'll admit that at one moment I hesitated. Before she came into the room, I thought that perhaps if she was a nun it wouldn't be necessary. But as soon as I saw her I knew that Sigmund was right. He loved Germany, but he understood us all too well. We have a streak of self-destruction in us; it's in our culture, our ancient legends; part of us wants to triumph and then perish in a real Twilight of the Gods. That was the secret of Hitler, and why he overcame the reason and humanity of millions of decent, intelligent people. He had the dark side in himself, and he knew how to appeal to it in our nation. He didn't just offer us victory and world conquest—the alternative was always death and dissolution. I saw it in my own family and their friends; it's a kind of insane philosophy that insists on breaking ourselves before we bend. Duty, tradition, military honour—they're all fine words, Max, but they can be made to excuse the worst kind of crimes. You know that too. Nazism was the ultimate expression of the German sickness. That's what Sigmund called it, and that's why he started looking for this heir of Hitler's. Because he intended to kill it.

‘He knew, and so did I, that what we had done once to the world, we could not do again, and that the child of Adolf Hitler, man or woman, mustn't be left alive. Germany has had a wonderful rebirth; we've become a proud, respected people, and all we need is to be united as a nation. That will come in time. So there was no doubt in my mind at all. I decided to go on, after Sigmund was murdered, and to do what he would have done. I took his gun with me to the convent.' The grey eyes looked into his; their expression was steadfast, almost serene. ‘She was truly evil, just as her father was. I shall never regret what I did.' She laid her hand tenderly against his cheek. ‘I love you very much,' she murmered. ‘Nothing can change that.'

‘I want you to come away with me,' Max said.

She shook her head. ‘I can't,' she said. ‘My life is here, with my children.

‘Ellie's getting a divorce,' Max Steiner said. ‘The first time you met me, you asked how long I'd been away from home. Well, I'm home now. I want to marry you, Minna. I'll get a job in Germany, and we'll live in Hamburg if you like. Where's your son? I'd like to meet him.'

‘He's upstairs,' Minna answered. ‘But he won't accept you, Max. He won't have anyone take his father's place.' He helped her to her feet.

You'll be surprised,' he said, ‘how people accept what they can't change. And nothing is going to change me. When does that plaster come off?'

‘Six weeks,' she said.