To Catch a King (18 page)

“Too late for that now. I'm trapped along with thousands like me. You think I believe that madman back there in Berlin? Do you honestly think that I believe in even one word of his lies? Blacks are inferior, which means I can't enjoy the music of your Connie Jones. The Führer in his wisdom had decreed that Einstein can't count up to ten, and the fact that Hannah Winter has a voice to …”

“I don't want to hear any more of this.” She got to her feet, her hands to her ears for a moment.

“You got me out of Prinz Albrechtstrasse, God knows why, but you did, and you helped Connie and the boys in Madrid, but you killed Uncle Max. It doesn't matter whose finger was on the trigger. You killed Uncle Max.”

They stood there, confronting each other. There was only the sound of the sea on the shore, a gull's cry. And then it was as if something broke inside her.

“Why?” she whispered and there was pain in her voice. “I don't understand.”

He put a hand under her chin and smiled gently. “Life, my Hannah, has a habit on occasion of seizing one by the throat and refusing to let go. It's really very sad.”

He kissed her gently on the mouth, turned, and walked away. For a long time after he had gone, she simply sat there, staring out to sea, then she got up and walked slowly back to the house.

12

U
nlike the previous evening, the warehouse was a hive of industry when Schellenberg entered and went up the iron staircase to Taniguchi's office. The big Japanese was dictating letters to a young secretary, but he sent her out, shutting the door.

“Anything for me?” Schellenberg asked.

“But of course.”

Taniguchi opened a cupboard to disclose a wall safe which he unlocked. He took out a manila folder, “Everything you need, Walter. A plan of the villa and the grounds. A list of the servants. They are provided by an agency in town in which I have a business interest. I have already arranged that as from this morning, an under-footman, a maid, and an assistant gardener will be replaced by people in my pay. They all speak reasonable English.”

“Excellent—and the police?”

“Slightly more difficult. Colonel da Cunha, head of Security Police, has been placed in charge of security at the villa personally. The rumor is that his orders come from Salazar himself.”

“I've already heard he is a first-rate policeman, that one.”

“Certainly beyond any bribe,” Taniguchi said. “Luckily, the officer who is actually stationed at the villa for the duration of the Duke's stay is a different specimen entirely. One Captain Jose Mota.”

“Is he on our side?”

“If you're referring to ideologies, no, but he does have appallingly expensive tastes, particularly in women. So, what are your orders?”

“For the moment, what I require is general information about what's going on in the house itself. Any conversation these people of yours can overhear would be useful.”

“About the Duke's future plans? And what if he decides to go to the Bahamas after all, Walter? What then?”

“I wouldn't blame him really.” Schellenberg got up. “I hear the climate's delightful.”

Taniguchi laughed uproariously. “It really is most amusing.”

“What is?”

“Life, or its more ridiculous aspects. Now take something as abstract as information, Walter. A commodity as subject to the forces of the market place as any other. Something which may, for example, be sold not only once, but twice.”

“An interesting hypothesis,” Schellenberg said. “Let's discuss it.” He sat down again.

* * *

Huene was having his morning coffee when Schellenberg was shown into his office.

“Ah, there you are, General. Care to join me?”

“That would be nice.”

Huene poured coffee into another cup and pushed a message across. “There's something for you from the Foreign Office which you may not appreciate quite as much. I've had it decoded.”

It was from Ribbentrop and very much to the point.

At a suitable occasion, the Duke must be informed that Germany wants peace with the English people, that the Churchill clique stands in the way of it, and that it would be a good thing if the Duke would hold himself in readiness for further developments. Germany is determined to force England to peace by every means of power and upon this happening would be prepared to accommodate any desire expressed by the Duke, especially with a view to the assumption of the English throne by the Duke and Duchess …

There was more in the same vein, including the fact that Ribbentrop believed Espirito Santo é Silva to be sympathetic to German aims. There was also a reiteration of the rumor that the British Secret Service had designs on the Duke's person.

“Well, that's certainly explicit enough,” Schellenberg said.

“I've heard from Primo de Rivera,” Huene told him. “He's taking the Windsors out for the day tomorrow to visit a bull farm. Rather interesting, the Security Police has been placed in charge of security at the villa personally. The rumor is that his orders come from Salazar himself.”

“I've already heard he is a first-rate policeman, that one.”

“Certainly beyond any bribe,” Taniguchi said. “Luckily, the officer who is actually stationed at the villa for the duration of the Duke's stay is a different specimen entirely. One Captain Jose Mota.”

“Is he on our side?”

“If you're referring to ideologies, no, but he does have appallingly expensive tastes, particularly in women. So, what are your orders?”

“For the moment, what I require is general information about what's going on in the house itself. Any conversation these people of yours can overhear would be useful.”

“About the Duke's future plans? And what if he decides to go to the Bahamas after all, Walter? What then?”

“I wouldn't blame him really.” Schellenberg got up. “I hear the climate's delightful.”

Taniguchi laughed uproariously. “It really is most amusing.”

“What is?”

“Life, or its more ridiculous aspects. Now take something as abstract as information, Walter. A commodity as subject to the forces of the market place as any other. Something which may, for example, be sold not only once, but twice.”

“An interesting hypothesis,” Schellenberg said. “Let's discuss it.” He sat down again.

* * *

“I think you could say that.”

Jackson led the way upstairs to his office and closed the door. “All right—what's the deal?”

“A busy man, this Duke of yours. Tomorrow, he goes with Primo de Rivera to visit the bull farm of Antonio de Oliveira outside Nina.”

Jackson frowned. “That's getting awfully close to the Spanish border.”

“Yes, isn't it? However, to stick with the villa. Although Fernandes da Cunha has overall responsibility for the Duke, the officer in charge at the villa at all times is one Captain Jose Mota.”

“And he's bribable?”

“Corrupt as a week-old corpse, but it's going to cost you, Joe. One thousand dollars in American money—nothing less. And he wants it in advance.”

“What do we get for that?”

“Every night at ten o'clock, the Duke has a final cigar while taking a walk in the garden. Always goes alone. I've got a small plan.”

He took a square of paper from his wallet and unfolded it. “Down here, below the swimming pool in this corner, there's a summerhouse. The Duke always ends his walk sitting in there for five minutes finishing his cigar.”

“So?”

“Just a few yards away from it in this area?” He pointed. “It's a shrubbery concealing a door in the wall. Usually, there's a policeman discreetly on guard, but tonight, if you're interested, there won't be. What's more, it will be unlocked.”

“Thanks to Captain Mota?”

“Exactly.”

“Who expects his cash in advance?”

“I'm afraid so.”

Jackson went to the large old-fashioned safe in the corner, unlocked it, brought a cash box to the desk, and counted out ten one-hundred-dollar bills.

“One more thing,” Taniguchi said. “The young lady goes in alone.”

“Now look here,” Jackson began.

“Part of the deal, Joe. Either you agree, or it's all off. She leaves the car halfway down the hill and walks the rest of the way. That's so the gate sentry doesn't hear her.”

Jackson shrugged. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “But I expect service for this little lot, old buddy, and if I don't get it…”

“Trust, Joe, another of this world's more salable commodities. You must learn to value it.”

Taniguchi was smiling as he went out of the door.

Huene placed an office at Schellenberg's disposal, small but perfectly adequate. He was working at the desk when there was a knock at the door and Kleiber entered. He was still very pale and now carried his right arm in a sling made from a silk scarf.

“Well, what do you want?” Schellenberg asked.

“I assumed there would be work to do.”

“As I understood it, your task was to act as my bodyguard,” Schellenberg told him. “You're obviously totally unfit for that at the moment, so my orders are that you go to bed until fully recovered.”

“And Sindermann?”

“Is of no use to me whatsoever.”

“But the Duke of Windsor, General?”

“Is none of your affair, so do as I order. Do you understand?”

“Jawohl, Brigadeführer,” Kleiber said, but when he turned to the door there was murder in his eyes.

Five minutes later he entered Egger's office without ceremony, Sindermann at his heels.

“Sturmbannführer?” Egger said in alarm.

Kleiber sat down. “In the matter of General Schellenberg, my worst fears have been realized. There can be little doubt that he is not pursuing his orders as regards this Windsor affair with anything like the vigor he should. Have you anything to report to me?”

Egger looked hunted, but replied in a low voice, “Yes, I think so. No more than an hour ago he received a brief visit from Captain Jose Mota of the Security Police, the officer in charge of the detachment at the villa.”

“Here?” Kleiber said. “He actually came here?”

“Nothing unusual in that, Sturmbannführer. He often calls here to see me to discuss matters where police cooperation is required.”

“You know him socially?”

“Yes, Sturmbannführer.”

“I see. Have you any idea of the substance of his talk with General Schellenberg?”

“No.”

“But you could find out from your friend Mota, I'm sure?”

“I could try, Sturmbannführer.”

“Then do so, by all means,” Kleiber told him. “And as soon as possible.”

* * *

It was just before ten when Hannah turned into the hill road leading up to the villa. Following Taniguchi's instructions, she pulled into the grass shoulder under the trees halfway up the hill, parked, and started to walk the rest of the way.

A couple of minutes later, there was the softest of clicks as the passenger door opened and Joe Jackson, who had been crouched on the floor, slid out. He wore black pants and sweater, a balaclava helmet pulled over his face so that only his eyes showed. The Browning was tucked into his belt at the rear.

He went after her, keeping to the trees. The gate in the wall was clearly visible because there was a small light above it. He saw her pause, then tentatively try the handle. The door opened to her touch. She passed inside.

Some distance further along there was a tree conveniently close to the wall, its branches spreading across. Jackson climbed up quickly, poised on top of the wall to slide over, then saw the dim bulk of the summer-house only four or five yards away. There was a lantern on the inside of the door also, and in its light, he could see Hannah approaching. He reached for the Browning at his back and held it ready. The girl hesitated and stepped up on to the veranda.

She could see the glow in the darkness, smell the aroma of good Havana. “Your Royal Highness,” she whispered. “Please—I must speak with you. My name is …”

“Hannah Winter,” Walter Schellenberg said.

He moved out of the shadows and stood on the porch. “Oh, my God,” she said and turned to run, only to find her way blocked by a young police officer.

Schellenberg said, “It's all right, Mota, I'll return the young lady to her car now. Better lock the door after us.”

He had a hand on her elbow, taking her back down the path to the door. They went out, and Mota closed it behind them.

Flat on the wall, Jackson heard Schellenberg say to the girl, “I'm afraid Taniguchi wasn't exactly honest with your friend, Mr. Jackson. The Duke doesn't turn up for another half hour yet. What am I going to do with you, Hannah? Didn't I tell you to stay out of this thing?”

Jackson would have slipped off the wall to follow then, but Mota had paused only a few yards away to light a cigarette. The match flared, illuminating a handsome, rather weak face.

He peered around furtively, then whispered in Portuguese, “All right, you can come out now.”

Kleiber and Sindermann emerged from the bushes.

“You saw what you wanted?” Mota asked.

“Oh, yes,” Kleiber answered in Portuguese. “The General is certainly going to have some explaining to do when we return to Berlin. However, let us discuss tomorrow's events. When do you leave for this bull farm?”

“Nine-thirty. The Duke and Duchess with the Marques de Estella and their driver in the Buick. Two police motorcyclists lead the way one mile in advance. I follow with half a dozen men in a police truck; the Buick is last in line.”

“So?”

“Three miles before you reach Nina there is a village called Rosario. An inn and a few houses—nothing more. They don't even have a telephone. I'll arrange for the truck to break down. No problem there—the driver is very much my man. When the Buick reaches us, I'll tell them to carry on and wait for us at Rosario.”

“Where the motorcyclists will already have passed through?”

“Exactly. Eleven, give or take a few minutes, is the time I estimate the Buick should arrive and if you and your man here are waiting.” He shrugged. “A simple matter to take over at pistol point and drive to the border. Twenty minutes and you'll be in Spain.”

“Excellent,” Kleiber said. “You've done well.”

“And General Schellenberg?”

“Is to know nothing.”