'I want to talk to you,' she went on, 'but we must not be seen. You know you are being watched? Don't let's go into that now – just concentrate on not making a noise. We'll go to my quarters.'
Still holding on to him, she led the way across the compound. Lindsay was disturbed by the way she drifted through the fog like a wraith. Only a professional could move so silently. Who was Christa Lundt?'
'We're here. Wait while I open the door.
He listened and watched. Not a hint of a sound as she inserted a key inside the lock, turned and withdrew it. Recently she must have oiled the lock for it to operate so noiselessly. She gently pulled him inside the darkness of the interior and asked him to stay still.
Again the door was closed with great skill, the lock turned, a light switched on. They were standing in a narrow corridor. No carpet on the bare floorboards. She ushered him inside a room, switched on another light and went immediately to check the curtain drawn over the window.
'Coffee?'
'Maybe later, thank you.' He sat in an armchair she indicated with a graceful gesture. 'You said something about my being watched..'
'Martin Bormann. It would be, of course. He has allocated an SS man to follow you and report all your movements. I met the SS chap – who'd lost you.' She sounded amused as she sat close to him, crossed her shapely legs and used both hands to loosen her glossy hair. 'He was in a bit of a panic. I told him I was sure I'd seen you going to see Keitel. So now he's freezing outside our respected Field Marshal's hut. With a bit of luck he should be there all night…'
'Why would it be Bormann who set the dogs on me? 'Of course', I think you said..
'Because he's suspicious of everyone.' She grinned. 'Sometimes I think he wonders about himself. He thinks you're a British spy – he's furious that the Fuhrer has agreed to see you.' She had gone to the kitchen area. She was boiling water for the coffee on a stove. As she spoke she glanced at Lindsay as though to assess his reaction. He turned the direction of the conversation away from himself.
'There certainly seems to be a case of spy mania,' Lindsay observed. 'I recall you said there was a Soviet agent inside the Wolf's Lair..
'I said the Fuhrer is convinced a Soviet agent has penetrated the security system,' she corrected him. 'Someone at the very top..
'You get that sort of thing in wartime.'
The Englishman introduced a hint of disbelief into his assertion and it provoked a reaction. She began straining the coffee as she replied.
'He does have grounds for thinking that way. Every time the Wehrmacht launches an offensive the Russians have troops ready to meet it. The curious thing is they don't launch offensives themselves. If they did know our order of battle, you'd think they would take us by surprise. Here you are – real coffee. Not that acorn muck we drank in the canteen..
`Who exactly does know the order of battle?'
She perched on the arm of a chair and sipped at her coffee as though she hadn't heard the question. Had he probed too far? The girl puzzled him and he was irked that he couldn't weigh her up. The obvious explanation was that she had been instructed to find out all she could about him and then report back to… Bormann? The Fuhrer himself? She surprised him again by replying.
'Only a very few people know the daily order of battle – the Fuhrer himself, of course, since he takes all the major operational decisions. Field Marshal Keitel is another. Martin Bormann is present at every conference. Then there's Colonel-General Jodl.' The latter seemed to be an afterthought. 'That's about it.'
'The short list of suspects is a trio, then. Bormann, Keitel and Jodl.' Lindsay leaned his head against the back of the arm chair and appeared to relax completely as he stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. 'This coffee is very good.'
'And your trio is ridiculous. All of them are so high up they are above suspicion..
'The most successful spies in history have always been so high they had access to really vital information – and were, as you say, above suspicion. In the old Austro-Hungarian Empire their chief of counter-espionage, Colonel Raedl, was eventually caught passing secrets to the other side by the trainload.'
'Why have you flown to Germany, Ian?'
'I like to travel. I was getting a hemmed-in feeling back in Britain..
'Oh, you flew direct from Britain to Africa and then on to the Berghof?'
He didn't reply to the question. He was beginning to change his mind about Christa being a pawn sent to find out all she could and then report back her findings to Bormann or someone else. He sensed that she was in a nervy, jumpy mood, that she was deeply concerned about her own safety.
Christa Lundt attended all the military conferences. Christa Lundt recorded all the Fuhrer's instructions – she had said. so earlier in the canteen. She was the ideal person to provide the answer to the second question which had brought him to Germany. He decided to take the gamble.
'One thing intrigues me,' he began. 'Is the Fuhrer really the military genius he poses as? Or is there some brilliant general directing the armies? Keitel? Jodl?'
'You're joking, I assume.' Her tone was full of contempt. 'I thought you would have spotted those two are Hitler's obedient satellites. The Fuhrer alone is in command. Throughout the war so far he has taken all the crucial decisions which brought us so many victories. He is his own mastermind..'
'You admire him?' he suggested.
'We all do. And not only for his genius. He's considerate – especially with women. He can be very gentle and understanding. And it's fascinating to watch the way he manipulates his generals, all of whom are highly educated while he rose from the bottom..'
Lindsay was still leaning back in his chair when he threw the question at her. 'What are you so nervous about? Don't deny it – you crept about like a phantom on the way back here from Jodl's quarters. You kidded me it was all for my sake – it was for your own. You weren't scared someone would spot me – you were scared someone would spot you! Why?'
She stood up and began walking round the room slowly, interlacing her fingers, kneading them restlessly. She gave the impression of a woman struggling to take a major decision. She stopped in front of Lindsay and looked down at him through her lashes.
'Bormann is going to make me his scapegoat. I know it! The Fuhrer keeps on and on about this hidden traitor at the Wolf's Lair – Bormann always provides the Fuhrer with what he wants – that's how he got where he is. He's going to denounce me as the Soviet spy. It's just a question of when. I need an escape route.'
'You know something?' Lindsay adopted her own tactic of talking very slowly. 'You're good – you're very good, indeed. I'll give you that..'
'What the hell do you mean?'
Her face was white with anger. She clenched her knuckles and he sensed she was on the verge of attacking him. He remained still, silent. She couldn't stand the silence.
'I said what the hell do you mean?'
'That stuff about Bormann making you a scapegoat is a load of rubbish. He'd need evidence. And you know it. But the second part intrigues me – the escape route bit, that you feel you're going to need. And soon. Why?'
Christa Lundt had cracked up. She sat on the sofa shuddering. It was an unnerving, pathetic sight. She sat very erect, staring in front of her, like a person under hypnosis. From her hips upward her body quivered like a sick person with the fever. In her lap she clenched her hands tightly, the knuckles white and bloodless. For a whole minute she uttered no sound.
At the other end of the sofa Lindsay sat without reacting, his face expressionless. He watched her closely. He could hear Colonel Browne giving the warning in faraway Ryder Street.
'It may all go wrong. You may never reach the Fuhrer. Then you will be subjected to every trick in the book – and they have a very big book. Torture cannot be ruled out. But they can be more subtle. They may use a woman to undermine your defences..'
Still gazing fixedly ahead, she gripped her graceful hands as though fighting for control. A tear appeared at the corner of her right eye, rolled down her cheek. He waited for the handkerchief to appear. She opened her trembling lips, closed them and then the words came through teeth clenched as tightly as the fingers.
'Bormann, Jodl, Keitel – they know they have to be suspects. I take down the Fuhrer's bloody minutes for his
