'I saw her aboard the Vienna Express this evening with her entourage. She showed me the transit you had signed. She's a real looker, that blonde…'
'Who comprised her entourage?' Jaeger enquired casually.
'A uniformed chauffeur. I can't describe him -he had a peaked cap pulled down over his forehead and was lumbered with luggage. Then there was another man – he looked like one of those stewards you find in the country looking after an estate. He was limping, a relic of his war, I imagine. Is it important?'
'Sheer curiosity,' Jaeger replied promptly. 'There was a third man?'
`No, quite definitely…'
'Which train? What time?' asked Schmidt. `Departed on time at eight o'clock. There is no problem?'
'Not on the basis of what you have told us, Jaeger replied.
'Then I'm off to bed. See you both in the morning.'
Schmidt had crossed the room and was grasping a railway timetable off a shelf as Mayr closed the door.
He leafed through it quickly, checked with his finger down a series of times. His finger stopped. He looked at the clock. 10.51.
'It's still on the way…' Schmidt had trouble suppressing his relief. 'Arrives in nine minutes. 2300 hours. Who do we know…?'
'In Vienna? Anton Kahr – in charge of SS. An old buddy of mine – we served together on the Russian front…'
Schmidt checked a list of classified numbers, picked up the phone and asked for a top priority call. He held on to the earpiece as the operator contacted Vienna. Jaeger, as controlled as though on the eve of a battle, thought out aloud.
'Mayr will be compelled to keep quiet when I have to tell him – he saw them aboard the train. The odd thing is, there should have been another man – there were three of them when they lifted Lindsay out of the Frauenkirche…'
'Kahr on the line…' Schmidt handed the phone to his chief and watched the clock as Jaeger talked rapidly and concisely. It was still only 10.54 when he completed the call.
'Six minutes before the express arrives,' Schmidt said.
'And when it does, Kahr and his men will be waiting concealed on the platform. The Baroness is due for a little surprise…'
Chapter Twenty-Six
They disembarked on to the platform at the Westbahnhof, mingling with the other passengers. Paco showed Lindsay the luggage store and stood where she could watch him. Bora had again proved difficult as the express was approaching the terminus.
'Lindsay,' Paco had said, 'you will leave the cases at the luggage store. Wait for the numbered receipt and here is the money you will need. We will not be coming back for the cases..
'Then why not leave them here?' Bora demanded irritably.
'Because a porter or cleaner will find them quickly. Left at the baggage store they may not be found for days.' She looked at Lindsay. 'We are going next to Graz, capital of the Austrian province of Styria. From there we go south and cross the border at SpielfeldStrass into Yugoslavia. There are a few Allied agents with the guerrillas..
Lindsay had to repress an almost irresistible urge to leave when the Austrian official took the cases from him, but he forced himself to wait. The official seemed to take forever laboriously producing the receipt which he eventually exchanged for the fee.
The platform with its gloomy lighting projected by cone-shaped shades was deserted by the time he left the baggage store. Lindsay felt naked. Paco was smoking a cigarette as he joined her.
'Where are the others?' he asked.
'They will take a separate taxi. This way, if anyone checks we are two separate couples – two men and a man and a girl. Not what they will be looking for…'
'You're nervous about something,' he suggested.
They were walking out of the station into a huge open space and there was very little traffic about – mostly military vehicles. Paco strode away from the station and they walked a long distance before she summoned a taxi.
'The train was fifteen minutes early,' she said. 'It arrived at 10.45…'
The council of war, as Bormann termed it, was held at the Berghof at 12.15 am the next morning. It had been one hell of a rush – Jaeger, Schmidt and Mayr had flown from Munich to Salzburg airstrip. Hartmann also attended the conference…'
Cars had been waiting to drive them out of the city and up into the mountains along treacherous, icy roads. The meeting was held in the large living room with the giant picture window. The Fuhrer had personally presided over it. To Jaeger's relief – and surprise – Hitler had taken the news calmly, speaking quietly.
'So, you let the Englishman slip through your fingers. Always I have said the English are tough and dangerous. It is a great pity they will not yet see reason and ally themselves with us…'
'I am entirely and solely responsible for this debacle,' Jaeger had begun and his admission was pounced on by Bormann.
'In that case you will have to pay the penalty..
'Bormann! Please…!' the Fuhrer lifted a conciliatory hand. At that hour Hitler was the freshest man present, but it was his habit never to retire to bed before 3 am. 'Apportioning the blame will get us nowhere. We must move on – decide on how we're to track down Lindsay and have him brought back here.'
Debacle was the word. Due purely to the chance fifteen-minute early arrival of the express, SS chief Kahr in Vienna had found the station deserted. No trace of the fugitives. His men checked everywhere – including the baggage store.
'There is one interesting fact,' ventured Hartmann and Bormann again charged in like a bull.
'This no longer concerns the Abwehr…'
'Bormann, please!' repeated the Fuhrer, showing exemplary patience. 'I would like to hear what Major Hartmann has to say.'
'Apparently – according to Mayr – when this group left Munich they had two expensive cases,' Hartmann began. 'These cases have since been found in the baggage store at Vienna station. The description of the uniformed chauffeur who handed them in coincides with the chauffeur Mayr saw at Munich station. The cases contain an expensive wardrobe for a woman…'
'You do not think they will come back for the cases?' asked the Fuhrer.
'Exactly,' agreed Hartmann. 'They have dumped them. That tells us something – and I am convinced the group is directed by the girl who so confidently impersonated the Baroness Werther…'
'A girl! For God's sake…!'
Bormann was contemptuous. He was also irritated that Hartmann was holding the centre of the stage – that Hitler was listening so attentively. Again he was scolded.
'Bormann, do keep quiet! There have been some truly remarkable cases in the West of the English sending women agents to liaise with the French underground. These women have shown courage and the most audacious initiative. Proceed, please, Hartmann…'
'The puzzle is what they will do next, where they will go…'
'Vienna is a labyrinth, Hitler remarked. 'I should know – the days of my poverty-stricken youth were spent there. They could hide – if they know the city – and we would not find them in years.'
' If that is their intention,' Hartmann continued, 'which I suspect it is not.' He warmed to his subject, so absorbed he produced his pipe and used it to emphasize points. 'Let us assume this girl is their leader – she certainly has the nerve. At each stage I sense she has worked to a plan – this Is no wild rush into nowhere. On past form – always judge people on that – she will have a definite plan for reaching their next destination. All we have to do is to work out where that is – and get there first.'
