End of Spies by Alex Gerlis (popular ebook readers .txt) 📕

miles north of Frankfurt, no one’s going to think of looking for Nazi fugitives here in Königstein. These Taunus mountain resorts have a reputation for being quiet and healthy.’

‘Great – so I can go and enjoy the town then, take a bracing walk maybe?’

‘Yes, wander round the place and visit bars just like you did in Munich. And while you’re at it, don’t forget to tell whoever’s listening that you were in the Gestapo, and that you were known as the Ferret: I’m sure they will admire you all the more.’ Ulrich paused and pointed his cigarette at the younger man. ‘I don’t think you have any idea how dangerous things are for us now in Europe. We are all at great risk. Just because the Americans and the British aren’t quite as brutal as the Soviets doesn’t mean the situation is any less perilous. They may not rape our women, but… Why are you laughing?’

‘Because it sounds as if they’ve made rape legal. Maybe there’s something to be said for them after all!’

‘For heaven’s sake, Friedrich, you’re impossible. I was trying to explain that we’re still in great danger here. If you’re caught, they’ll throw the book at you. I doubt your father will be able to come to your rescue then. You don’t appreciate how fortunate you are that he’s sorting out an escape line for you. Very few are able to get on one of those. You need to be grateful he’s made arrangements. And you need to be patient too.’

Friedrich walked over to the window and opened the shutters to peer onto the quiet tree-lined avenue in front of the house. The previous day had been notable because five vehicles had driven past during the morning. Today he’d heard none. He closed the shutters and returned to the sofa, determined to be more conciliatory with Ulrich. He lit another cigarette for him and poured a beer; it was the only alcohol Ulrich would allow him to have, and even then he restricted him to three bottles a day.

‘I’ve been here how long now, Ulrich – at least two months? And nothing’s happened. I’m going to be forgotten about. I thought you were meant to be making plans – I mean, does my father know I’m still here?’

‘Of course he does, and yes, I am making plans, but these things take time. I have to be very careful – it’s not something we can rush into.’

‘But in Munich I heard all these stories about organised escape routes from the Reich.’

‘I’m afraid the Reich no longer exists.’

‘You know what I mean – escape routes through Europe into Italy. I met a man in Munich who told me he was an SS Obersturmbannführer and that he was going to Genoa, from where a boat would take him to South America and—’

‘I very much doubt that a genuine SS Obersturmbannführer would confide in a stranger like that, in Munich or anywhere else for that matter.’

‘He told me in confidence, Ulrich.’

‘Even if it’s true, Obersturmbannführer is a very senior rank. The escape line that exist are for senior Nazis – SS, party officials, people suspected of major war crimes… To be blunt, Friedrich, you don’t qualify on any of those grounds, which is why you’re so lucky your father’s sorting something out for you. What’s the highest rank you reached in the Gestapo?’

‘Obersturmführer, but I was due to be—’

‘Well there we are then – a lieutenant. Look, you’re not the only one in this position. I ended up as a Sturmbannführer, and even I’m not deemed important enough. I’m fortunate your father has asked me to look after you; that’s my chance of escape.’

‘So you owe me then?’

‘Don’t be so cocky.’

Friedrich fell silent and for a while appeared to be uncharacteristically reflective. ‘So when?’ he said eventually.

‘Hopefully soon. The most pressing thing we need is money – we’re running out of funds – but some will be arriving any day now.’

Charles Falmer was a long way from being the best qualified person for the job, but then it wasn’t as if those who’d recruited him were exactly spoilt for choice.

For a start, it had to be someone they trusted, which certainly narrowed it down, and then they needed to be able to move around Europe, particularly Allied-occupied Germany, and that narrowed it down even further, so much so that they’d drawn a blank. Then Ridgeway remembered that his nephew Charles was working for the Royal Army Pay Corps in Cologne, and there was a lively discussion about how easy it was to get from Cologne to Frankfurt.

‘It’s around a hundred miles: shouldn’t be difficult.’

‘Yes, but one’s in the American zone and the other’s in the British: you need all kind of permits to move around.’

‘But we’re on the same bloody side; it’s not as if we’re expecting him to crawl under barbed wire!’

The discussion then turned to whether nephew Charles was up to it.

‘Didn’t you mention before that he was asthmatic and a rather nervous type?’

Ridgeway said that yes, he was asthmatic and generally not someone who enjoyed the best of health – he always seemed to have a stomach problem of one kind or another – but he was sympathetic to the cause and in any case who else did they have?

There was a bit of an argument at that point until the woman, who’d remained silent until now, said to stop acting like children and obviously it would have to be Ridgeway’s nephew because there was no one else, and they’d just have to hope his stomach didn’t play up. In any case, she said, she’d discussed the matter with the Admiral and he’d approve: the priority was to get the package to Germany, and he took a dim view of how long this was taking.

At first it had gone rather well. Falmer had managed to grab a few days’ home leave, and once in London he came to collect the package and his instructions. It was larger