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

He was carrying a small suitcase and a briefcase, which he clutched tightly to his chest when he sat down.

He said nothing as he glanced around anxiously, his eyes narrowing to adjust to the dim light. He had clearly forgotten his instructions.

‘And you are…?’

He apologised profusely and said in quite reasonable German that his name was Michael and he was still interested in purchasing the painting of the kestrel.

Ulrich replied that that was no problem, that it was indeed still for sale but he would require the money first, and although the Englishman hesitated, he did open the briefcase, though with a degree of reluctance.

‘It should all be there, but I’m afraid it’s been rather messed up, what with one thing and another.’

Ulrich took the money out, not bothering to count it as he folded it into rolls, which he secured with string and placed in his rucksack, before handing the briefcase back to the Englishman. ‘Thank you.’

‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it.’

‘I don’t need the painting?’

‘An unnecessary touch.’

‘But what if I’m stopped again?’

Ulrich shrugged as if he didn’t really care. ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something to say. Tell me, what happened with the Americans?’

The Englishman told him it was nothing: they’d been concerned at the amount of US dollars and British money he was carrying but were satisfied with his explanation.

‘That’s all?’

‘That’s all. Perhaps I ought to leave now. I’m going to try and catch the train to Cologne.’

‘I heard you were also questioned by the British?’

‘Well, yes, after a fashion – but they must have been satisfied with my explanation too.’

‘What did you tell them about meeting me?’

‘I just told them I was buying a painting from a man at that market.’

‘Did you give any details about me or the painting?’

The Englishman hesitated for far too long and shifted awkwardly in the armchair.

‘I don’t believe I did, no.’

‘So how come they’ve been asking around IG Farben about Kestrel, and specifically about a man called Friedrich?’

The Englishman looked shocked. ‘I really have no idea.’

Ulrich stared at him for a while. He didn’t like what he saw and he certainly didn’t like what he was hearing. The man was naïve and complacent at best. He didn’t trust him when he said he’d revealed little detail about the market. On the other hand, as far as he could tell, the man hadn’t been followed to Moselstrasse, and most importantly, Ulrich now had the money.

Wolfgang would be delighted. He could get the escape line working again and move Friedrich on.

He looked up: the Englishman was wringing his hands and had a sheepish grin on his face as if aware he’d done something wrong.

‘May I go now?’

‘I think you better had.’

After he had left, a man appeared from the shadows where he’d been hiding. He brushed the dust from his coat and hair and glanced at Ulrich, who looked relaxed in the armchair.

‘You heard all that?’

The man from the shadows nodded.

‘So you know what to do?’

He nodded again and left the cellar.

Sorensen’s team followed the one-armed man in the leather jacket and woollen hat as he walked up Moselstrasse, crossing Kaiserstrasse before turning right into Taunus Strasse. Walt, the senior member of the team following him, said the man was a professional, increasing his pace without it being obvious and using classic techniques to be sure he wasn’t being followed.

‘I’m going to cut radio contact for a while. I’m worried he’s heading for some kind of transport. I’ll see what we can do.’

It was an hour before they heard from Walt again, during which time even the unflappable Sorensen began to appear agitated.

‘He headed to Landstrasse, where there was a motorbike waiting for him: fortunately we’d pulled both our cars up by then and were able to follow him. He headed north-west out of Frankfurt and up into the Taunus mountains.’

‘Where are you now, Walt?’

‘A spa resort called Königstein; it seems really nice and peaceful.’

Sorensen arranged for a car to take the three of them to the town. The building Ulrich had been dropped at was a former guest house set in a quiet road with the mountains looming behind it. They met Walt diagonally opposite the house in an abandoned building he’d taken over.

‘The roof’s damaged, but as far as we can tell, the building is inhabited. We’ve been watching it for an hour now, maybe a bit longer. The ground floor seems to be very secure, and there is some movement on the first floor. The windows are shuttered, but we’re working on the assumption that they can see what’s going on outside. I’ve got three men watching the rear and the sides, and two at the front.’

‘I don’t suppose you have any idea of how many people are inside?’

‘My guess is at least two. We watched the one-armed man go in, and there was definitely someone moving around the first floor when he arrived.’

‘Is there any reason why you can’t call for backup and move in?’ Prince was watching the house through binoculars.

‘No,’ said Hanne. ‘We want to find out what we can about the Kestrel escape line. Going in like that could mean everything ending in chaos. Let’s wait and see what happens. They may have other visitors after all.’

Sorensen decided that they’d watch the house overnight and into the following day, and if nothing had happened by the late afternoon – by which time the one-armed man would have been inside for twenty-four hours – they’d move in.

They didn’t need to wait that long.

It had been dark for an hour when a side door opened and two figures moved furtively along a path from the house towards the quiet road in front of it.

The instructions had been that in the event of this happening, they should be allowed to move clear of the house before being challenged. Somehow word hadn’t got through to everyone, because no sooner had the two figures emerged than there was a shout, an order in German to halt, then another shout, followed by a