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

Yugoslav partisans were the most successful resistance organisation in Nazi-occupied Europe.’

The others nodded and Marija paused as she lit a cigarette. ‘The Nazis divided Slovenia into three zones – one controlled by the Germans, one by Italy and the other by Hungary. It was a brutal occupation, especially in the German area. The centre of that was Maribor, which is the second largest city in Slovenia and is where we’re from. Maribor traditionally had a large German-speaking minority and the Germans wanted to turn the area into a German one. The oppression of the Slovenes was dreadful.

‘The Gestapo in Maribor was based at Kersnikova, and I don’t think I need to tell you how cruel they were. Many civilians were murdered. In the summer of 1944, a new Gestapo officer by the name of König arrived at Kersnikova. There is no question he was the worst of the lot.’

‘The man was a psychopath.’ It was the first time the younger man, Jožef, had spoken.

‘Every Gestapo and SS officer who served in Maribor was a war criminal, and those who were still alive at the end of the war are now in our custody.’

‘Apart from König,’ said Jožef.

‘And he’s the one we want most.’ Marija paused and angrily stubbed her cigarette out on a saucer. Edvard leaned over the table and spoke in a quiet voice.

‘In November, König arrested three seventeen-year-old girls he spotted walking on the street. He claimed they were involved with partisans – this was quite untrue, but he concocted some flimsy evidence against them and used that as a pretext to keep them in custody and interrogate them. The girls were all very pretty, and we’re convinced that was his motive for arresting them. From what we gather, he raped all three of them over a three-day period and then shot them.’

The room was silent but for the sound of a dripping tap and the wind whistling through a cracked window.

‘Their bodies were found in a wood outside the town. At around the same time, König left Maribor,’ said Branka, her German more hesitant. ‘So you can see why we want to catch him.’

‘Once the war was over, a Yugoslav mission was established in Berlin, and through them we’ve tried to find König, but we could discover no trace of him. As far as we could tell, König was an assumed name. But recently there was a breakthrough: our mission in Berlin was told that König was in fact Friedrich Steiner, who’d served as a Gestapo officer in France and the Netherlands and was wanted by the British for the murder of their agents.’ Marija nodded as she finished talking.

‘Which brings us here,’ said Edvard. ‘Tell us why you were interested in that house.’

Hanne didn’t think she was in a position to hide anything. She told them how they knew the Kestrel Line had some connection with Villach, and about Frau Winkler and the house near Sattendorf. ‘I needed to check it was the right place; when I saw it was guarded and looked very secure, I realised it must be. My intention was to return with British troops. Then you came.’

‘Then we came indeed. But what you did was very reckless, Hanne. We have spent the war fighting the enemy, risking our lives every day. We know how dangerous it can be. You were on your own, you were exposed, and had we not found you, the Germans would have done.

‘Edvard, please don’t lecture me about the dangers of operating in enemy territory!’ Hanne’s voice was raised and the four looked up at her. ‘I worked for the British in Denmark, then I was a prisoner of the Gestapo and spent two years in a concentration camp. I know what danger is, thank you. I knew what I was doing. You may well have alerted the Nazis yourself turning up like that. You should have left me to it.’

The Slovenians apologised one by one.

‘All we want is the man Steiner: in return, we’ll help you to find where the Kestrel Line ends. Who knows who else you’ll find there – maybe even Bormann himself?’

‘Where do you think the Kestrel Line goes from here?’ Hanne had calmed down and the atmosphere in the room had changed. It was clear they were now on the same side.

‘Look…’ Jožef pulled a map from his pocket. ‘We’re here, just south of Villach. The Nazis chose this place well: we’re only five miles or so from the Slovenian border, but more importantly from their point of view, maybe seven miles from Italy. My guess is that the Kestrel Line ends there.’

‘Across the Gailtal Alps,’ said Edvard, ‘the natural habitat of the kestrel.’

Prince left Vienna as dawn broke over the city, a muted light filtering through the black clouds as the sun rose from the east. The rain was so heavy it felt as if the waters of the Danube had been whipped up and were being sprayed over the southern suburbs as the Red Army staff car picked its way through the bomb-damaged roads. Gurevich sat in the back with Prince, toying with an unlit cigar and wiping the condensation from the window with a leather-gloved hand.

‘It still looks like a battlefield, doesn’t it, my friend? I’m told the campaign to take the city was particularly bitter – our offensive was mostly from the south, round here. It would explain why the place looks like Berlin. I almost feel at home!’

They picked up the pace as they drove through Wiener Neustadt, continuing south through the Soviet zone. Just after the small town of Friedberg, the car turned off the road, driving along a narrow track through a wood and pulling into a small clearing, where it parked alongside an unmarked black Daimler. Iosif Gurevich told his driver to leave the car and turned to look at Prince.

‘I do what I can to help you, I hope you understand that. I feel an obligation to you – we are friends, I