LITMIR.BIZ

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looked up, bewildered, and Bormann smiled. ‘Typical English schoolboy humour. This is apparently the British Special Operations Executive term for a radio operator.’

      ‘Oh, I see.’ Rattenhuber returned to the file. ‘Through marriage, she is related to most of the great French families.’

      ‘Which is why she is at Arlberg. So – who’s next?’

      ‘Madame Claudine Chevalier.’

      ‘The concert pianist?’

      ‘That’s right, Reichsleiter.’

      ‘She must be seventy at least.’

      ‘Seventy-five.’

      ‘A national institution. In 1940 she made a trip to Berlin to give a concert at the Führer’s special request. It made her very unpopular in Paris at the time.’

      ‘A very clever front to mask her real activities, Reichsleiter. She was one of a group of influential people who organized an escape line which succeeded in spiriting several well-known Jews from Paris to Vichy.’

      ‘So – an astute old lady with nerve and courage. Does that dispose of the French?’

      ‘No, Reichsleiter. There is Paul Gaillard to consider.’

      ‘Ah, the one-time cabinet minister.’

      ‘That is so, Reichsleiter. Aged sixty. At one time a physician and surgeon. He has, of course, an international reputation as an author. Dabbled in politics a little before the war. Minister for Internal Affairs in the Vichy government who turned out to be signing releases of known political offenders. He was also suspected of being in touch with de Gaulle. Member of the French Academy.’

      ‘Anything else?’

      ‘Something of a romantic, according to the security report. Joined the French Army as a private soldier in 1915 as some sort of public gesture against the government of the day. It seems he thought they were making a botch of the war. Flirted with Communism in the twenties, but a visit to Russia in 1927 cured him of that disease.’

      ‘What about his weaknesses?’

      ‘Weaknesses, Reichsleiter?’

      ‘Come now, Willi, we all have them. Some men like women, others play cards all night or drink, perhaps. What about Gaillard?’

      ‘None, Reichsleiter, and the State Security report is really most thorough. There is one extraordinary thing about him, however.’

      ‘What’s that?’

      ‘He’s had a great love of ski-ing all his life. In 1924 when they held the first Winter Olympics at Chamonix, he took a gold medal. A remarkable achievement. You see, he was thirty-nine years of age, Reichsleiter.’

      ‘Interesting,’ Bormann said softly. ‘Now that really does say something about his character. What about the Englishman?’

      ‘I’m not too certain that’s an accurate description, Reichsleiter. Justin Fitzgerald Birr, 15th Earl of Dundrum, an Irish title, and Ireland is the place of his birth. He is also 10th Baron Felversham. The title is, of course, English and an estate goes with it in Yorkshire.’

      ‘The English and the Irish really can’t make up their minds about each other, can they, Willi? As soon as there’s a war, thousands of Irishmen seem to join the British Army with alacrity. Very confusing.’

      ‘Exactly, Reichsleiter. Lord Dundrum, which is how people address him, had an uncle who was a major of infantry in the first war. An excellent record, decorated and so on, then in 1919 he went home, joined the IRA and became commander of a flying column during their fight for independence. It apparently caused a considerable scandal.’

      ‘And the earl? What of his war record?’

      ‘Age thirty. DSO and Military Cross. At the beginning of the war he was a lieutenant in the Irish Guards. Two years later a lieutenant-colonel in the Special Air Service. In its brief existence his unit destroyed 113 aircraft on the ground behind Rommel’s lines. He was captured in Sicily. Made five attempts to escape, including two from Colditz. It was then they decided that his special circumstances merited his transfer to Arlberg as a prominento.’

      ‘Which explains the last and most important point concerning the good Earl of Dundrum.’

      ‘Exactly, Reichsleiter. It would seem the gentleman is, through his mother, second cousin to King George.’

      ‘Which certainly makes him prominent, Willi. Very prominent indeed. And now – the best saved till last. What about our American friend?’

      ‘Brigadier General Hamilton Canning, age forty-five.’

      ‘The same as me,’ Bormann said.

      ‘Almost exactly. You, Reichsleiter, I believe, were born on the 17th of June. General Canning on the 27th of July. He would seem typical of a certain kind of American – a man in a perpetual hurry to get somewhere.’

      ‘I know his record,’ Bormann said. ‘But go through it again for me.’

      ‘Very well, Reichsleiter. In 1917 he joined the French Foreign Legion as a private soldier. Transferred to the American Army the following year with the rank of second lieutenant. Between the wars he didn’t fit in too well. A troublemaker who was much disliked at the Pentagon.’

      ‘In other words he was too clever for them, read too many books, spoke too many languages,’ Bormann said. ‘Just like the High Command we know and love, Willi. But carry on.’

      ‘He was a military attaché in Berlin for three years. Nineteen thirty-four to thirty-seven. Apparently became very friendly with Rommel.’

      ‘That damn traitor.’ Bormann’s usually equable poise deserted him. ‘He would.’

      ‘He saw action on a limited scale in Shanghai against the Japanese in 1939, but he was still only a major by 1940. He was then commanding a small force in the Philippines. Fought a brilliant defensive action against the Japanese in Mindanao. He was given up for dead, but turned up in a Moro junk at Darwin in Australia. The magazines made something of a hero of him, so they had to promote him then. He spent almost a year in hospital. Then they sent him to England. Some sort of headquarters job, but he managed to get into combined operations.’

      ‘And then?’

      ‘Dropped into the Dordogne just after D-Day with British SAS units and Rangers to work with French partisans. Surrounded on a plateau in the Auvergne Mountains by SS paratroopers in July last year. Jumped from a train taking him to Germany and broke a leg. Tried to escape from hospital. They tried him at Colditz for awhile but that didn’t work.’

      ‘And then Arlberg.’

      ‘It was decided, I believe, by the Reichsführer himself, that he was an obvious candidate to be a prominento.’

      ‘And who do we have in charge of things at Schloss Arlberg, Willi?’

      ‘Oberstleutnant Max Hesser, of the Panzer Grenadiers. Gained his Knight’s Cross at Leningrad where he lost his left arm. A professional soldier of the old school.’

      ‘I know, Willi, don’t tell me. Held together by guts and piano wire. And who does he have with him now?’

      ‘Only twenty men, Reichsleiter. Anyone capable of frontline action has been taken from him in the past few weeks. Oberleutnant Schenck, now his second-in-command, is fifty-five, a reservist. Sergeant-Major Schneider is a good man. Iron Cross Second and First Class, but he has a silver plate in his head. The rest are reservists, mostly in their fifties or cripples.’

      He closed the last file. Bormann leaned back in his chair, fingertips together. It was quiet now except for the faintest rumblings far above them as the Russian artillery continued to pound Berlin.

      ‘Listen to that,’ Bormann said. ‘Closer by the hour. Do you ever wonder what comes after?’

      ‘Reichsleiter?’

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