The Valhalla Exchange - Jack Higgins [73]
'What, all six of them?' Bormann actually smiled. 'Thorough and painstaking to the end, I see. And you and Magda?'
'I have already detailed an SS orderly to shoot us when the moment comes.'
Bormann shrugged. 'Then I can only wish you better luck in the hereafter than you've had here.'
'And you?' Goebbels said.
'Oh, I'll try my luck in the outside world, I think. We should be all right here for the rest of today. I'll make a run for it tonight with Axmann, Stumpfegger and one or two more. We intend to try the underground railway tunnel. That should get us to Friedrichstrasse Station all right. Mohnke is still holding out there with a battle-group of 3,000. SS, sailors, Volkssturm and a whole batch of Hitler Youth kids. They seem to be holding their own.'
'And then?'
'With their help we'll try to cross the Weidendammer Bridge over the Spree. Once on the other side, we should stand an excellent chance. Not many Russians in the northwestern suburbs yet.'
'I can only wish you luck.' Suddenly Goebbels sounded very tired indeed. He turned to the door, started to open it and paused. 'What comes afterwards, if you get away?'
'Oh, I'll make out.'
'Come to think of it, you always did, didn't you?'
Goebbels went out, closing the door. Bormann sat there, thinking about what he had said. I have no intention of spending my life running round the world like some eternal refugee. He shrugged, picked up his pen and resumed his writing.
Jackson lay on the bed, waiting in the dark in the room they'd given him. He glanced at the luminous dial of his watch. It was twenty past midnight - ten minutes to go. He lit a cigarette and drew on it nervously. Not that he was afraid - simply keyed up. A brilliant suggestion of Strasser's to tell them he was the Reichsleiter. Coupled with Strasser's personal appearance, it had effectively clouded the entire issue. He was certain they'd accepted him completely now.
He checked his watch again. Time to go. He got up and padded to the door, and when he opened it, the passageway was deserted, a place of shadows partially illuminated by a single small bulb at the far end. He caught a brief glimpse of himself in a full-length gilt mirror. He was wearing Hesser's best uniform and it fitted rather well. He moved on, past one oil painting after another, blank eighteenth-century faces staring down at him. He turned the stairs at the end, paused by the white door on the small landing and knocked.
The door opened slightly and on the instant as if the occupant had been waiting. 'Valhalla Exchange,' Jackson whispered.
'Good - everything's ready for you,' Claire de Beauville said.
Jackson stepped into the room. On the washstand was plastic explosive, detonators and a Schmeisser. He put the explosive in one pocket, the detonators in the other and picked up the machine pistol.
'Anything else?' she said. Her face was pale, unnaturally calm.
'Yes. Some sort of hand-gun. Can you manage that?'
'I think so.'
She opened the drawer of the bedside locker and produced a Walther. Jackson checked that it was loaded, then pushed it down into his waistband at the small of his back under the tunic.
'I like an ace-in-the-hole, just in case things go wrong. Amazing how often even an expert search misses that particular spot. Have you spoken to him on the radio again since he was here?'
'Twenty minutes ago. Everything is arranged exactly as planned. They wait on you. You'll need a greatcoat and a cap to get you across the square unnoticed. There are men working out there. The small staircase at the end of the passage takes you to the main entrance hall, you'll find a cloakroom at the bottom, and the room that houses the drawbridge mechanism is first door on the left in the gate tunnel.'
'You've done well,' Jackson grinned. 'Well, mustn't stand here gossiping. Once more into the breach, dear friends ...' and he picked up the Schmeisser and slipped out.
In the dining hall, Canning was standing alone in front of the fire