Chameleon, Nemesis: Chameleon, #4

By Chris Black

It's 1938, and Europe teeters on the precipice of World War II. The main western allies, Britain and France, beset with fear of a second continental war, procrastinate and appease the Führer in his demands.
With the fall of Austria come terrible pogroms against the Jews, political opponents and the gay community.
Kurt codename "Chameleon" is sent to Prague just before the 1938 Munich Crisis, to obtain information on a mole working inside General Keitel's office at OKW, working for Czech Military Intelligence; and to foil a secret False Flag plot by Heydrich and Himmler to blow up the German aircraft carrier Graf Zeppelin and a Berlin passenger train during the rush hour in order to blame it on the Czechs with fake evidence, to create a pretext for the invasion of Czechoslovakia.
Meanwhile, Abwehr Agent Kasper Eberhardt has gone missing in Paris after collecting a book containing details of Himmler's deadly plan and the Abwehr want it, to expose the SS for the gangsters they are.
Victor is closing in on the assassin known as the "Ghost". He may not like what he finds…
Apart from his work as an Abwehr agent and plotter against the regime, Kurt continues executing SS men from the concentration camps.
Kurt and Richard grow closer through absence, but can they possibly become lovers…?
Kristallnacht presents Göring with a headache, whilst the small but growing group of plotters in the "von Wallenberg Orchestra" gains new and powerful friends in General Beck and Hans Oster.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Remus & Black
• Release date: Aug 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224259816

Chris Black

I have two great passions in my life, the study of history and writing, which is an irony, considering that I’m also dyslexic, and I ask you that you don’t let that put you off, dyslexia has nothing to do with how or what I write, or my undiminishing passion for writing. I was educated at an Inner London state high school and graduated with above average grades in English, English Lit and History. I grew up in a working-class neighborhood in South East London, UK, the son of a truck driver and a bookkeeper. I lived for four years in France and travelled extensively throughout Europe working as a photographer and videographer. But following a spinal injury, I had to give up photography. But as one door closes a window of opportunity sometimes opens, and now I dedicate all my time to writing, which has always been my passion from my childhood. I’ve been in a long-term relationship with my partner Terry, and our home is just outside of London in Rochester, Kent, UK, where we live with our rescue dog Tom. During my career as a photographer, I worked in police forensics, the entertainment and fashion industry and general commercial and industrial projects.  

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Somewhere near Mühldorf Bavaria

Christmas Eve, 1937

The deaths head skull and crossbones patch were sewn to the right collar of Scharführer Grau’s tunic, as with all concentration camp guards’ uniforms. His face was tense with fear as he waded knee deep through a thick quilt of freezing virgin white snow, cutting a deep furrow for almost half a kilometre into the dark depths of the forest, freezing to his marrow. But what did that matter now? What did anything matter now beyond his deep tremulant breath and the overwhelming desire for life as he confronted his own imminent death.

Grau now existed in that other place he had so often put others into, the place of the terrible realization that he was going to be snuffed out like a candle. Now it was him begging unheeded for his life, trembling and pissing himself. The world had turned full circle, he the deliverer of death, was about to have death delivered unto him. some would call that justice ... Kurt did.

As is often the case with the evil doers, Grau was a coward at heart. He sobbed and pleaded, but the wordless assassin behind him said nothing.

He thought about his beautiful wife Cordelia and his daughter, nine-year-old Heidi and he sobbed as he moved on, pushing through the snow, getting closer and closer to that terrifying moment when he will cease to exist.

Silvery crepuscule rays of the full moon dappled down through leafless snow daubed trees around them ... Grau saw everything now, with such vivid clarity as his fear consumed him. he didn’t want to die; he didn’t want to leave this world. The forest was the blind mute witness to this tragedy, set like a stage as the final act of his life comes to a violent end.

The silence was immense, with just the sound of Scharführer Otto Grau’s panting breath and the whisper of the snow as he waded through it, tripping and stumbling on legs of straw. Steam plumed from his breath in the freezing night, briefly suffused with moonlight before it dissipated into the atmosphere.

His wrists were handcuffed behind his back, rendering him powerless.

‘This is far enough,’ the dark clad Ghost said, faceless like some supernatural being.

‘Listen to me,’ Grau pleaded desperately. ‘I can help you,’ his dry voice crackled and quivered with fear. ‘Nobody has to know about this. It’s not too late. I’ve not seen your face; I can’t identify you. Please don’t do this? I can get you money? Do you want money? I have money.’

There was no mercy in the Ghost, not for Scharführer Otto Grau and his kind. Grau was a sadistic torturer and murderer and for that, he had to be killed.

Grau’s face twisted with terror, his knees shook so much, he could barely stand up. ‘Please don’t do this ... I beg you...?’ He wet himself again, and the urine soaked through his SS trousers and steamed in the cold. ‘Please. I have a wife ... a daughter...’ He sobbed as the Ghost stood mutely behind him.

He knew the assassin had to be the one the Gestapo had dubbed The Ghost.

The mere thought of this avenging angel terrified just about everyone in the SS-Totenkopfverbände.[1] Nobody knows where or when he will strike. But strike he will; and once he targets you, you’re a dead man walking.

‘Please, don’t kill me. I’ll do anything you ask.’

‘Is that what they said at Dachau,’ Kurt responded, ‘when you helped Doctor Jung conduct his experiments?’

‘No, no. You have it all wrong,’ Grau cried in desperation. ‘I was just doing as I was told to do. What I was ordered to do. And they were not good people...’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘No, they were terrible people. Sexual perverts. You know ... homosexuals and child molesters. No, they weren’t decent people. Not worthy of your bullet. We selected only the worse of the camp.’

The Ghost aims at the back of his head. ‘Turn around and face me, Scharführer,’ he says quietly with icy calm.

Grau murmured with fear as he slowly turned, trembling from head to foot, staring into the muzzle of the Ghost’s Luger, held out at arm’s length, clasped in his gloved hand.

‘Oh God, I’m begging you-’

The night echoed with the single crack of a gunshot and a flash of fire. Grau fell back in the snow, staring up into the dark starry sky, fractured by interlacing branches and twigs. Hot blood melted into the snow as it oozed from the bullet hole in the middle of Grau’s forehead.

Grau groaned. Miraculously he was still alive. As cold as the night that enshrouded him, Kurt shot him again, through the left temple...

CHAPTER 1

Demond Behind the Devil

Gestapo Headquarters, Berlin, January 3rd

They always started their meetings the same way, politely enquiring after one another’s wives and children, and some anecdotes about this or that talent one or other of their beloved and most treasured children or had achieved this or that. Niceties over, they invariably turned to the serious business of state-controlled terror, and when it came to state-controlled terror, Himmler and Heydrich were without equal.

Nobody understood Himmler quite so well as Heydrich did, and, Himmler understood Heydrich better than anybody else.

Reinhart was a very good sounding board and a sympathetic listener and he was level headed and pragmatic. Uncomplicated, like a machine ... he knew what to do, when to do it and how to do it. Reinhart, as far as Himmler was concerned, understood the necessity behind the great masterplan, to make Europe Jew free, and free of the Slavs and the gypsies and the ongoing war against the homosexuals. Germany was destined to rule Europe ... the return of the Teutons was at hand. One day, the world will thank these heroes of darkness, Himmler most sincerely believed. 

Himmler signalled the end of the small talk, when he picked up his dainty teacup with shiny black sig runes glazed on the side of the white porcelain cup and in the saucer. He took a sip and slowly lowered the cup to the saucer with aristocratic delicacy. Superior, pompous and bourgeois. Even mass murderers can have good etiquette.

‘The Führer has decided that the Anschluss must happen this spring at the latest,’ Himmler said. ‘He fears that to delay further may make matters more complicated in the future.’

Heydrich already knew about Plan Otto and nodded his head.

‘There are a number of intellectuals and highly ranked individuals; internationally respected, who have been very vocal against the Führer, and downright insulting in some instances. There are about two hundred of these individuals...’ He looked at Heydrich. ‘Many of them are simply too dangerous, even to arrest and detain them. These individuals will need to be dealt with expediently and secretly. We need to use men who are trustworthy and completely loyal, Reinhart.’

Heydrich nodded his head. ‘It’s already in hand, Reichsführer.’

Himmler took another dainty sip from his dainty cup.

‘There are three and a half million Jews in Poland, Reinhart,’ Himmler said in a quietly matter-of-fact, accountant sort of way.

There followed a considerable pause of silence as Heydrich’s cold methodical mind worked on the problem of what to do with three and a half million Polish Jews when Germany conquers Poland, and he was in no doubt they would conquer Poland. 

The numbers churned in his head, working out the organizational and logistical requirements for managing the resettlement of three and a half million Jews. And what would it cost? The Jews can pay for their own resettlement, and what belongs to the Jews, now belongs to the Reich. Or it soon will.

The Führer wanted a Jew free Europe, and by God, Himmler and Heydrich would do everything in their power to make it so.

‘Whatever the solution, Reichsführer,’ Heydrich eventually said. ‘It’ll be a huge undertaking for the SS, Gestapo, SD and polizei. A very difficult undertaking that will require a ruthless approach. And such men for such a difficult task, must be selected with the greatest care. We’ll have to create special detachments. Once we’ve formulated our ideas, we can field practice them in Austria and Czechoslovakia,’ he said coldly.

‘Austria, Czechoslovakia and Poland must be made Jew free with the utmost expediency as soon as they fall into our possession, through forced migration east and resettled as far away from Reich territory as we can get them,’ Himmler said.

The Reichsführer was right, Heydrich thought, it was a huge, but noble undertaking, to drive the Jews out of Europe once Germany possesses all of Europe, and he had no doubt about that either, they’ll drive them into Palestine or to the Americas.

‘... Once the Austrian question is settled, the Führer will concentrate his efforts on the invasion of Czechoslovakia,’ Himmler said.

‘Whatever’s required, it will be done, Reichsführer. The SD and Gestapo are ready for the tasks ahead of us.’

‘The Führer expects us to maintain order, and to rid the Reich and all its domains of Slavic intellectuals, Jews and other undesirable sub-human vermin. The homosexuals, who threaten to contaminate Germans with their vice, must be put down ruthlessly, especially in Aryan countries such as Austria and the Sudetenland.’

Heydrich gave several nods of his head and sipped his drink. It was nonsense that homosexuality could be transmitted like a disease, Heydrich knew it, but he didn’t really care one way or the other. Himmler wants the homosexuals destroyed, then he will destroy them.

‘There’s a quarter of a million, maybe more Jews in Austria,’ Himmler went on, continuing with his primary pet obsession. ‘And there’s almost half a million Jews in Czechoslovakia. It’s a recipe for chaos unless we organize things properly to ensure the Jews comply,’ he reiterated. ‘They can farm and build modern roads until they drop dead from exhaustion and hunger,’ he said innocuously.[2] ‘We can take care of thousands that way through natural wastage. The rest we send east, into the Ukraine and Russia via Poland. Poland will be the hub of the resettlement operation.’

And so, it went on, turning to the Jews in the west. France, Holland, Norway, Sweden, Belgium ... Great Britain, they will all topple to German might like dominoes, Himmler believed, and when they do, there’ll be another two or so million Jews to take care of. All will go East, for resettlement.

CHAPTER 2

Men from the Gestapo

In the warm and cosy drawing room, their eyes surveyed the decaying opulence of impoverished aristocracy, or so they believed from the lack of servants and the faded décor and empty spaces where paintings once hung. They sat down, one in a wingback chair, the other on the couch.

The door opened and Victor came in.

They both stood up, clicked their heels to attention and gave Victor the Hitlergruss.

‘Heil Hitler,’ they said in unison.

Victor saluted back. ‘Heil Hitler...’ He gestured for them to resume their seats. ‘Now, who are you and why are you here?’

‘Obersturmführer Hegeler, Gestapo,’ said the one wearing the long leather coat.

‘Scharführer Maisel,’ said his colleague in the jacket.

Victor had heard of Hegeler. He had been a Kripo Kriminalinspektor with the Berlin homicide department, and was recruited to the Gestapo by Heinrich Müller, most commonly known in the SS as Gestapo Müller.[3] Hegeler wanted to join G-One, but Diefenbach blocked it. Too many chiefs and not enough Indians he told Heydrich, and Heydrich agreed.

The real reason was far different of course. Having someone like Hegeler around the office would be dangerous; what with Diefenbach and Victor being so deeply involved in treason.

Hegeler had rooted out several homosexuals among the ranks of the SS, and was a known sadist when it came to interrogating prisoners. So, it was little wonder that Victor was feeling extremely uneasy and it wasn’t easy to hide it as for a terrifying and heart-stopping moment, Victor thought that they were there to arrest him, either for being a One-Seven-Fiver or a traitor. Had somebody denounced him as a homosexual? He’ll be dead by tomorrow, he thought with a blind terror as he sat down, before he fell down. Trying to appear perfectly composed, he crossed his legs and looked as nonchalant as he could. ‘So, how can I help you? This is my day off and I have plans to take my aunt to the opera and to dinner. It’s her birthday.’

Hegeler nodded his head and smiled. ‘Then we’ll be as quick as we can, Hauptsturmführer.’

‘Thank you.’ Victor glanced at Scharführer Maisel, silent, watchful ... another experienced former policeman no doubt.

‘We’re investigating what happened at Passau.’

Victor was almost relieved, despite the danger being just as great. ‘I see. I gave my report to Oberführer Diefenbach.’

Hegeler smiled. ‘I’m just tying up some loose ends, Hauptsturmführer.’

‘Loose ends,’ Victor repeated, raising a brow. ‘I see.’

The door opened and Aunt Gaby came in with a tray of coffee things.

Hegeler and Maisel both stood up. ‘You’re very kind, Fräu von Ritter,’ said Hegeler as she placed the tray down.

‘Not at all. What would the Führer say if I didn’t bring two nice gentlemen from the Gestapo a nice cup of hot coffee on a cold winter’s day.’

‘You’re very kind, and I believe a happy birthday is in order.’

‘I was saying to Hermann just the other day, how hard you all work. My nephew is tireless in his duty to the Führer, as we expect him to be of course...’ She started to pour the coffee. ‘Hermann said he’s very proud of you all.’

Hegeler and Maisel both looked at one another.

‘Reichsminister Göring?’ Hegeler enquired as he watched her carefully pouring the coffee into fine English porcelain cups in matching saucers.

‘My aunt’s a long-standing friend of the Reichsminister and his brother,’ Victor explained. ‘Aunt Gabby, we need to discuss important matters of national security. Would you mind?’

‘Of course, dear. Just ring if you need anything.’ She left them alone and closed the door.

‘A very nice lady, your aunt, Hauptsturmführer,’ Maisel said sincerely.

‘Yes.’

‘The Jew Dracon faked his heart attack,’ Hegeler said.

‘Yes. That’s perfectly obvious.’

‘Hmm. But what isn’t obvious, Hauptsturmführer, is how did he know to fake his heart attack. He was isolated with very few people having access to him. The Gestapo have questioned everybody at the Kaserne, orderlies, patients. The surviving SS guard. They’re either very resilient liars, or they’re telling the truth. That leads us to the officers and men who had charge of the prisoner.’

Victor nodded his head, trying with all his effort to keep himself together as fear turned his blood to ice. He leaned forwards and picked up his cup and saucer, to show them he wasn’t nervous and to slick his bone-dry mouth.

Maisel was watching him like a hawk.

‘Yes, I’ve said the same thing,’ Victor responded. He took another sip from his cup. ‘In fact, I discussed it with Hauptsturmführer Edelknecht and the Oberführer. Unofficially of course. I was certain it had to be somebody on the inside of the operation. Somebody who knew the security and who had access to both the prisoner and the ambulance.’

Hegeler had either just been outmanoeuvred to throw him off, or Victor was genuine. Right now, it was difficult to tell. ‘And did you suspect anybody in particular, Hauptsturmführer?’

‘No. Edelknecht advised me to leave it alone because of my personal involvement...’

Hegeler glanced at Maisel and gave him an unspoken order.

Maisel stood up. ‘Could I possibly use your telephone, Hauptsturmführer?’ he asked.

Victor gestured to a table in the corner of the room. ‘Help yourself.’

‘Uhm ... It’s a private matter, sir,’ Maisel said.

‘In that case, use the extension in the room across the lobby directly opposite. You’ll be completely private in there.’

‘Thank you. I shouldn’t be long.’

That rather depends on whether Edelknecht’s in the office or not, Victor thought, knowing full well he had gone to check his story out. It had been Kurt’s idea, he had anticipated this sort of a scenario, and he told Victor just how to handle it and so far, he was doing a reasonable job of it, if he did think so himself.

He put his cup down onto the low table and took his cigarettes out from his pocket and offered one to Hegeler.

Hegeler gave him an appreciative nod of his head and took one. ‘Danke.’

Victor lit his cigarette and took a drag. ‘I told the Hauptsturmführer that the escape had been coordinated and perfectly planned to the last detail,’ he said. ‘The army ambulance not starting, the hijackers, the Jew’s faked heart attack. There were just six people who had access to the Jew who could’ve told him about the plot,’ Victor said. ‘The nurse, and it certainly wasn’t her, she was never with the Jew alone. Myself of course, I did have time alone with him. I questioned him about Doctor Jung’s files and who murdered Doctor Jung, and who he was working for, but he was giving me nothing but his name and his Swiss citizenship status. Then there was Obersturmführer Bucha, the doctor and the two guards.’

Hegeler nodded his head. ‘And you left the Kaserne to return to the hotel?’

‘Yes. That was around eight-thirty or nine o’clock. I didn’t take much notice of the time to be honest. I checked with the scharführer and his men to make certain everything was as it should be. So far as I know, the Jew wasn’t acting up then. After I was satisfied, I drove back to the hotel, roughly five minutes away.’

‘And why wasn’t Obersturmführer Bucha checking at the hospital. The guards were his men, weren’t they.’

Victor nodded his head and cleared his throat. ‘I was afraid you might ask me that. The last thing I want to do is get Bucha into any trouble. Suffice to say, he was ... unwell and unable to carry out his duties.’

Again, Hegeler nodded his head. ‘And he was ... unwell on several occasions, I understand from other witnesses at the hotel and from a couple of his men. They say that he was either drunk or entertaining young women in his hotel room. I would prefer it, Hauptsturmführer, if you were completely honest with me. There are no loyalties owed, not where this matter’s concerned.’

Victor nodded his head and looked thoughtful with heavy arching brows. ‘Yes, he was drunk, Obersturmführer. If I’m to be honest, I was very unsatisfied with his handling of the security and his drinking and womanising. He treated the entire operation as if it were a holiday. His conduct was unbecoming to his uniform and his rank. The entire operation was flawed from start to finish by incompetent people. The Austrians beat the prisoner up so badly, when we took custody of him, he was barely alive, which is what led to his hospitalisation in the first place. We were at the mercy of the weather and time was against us. Then I find the man assigned to protecting the prisoner until we got him back to Berlin, is a beer sponge and a lazy womaniser. The one occasion he did visit the hospital, he was drunk.’

‘Did he speak to the prisoner on his own?’

Victor nodded his head. ‘Yes, on two separate occasions. Both times he was alone with the prisoner for several minutes.’

‘And where were you at that time?’

‘The first time, I was speaking to the doctor about when we could move the prisoner safely back to Berlin. The second time, I was on the telephone to Hauptsturmführer Edelknecht giving him an update on the situation.’

‘Did Obersturmführer Bucha seem to be spending lots of money on the fräuleins he entertained?’

‘A reasonable amount, yes. I wasn’t paying much attention to how much money he had. I was worried he was going to fuck the operation up. But as you mention it, he treated them to dinners in the hotel restaurant and drank champagne in his room with them.’

‘Could he possibly have spoken to these fräuleins? Told them about the Prisoner? Where he was?’

Victor sat back. He looked shocked, and he was shocked. He knew that Bucha had absolutely nothing to do with what happened, but Hegeler apparently had his sights set on Bucha as the traitor. ‘No. I don’t think so. I never heard him talk about the operation in public, or in private. It wasn’t a priority for him. Having a good time on our expenses account was the only thing Bucha was interested in.’

‘But if somebody paid him?’ Hegeler speculated.

Bucha’s life was hanging by a thread, and he couldn’t be responsible for an innocent man’s death, no matter how detestable that man might be. He shook his head vehemently. ‘No. absolutely not. He was a drunk, he was a womaniser, but I do not believe he would sell the Führer out,’ he said, thinking the addition of the Führer was a nice little touch to help deflect suspicion from focussing on him.

Just then, the door opened and Maisel returned. He smiled at Victor. ‘Thank you, Hauptsturmführer.’

‘You’re welcome. I hope you managed to make your telephone call?’

‘Yes, I did...’ He looked at Hegeler and gave a micro-nod of his head as he sat down.

‘One of the fräuleins, Obersturmführer Bucha ... entertained has disappeared,’ Hegeler said. ‘When last seen, she crossed the border into Austria with false papers. At the hotel, she had German papers, at the border, she had Austrian papers.’

Victor was genuinely shocked. ‘Which one?’

‘A chambermaid, Ingrid Hoffmann. She started working at the hotel two days before you arrived. Four days before they brought the Jew across the border...’

Victor could hardly take it in. Was she a plant, sent there like Adrian had been? ‘That’s incredible.’

‘But you see what I’m getting at, don’t you, Hauptsturmführer?’

Victor nodded his head. ‘Yes. And I don’t know what to say. I can only tell you, that he never discussed or mentioned the prisoner in public in my hearing. Not a single time. Had he done so, I would’ve taken steps. Steps I now regret not taking.’

‘It’s been known for a while among those in his command. Passau was his last chance to prove his abilities-’

Hegeler stood up and Maisel stood right after him, the contagion spread to Victor, who rose to his feet. ‘I see no reason to detain you any further, Hauptsturmführer. You’ve been very helpful and open with us. I’ll be sure to pass it on to the boss.’

‘Thank you.’

They exchanged Hitlergrusses and handshakes and the two agents left, much to Victor’s relief. He knew they were convinced, just as Kurt said they would be, so long as he stuck to the story. He stuck to the story, just as Grandaddy Otto had told him to through Aunt Gaby. But Bucha was doomed and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. At the moment, he was just relieved. But he had one or two questions for Kurt when he saw him next, such as who was the chambermaid...?

CHAPTER 3

Judas Goat

Kurt was packing his valise; he and Moench were flying up to Stetting for a meeting with the Abwehr Station head Oberleutnant zur See Schertel for a debriefing on intelligence concerning recent increases in Soviet and Polish U-boat and surface vessel activity off the German coast, monitoring German shipping and Kriegsmarine activity, and anomalous morse transmissions that had been intercepted by Wehrmacht field intelligence and radio monitoring, originating near the Danzig Corridor.

It was nothing that unusual. With tensions over the corridor being high; both Polish intelligence and the Abwehr had stepped up their monitoring activities in the area and both Germany and Poland had agents in Danzig reporting on everything from shipping to public opinions. 

Kurt put his valise down in the hall, so all he had to do was grab it in the morning, when Moench arrived to pick him on to drive to Tempelhof.

He was about to fix himself a nightcap, when the doorbell buzzed. At this time of night, it could be only one of two people, Victor or Adrian. Adrian was in Switzerland, so it must be Victor, he decided as he went to the door.

Sure enough, it was Victor standing there, with a slightly flustered look. Kurt opened the door wide to let him in. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’ He closed the door.

Victor looked at the valise. ‘I needed to see you,’ he said and went through into the study. ‘I had a couple of visitors this morning,’ he said as he went over to the drinks trolley and looked over at Kurt. ‘The Gestapo. They’re investigating what happened at Passau...’ He reached for the asbach.

Kurt was clearly unsurprised, and as ever, as calm as an ice cube. He went to his armchair and sat down and crossed his legs. ‘That was to be expected.’

Victor poured two large measures of asbach into brandy glasses. ‘They started asking me about some chambermaid.’

Kurt lit a cigarette, watching Victor without commenting.

‘Ingrid Hoffmann. Mean anything to you?’ he asked as he brought their drinks over. ‘Or maybe you know her by another name? Now they’ve arrested Bucha.’

‘Would you sooner they arrested you, Victor?’ Kurt said slowly. ‘The woman was a lure and Bucha was the Judas goat if we needed one, and as it’s turned out, we did. Bucha’s not so innocent, Victor, he did divulge details of your mission to her. Did you stick to the story?’

Victor took a swallow of asbach and nodded his head. ‘Still. You could have told me, Kurt.’

‘If I did that, you wouldn’t have been surprised when they told you and you needed to be surprised to have all the natural responses. I presume you were surprised, Victor?’

‘Of course, I was bloody surprised.’

‘Then you’ve nothing to worry about, Victor. Don’t concern yourself with Bucha, he dug his own grave by his behaviour.’

Victor looked at him. ‘God, you can be a cold bastard at times, Kurt.’

‘Only where the enemy’s concerned. Have you spoken to Artur?’

‘Yes. Like you, he said I have nothing to worry about. Apparently, Bucha confessed that he may have told the chambermaid when they slept together.’

Kurt nodded his head.

‘I see you’re going away again?’

‘Just for a day, two at most. I’ve got some leave over the weekend. We should have dinner and drinks.’

And sex, Victor thought. ‘Love to,’ he said. ‘How’s Richard? Have you heard from him?’

‘Yes, he writes every week. He’s doing well by all accounts. He’s coming home on leave next month.’

Victor smiled. ‘I look forwards to seeing him. But not as much as I expect he’s looking forwards to seeing you, Kurt. The love of his life.’

Kurt looked at him and took a deep breath. ‘Don’t start all that again, Victor. There is and never can be anything like that between Richard and I.’

Victor settled back on the couch with a loud discontented sigh.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘This bloody Ghost is driving me insane,’ he said.

Kurt took a drag from his cigarette.

‘I’d give my pension to find out who he is. I wouldn’t know if I should shake his hand or arrest him...’ He chuckled. ‘He executed a Scharführer of mine and Diefenbach’s acquaintance, from Dachau on Christmas Eve. Again, no witnesses, no clues. Walked him into a forest waist deep in snow and shot him twice in the head. He’s going to make a mistake sooner or later, and when he does...’ His voice tapered off and his gaze shifted to Kurt, as if telling him directly that he would catch him, which, in a way he was.

Kurt often wondered what Victor would do, if he ever discovered that he was the Ghost. He knew that victor admired the ghost for the vermin he was killing.

Victor necked his drink. ‘What time are you leaving in the morning?’

‘Zero-six hundred,’ Kurt replied, knowing exactly why he asked. ‘You’ll have to lock up the house before you leave.’

Victor smiled. ‘I’ll have a quick shower if I may?’

‘You know where it is.’

CHAPTER 4

The Intercept

Berlin

Kurt knew something was up as soon as he saw that it was the Oberstleutnant who met him at in person at Tempelhof, in his staff car, which, unusually, he was driving himself.

Kurt came to attention