Back End of Spies Save as PDF
Contents ( 68)
  1. Characters
  2. Principal characters:
  3. Other characters:
  4. Prologue
  5. Lincoln, England, September 1945
  6. Chapter 1
  7. London and Dijon, France, November 1943
  8. Chapter 2
  9. Nazi-Occupied Netherlands, May 1944
  10. Chapter 3
  11. Germany, March 1945
  12. Chapter 4
  13. Germany, July 1945
  14. Chapter 5
  15. Munich, August 1945
  16. Chapter 6
  17. London, September 1945
  18. Chapter 7
  19. England, September 1945
  20. Chapter 8
  21. Paris, September 1945
  22. Chapter 9
  23. Paris, September 1945
  24. Chapter 10
  25. London and Berlin, September 1945
  26. Chapter 11
  27. Berlin, September 1945
  28. Chapter 12
  29. Frankfurt, Germany, October 1945
  30. Chapter 13
  31. Germany, October 1945
  32. Chapter 14
  33. London, October 1945
  34. Chapter 15
  35. Germany, October 1945
  36. Chapter 16
  37. London, October 1945
  38. Chapter 17
  39. Berlin, November 1945
  40. Chapter 18
  41. England, November 1945
  42. Chapter 19
  43. Austria, November 1945
  44. Chapter 20
  45. Berlin, December 1945
  46. Chapter 21
  47. England, December 1945
  48. Chapter 22
  49. Austria, December 1945
  50. Chapter 23
  51. Germany, December 1945
  52. Chapter 24
  53. Austria and Italy, December 1945
  54. Chapter 25
  55. England, December 1945
  56. Chapter 26
  57. Trieste, Austria, and Berlin, December 1945
  58. Chapter 27
  59. Berlin and Austria, December 1945
  60. Chapter 28
  61. England, December 1945
  62. Chapter 29
  63. Italy, December 1945
  64. Epilogue
  65. Author’s Note
  66. About the Author
  67. Also by Alex Gerlis
  68. Copyright

‘Are you not pleased, my friend?’

Prince said he supposed he was, but he was more devastated at Franz Rauter’s death. ‘I don’t know how that could have been allowed to happen.’

‘It wasn’t allowed to happen; from what Comrade Orlov tells me, it was sheer bad luck – he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The man who killed him – Prisoner Böhme – knew him from the RSHA and guessed he was a traitor, don’t ask me how. When he realised he was using an assumed name, he concluded his guess was correct. If it’s any consolation, Prisoner Böhme was shot later that day.’

‘It’s no consolation actually. I think we should have pulled Franz out of Hohenschönhausen once he’d told us the Ferret’s identity. It was risky to—’

‘Hindsight, my friend, hindsight. It could also have been risky to pull him out immediately. We weren’t to know Böhme would spot him; it was a chance in a million, sheer bad luck. And at least he’s dead, which means no one will make the link with the Ferret. Do you want some news to cheer you up?’

‘Go on.’

‘I did a check yesterday, and we do have a Wolfgang Steiner on our watch list. He was a Nazi Party official at the Parteikanzlei, just a few minutes’ walk from here. We don’t know a lot about him, but he was known to be an associate of Martin Bormann, Hitler’s personal secretary, who is someone we certainly want to arrest – he’s one of the most senior Nazis whose whereabouts we know nothing about. As far as we know, Wolfgang Steiner left Berlin in late March and has disappeared.’

‘He got out early,’ said Hanne, ‘before your main assault on the city.’

Gurevich nodded. ‘Obviously smart – and the fact that he got away then means he’s probably more important than we realised. I’ll make a note on his file. But what I don’t quite get is the son – Friedrich. He was a young Gestapo officer who murdered people. I’m afraid that was not unusual. So why are you going to these lengths to find him – surely there are more important war criminals?’

‘Because, Iosif, two of the people he murdered were our agents, people who’d been sent over from England, and there’s a view in London that we have a responsibility to bring the person who killed them to justice.’

‘But it sounds as if there may be a reason why he’s so hard to find – why someone was murdered in Munich when they tried to track him down. I can get Friedrich Steiner’s name added to our watch lists – I’m sure you’ll be doing the same with yours.’

‘It’s already been done.’

‘Good. There is something, though.’ Iosif Gurevich hesitated, as if unsure whether to carry on. He drummed his fingers on his desk and then held up a hand – wait – and walked over to the door. He opened it and appeared to look up and down the corridor before closing it again. Then he pulled up a chair and leaned forward.