Hood retrieved the log numbers.
“Let’s investigate, shall we?”
Off she led again, returning to the humming of whatever it was she hummed to brighten her day and depress anyone within earshot.
It took less than five minutes to locate articles 20398 and 20400.
“A lighter.”
She handed 20398 to Rossiter.
“And a damaged lapel badge.”
She looked at it and cursed.
“Goddamnit. Sorry, Sir. I should have remembered this.”
The badge changed hands and its nature was immediately apparent.
“Red Cross?”
“Yep, General. Grosslocken or summat like that. Some of our boys were on a training exercise and ran across the plane wreck. Red Cross inspection flight returning from somewhere on the enemy’s side. Ran straight into the tallest piece of real estate around. No survivors. We got most of it away… the Red Cross wanted it all, but our colonel stuck by his guns and went by the book. Your briefcase came from the flight, no doubt about it, General.”
“Do you know when this was, Sergeant?”
“End of July is all I can venture, General. We only record arrivals if the stuff stays. In this case, August 2nd, so allow for at least a day or two to get to us. Probably around the 28th.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Hood, You’ve been extremely helpful. I’ll let your officer know that on the way out.”
“With respect, General, I wouldn’t bother. I’m on the flight home tomorrow and she won’t remember my name past Saturday morning anyway.”
“On leave or permanent job stateside, Sergeant?”
“Medical discharge, General. I’m officially mad as a fucking hatter so I’m free of this man’s army and back to stabbing old Lee in the front.”
‘That explains a lot.’
“Thank you again, Sergeant.”
“My pleasure, General. Maybe I’ll see you at one of my lectures stateside?”
“You know, maybe you will at that, Sergeant Hood.”
He saluted her and went on his way, his steps worryingly in time with her renewed humming.
Innsbruck had its own intelligence facility, so Rossiter, once he had identified himself, was shown to a small room that boasted a chair, table, and telephone.
He let Cortez trot out his normal line in full before speaking.
“Right, I’m nearly there now. The briefcase that Hallmann got came from a Red Cross flight that crashed in Austria around the end of July. Unless they were particularly careless, that should narrow it down to one aircraft. I’m going to see what I can manage here, but get on it straight away and find out where that aircraft came from. OK?”
“OK, General. Haserich… seems there were a number of people inside the barn building. Different shoe marks throughout, all fresh. Early estimates are five at least. They actually missed one complete set of shelves, of over six hundred files.”
“We’ve got them in our hands now I take it?”
“Actually no, Sir.”
“Well, for fuck’s sake, Jed, get on the horn and make sure we get it taken away for safekeeping. Do I have to think of everything? Jesus H Christ but that’s basic shit right there. Goddamnit”
Cortez had let Rossiter vent off, deciding not to interrupt him whilst he was on a roll.
“General… the barn was secured and transport was organised for the following morning. A fire started and claimed everything in the building, and part of the main house too.”
“A fire? A fire started… just like that?”
“Highly doubtful, of course, especially as the volunteer fire department found their equipment damaged and unusable.”
“Deliberate… arson…”
“Apparently so. The local police spoke with the fire department chief. Everything points to deliberate.”
“Fuck… Kunze… has to be Kunze…”
“No Sir, not in person at any rate. He’s in Zell hospital with appendicitis… not him.”
‘Then who?’
“OK, Jed. Keep on it. I’m coming back to headquarters. Have everything ready for me at eighteen-hundred.”
“Yes, Sir, General, Sir.”
1239 hrs, Thursday, 20th March 1947, bridge over the Kästenbach, Reidenhausen, Mosel.
“You were successful, Hauptscharführer?”
“Yes, Brigadeführer. Any files left in the barn are destroyed. I know my business, Sir. Spread them out, kerosene, fire. But there is a problem, Brigadeführer.”
“I destroyed what I found which, according to Obersturmfuhrer Krause’s description, was a fraction of the total. They have already been moved, Brigadeführer!”
“Verdamnt!”
Pannitz stayed silent whilst his commander worked out his fury.
For his part, Otto Kumm pummelled the stone bridge with both fists.
“The Allies have them… we must fine them immediate… what?”
“No they don’t, Brigadefuhrer. I spoke to one of my associates. He states categorically that the only vehicles that left the scene from the moment the buildings caught fire were Feuerwehr, staff cars, and a civilian truck that was used solely to carry away Frau Hallmann’s body. There were no documents taken.”
Kumm digested the bombshell.
“So… whoever killed Frau Hellmann also took the documents.”
It was not a question.
“Does your man have any ideas, Hauptscharführer?”
“He and another are making further enquiries right now, but there’s an unconfirmed report, Brigadeführer. I’ll know more soon.”
“An old comrade from the Luftwaffe in Blankenrath… he swears he saw some Jews nosing around in the woods above Haserich.”
“Jews?”
“Yes, Brigadeführer.”
“Scheisse! We have to find them. If the Zionists have our comrade’s records, none of them will be safe. Mobilise every man, Hauptscharführer. I’ll get more men sent to you as soon as possible. Do whatever you must do, but find those fucking records!”
1744 hrs, Thursday, 20th March 1947, Allied Intelligence Special Operations Centre, die Hegerhaus, Horberg Masslau, Germany.
Rossiter’s aircraft landed at the small grass strip at Kötschlitz, half a mile south of Horberg Masslau, and he immediately travelled north to the woods west of the village, wherein a special facility had been created, well away from prying eyes.
The base was centred around an old but well-appointed gamekeeper’s house, die Hegerhaus, in whose grounds a joint Allied Intelligence Special Operations Unit had been created, comprising nondescript wooden buildings such as graced army camps the world over, their simplicity in this case hiding the true purpose of their occupants.
Men received instruction there, lived there, and occasionally died there, as the training was fierce and hard.
Given the security that surrounded the site, OSS, SOE, SDECE and others had decided to it was the perfect spot to set up a joint operation, in order to pool talent and information.
The Abwehr were not included, a deliberate decision made when the camp was set up, shortly after the arrival of Nazarbayeva’s divisive documents.
Rossiter flopped into a seat in the dining room and stuffed the hamburgers down his neck in record time. Three mugs of coffee followed, as much for the caffeine as for the liquid intake, the effects of his prolonged mission round Europe starting to take effect.
Opposite him, Rear-Admiral Sir Roger Dalziel was still deciding on the best way to eat his American treat by the time that Sam Rossiter started into number two.
“Your man seems very keen to get started, Sam.”
Rossiter followed Dalziel’s eyes to where Cortez was hopping from foot to foot, clearly bursting with some important news.