“What did you find?” he asked at once.
“We searched the house of the man Weber,” Rauner said soberly. “Very thoroughly He lived there with his niece. A girl named Gisela Storp. She cannot be found. She—”
“The girl with the saboteurs,” Harbicht interrupted impatiently. “Go on!”
“Yes. Undoubtedly. There was evidence of other people having lived in the house.” He paused. He frowned. “But — we found no positive leads.”
“What else?” Harbicht snapped.
Rauner consulted his notebook. “Weber's supervisor at the railroad yard, a Yardmaster Schindler, gives the man the highest recommendations—”
“Fool!” Harbicht spat.
“He was known to frequent a Bierstube called Zum Güterzug. He was seen there in the company of others.”
“Who?”
“We had an informer checking the place,” Rauner said. Again he referred to his notebook. “Weber was seen there with his nephew, one Otto Storp, a railroad worker who died in a recent yard accident. With two men unknown to our informer, and also at the same table—” He looked up at Harbicht. “—although it is uncertain if they were together or merely sharing the table as is the custom of the place — with a professor—”
“Name?”
“Himmelmann. Professor Gustav Himmelmann. Apparently the professor stopped in occasionally.”
Himmelmann! Harbicht remembered the man. From his briefing by that Berlin general at Haigerloch. He felt the familiar jolt of excitement which discovery always brought. With the certainty of the experienced investigator, he knew he had run across a vital piece of information. Himmelmann. The inside link? He looked piercingly at his subordinate.
“I want a full report,” he ordered. “Weber's friends. Family. Co-workers. And Himmelmann. Everything. Understood?”
“Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer!”
“And I want it now!”
Rauner tapped his notebook. “I have it all here, Herr Standartenführer. I shall write it up at once.” He clicked his heels.
He turned to leave.
The shrill ring of the telephone stopped him. He put the notebook on the desk. He picked up the receiver.
“Gestapo!” he said crisply.
He listened. His eyes stretched wide. He turned to Harbicht. “Herr Standartenführer!” he said excitedly. “The ambulance! It has been spotted!”
“Where?”
“On the road to Rottenburg — and Tübingen!”
Harbicht was already half out the door.
Rauner dropped the receiver. He started for the door. He stopped Quickly he turned, scooped up his notebook and put it in his tunic pocket.
He ran after Harbicht.
Rottenburg had been left behind. They were entering Tübingen.
Dirk pushed the button activating the Klaxon horn. It was a risk. But if the alarm was out in Tübingen, they would be stopped whether their damned horn was going or not. This way they'd get through town faster….
It was getting dark. Dirk turned the hooded headlights on.
He sped through the streets toward the Stadtmitte, the center of town. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles showed white. His arm hurt.
Traffic was a little heavier — but it obediently gave way. He was nearing an intersection. A policeman was directing traffic. He cleared the way for them — and they raced through.
A few moments later they were on the open road speeding toward Stuttgart.
Thirty kilometers to go….
Harbicht sat next to the driver, rigid with impatience. In back were Rauner and two SS men. All were armed. Tübingen was ahead. They had taken the direct route. There was a chance — a slim chance — they could cut off the ambulance before it reached town from the Rottenburg road. He urged the white- faced driver to greater speed.
They entered town. The driver leaned on the horn, scattering other vehicles, bicyclists and pedestrians. Ahead was an intersection. A policeman was directing traffic.
“Stop here!” Harbicht called.
The driver skidded to a halt next to the startled policeman Harbicht impatiently beckoned the man over.
The policeman gave him a stiff-armed salute.
“Heil Hitler!”
“Have you seen an ambulance?” Harbicht shot at him.
“Ambulance?” The man scratched his ear.
“Yes! Ambulance, you idiot!” Harbicht thundered.
“Ah, yes!” The man brightened. “The ambulance. It came through here. Going very fast.” He drew himself up. “I gave it the right of way!”
“Why the devil didn't you stop it?”
“Stop it?” The policeman looked thunderstruck. “But — it was an emergency. It was quite clear. I had no reason to — to stop it.”
Harbicht knew the man was right. “Imbecile!” he snapped. “Which way did it go?”
“On the Stuttgart Strasse,” the policeman answered fretfully. “Stuttgart.”
“How long ago?”
“Five, ten minutes.”
Harbicht's thoughts raced. It made sense. The saboteurs knew they could not remain in Hechingen. Stay hidden from him But Stuttgart. A large city. A city of half a million. They could lose themselves in the crowds. Once they did — with half the city in ruins, government offices, records and registrations destroyed, thousands of refugees living in the rubble and constantly shifting about, the two enemy saboteurs would be almost impossible to find. It would be like tracing a snowflake in a blizzard….
But find them he must. He was certain they could provide him with the answers to all his questions — and suspicions. They — and they alone.
He had thirty kilometers in which to catch up with them. He turned to the driver.
“Stuttgart!” he ordered sharply. “Fast!”
The sign briefly caught in the sweeping headlights of the ambulance read.
ECHTERDINGEN
Kreis Stuttgart
“It is only a few more kilometers after Echterdingen,” Gisela said.
Klaxon blaring, they barreled through town…
They were racing through the darkness of a small grove of trees. The long, horizontal beams from their headlights sliced the tree trunks in two — miraculously restoring them as they roared past.
They emerged at the crest of a long hill gently sloping down before them. Abruptly Dirk slowed the careening ambulance — and stared ahead.
In the far distance lay the city of Stuttgart. Above it flared the searing crimson and orange hues of leaping flames, turning the horizon blood red. Countless large fires were blazing throughout the city. The city of Stuttgart was a primary bombing target. Home station of the 10th Panzer Division. Heavily destroyed in massive raids by the RAF Bomber Command and the US 8th and 15th Air Forces. Periodic raids currently being mounted to keep the Daimler-Benz tank, truck and aircraft-engine factories from rebuilding and to prevent the main railroad station in the heart of the city, a vital, strategically located railroad hub connecting the Rhine Valley with the Danube, from being repaired and able to function…. Corny's briefing had been detailed.
They were seeing the results of another air raid.
Directly below, the road crossed a railroad line. The bombers had destroyed the tracks for some distance in either direction. The road itself was heavily damaged also and pockmarked with bomb craters at the crossing. A cluster of houses just beyond the tracks had been hit. A few of them were still burning.
Dirk sent the ambulance speeding down toward the demolished tracks.
Near the crossing the road became almost impassable. Dirk had to slow to a crawl. Carefully he threaded the ambulance between the craters, twisted rail sections and splintered wooden ties….