Free The Bormann Testament by Jack Higgins Page A

preferred being in at the center of things, checking the other man’s move or making one himself.
    On impulse he picked up the phone, rang the Atlantic Hotel, and asked for Sir George Harvey. There was a slight click as the receiver was picked up at the other end and Sir George spoke. “Yes, who is it?”
    “Your traveling companion,” Chavasse said.
    Sir George’s voice didn’t change. “I was hoping you’d ring,” he said. “I’ve had your boss on the phone from London. He asked me to pass on some information to you.”
    “Is it important?”
    “Nothing startling, but it might prove useful.”
    “Good, we’d better get together then.”
    “I’m afraid that’s going to be rather awkward,” Sir George told him. “I’ve hired a car and I’m driving out to the race track at Farmsen with some of the other conference delegates. We’re leaving in a few minutes. The first race starts at two-thirty.”
    Chavasse considered the situation. He had been to Farmsen before to see the trotting races. They were usually well attended on a Sunday afternoon. He came to a decision quickly.
    “I’ll meet you in the bar under the grandstand in the second-class enclosure at three o’clock,” he said. “Will that be all right?”
    “I don’t see why not,” Sir George replied. “I can easily leave my friends in the first-class enclosure for a few minutes. As long as you think it’s safe to show your face.”
    “Don’t worry about me,” Chavasse said. “I’ll only be a dot among several thousand people.” He replaced the receiver and hurriedly finished dressing.
    He left a brief note for Anna, left the apartment, and walked through the quiet streets to the nearest station, where he caught a crowded underground train.
    When they reached Farmsen, he mingled with the large crowd that streamed toward the entrance of the race track. As he passed through the turnstiles, he saw a couple of bored-looking policemen leaning against the barrier and chatting. He ignored them and moved on quickly, passing round the great curve of the track, and entered the second-class enclosure.
    The first race was just finishing and he stood at the rail and watched the light, two-wheeled sulkies bounce on the corners, the drivers hanging grimly onto the reins as the horses trotted toward the finishing line at an incredible speed. There was a roar from the crowd, and a moment later, the result was announced over the loudspeaker.
    He looked across into the first-class enclosure and checked his watch. There were still ten minutes to go. He sauntered across to the grandstand and went into the bar. For the moment, trade seemed to be slack and he ordered a beer and lit a cigarette. As he carried his drink across to a corner table, Sir George Harvey appeared in the entrance.
    He came straight over and sat down. “Don’t you think you’re asking for trouble showing your face in a public place like this?”
    Chavasse shook his head. “There’s safety in numbers.”
    “I still think it’s damned risky,” Sir George said. “But now you are here, you can tell me what happened on that blasted train. Why did you have to kill Muller?”
    “But I didn’t,” Chavasse said. “As far as I know, he’s still alive and kicking.” He went on to describe what had really taken place.
    When he had finished, Sir George leaned back in his chair, a slight frown on his face. “It’s the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever heard of. So Steiner and this Kruger fellow are presumably working for the Nazi underground?”
    “It certainly looks that way.”
    “And this other chap,” Sir George said. “The one who saved your bacon. I suppose he’s working for the people who spirited Eichmann away to Israel?”
    Chavasse nodded. “That’s about the size of it.”
    Sir George shook his head in bewilderment. “You know, even during the war, when this sort of thing came under my department, I never heard anything quite like it. Dammit all, man, we went