Free The Bormann Testament by Jack Higgins Page B

through six years of hell to give these Nazis what was coming to them, and here they are sticking their heads up again and apparently able to get away with it.”
    “But not for long,” Chavasse said. “The very fact that they have to work underground is an encouraging sign.” He lit another cigarette. “You had a message for me.”
    “So I did,” Sir George said. “I’m sorry, I was forgetting. Your Chief wanted you to know they’ve got a line on Muller. He was Bormann’s orderly. Apparently, in civilian life he’d been a valet. His family lived in Hamburg and he had one sister. They were all killed in the bombing in 1943. Does that help at all?”
    Chavasse shook his head. “Not really. The only thing I didn’t already know was that Muller was once Bormann’s orderly. That at least explains their connection. The sister’s still alive. Until yesterday we knew where she was living and working, but for the moment we’ve lost track of her.”
    “Then obviously you must find her again,” Sir George said. “She may be the key to the whole thing.”
    Chavasse shook his head. “Muller is the key to the whole thing. He’s the one we’ve got to find.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better be making a move.”
    Sir George nodded. “It might be wiser. I’ll walk down to the gates with you.”
    They left the bar and moved through the crowd, following the broad curve of the track. As they walked, Chavasse said, “By the way, did you tell the Chief anything about this mess when he spoke to you on the telephone?”
    Sir George shook his head emphatically. “No, I thought perhaps you’d want to handle that yourself.”
    They had passed where the cars were parked and were moving toward the gate through the stream of people who were still coming in. Chavasse started to thank him, but Sir George suddenly caught hold of his arm and jerked him violently around.
    As they started to move back the way they had come, Chavasse said, “What’s wrong?”
    “Steiner’s standing at the gates with half-a-dozen policemen,” Sir George said.
    Chavasse glanced back over his shoulder quickly. Steiner and his men had obviously only just arrived, and they stood around him in a group as he gave them their instructions. As Chavasse watched, they moved away, taking up prearranged positions so that all the exits were covered.
    “For God’s sake, come on, man,” Sir George said, and pulled him into the car park.
    As they moved between the crowded vehicles, Chavasse said, “There’s bound to be another way out of this damn place.”
    “No need to worry about that,” Sir George said, and halted beside a Mercedes. “ I’m going to take you out and by the front gate.”
    “Not on your life,” Chavasse told him. “I’m not getting you involved in this.”
    He started to turn away, and Sir George grabbed hold of his arm and held him with a grip of surprising strength. His face flushed, and when he spoke, his voice shook with anger. “What sort of a man do you think I am?” he demanded. “I’m not going to stand by and see a pack of damned Nazis have their way. You’re going to get on the floor in the back of the car with a rug over you and we’re going out that main gate. Do you understand?”
    The years seemed to have fallen away from him, and for the moment, he was once more the young colonel who had led his men over the top at the Somme armed with a swagger stick, his belt and buttons gleaming.
    He opened the rear door of the Mercedes. “Get in!” he said.
    Chavasse hesitated, and then he shrugged and did as he was ordered. He lay on the floor and Sir George covered him with a rug and closed the door. A moment later and they moved slowly away.
    They came to a halt and steps approached. As the man started to speak, Chavasse held his breath, and then he heard Steiner’s voice break in angrily. “Leave this to me. Go back to your post.” He leaned down to the window and said in his careful, clipped English,