Cast No Shadow, Peter Sharp [books to get back into reading txt] 📗

before. I can’t waste any more time on this project. Please don’t contact me again. I have people waiting for ‘extradition’. Tell your man—Müller or Miller or whatever the hell his name is—that he’ll need to find someone else to save his worthless life!”

Kelly started again for the exit. “Alright! Alright!” exclaimed Manteufel, clearly alarmed, then more calmly, “Alright Tom. Can you telephone me tomorrow from the call box near the junction of the Kurfürstendamm and Joachimsthalerstrasse, just opposite the broken tooth? I promise to deliver him. Please Tom!”

Kelly knew the area. The ‘broken tooth’ was the local slang for the ruins of the Gedächtniskirche, a poignant and lasting monument to the war. He stood for a moment, his mouth turned down and his brow furrowed as if pondering whether this really was worth pursuing. At last he said, “Alright Horst, we’ll give it one more go. Try to pick somewhere scenic for the meeting. We can pretend to be taking tourist photos. I only need three pictures, and then your friend can disappear again until he is ready to move.”

Kelly watched Manteufel leave the building then slipped his hand into his jacket and withdrew the photo he had palmed from the table. He would have this checked to ensure that it really was the same Müller he was searching for.

The ringing tone was steady, but there was no pickup. Kelly was about to replace the handset when finally, there was a click at the other end and a distant, crackly voice spoke.

“Ja, wer spricht?”

“Horst, is that you? It’s me, Tom!”

“Ah! Tom, good! Can you see the ruined church?”

“Yes?”

“To the right of the ruins, can you see an American car?”

“Yes.”

“Good! Get in it. It will bring you to the rendezvous.” There was a click and the line was dead.

Thoughts were crashing through Kelly’s mind. It could be a trap. On the other hand, if it was a trap there would be no benefit to Manteufel who was desperate for this deal to go through. Kelly dare not ring HQ in Spandau, as they were bound to be watching him from the limo.

Kelly strode purposefully towards the Studebaker, opened the passenger door, and climbed in without a word. The driver was just in the process of putting a pair of binoculars into the glove compartment. There were two other large male occupants in the rear seats.

“Good day,” said the driver.

Kelly nodded but said nothing.

The car pulled out and drove the short distance to Joachimsthalerstrasse before turning right and then almost immediately left. They continued west until the road merged with the Heerstrasse, shortly after which they turned into the Olympic stadium. Odd place to choose, thought Kelly, smack in the middle of the British sector, and very public.

They disembarked in a small car park and joined Manteufel waiting near the entrance, then as a group walked towards the main stadium.

The driver stopped them and spoke quickly. “We can’t go in together. Looks odd. We will split up. I will go on ahead. Driscoll, you go with Gunter.” He indicated one of the heavies. “Manteufel, you go with Wilhelm.”

“I am going in with Manteufel” said Kelly decisively. “There are some financial matters we need to discuss before we meet our friend.”

“It’s better the way I suggested,” said the driver, with just a hint of menace in his voice.

“No! My way.” Kelly spoke quietly, but with way more than a hint of menace. He was staring hard at the driver, his eyes neither wavering nor blinking.

The standoff lasted several seconds before the driver looked away, shrugged his shoulders, and muttered, “As you please.”

Kelly had seized on the very slimmest kernel of an idea to bring this mission to an end at this meeting. The next few minutes as they approached the entrance in their separate groups would be critical.

He walked slowly, allowing himself and Manteufel to open a sizable gap on the other two groups, then spoke quietly. “Listen Horst,” he said to grab his attention, then opened his jacket sufficiently for Manteufel to see the pistol in the shoulder holster. “Keep quiet and listen. If you betray me, I will shoot you without the slightest hesitation. Do you understand?”

Manteufel nodded without betraying the slightest emotion. This could go either way, thought Kelly. He might be a low life smuggler, but he was an experienced and brave low life smuggler.

“I am with British security,” continued Kelly. “I am going to take Müller today, but I’ll need your help. If you help me, I will guarantee you will come off the wanted list and go home to your kids a free man. You know the alternative.”

“What’s to stop me giving you up to these animals in front? When we get to the stadium there will be five, including Müller, against you. You won’t have a chance.” Manteufel’s voice was steady, as was his gaze. Kelly guessed he already knew the answer but was testing.

“Everyone in British security from the office cat upwards knows you are my contact. If I die today, your life will not be worth a light and God help your wife and kids in the Soviet zone if our red friends find out you denied them the pleasure of meeting some of the senior German officers who were in charge at Stalingrad.”

“And they would?” sneered Manteufel.

“Inevitably, I fear,” answered Kelly.

“What do you want me to do?” asked the German, resignation registering in his voice. What choice did he have?

“Take down the driver and one if not both of the heavies. I’ll deal with the other heavy, but I’d like to try to get Müller alive. It’s four against two, but they won’t be expecting this. We have the advantage.”

“And how do I take them down? With a pea shooter?”

Kelly shifted his hand to the second pistol stuffed into the waist band of his trousers, then, waiting for a moment when none of the others were looking back at them, he passed it to Manteufel who took it and quickly