Day of Judgment. Jack Higgins

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СКАЧАТЬ lit by a single bulb read Julius Meyer and Company, Undertakers . Vaughan got out, unlocked the large gates, opened them and switched on a light. Then he got into the truck and drove inside.

      The place had once been used by a tea merchant. The walls were of whitewashed brick and rickety wooden steps led up to a glass-walled office. Empty coffins were stacked on end in one corner.

      He paused to light a cigarette and the hearse drove in. Vaughan moved past it quickly and closed the doors. Meyer switched off the engine and got out. He was extremely agitated and ceaselessly mopped sweat from his face with the grimy handkerchief.

      ‘Never again, Simon, I swear it. Not if Schmidt doubles the price. I thought the bastard was on to me tonight.’

      Vaughan said cheerfully, ‘You worry too much.’ He leaned into the cab of the truck, fumbled for a hidden catch so that the front of the bench seat fell forward. ‘All right, you can get out now,’ he said in German.

      ‘This is a life, this life we lead?’ Meyer said. ‘Why do we have to live this way? What are we doing this for?’

      ‘Two thousand marks a head,’ Vaughan said. ‘Paid in advance by Heini Schmidt, who’s got so many of the poor bastards lined up over there that we can do it every night if we want to.’

      ‘There’s got to be an easier way,’ Meyer told him. ‘I know one thing. I need a drink.’ He started up the steps to the office.

      The first passenger, a young man in a leather overcoat, crawled out of the hidden compartment and stood blinking in the light, clutching a bundle. He was followed by a middle-aged man in a shabby brown suit whose suitcase was held together by rope.

      Last of all came a girl in her mid-twenties with a pale face and dark sunken eyes. She wore a man’s trench-coat and a scarf tied peasant-fashion round the head. Vaughan had never seen any of them before. As usual, the truck had been loaded in advance for him.

      He said, ‘You’re in West Berlin now and free to go anywhere you please. At the end of the street outside you’ll find a bridge across the Spree. Follow your nose from there and you’ll come to an underground station. Good night and good luck.’

      He went upstairs to the office. Meyer was sitting at the desk, a bottle of Scotch in one hand, a glass in the other which he emptied in one quick swallow.

      He refilled it and Vaughan took it from him. ‘Why do you always look as if you expect the Gestapo to descend at any moment?’

      ‘Because in my youth there were too many occasions when that was a distinct possibility.’

      There was a tapping at the door. As they both turned the girl entered the office hesitantly. ‘Major Vaughan, could I have a word with you?’

      Her English was almost too perfect, no trace of any accent. Vaughan said, ‘How did you know my name?’

      ‘Herr Schmidt told me when I first met him to arrange the crossing.’

      ‘And where was that?’

      ‘In the restaurant of the old Hotel Adlon. Herr Schmidt’s name was given to me by a friend as a reliable man to arrange these matters.’

      ‘You see?’ Meyer said. ‘Every minute it gets worse. Now this idiot hands your name out to strangers.’

      ‘I need help,’ the girl said. ‘Special help. He thought you might be able to advise me.’

      ‘Your English is really very good,’ Vaughan told her.

      ‘It should be. I was born in Cheltenham. My name is Margaret Campbell. My father is Gregory Campbell, the physicist. You’ve heard of him?’

      Vaughan nodded. ‘Between them, he and Klaus Fuchs handed the Russians just about every atomic secret we had back in nineteen-fifty. Fuchs ended up in the dock at the Old Bailey.’

      ‘While my father and his twelve-year-old daughter found sanctuary in East Germany.’

      ‘I thought you were supposed to live happily ever after,’ Vaughan said. ‘Socialist paradise and all that. Last I heard, your father was Professor of Nuclear Physics at Dresden University.’

      ‘He has cancer of the lung,’ she said simply. ‘A terminal case. A year at the most, Major Vaughan. He wants out.’

      ‘I see. And where would he be now?’

      ‘They gave us a place in the country. A cottage at a village called Neustadt. It’s near Stendal. About fifty miles from the border.’

      ‘Why not try British Intelligence? They might think it worth their while to get him back.’

      ‘I have,’ she said. ‘Through another contact at the University. They’re not interested – not any longer. In my father’s field, you’re very quickly yesterday’s news and he’s been a sick man for a long time now.’

      ‘And Schmidt? Couldn’t he help?’

      ‘He said the risk involved was too great.’

      ‘He’s right. A little border-hopping here in Berlin is one thing, but your father – that’s Indian territory out there.’

      Whatever it was that had kept her going went out of her then. Her shoulders slumped, there was only despair in the dark eyes. She seemed very young and vulnerable in a way that was curiously touching.

      ‘Thank you, gentlemen.’ She turned wearily, then paused. ‘Perhaps you can tell me how to get in touch with Father Sean Conlin.’

      ‘Conlin?’ Vaughan said.

      ‘The League of the Resurrection. The Christian Underground movement. I understood they specialized in helping people who can’t help themselves.’

      He sat staring at her. There was silence for a long moment. Meyer said, ‘So what’s the harm in it?’ Vaughan still didn’t speak and it was Meyer who turned to her. ‘Like Simon said earlier, cross the bridge at the end of the street and straight on, maybe a quarter of a mile, to the underground station. Just before it, there’s a Catholic church – the Immaculate Heart. He’ll be hearing confessions round about now.’

      ‘At four o’clock in the morning?’

      ‘Night workers, whores, people like that. It makes them feel better before going to bed,’ Vaughan said. ‘He’s that kind of man, you see, Miss Campbell. What some people would term a holy fool.’

      She stood there, hands in pockets, a slight frown on her face, then turned and went out without a word.

      Meyer said, ‘A nice girl like that. What she must have gone through. A miracle she got this far.’

      ‘Exactly,’ Vaughan said. ‘And I gave up believing in those long ago.’

      ‘My God,’ Meyer said. ‘Have you always got to look for something under every stone you see? Don’t you trust anybody?’

      ‘Not even me,’ Vaughan said amiably.

      The judas gate banged. Meyer said, ‘So you’re СКАЧАТЬ