The Bormann Testament by Jack Higgins

“Sorry you’ve been troubled, Sir George.”
    “Ah, Inspector Steiner,” Sir George said. “Who are you looking for this time?”
    Chavasse could almost see Steiner’s characteristic shrug. “No one in particular, Sir George. It’s an old police custom to spread a net when there is a large crowd. It is surprising how often it pays with a good haul. I regret you have been inconvenienced.”
    The car moved on and picked up speed. Chavasse remained on the floor for another five minutes, and then he pushed back the rug and sat in the rear seat. “That was close.”
    Sir George shook his head. “I wasn’t worried for a minute.” He laughed excitedly. “You know, I’m beginning to enjoy this, Chavasse. I’ve been living my safe, ordered, and rather stuffy existence for so long now, I’d almost forgotten what it could be like to take a chance.”
    “You’ve taken enough for one day,” Chavasse said. “You can stop any time you like and let me out. I’ll catch the U-Bahn back into town.”
    Sir George shook his head. “Nothing doing, my boy. I’ll take you to where you want to go.”
    “And what about your friends?” Chavasse reminded him. “They’ll be wondering what’s happened to you.”
    Sir George swore mildly. “You’re right, I suppose. Where can I drop you then?”
    “We’re coming into Hellbrook,” Chavasse said. “You can stop outside the underground station. I can manage fine from there.”
    A few moments later, the car drew in to the side of the road and Chavasse got out. He leaned in at the window. “Thanks for everything. You deserve a medal.”
    Sir George snorted. “Just remember to call on me if you need any more help.” He chuckled. “You know, you’ve given me a new lease on life. I don’t think I’ve enjoyed myself so much for years.”
    The big car turned and roared back along the road to Farmsen. Chavasse stood there, watching it go and thinking about Sir George Harvey. He was quite a man, there was no doubt about that. As the car disappeared from sight round a bend in the road, he turned and went quickly into Wandsbek station.
     
    IT was nearly four-thirty when he mounted the stairs to Anna Hartman’s apartment and knocked on the door. It was opened almost at once, and she pulled him inside, her face white and strained. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “I was almost out of my mind with worry.”
    “Any particular reason?” he said as he took off his coat.
    She shook her head. “There hasn’t been a mention of the train affair on the radio. I’ve listened to every bulletin. I can’t understand it.”
    “You worry too much,” Chevasse said. “Steiner’s probably persuaded his superiors to allow him to handle the case in his own way. After all, he can’t let someone else get their hands on me—I might talk too much. He’s got to reach me first, if only to save his own skin.”
    He pulled her down beside him on the couch. “Did you manage to find out anything about Katie Holdt?”
    She shook her head. “Not a thing. Her landlady didn’t even see her go. Apparently she left the rent she owed in an envelope, with a brief note saying she’d been called away urgently. There was definitely no forwarding address.”
    “That’s a pity,” Chavasse said. “She might have proved useful. At least we now know how Muller came to be connected with Bormann in the first place.” She looked surprised and he quickly explained about his trip to Farmsen.
    “How on earth can you take such risks?” she said when he had finished. “Couldn’t Sir George have given you the message over the phone?”
    Chavasse jumped to his feet and walked across to the window. “I suppose he could, but I get restless. I have to be in at the heart of things.” He turned with a smile. “Never mind about me—has Hardt been in touch yet?”
    She nodded. “We’re to meet him at Blankenese tonight in a café by the Elbe. I know the place. Apparently, he’s found out everything