Munich by Robert Harris

Author:Robert Harris [Harris, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
ISBN: 9780091959197
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2017-09-20T18:30:00+00:00

3

The Führer’s train was slowing. After more than twelve hours of relentless forward motion Hartmann could detect a slight but definite swaying back and forth as the driver gently applied the brakes.

They were in the hilly country an hour south of Munich, not far from where he had gone walking with Hugh and Leyna in the summer of ’32. Beyond the windows the woodland had begun to thin, a river glinted silver through the trees, and then an ancient town curved into view on the opposite bank. Gaily painted houses – pale blue, lime green, canary yellow – fronted on to the water. Behind them, a grey stone medieval castle sprawled across a wooded hill. In the distance rose the Alps. Framed by the window, it looked exactly like the Reichsbahn poster for a Tyrolean holiday that had lured them south six years before. Even the half-timbered station they were pulling into was picturesque. The train slowed to walking pace and then, with a slight jolt and a squeak of metal, stopped. It let out an exhausted exhalation of steam.

A sign beside the waiting room announced Kufstein.

Austria, then, thought Hartmann – or rather, what had once been Austria until the Führer got to work on the map.

The platform was deserted. He checked his watch. It was a good watch, a Rolex, given to him by his mother on his twenty-first birthday. With beautiful efficiency they had arrived at 9.30 a.m. precisely. He wondered if the British delegation had taken off yet.

He rose from his table in the communications wagon, walked to the door and lowered the window.

All along the length of the train men were disembarking to stretch their legs. The station itself appeared ghostly in its emptiness. Hartmann guessed it must have been sealed off by the security services. But then something caught his eye: a man’s white face staring through a grimy window. He was wearing a Reichsbahn cap. When he realised he had been spotted, he ducked out of sight.

Hartmann jumped down on to the platform and headed straight towards him. He pushed open the door and entered what looked to be the stationmaster’s office, stuffy with the burned-out reek of coal and cigarettes. The official was at his desk – lank-haired, forties, pretending to read some papers. As Hartmann approached he scrambled to his feet.

Hartmann said, ‘Heil Hitler.’

The man saluted. ‘Heil Hitler!’

‘I’m travelling with the Führer. I need to use your telephone.’

‘Of course, sir. An honour.’ He pushed it towards Hartmann, who waved his hand imperiously.

‘Get me an operator.’

‘Yes, sir.’

When the man gave him the phone, Hartmann said to the operator, ‘I need to place a call to Berlin. I am with the Führer. It is a matter of the utmost urgency.’

‘What number in Berlin, sir?’

He gave her Kordt’s direct line. She repeated it back to him. ‘Shall I call you when I have a connection?’

‘As soon as possible.’

He hung up and lit a cigarette. Through the window he could see activity further up the platform. The locomotive was being uncoupled and was getting up steam again.

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