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Their documents seemed to be in order. The young Sturmbannführer had even naively confessed to have in his possession far more Reichsmarks than the law permitted. He had not, in other words, tried to conceal them, which would have been suspicious. But, as everyone knew, anyone attached to the personal staff of the Reichsführer-SS, even a lowly Sturmbannführer, tended to be a little loose as far as any regulation was concerned.

In ordinary circumstances, after satisfying himself of the bona fides of the Sturmbannführer’s identification, the Gestapo agent would have turned a blind eye to the extra currency he had in his possession.

But there had been an urgent teletype message from Berlin that morning. The body of a Gestapo agent had been found near the Swiss border the previous evening.

He had been brutally stabbed to death before being thrown from the Baseler-Frankfurter Express. The murderer was believed to be a Swiss national, or at least someone equipped with a Swiss passport, in the name of Reber. “Reber” had disappeared from the train, and there was not much of a description available of him, but what there was fitted the Sturmbannführer.

It was a delicate situation for the Gestapo agent. If this young officer was on the personal staff of the Reichsführer-SS, then clearly he had friends in high places, friends who were going to raise all kinds of hell if he was dragged off the train and accused of being either a Swiss black marketeer or an enemy agent. But on the other hand, duty was duty. It simply called for a little tact.

“I am sure the Herr Sturmbannführer will understand the situation,” the Gestapo agent said.

“What situation?”

“There is a certain situation which I do not wish to discuss in public,” the Gestapo agent said.

“You would like to talk to me in private,” Fulmar said, and stood up.

“If you would be so kind,” the Gestapo agent said.

“Very well,” Fulmar said, and stepped out of the compartment.

The Gestapo agent led him to the vestibule at the end of the car.

I’m going to get bagged five kilometers from the fucking border!

“Would it terribly inconvenience the Herr Sturmbannführer to give me a number we could call of someone who could vouch for the Herr Sturmbannführer? ”

“What’s this all about?” Fulmar demanded impatiently. “What is it you did not want to discuss before the others?”

“There was an incident, Herr Sturmbannführer, in which a Gestapo agent lost his life. There was a teletype this morning, giving a description of the man who is the prime suspect.”

“And you think I’m the man you’re looking for?” Fulmar asked. “Incredible! ”

“The Herr Sturmbannführer will, I am sure, understand my position.”

“Well, let’s get it over with,” Fulmar said. “Can we get through to Berlin from here? Standartenführer Müller will vouch for me. Would that suffice? Or will it take the Reichsführer-SS himself?”

“Herr Sturmbannführer,” the Gestapo agent said,“the Gestapo agent was brutally murdered. He was stabbed to death. It is believed that his murderer is an enemy agent. The situation, as I’m sure you will understand, calls for extraordinary measures, even to the point of checking out someone like the Herr Sturmbannführer.”

“Well,” Fulmar said,“you should have told me the situation right off. No apologies are required. To the contrary, I should offer, and do, my apologies for my resentment. You say there is a phone here?”

“In the Grenzpolizei office, Herr Sturmbannführer.”

Müller, obviously, has changed his mind about this whole thing. When he comes on the phone, he is either going to say he never heard of me, or tell this guy to arrest me, that I’m an agent. In either case, I have between now and the time Müller answers his phone to do something.

The only chance I have now is to get alone with him, before he gets on the phone, and kill him, and hide the body, and get back on the train, and hope the body isn’t discovered until we’re across the border.

I’m bagged, and that’s it. Shit, and so close!

Well, if the Gestapo doesn’t go apeshit when they find they’ve bagged me, and the Dyers don’t go apeshit when they find out I’ve been arrested, they may make it.

The obvious solution to this situation is for me to check out now. If they interrogate me, Elizabeth’s name will come out.

Fulmar swiped at his face as if at an insect, and knocked his hat off.

The Gestapo agent quickly bent and retrieved it, and handed it to him.

“Danke schön,” Fulmar said, and brushed the front of the crown. He looked at it and straightened it, and when he took his hand from the inside, he had the Q pill. He put the hat on his head and coughed, and the Q pill was between his teeth.