The Bormann Testament Read Online Free

no solution for the time being. Only Hans Muller could supply the answer.
    He brewed a pot of coffee and got into bed. It was just after three A.M. and the rain drummed steadily against the windows. He lit a cigarette and opened the envelope that the Chief had given him.
    They’d done a good job on the passport. It had been issued four years previously and was true in all personal particulars except for his occupation. He had apparently been to the Continent several times during the period and once to America. He memorized the dates quickly and then examined the other documents.
    His tickets were all in order and so were the travelers’ checks. There was also a current driving license and a member’s ticket for a city luncheon club. Finally, he had been supplied with several letters that purported to be from business contacts and one couched in affectionate terms from a girl called Cynthia.
    He read the letter through with interest. It was goods—very good indeed. He wondered whether the Chief had gotten Jean Frazer to write it, and there was a smile on his face when he finally switched off the lamp and turned his face into the pillow.

CHAPTER 2
    T he train started to slow down as it entered the outskirts of Rheine, and Chavasse put down the book he had been reading and checked his watch. It was eleven P.M. They were due at Osnabruck in just under an hour.
    He pulled on his jacket and went out into the corridors as the train came to a halt. The sleeping-car attendant, who was standing nearby, opened one of the doors and stepped down onto the platform. Obeying a sudden impulse, Chavasse followed him and stood there, hands in pockets, drawing the cold night air deep into his lungs.
    The platform was almost deserted and no one seemed to be getting on or off. He was about to get back into the train when a group of men emerged from the waiting room and came toward him.
    The one who led the way was a tall, heavily built man with an iron-hard face and eyes like chips of blue ice. Behind him came two attendants in white coats, carrying a man on a stretcher. The man who brought up the rear wore a Homburg hat and an expensive overcoat with a fur collar. His gaunt face was half-covered by a carefully trimmed black beard that looked as if it had been dyed.
    Chavasse moved out of the way, and the two attendants carefully maneuvered the stretcher onto the train and into the next apartment to his own. The other two men followed them in and closed the door.
    As Chavasse climbed back into the corridor, he turned inquiringly to the attendant who had followed him. “What was all that about?” he asked in German.
    The man shrugged. “The tough-looking one is Inspector Steiner of the Hamburg police. The bearded man is called Kruger—he’s one of the best-known physicians in Hamburg.”
    “And the man on the stretcher?”
    “A criminal they’re taking back to Hamburg,” the attendant said. “He was injured in a fight with the police and they called in Dr. Kruger to see whether he was fit to be moved.”
    Chavasse nodded. “I see. Thanks very much.”
    “A pleasure,” the attendant said. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
    Chavasse shook his head. “Not at the moment. Perhaps a coffee a little later on. I’ll let you know.”
    The man nodded and walked away and Chavasse went back into his compartment. He sat on the edge of the bunk and checked his watch again. Three quarters of an hour and the train would be in Osnabruck. There would be a light tap on the door, it would open, and Hans Muller would walk in. He wondered what the man would look like, what his first words would be, and then it occurred to him that perhaps Muller wouldn’t show up. For some obscure reason, the thought vaguely amused him and he lit a cigarette, feeling suddenly sanguine about the whole thing.
    He decided to pay Sir George Harvey a visit. So far, they had only had time for a brief word on the boat coming over. It was probably a good moment to