The Bormann Testament Read Online Free Page A

put him in the picture.
    He opened the door of the compartment and walked out into the corridor, cannoning heavily into someone who was coming from the opposite direction. There was a muffled curse and he was sent staggering backward by a strong push.
    He straightened his tie and moved forward. Facing him was an American Army sergeant whose jaw stuck out belligerently. “Why the hell can’t you look where you’re going, buddy?” the man asked.
    Chavasse took a deep breath of corn whiskey and forced a smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
    The American seemed to undergo a change of attitude. He swayed forward and patted Chavasse on the shoulder. “That’s okay, pally. We all make mistakes.”
    His eyes swam myopically, enormously magnified by the thick lenses of his steel-rimmed spectacles, and his peaked cap was tilted forward over his nose, making him look faintly ridiculous. He patted Chavasse on the shoulder again, sidled past him, and lurched away.
    Chavasse moved along the corridor, pausing outside the end compartment. He knocked and went in.
    Sir George was sitting at a small collapsible table, writing a letter. He looked up with a smile and laid down his pen. “Ah, Mr. Chavasse, I was hoping to see you. I’m afraid I’ve been rather busy with various matters concerning this peace conference. Is everything under control?”
    Chavasse nodded. “As far as possible. We’ll be in Osnabruck in about forty minutes. I thought I’d better have a chat with you before we arrive.”
    Sir George poured sherry into two glasses and handed him one. “Do you anticipate any trouble with Muller?”
    Chavasse shook his head. “Not really. I should imagine he’s going through hell at the moment. Probably frightened of his own shadow. All I want to do is gain his confidence and make him believe I’m what I’m supposed to be. I don’t want to use you if I can help it, but if he turns awkward or gets suspicious, then I might have to call on you. With any luck, that should clinch things.”
    “Do you think he’ll have the manuscript with him?”
    “He’ll be a damn fool if he does,” Chavasse said. “I’ll try and make arrangements to meet him at some later date to see the manuscript. From that point anything can happen, but I’m hoping the trail will lead me to Bormann.”
    “We’ll drink to that,” Sir George said, and refilled his glass. After a moment’s silence, he said inquiringly, “Chavasse—that’s a French name, isn’t it?”
    Chavasse nodded. “My father was a lawyer in Paris, but my mother was English. He was an officer in the reserve—killed at Arras when the Panzers broke through in 1940. I was only eleven at the time. My mother and I came out through Dunkirk.”
    “So you weren’t old enough to serve in the war?” Sir George carefully lit a small cigar and carried on. “I was in the first lot, you know. Lieutenant at twenty—lieutenant colonel at twenty-four. Promotion was quick in those days.”
    “It must have been pretty rough,” Chavasse said.
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Sir George told him. “There was a wonderful spirit abroad. People still clung to the old values. It was after the war that the rot set in.”
    “The lost generation,” Chavasse said.
    Sir George stared back into the past and sighed. “Everything changed—nothing was ever quite the same again. I went into politics like many others, with the intention of doing something about it, but we were too late.”
    “A civilization in decline,” Chavasse said.
    “One could draw a remarkable parallel between the British and Roman Empires,” Sir George said. “Universal suffrage and the voice of the mob leading to an internal weakness and eventual collapse, the barbarians at the gates.” He got to his feet and smiled. “If I sound like an old-fashioned imperialist, forgive me. Frankly, I look back on the days of Empire with nostalgia. However, we could talk in this vein all night and that won’t do at