The Bormann Testament Read Online Free PDF Page A

When he opened them again, the man was still there. There was only one thing wrong. His eyes were fixed and staring into eternity. Where his jacket had fallen open, a ragged, smoke-blackened hole was visible on the left-hand side of the white shirt. He had been shot through the heart at close quarters.
    Chavasse got to his feet and stood looking down at the body, his mind working sluggishly, and then something seemed to surge up from his stomach and he leaned over the basin quickly and vomited. He poured water into a glass and drank it slowly, and after a moment or two he felt better.
    There was a bruise on his right cheek and a streak of blood where the skin had been torn. He examined it in the mirror with a frown and then glanced at his watch. It was twelve-fifteen. That meant that the train had already passed through Osnabruck and was speeding through the night toward Bremen.
    Even before he examined the body, Chavasse knew in his heart what he was going to find. The man was small and dark, with thinning hair, and his cheeks were cold and waxlike to the touch. The fingers of his right hand were curved like hooks reaching out toward a wad of banknotes that lay scattered under the washbasin.
    It was in the inside pocket that Chavasse found what he was looking for. There was a membership card for a club on the Reeperbahn in Hamburg in the name of Hans Muller, a faded snapshot of him in a Luftwaffe uniform with his arm round a girl, and several letters from someone called Lilli addressed to a hotel in Gluckstrasse, Hamburg.
    Chavasse slowly got to his feet, his mind working rapidly. As he turned away from the body, his eyes fell upon the Mauser automatic pistol lying in the corner. As he bent to pick it up, there was a thunderous knocking on the door and it was flung open.
    Inspector Steiner was standing there, the attendant peering anxiously over his shoulder. “Herr Chavasse?” Steiner said politely. “I regret to trouble you, but the attendant reports hearing a shot from this compartment. Have you any explanation?”
    At the same moment, he saw the Mauser lying on the floor and picked it up. The attendant gasped in horror and Steiner pushed Chavasse back into the compartment and followed him in.
    Chavasse sat on the edge of the bunk and Steiner examined the body quickly. After a moment, he called the attendant in. “What is your name?” he said.
    “Schmidt, Herr Steiner,” the attendant said. “Otto Schmidt.” His face had turned a sickly yellow color.
    “Pull yourself together,” Steiner snapped. “Have you ever seen this man before?”
    Schmidt nodded. “He boarded the train at Osnabruck, Herr Steiner.”
    “And then?” Steiner asked.
    Schmidt glanced furtively at Chavasse. “I saw him enter this compartment.”
    Steiner nodded. “I see. Ask Dr. Kruger to step in here.”
    Schmidt went out into the corridor, and Steiner turned and held out his hand. Chavasse realized that he was still holding the things he had taken from Muller’s pocket, and handed them over. Steiner examined the letters quickly and grunted. “This man, Hans Muller, who was he? Why did you kill him?”
    Chavasse shrugged. “You tell me.”
    Steiner bent down and picked up the wad of banknotes from beneath the washbasin. He held them up in one hand. “I don’t think we have to look very far, my friend, unless you are going to try to tell me this money is yours?”
    Chavasse shook his head. “No, it isn’t mine.”
    Steiner nodded in satisfaction. “Good, then we are getting somewhere. There was a quarrel, perhaps over this money. He struck you. There is the mark of the blow on your cheek and a cut caused by the rather ornate ring worn on the middle finger of his right hand.”
    “And then I shot him?” Chavasse said helpfully.
    Steiner shrugged. “You must admit it looks that way.”
    At that moment, Kruger came into the compartment. He glanced inquiringly at Steiner, who nodded toward the body. Kruger frowned and dropped down