The Hansa Protocol by Norman Russell Read Free Book Online Page B

some undefined anomaly. The stout iron door, installed for some long-forgotten reason in the past century, could withstand any physical attack, but all doors yielded to treachery.
    So engrossed was he in his thoughts that he started in surprise when the door of the Belvedere opened to admit Schneider, his private secretary . As always, he was correctly dressed in a tightly buttoned frock coat and pinstripe trousers. He held himself stiffly, but gave his employer a sharp bow. What a proud Saxon he looks! thought Seligmann. But when he spoke, his voice held an unconditional deference.
    ‘Lieutenant Fenlake has arrived, Herr Doktor,’ he said.
    Dr Seligmann looked at the young man who had followed his secretary into the Belvedere. Lieutenant Fenlake wore civilian clothing, topped by a heavy serge overcoat against the bitter January weather. Seligmann judged him to be about thirty years of age, or perhaps younger, a slim, well-made young man. He might have been mistaken for a young toff, but his stance was that of a professional soldier.
    ‘Thank you, Schneider. You may leave us now. I shall not need you for the rest of the evening.’
    As soon as the secretary had closed the door, Lieutenant Fenlake spoke.
    ‘Dr Otto Seligmann? I am Lieutenant Arthur Fenlake. I have the honour of waiting for your instructions.’
    The young man produced a square of card from his pocket, and held it up for Seligmann to read. The German scholar peered at the close, rather spiky handwriting, which he recognized as that of Sir Charles Napier. He nodded in satisfaction, and Fenlake returned the card to his pocket.
    ‘Lieutenant Fenlake,’ said Seligmann, ‘at half-past six yesterday evening, one of your fellow couriers, a man called Stefan Oliver, came here to the Belvedere secretly, gaining entrance to the premises through the rear garden gate. I gave him a decoy package, which I assume he has delivered by now to Sir Charles Napier—’
    ‘I beg your pardon, sir, for interrupting. Stefan Oliver’s attempt to deliver that decoy package was unsuccessful. For that reason, Sir Charles instructed me to come openly to the house, with no attempt at subterfuge. I sent a note to that effect early this morning, which I assume was seen by your secretary.’
    ‘It was. And has Sir Charles given you any specific instructions for this evening?’
    ‘He has, sir. I am instructed to receive from you the sealed memorandum that you have written to Baron von Dessau in Berlin. The packet will consist of a linen envelope, marked on the outside with a Foreign Office cipher known to me, and closed along the flap with three red wax seals. I am instructed to leave immediately if the package is not made up exactly as I have described.’
    Seligmann listened to the young man’s purposeful delivery, and thought to himself: this smart Foreign Office courier is too enamoured of carrying out orders to the letter, too addicted to formulas and formalities. It is the curse of a man without imagination …. He stands there stiffly, and rather impatiently, as though he’s simply called in for a moment on the way to somewhere else. Perhaps he has.
    Dr Seligmann unlocked a drawer in his desk, and removed a stout linen envelope, to which three red wax seals had been attached. He handed it to Fenlake.
    ‘I cannot over-emphasize, Lieutenant Fenlake,’ he said, ‘the necessity of this memorandum being placed into the hands of Baron von Dessau before the thirteenth of this month—’
    ‘With respect, sir,’ Fenlake interrupted, ‘I am not authorized to talk about the document, only to verify and receive it.’
    The courier glanced at the packet, nodded in satisfaction, and then placed it in an inside pocket of his greatcoat. He brought himself quietly to attention for a moment, and then moved towards the door.
    ‘I will take my leave of you immediately, sir,’ he said, ‘as my mission here is accomplished. This memorandum will be with my superiors within the