The Swiss Spy
Authors: Alex Gerlis
The Swiss Spy
Alex
Gerlis
The
Author
Alex
Gerlis was a BBC journalist for more than 25 years before leaving in 2011 to
concentrate on his writing. His first novel,
The Best of Our Spies
(2012), is an espionage thriller set in the Second World War and like
The
Swiss Spy
, based on real events.
The Best of Our Spies
has featured
prominently in the Amazon bestseller charts and has received more than 270
Amazon reviews. His third novel will also be set in the Second World War and
will be a sequel to
The Swiss Spy.
He is also the author of
The
Miracle of Normandy
, published in 2014 as a non-fiction Kindle Single. Alex
Gerlis lives in London, is married with two daughters and is represented by
Gordon Wise at the Curtis Brown literary agency. He is a Visiting Professor of
Journalism at the University of Bedfordshire.
List
of main characters
Henry
Hunter
Also
known as Henri Hesse
Marlene
Hesse
Mother
of Henry. Formerly known as Maureen Hunter
Erich
Hesse (deceased)
Husband
of Marlene and stepfather of Henry
Louise
Alice Hunter (deceased)
Aunt
of Henry Hunter
Captain
Edgar
British
spy master
Hon.
Anthony Davis
Cover
name for Edgar
Patrick
O’Connor Jr
Cover
name for Edgar
Christopher
Porter
Edgar’s
boss
Basil
Remington-Barber
British
spy chief in Switzerland
Sir
Roland Pearson
Downing
Street intelligence chief
Madame
Ladnier
Contact
at Credit Suisse, Geneva
Sandy
Morgan
British
spy in Lisbon
Rolf
Eder
Austrian,
working for the British in Switzerland
Franz
Hermann
Berlin
lawyer and British agent. Codename Hugo
Frau
Hermann
Mother
of Franz Hermann
Werner
Ernst
Generalmajor
in German Army High Command
Gunter
Reinhart
Official
at the Reichsbank, Berlin. Married to Gudrun
Rosa
Stern
First
wife of Gunter Reinhart. Married to Harald Stern
Alfred
Stern
Son
of Gunter Reinhart and Rosa Stern
Sophia
Stern
Daughter
of Rosa Stern and Harald Stern
Alois
Jäger
Berlin
lawyer
Katharina
Hoch
British
agent in Stuttgart. Codename
Milo
Dieter
Hoch
Brother
of Katharina Hoch
Manfred
Erhard
Contact
in Essen. Codename
Lido
Gertraud
Traugott (deceased)
‘Aunt’
in Essen
Telmo
Rocha Martins
Official
in Portuguese Foreign ministry
Dona
Maria do
Rosario
Secretary
at Portuguese Legation in Berlin
Viktor
Krasotkin
Russian
spy master
Father
Josef
Priest
at St Hedwig’s Cathedral, Berlin
Michael
Hedinger
Official
at Bank Leu, Zürich
Anatoly
Mikhailovich
Yevtushenko
Russian
émigré in Interlaken, Switzerland
Tatyana
Dmitriyevna Yevtushenko
Wife
of Anatoly
Rozalia
Anatolyevna Yevtushenko
Daughter
of Anatoly and Tatyana
Nadezhda
Anatolyevna Yevtushenko
Daughter
of Anatoly and Tatyana
Nikolai
Anatolyevich
Yevtushenko
Son
of Anatoly & Tatyana
Prologue:
London, 22
nd
June 1941
Chapter 1: Croydon Airport,
London,
August 1939
Chapter 2: London, August 1939
Chapter 3: to France and Switzerland,
November 1939
Chapter 4: from Marseilles to Moscow,
December 1939
Chapter 5: Switzerland, 1929–1930
Chapter 7: Berlin, January 1940
Chapter 8:
Geneva & Bern,
June
1940
Chapter 9: Salzburg Airport, July 1940
Chapter 10: Stuttgart, July 1940
Chapter 12: Lausanne, Bern, August 1940
Chapter 13: Berlin, August 1940
Chapter 14: Berlin, January 1941
Chapter 15: London and Lisbon, February 1941
Chapter 16: London, February 1941
Chapter 17: Zürich, February 1941
Chapter 18: Switzerland, February 1941
Chapter 19: Berlin, February 1941
Chapter 20: Stuttgart, Zürich & Berlin,
March 1941
Chapter 21: London, March 1941
Chapter 22: Portugal, Switzerland &
Berlin,
March 1941
Chapter 23: Berlin, March 1941
Chapter 24: leaving Berlin,
March 1941
Chapter 25: the Black Forest, March 1941
Chapter 26: Munich and Stuttgart,
March
and April, 1941
Chapter 27: Stuttgart, April 1941
London, 22
nd
June 1941
‘It
looks like it’s started. You’d better come over.’
It was dark in the room and he was unsure if the
vaguely familiar voice next to him was part of a dream or was real and, if so,
where it was coming from.
‘Are you there Edgar? Can you hear me?’
He realised he was holding the telephone in his
hand. He must have picked it up in the middle of a dream in which he’d been
surrounded by men even taller than him, all wearing black uniforms with
gleaming smiles. The menace that accompanied them had suddenly vanished at the
sound of a shrill bell and a man calling his name.
‘Edgar! Are you there?’
He switched on the bedside lamp and leaned back on
his pillow. It was Christopher Porter. Annoyingly, his cigarette case was not
on the table.
‘Yes sir.’
‘At last. I imagine I’ve woken you up?’
‘At two o’clock in the morning? Whatever makes you
think that?’
‘You’d better come over. Looks like it’s all
started.’
‘Not another false alarm, I hope.’
‘I don’t think so: you’d better come and see for
yourself.’
He dressed quickly, not bothering to shave. Just as
he was about to leave his flat he noticed a half-glass of whisky on the
sideboard. He hesitated for a moment then drank it.
If what Porter says is
true, this may be the last chance for a drink for some time.
There was a light drizzle as he hurried down
Victoria Street and by the time he crossed Parliament Square the rain had
turned heavy, causing him to run down Whitehall. The city was enveloped in the
darkness of the blackout, which meant he stepped in a few puddles. By the time
he arrived at the entrance to the heavily guarded basement beneath Whitehall
his light summer suit was quite drenched, his socks were soggy and he was
breathing heavily. He joined a small queue of people waiting to be allowed in. The
pervading smell was that of rain, sweat and cigarette smoke. He edged his way
to front of the queue, ignoring the muttering behind him.
‘Who shall I say it is again sir?’ The army sergeant
glanced anxiously at the men behind him.
‘I told you: I was telephoned just before and told
to come here. I really do not expect to be kept waiting. You understand?’
The sergeant hesitated: he had strict orders about
who he was to allow into the basement and what accreditation they needed. This
man was trying to barge his way in. At that moment the door to the basement
opened and a man tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Captain Edgar is with me: be a good chap and let
him through please?’
Five
minutes later they had descended several flights of stairs and passed through a
series of guarded doorways. Now they were on a narrow platform overlooking a
large and brightly lit operations room, its walls covered in huge maps. Men and
women in a variety of uniforms were either on the phone, writing on bits of
paper or climbing ladders to adjust markers on the maps. Another platform to
their left was crowded with senior officers.
‘So this is it sir?’
‘Seems to be: it all started just after midnight,
our time that is. The Germans launched air raids against key targets in the Soviet-controlled
sector of Poland. Soon after that their land forces crossed the border. Hard to
be too precise at the moment, but everything we’re picking up seems to indicate
this is a major invasion. Some reports say that over 100 German divisions are
involved. Other reports say it could be nearer to 150.’
‘Reliable sources?’
‘Bletchley say they can barely cope with all the
radio traffic: noisiest night of the war, they say. Plenty of good stuff coming
through Helsinki too. The Finns are pretty much in bed with the Germans now as
you know; wouldn’t be surprised to see them joining the party. They’re also
well plugged into all kinds of sources in Russia. Close proximity and all that.
Stockholm station is sending broadly the same message. Morgan sent three
messages from Lisbon last night saying he thought it was imminent – two
different sources apparently, one particularly good one in the Ministry of
Foreign Affairs.’
Edgar showed no reaction, as if nothing he was being
told was news to him. He felt in his pockets and realised he’d forgotten to
bring cigarettes.
‘What does the front look like?’
Christopher Porter pointed to an enormous map of
Europe opposite them. ‘Starting up there in the north – where that red diamond
is – they’ve certainly crossed into Latvia. Probably the 4
th
Panzer
Group, we know they were in that area. Then all the way down the border, as far
south as the Ukraine. Looks like the Romanians may be involved there, possibly
the Hungarians too. See Brest on the map… there? That’s where the main thrust
may well be, though it’s a bit early to say for sure. Between there and Lublin:
north and south of the
Pripet Marshes.
’
‘Quite some front.’
‘Well, if they’ve really attacked from the Baltic to
the Black Sea, that’s well over a thousand miles. Extraordinary if they manage
to pull that off.’
Edgar stared at the map for a good five minutes. ‘He’s
crazy, isn’t he?’
‘Who is?’
Edgar looked down at Porter, surprised. ‘Hitler. He’s
left it far too late. Look how far they are from Moscow, over 600 miles. Talking
of which, much noise coming out of there?’
‘Nothing official. Apparently there’s talk of their
High Command having sent out some kind of alert about an invasion some three
hours before the Germans attacked, but we can’t confirm that. Obviously didn’t
have any effect. Certainly there was a very noticeable increase in radio
traffic in and out of Moscow last night, but then we know the Soviets are prone
to getting quite noisy every so often. All in all, it looks like they were
caught by surprise.’
‘Well,’ said Edgar, removing his jacket, ‘it wasn’t
as if we didn’t warn them.’
***