The Swiss Spy (32 page)

Edgar leant back in his chair and removed a
cigarette from his silver case. He was halfway through smoking it when he
replied. ‘So you’re saying there’s now a feeling it’s actually in our interests
for Germany and the Soviet Union to go to war?’

‘Absolutely: if they go to war with each other then
the chances of an invasion of Britain significantly diminish and at the same
time Germany risks a dangerous war in the east that they could well lose.’

‘So when you say that there’s been a change of heart…’

‘What I mean by that is they now want us to play
down the fact Germany has plans to invade the Soviet Union. They think we
should switch from doing the decent thing and telling the Soviets about the German
plans to actually misleading them, telling them quite the opposite.’

‘Bit bloody late for that isn’t it, for Christ’s
sake! I’m sorry sir, but it’s been one of the intelligence coups of the war
thus far to get hold of that directive and make sure the Soviets see it, and
now you’re saying it’s all been a bloody waste of time. Jesus!’

‘Don’t shout Edgar, please. Remember I’m only the
messenger. I…’

‘… And you said something about them now wanting “us”
to play down reports of German intentions and even mislead them. How on earth
are we going to do that?’

‘I’m afraid it means we now need to provide the
Soviets with another report courtesy of your man Hunter, one which reflects
serious German concerns about Operation Barbarossa and talks of its
postponement at least, possibly even its cancellation. I have to say it’s not
entirely unfeasible: you yourself said Hugo’s General admitted there were
serious concerns in the army high command about invading the Soviet Union. This
report would simply reflect those.’

‘And how do “we” get hold of such a document?’

‘Please don’t be so sarcastic. Naval Intelligence
are apparently rather good at this kind of thing. This morning I’ve asked our
people to talk to their people and see what they can come up with. I’ve told
them I want it to be ready by the end of the week.’

‘And how do we then get it to the Russians?’

Porter heaped another spoonful of sugar into his
tea, sipped it then stood up and walked over to the window, looking out of it
as he spoke.

‘You said that Dona Maria do Rosario has to leave
Berlin on 24
^th
March, which is a week on Monday – correct? This
report needs to be taken to Lisbon, where Telmo is to get it into the
diplomatic bag to Berlin. In her final act of service for us in Berlin, Dona
Maria will pass the report on to Hugo. Hunter can then go back to Berlin to
collect it so he can let the Soviets see it when he returns to Switzerland – as
before. I grant you it’s a complicated route by which to get it to the Soviets,
but hopefully it’s one they regard as plausible.’

‘By the sounds of it Porter,
the Hon
Anthony Davis is about to return to Lisbon.’

‘Correct, Edgar: and thereafter to Switzerland.’

***

Late
on the afternoon of Sunday 16
^th
March, Edgar was back in Christopher
Porter’s office. Edgar noticed Porter was looking uncharacteristically
confident. He had a broad grin on his face. On the desk between them was a
black,
leather-bound book, with an ornate cross on the padded front cover.

‘Contemplating the priesthood are you sir?’

‘Now, now Edgar. You may remember that when we met
last Monday I said we’d need to concoct a report purporting to show the Germans
were now having second thoughts about invading the Soviet Union?’

Edgar nodded. ‘And you want this report to fall into
Soviet hands?’

Porter rubbed his hands and tenderly picked up the
leather-bound book. He passed it over to Edgar. The words ‘
A Bíblia Sagrada’ were etched onto the cover in gold leaf. Edgar
gently picked it up and turned it round in his hands.

‘Careful, Edgar. The team that put
this together want us to know how much trouble they went to to get hold of a
bible in Portuguese. They’ve done a pretty impressive job though. Here, pass it
to me.’ Porter took the bible and opened it at the inside back cover. The thick
paper was loose and Porter carefully peeled it away to reveal a gap, folded
into which was a document that he carefully removed and opened: three pages on
brown paper, typed in German with some scrawled handwritten notes.

‘This is the Rostock Report: it’s a
note on a meeting supposedly held a couple of weeks ago in Rostock, on the 3rd and
4th March. If you look here, it lists the various participants…’ Porter turned
the page. ‘And on this page it describes the purpose of the meeting: “
To review
plans for proposed campaign against the Soviet Union (
Operation
Barbarossa).” The next section is essentially a summary of what was in
Directive Number 21.’

Porter was checking the document against a typed
sheet in English. ‘It makes the case for the invasion of the Soviet Union and
repeats pretty much what was in Directive 21. Then we have a rather clever link
from the Hitler directive to the fake report. We already know that at the end
of the first one, Hitler said “
I await submission of the plans of
Commanders-in-Chief on the basis of this directive. The preparations made by
all branches of the armed forces, together with timetables, are to be reported
to me through the High Command of the Armed Forces.” What follows is in effect
the Commanders-in-Chief doing just that.’

Again Porter was consulting his typed sheet,
the English translation. ‘There’s a rather long section detailing the
submissions of all the different services, I don’t propose to go into detail. But
then there’s a paragraph concluding thus: “It is the unanimous view of the
OKW, OKH,
OKL, OKM” – those being the High Commands of the Armed Forces, the Army, the
Air Force and the Navy – “that for the reasons summarised below, Operation
Barbarossa should be postponed until the spring of 1942 at the earliest.” It
then goes on to give those reasons: are you happy for me to read them out to
you?’

Edgar nodded. He was leaning back in his chair, his
eyes half shut as if to fully absorb what was being read to him.

‘“Number One – we are of the opinion that our
intelligence services may have seriously underestimated both the size and the
strength of the Soviet forces. The ability of Stalin to motivate the Red Army
is significant.

‘“Number Two – we consider that our own planners may
have overestimated our ability to supply our forces adequately if the advance
through Soviet territory is as rapid as it will need to be. There is a serious
danger that our forces could be dangerously exposed by shortages of ammunition,
fuel and food.

‘“Number Three – Operation Barbarossa depends on the
co-operation of Finnish and Romanian forces. We are of the opinion this
co-operation cannot be taken for granted and could leave the northern and
southern sections of our front vulnerable.

‘“Number Four – the Russian winter presents a very
severe risk to our forces. To achieve our objective of capturing Moscow before
the onset of the winter, we would recommend that Operation Barbarossa is
launched by early May. At present, factors such as the Yugoslavia campaign mean
that this is highly unlikely. The risk of maintaining an offensive during the
winter is unacceptable.

‘“Number Five – Great Britain is proving to be far
more resolute that we had expected. We had been of the opinion either they
would have surrendered by now or would have been weakened to the extent that an
invasion could be launched. That is not the case and therefore we have to take
into account the fact that we would be fighting on two fronts.”

‘There’s a bit more about future meetings and such
like, but that’s the gist of it. What do you think?’

Edgar said nothing but asked to look at the report. As
he read through it he nodded approvingly, once or twice allowing a knowing
smile to cross his face.

‘It’s good enough to make the Soviets pause at
least. Depends on what mood Stalin is in: that line about his ability to
motivate the Red Army is a clever touch – does no harm to appeal to the man’s
ego. My feeling is that at the very least it’ll confuse the Soviets.’

‘And at the very best?’

Edgar glanced again at the report and turned it
round in his hands, as if checking its weight. ‘At the very best, they’ll
believe it: it’s good.’

‘Provided we can make sure they see the damn thing,’
said Porter. ‘The plan is we seal the report in the bible – I’ve even been
supplied with special glue for that purpose – and you take it to Lisbon: you
have a seat on tomorrow’s flight from Bristol. Telmo will have to get the bible
in the diplomatic bag to Dona Maria and she’ll pass it on to Hugo. All being
well, that’ll happen on Thursday or Friday. Meanwhile, Basil Remington-Barber
has been told to make sure we get Hunter out to Berlin for a week on Monday,
where he’ll collect the report and bring it back to Zürich. Naturally we’re
counting on him showing the report to Viktor first.’

Edgar nodded approvingly. Porter picked up some other
papers on the desk.

‘These are for Sandy to show to Telmo. They’re the
carrot we’re dangling in front of him and Dona Maria. This photograph here…’ he
handed over a picture of a pretty thatched cottage, with a broad expanse of
wisteria across its front. ‘This is the place we can tell Telmo we’ve rented
for him and Dona Maria to live in once they get here. And this is a statement
from Barclays Bank in the Strand confirming that accounts have been opened in
each of their names to the tune of five hundred pounds each. Then there are
various other bits and pieces, all amounting to what we hope is a demonstration
of our positive intent towards them.’

***

‘And what if Telmo refuses? He’s so nervous at the
moment, he’s hardly communicating with me at the moment. To persuade him to
send this on to Berlin is going to be extremly difficult, Edgar.’

It was late in the afternoon on
Monday 17th March and Sandy Morgan was far from his convivial self. In front of
him was the black, leather-bound bible.

‘Tell him it’s an order.’

 ‘Yes, yes – I understand that Edgar: you don’t need
to keep repeating it. All I can say is we’re pushing our luck. Remember, he’s
under no obligation to obey our orders.’

 
‘Look, Sandy, you
have to make him realise this is in his best interests. Show him the picture of
the cottage the Service has sorted out for him and show him the bank statements
and all the rest of it. In short, promise him the earth, anything to make sure
he sends the bible over to Dona Maria and gets her to hand it over to Hugo. If
he says he wants to play cricket for England at Lord’s, tell him it’s no
problem. If he wants tea with the King and Queen at Buckingham bloody Palace, ask
him how many sugars he takes. Promise him the minute Dona Maria arrives back in
Lisbon, you’ll spirit both of them into a safe house – tell him that Sandy, he
needs to hear it.’

‘And what if he’s still difficult?’

‘Tell him that unless he
co-operates you’ll go straight to the Rua Victor Cordon and tell the PVDE all
about him and Dona Maria. And make sure he knows we mean it.’

***

On
the Wednesday morning the telephone rang twice in the space of five minutes in
the apartment Henry shared with his mother just off Quai du Mont Blanc. On the
first occasion his mother answered and after a minute said ‘pas de problème’ in
a somewhat resentful manner, as if her being disturbed was indeed a problem.
Wrong
number.

When the phone rang a few minutes later, Henry
answered. A lady spoke very quickly in French.

‘Monsieur Hesse, this is Madame Ladnier at Credit
Suisse. I need to see you urgently here at the bank: two o’clock this
afternoon. Now, please respond to this call as if I have called the wrong
number again. Two o’clock.’

‘No, it’s not,’ replied Henry, aware he was sounding
rather aggressive. ‘You have the wrong number. Please don’t disturb us again.’

At
two o’clock he was ushered from the reception in the
Quai des Bergues
branch of
Credit Suisse by Madame Ladnier, taken through a warren of corridors at the
back of the bank and up a staircase to the first floor. She unlocked the door
to a small office then opened an interconnecting door. Lounging on a leather
sofa on the other side of the room was Basil Remington-Barber.

‘When you’ve finished, ring me on this telephone. I’m
on extension 18,’ said Madame Ladnier.

‘Henry, Henry – how nice to see you. Do come in, sit
down. Sorry I can’t offer you a drink but it seems Swiss banks aren’t very good
on that score. Apologies, too, for all the subterfuge: I needed to contact you
urgently and had to rather prevail upon Madame Ladnier to make the calls. All’s
well that ends well, eh?’

Henry sat down on a more formal chair opposite
Remington-Barber.

‘Look, Henry – little bit awkward this: I know we
promised you a nice long rest but something urgent has cropped up.’ Remington-Barber
stood up and paced around the room, at one stage slapping Henry jovially on the
shoulders.

‘Rather annoying really, but I’m afraid we need to
send you back to Berlin somewhat sooner than we’d envisaged. We thought there
was an outside chance of that but we didn’t imagine it’d be quite so soon.’

Basil Remington-Barber had returned to the sofa and
seemed a bit less hesitant now he had passed on the message.

‘When would this be?’ Henry sounded casual, even
rather keen.

‘Monday, I’m afraid. Hedinger is sorting things out
from the Zürich end, and Edgar wants to see you there on Saturday. I have to
return to Bern this afternoon but I’ll travel over with you on Saturday
morning. Apparently some of the Swiss banks have started to fly their couriers
in and out – seems less risky if they’re carrying important documents – and he
thinks he can find some top-level papers for you to take in. Plan is for you to
fly in via Stuttgart on Monday morning and out the next day by the same route –
means you should be back in Zürich early Tuesday evening: hand over the bank
papers to Hedinger then hop on the last train to Geneva, where I’ll meet you. With
any luck you’ll be in your own bed by midnight.’

Henry did his best to affect a tone of mild
annoyance. ‘And what is it that’s so important now?’

‘Another document, nothing to do with Reinhart this
time: this one is even more important than the last one. Hermann will pass it
on to you and you bring it back to us.’

***

Henry
arrived at the luxury villa high above Lutry at Friday lunchtime . He waited
for 20 minutes in the magnificent lounge, watching the ferry that had brought
him to Lausanne that morning heading along the lake towards Montreux and
another ferry steaming in the opposite direction towards Geneva. It was a clear
day and he had a good view of Évian-les-Bains on the French side of the lake.

Outside there was a slamming of car doors followed
by the sound of men speaking Russian in the hallway. Viktor did not so much
walk into the room as storm into it, slamming the door as he did so. He was
wearing a long, black coat, gloves and a black Homburg hat. ‘Get me a coffee,’ Viktor
shouted at whoever was outside the room.

‘This is urgent, is it
synok
?’

‘Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t have contacted you.’

‘I was in Vienna,’ Viktor said, as if being in
Vienna was a reason why he should not have been contacted. The door opened
again and one of Viktor’s men came in with a tray of coffee and sandwiches. Still
wearing his coat and hat, but having removed the gloves, Viktor sat down and
began to devour the food in front of him. He indicated to Henry he should join
him. Viktor ate most of the sandwiches and finished two cups of coffee before
he removed his hat, tossing it onto a chaise longue on the other side of the
room. He was still wearing his overcoat and from one of its inside pockets he
removed a leather notebook. A knife emerged from another pocket and the Russian
began to sharpen his pencil in an aggressive manner.

‘Moscow is very satisfied with the material you
brought back two weeks ago by the way. Very satisfied indeed.’

‘Good: I think I may have more.’

Viktor stopped sharpening the pencil and blew the
shavings from it off his coat onto the floor.

‘Really? From the same source?’

‘I’m not too sure, it sounds like it’s from the
lawyer this time, rather than the Reichsbank. But Remington-Barber did say “this
one is even more important than the last one”.’

‘He told you that?’

‘Yes, two days ago.’

 ‘They tell you a lot, Henry.’

‘Maybe they trust me.’

‘Maybe they do, maybe that’s how the British
operate. We tend not to be so forthcoming. What are the travel arrangements
this time?’

‘They want me in Zürich on Saturday – apparently
Edgar’s going to be there – then I’m to fly to Berlin on Monday, via Stuttgart.
Back the same way on Tuesday. I still have to deliver bank documents over to
Hedinger, that’s my cover after all, then catch the late train from Zürich to
Geneva, where I give the document to Remington-Barber.’

 ‘Alright Henry: we make the same arrangement as
before. When you return to Zürich on Tuesday you go straight to Bank Leu then
to the station. From there we’ll meet you and we’ll go to have the document
copied. Are you sure they weren’t suspicious last time?’

‘I’m sure: they seemed very pleased with how things
had gone.’

Viktor stood up, slowly hauling himself out of the
chair and walking over to the window before turning to face Henry. His enormous
frame appeared as a silhouette, with the sun behind him.

‘Let me tell you
synok
, it’s possible to be
pleased and suspicious at the same time. But I think if Edgar is here again, it
must mean the document is at least as important as the last one. I still find
it odd, though, that they don’t meet you in Zürich to collect the document.’

‘The British don’t like Zürich, I keep telling you. Everyone
speaks German there, or their version of it. They feel safer on this side of
Switzerland.’

‘Alright Henry, you go back to Geneva now and we’ll
see you in Zürich on Tuesday.’

‘There is one thing…’

‘What’s that Henry? You want to ask me again if I’m
still a believer?’

‘In Zürich I asked a favour – if you could give me
the details of any comrades I could contact in Berlin, in an emergency.’

Viktor nodded his head: yes,
I remember
. The
Russian sat back in the chair opposite Henry.

‘I used to run networks in Berlin, Henry. To be
honest, it was a surprisingly easy city for us to operate in: even after Hitler
came to power in ’33. I’m convinced there were still more communists in the
city than Nazis – and many committed ones at that, very ideological and very
disciplined. That’s what I realised about Germans, they like to have an
ideology, whether it’s Communism or Socialism or Nazism or Catholicism.’

Viktor paused and thought for a moment. ‘It’s a few
years now since I operated in Berlin and most of my networks have either been
arrested, switched over to the Nazis, left Germany, or have been taken over by
the NKVD or the GRU boys at the embassy. But I have kept a couple: I’m going to
tell you how to contact one of them, listen carefully.’

Henry leaned forward in his seat; he was just inches
from the Russian and could smell coffee on his breath.

‘There’s an agent called Kato, who I’ve no reason to
believe has left Berlin. Kato was my prize agent; I was never going to give
them up. Do you know Wedding?’

‘I’ve heard of it, but never been there.’

‘Just north of Charlottenburg, not far from the
centre. The important thing about Wedding is that it was always a communist
stronghold and even now I understand it’s a more amenable part of the city for
us, which doesn’t mean it’s safe. Catch the U-Bahn line that goes north through
Friederichstrasse and Oranienburg, and get off at Leopold Platz. From there,
walk north along
Müllerstrasse and turn into Wannitz Strasse. If you
come to Amsterdamer Strasse you’ve gone too far. Have you got all that so far?’

Henry nodded.

‘On Wannitz Strasse you’ll see a row of five or six
shops under a large apartment block. One of those shops sells items for the
kitchen – pots, pans, plates; that kind of thing. Go in there and ask if you
can leave something for a Frau
Schreiner in apartment
12. Tell
the person you’ve come from Dresden to deliver it. The reply you should expect
is that they’ll say their sister lives in Dresden. You’ll know then you’re
dealing with Kato: hand them the envelope. In it will be a message from me: I
will write it now. Once they read it, they’ll give you their full co-operation.
You don’t need to worry about the message, by the way, there’ll be nothing
incriminating in it: it will look like a shopping list.’

‘And how will I know the man in the shop is Kato?’

‘You will, don’t worry. In any case, Kato is a
woman.’

***

That
same day, at the Portuguese Legation in Berlin, Dona Maria do Rosario had to
wait until the First Secretary left the office at five before she could open
the bible which had arrived in that day’s diplomatic bag.

Telmo’s message the previous day had told her
exactly where to look and how urgent everything was. She carefully removed the
Rostock Report from the book and placed it inside an envelope, which she
slipped into her handbag. After that, she stuffed some blank paper into the gap
where the document had been and glued the card back in place before placing the
bible in one of the drawers.

She delayed leaving the Legation until 5.30, timing
her departure to coincide with that of a number of the other secretaries. She
walked with them for a while then quietly peeled away from the little group and
headed for Opernplatz and the vast sanctity of St Hedwig’s.

She knew Father Josef was not due to be taking
confession that night, but he would be assisting at the Mass. She would sit
towards the front and wear her red scarf: he would know then she needed to see
him urgently.

Father Josef was one of a number of priests on the
altar during Mass and not once did Dona Maria notice him looking at her. When
it was time to take Communion, Dona Maria chose to join the small queue in
front him. He bent down as she received the wafer and whispered in her ear: ‘Go
to the undercroft; wait for me there.’