Initiation Read online

  At least she was on dry land. Looking up, Eve satisfied herself that she was at the rendezvous point she had aimed for. Her partner, however, was nowhere to be seen. Eve crept forward like a baby, her teeth chattering, to take shelter amongst the bushes, wondering what would arrive first: her partner or hypothermia. Bringing her knees up to her chest, she shivered as she faced out towards the lake. Her legs began to throb deeply.

  ‘I think that we will call it a halt there, ma’am, don’t you?’

  The unmistakable, cheery West Country bellow of Sergeant Major Hook cut through the air. Eve winced, dropping her shoulders in defeat as her teeth chattered.

  ‘I was rather hoping you would have come up from the bottom of that lake with a sword in your hand,’ Hook continued.

  After some moments, Eve said wearily, ‘How long have you been waiting for me?’

  ‘Not long after we picked up your colleague.’ Eve’s heart sank. ‘I could hear the ripples in the lake and, seeing as you had used this as a rendezvous once before, I thought that I would grab a seat here, take in the charming views of the lake, the beautiful moonlight, and wait for you to turn up, so obligingly and so very noisily. Tea?’

  Eve stared out over the water, which had returned to its solid stillness. ‘How long was I in there?’

  ‘Long enough. You’re lucky to still be able to talk.’

  Eve’s view of the lake was unexpectedly interrupted by a steaming cup of warm tea thrust in front of her nose. The sudden warmth of the mug bit painfully into her fingers. She took a sip cautiously before putting the mug down onto the ground to cool a little. Although her pride hurt and this exercise has ended in her failure, Eve had to admit that she was only too glad to have a warm drink. Eventually she could clasp the mug between her hands, close to her chest for warmth.

  ‘Never use the same rendezvous twice. Ever. In fact never set a pattern or else you will be predicted and that’s how you get caught.’ The Sergeant Major’s voice was flat, almost monotonous. ‘You can take some solace from knowing that your evasion skills are good compared to everyone else around here, and escaping through the lake was a brave thing to do. You’re shaping up well. Just don’t get caught next time, alright?’

  Eve offered Hook her thanks for the praise, always grateful for all the small tips and tradecraft as she prepared to be an agent working overseas.

  Suitably chastised, Eve got to her feet, handed back the empty cup and walked with the Sergeant Major back to the manor house that served as her home and school. Six foot seven inches tall, with broad rugby-player’s shoulders and bucket-like hands, the Sergeant Major towered over the slender, bedraggled Eve. They both walked in silence, Eve huddled against the cold and Hook - the archetypal sergeant major - bolt upright.

  Back at the manor house, Hook informed Eve that she could have the rest of the night off, all two and a half hours of it, but she was to report to Colonel Smithens for a chat sharply at eight.

  Eve smiled, removed her soggy, cold muddy boots and went slowly upstairs to bed. A chat with Smithens, the Chief Instructor, was a rare thing. Something was up. The puddles of water from her socks still lay on the floorboards when she woke up.

  Chapter Two

  One month later – 13th January 1944

  Berner awoke with a start. Then he heard it again – BANG! A veteran of the last war, it was a sound he knew only too well.

  ‘Gunshot!’ cried Berner to the empty room, throwing the bedclothes aside and leaping out into a freezing room to look out from behind the heavy curtains. Purmerend looked still and grey in the moonlight, just like it always did, but Berner got dressed hurriedly. There was something amiss, and his shoes were soon thundering down the wooden staircase as people in the other apartments began to stir.

  He buttoned his coat, pulled up his collar, checked his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed and went out into the night. Judging by the swearing behind him, he must have slammed the door a little harder than he thought he had.

  A few paces down the street, Berner instinctively dipped into a shadow, checked all round and made sure he was alone. After a short pause, he hurried on, his breath puffing out grey clouds before him.

  BANG! Berner stopped for a moment at the sound. His eyes widened as it dawned on him what it sounded like: a firing squad at work. He pressed on toward the barracks at full speed. He might have been born in the last century but he was still fast.

  Berner rounded a corner. There stood the front gate of the barracks, but this time were surrounded by Army trucks, blocking the road on purpose. Berner slowed and squeezed between two of them, blinking as two powerful torches shone directly into his eyes.

  ‘HALT! Who are you?’ enquired a German voice, invisible from behind the torchlight.

  Trying to see through the glare, Berner announced himself and reached into his pocket for his papers.

  ‘Careful now.’

  ‘What?’ said Berner. ‘Look, don’t worry, it’s my pass I’m after. I will do it very slowly. Watch.’

  One of the soldiers shifted on his feet and then levelled his rifle straight at Berner’s chest as he reached into his pocket. What’s got this lot so touchy? Berner thought. Easing his pass slowly out of his pocket, he gave a slight smile, trying to be reassuring.

  A voice boomed from behind the sentries. ‘Let him in! You hear me? For God’s sake.’ It was Brunswick. ‘I said let him in! This is Major Berner, he’s a Major in the Wehrmacht!’

  The soldiers looked at each other, hesitating, before relenting to Brunswick’s ill-tempered reproach. As Berner returned his pass thankfully to his pocket, Brunswick approached, tetchy, and spoke into Berner’s ear.

  ‘They’re killing them. One by one, they’re killing them all.’

  Berner took a moment to process that. ‘What? Who are they killing? Who’s killing who?’

  ‘The agents, our agents. They’re just lining them up against a wall and …’

  ‘Oh God.’ Berner started forward. ‘Who’s behind this?’

  ‘Wehrmacht, acting on SS orders,’ replied Brunswick, keeping up with his boss.

  Berner looked into Brunswick’s face for a moment. ‘Wehrmacht? Our own Army?’

  A shout from the central courtyard made Berner jolt. ‘Who’s leading this?’

  ‘Fausten. Colonel Fausten,’ replied Brunswick. ‘I’ve never heard of him either.’

  Berner swore under his breath. A Colonel: that meant Berner was out-ranked.

  ‘It gets worse,’ continued Brunswick, seeming to read his boss’s mind. ‘The SS are here as well. Well, one of them - a Hauptsturmfuhrer.’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  They hurried forward into the grey stone barracks as a commotion started in the courtyard.

  Berner had stopped walking without realising it. What had been for three years a peaceful retreat for Berner, a place to think, was now a scene of murder. Backlit by the headlights from three trucks, bodies lay crumpled and undignified on the cobblestones, each in its own pool of black blood.

  A group of soldiers appeared from a doorway in the corner, man-handling someone forward roughly. A girl.

  ‘Stop this! What the hell is going on?’ yelled Berner, walking forward with a hand raised up. Everyone stopped to look at him.

  ‘And who the hell are you?’ asked a voice from the dark.

  Berner peered into the gloom, seeking the voice. ‘Who the hell am I? I am Major Berner. Abwehr. I command this operation and I am the Commandant of this barracks. These prisoners are under my protection and jurisdiction. So who the hell are you?’

  ‘Watch your tongue, Major. I am Colonel Fausten.’ More than one pair of boots could be heard scrunching forward over the stones. ‘My orders come direct from the Reichssicherheitshauptamt, the RHSA no less, in Berlin. SS Hauptsturmfuhrer Reinhalt is here to oversee me.’ Fausten came into the lights, every inch the Wehrmacht officer: tall, thin, festooned with medal ribbons and still fit enough to get into
a uniform that he had clearly had for years.

  Berner felt his skin creep when he first looked at the man now standing next to Fausten. The SD and Gestapo types often did. Podgy and with his hands pompously behind his back, Reinhalt’s swagger presented a sense of invincibility. Reinhalt, with his hair greased down, grimaced a smile, passing the bodies triumphantly.

  Stopping directly in front of Berner, Reinhalt looked Berner and then Brunswick up and down disapprovingly. No one noticed the girl struggling silently against the grip of her captors.

  ‘You? Abwehr? Really?’ scoffed Reinhalt.

  Berner ignored him and spoke instead to the Army officer, hardly able to control the rage in his voice. ‘What are you doing here, Colonel?’

  ‘Executing your prisoners, I am sorry to say.’ Fausten sounded almost as if he actually felt the remorse he was putting on.

  ‘But you can’t. My agents are all protected by an order from Admiral Schneider.’ Berner turned to look Reinhalt in the eye. ‘I’m assuming Schneider knows nothing about this?’

  ‘What do I care? Your network is blown, so these people are now prisoners and eating rations the Third Reich cannot spare. Your agents, our enemies, are no longer of any use to the Reich. So, they must die.’ Reinhalt raised himself up on his toes to make himself bigger.

  But Berner wasn’t concentrating on that, annoying though it was. ‘Did you say blown?’ Berner looked back at Fausten.

  ‘Yes—'

  The girl struggled one arm free. ‘Let me go!’ she shouted, landing a feeble punch on one of the soldier’s arms, who promptly slapped her down.

  ‘Stop that!’ barked Brunswick. ‘You’re a German soldier, act like it.’

  ‘Excuse me, Sergeant Brunswick,’ said Fausten slowly, ‘but I give the orders around here.’

  Brunswick opened his mouth but Berner spoke before his Sergeant said something incriminating. ‘Colonel, we can’t talk about this here in front of the men. We need to go somewhere else, somewhere private.’

  ‘Nice try,’ said Reinhalt, ‘but we have a schedule to keep. Now, if you don’t mind…’ Reinhalt turned his back on Berner but kept talking. ‘Your operation is a secret no longer. I am not surprised; the Abwehr isn’t what it used to be. These agents will die tonight. They should have been shot months ago for all they’ve given us.’

  ‘What? Look, I don’t care what Berlin has said,’ Berner suddenly remembered all the soldiers looking at him and dropped his voice. ‘These people have given us an entire network to play with. We’ve had London in the very palm of our hands.’

  Reinhalt was back on his toes. ‘You send spoof messages back to the British and you think that’s how we’re going to win this war? Pathetic.’ Reinhalt’s boots squeaked a little as he returned to his heels. ‘What you don’t know is that word has got back to London. Berlin received a message this afternoon that essentially said, “Thank you very much, but we won’t be sending you any more”. So it is as I said, Major Berner, your network is blown wide open and these agents of yours are useless to us from now on.’

  Berner was shocked to the core, and it took every ounce of reserve in his body not to show it. He remained utterly placid as he wracked his brain for what to do next.

  Brunswick spoke at last. ‘I don’t believe it. This needs checking and if someone talked, let’s try and work out who and how--'

  ‘Be quiet, Sergeant!’ blurted Reinhalt impatiently. ‘You’re all done here, can’t you see? If you had put this operation into the hands of someone competent … well, maybe the story would have been different, but all the RHSA can see is failure. Your failure, to be precise. Now, if you will excuse me.’ Reinhalt grabbed Fausten’s elbow to move him away from Berner and Brunswick.

  ‘Who in Berlin ordered this?’ asked Berner.

  ‘Reichssicherheitshauptamt.’

  ‘Not what. Who?’

  ‘That is not my place to say and not yours to question. Some of us around here still obey orders. Don’t we, Colonel?’ Clearly Reinhalt was looking for a friend to support him.

  ‘Well, if you’re not going to answer that, try this: since when does the SS give the Wehrmacht orders?’ Berner directed his question to Fausten. Fausten shifted uncomfortably.

  Berner kept the pressure on. ‘This is an Abwehr barracks – that means it’s Army property, not SS, or RHSA. So, without the proper documentation, you are outside of your jurisdiction. These are Army prisoners and anything that happens to them is Army business.’

  Berner was no bureaucrat but he had been around long enough to know how to use the system when he needed to.

  Fausten glanced at Reinhalt, breathing out heavily. ‘The Major is right. This barracks and the prisoners are Army business. Berner here is quite within his rights to demand proof.’ Fausten looked almost relieved to have an excuse to stop the shooting. Maybe he hadn’t been feigning his regret, after all. ‘We can halt the shootings whilst we give Berner here the orders he deserves.’

  Reinhalt rolled his eyes. ‘Wehrmacht bureaucracy. It’s a marvel we even got into Holland at all.’

  Fausten ignored him. ‘Major, could we speak in your office?’

  Minutes later, four men fitted snuggly into Berner’s office. Reinhalt had insisted on a sentry posted at the door. Brunswick rubbed some warmth into his fingers.

  Berner got the ball rolling. ‘Colonel Fausten, please understand I work directly to Admiral Schneider. Do you hear me? Directly. No one does anything to or with these agents without his express permission. So I need to know, has the Admiral been consulted?’

  Fausten turned to Reinhalt. ‘Has the Admiral been consulted?’

  Berner stared in disbelief and noticed Brunswick doing the same.

  Reinhalt shrugged. ‘Who cares? Colonel Fausten, believe me, no one who is anyone in Berlin cares a fig about the Abwehr any longer. The Abwehr is…’ Reinhalt looked Berner straight in the eye and grinned like a five year old, ‘incompetent.’ Berner felt his hands tense into fists.

  Reinhalt continued, ‘Whatever your Army opinion may be, you no longer have jurisdiction here. This is all now an SS matter. Frankly, if we had been running this from the start, this whole farce wouldn’t exist. You need to understand, Major Berner and you, Colonel Fausten, that with London becoming aware of the Abwehr activities here, Major Berner is essentially relieved of his duties. That means,’ said Reinhalt, staring Fausten down, ‘that I call the shots.’ Reinhalt emitted a little laugh at his own joke.

  Berner simply ignored him. Instead, he spoke directly to Fausten, trying to remain as calm as he could. Some forty lives depended on Berner staying focussed right now.

  ‘What if there has been a break in communications, a misunderstanding? These people are British and Dutch agents and could still have intelligence value to us. Hadn’t we better get it checked before killing anyone else? I mean, you don’t want to be the one explaining to your boss if there’s been a mistake, do you? You know what the SS are like – they quickly blame anyone and everyone the moment a mistake is made. Don’t take the hit for this. If you do, you’ll be fighting the Russians in no time.’

  Berner saw a flicker of hesitation in Fausten’s eyes. It’s working, he thought. ‘Could you please provide some written order, perhaps, Colonel? After all, you are delivering the death sentence to some forty people, and you know as well as I that there needs to be a signature for such an order.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ spat Reinhalt. ‘We slaughter them by the thousands in the east without so much as a nudge from senior officers!’

  ‘That may be so in the east, but this is Holland and we conduct ourselves differently here,’ said Fausten, emboldened. Fausten seemed to make a decision. ‘Herr Reinhalt, the Major has a point.’ Reinhalt threw his arms up bin a fit of temper. ‘If you’re right, the spies will be dead by daybreak. If you’re wrong, my men have not shot the wrong people.’

  ‘Just get on with it!’ bellowed Reinhalt, but Fausten was no longer budging.

  Reinhalt explode
d. ‘You and your petty pen pushing! You’re all the same! I’m frankly amazed with you lot. We National Socialists act! Act! We don’t sit and ponder. You hear me? These people, they are spies! They are enemies of the Fatherland and must die tonight. Tonight! You’d better understand me, because if it’s the Eastern Front you’re worried about, I can have you posted there tomorrow. Am I getting through to you, Colonel?’

  Fausten’s shoulders drooped a fraction. ‘There’s no need to threaten me, Herr Reinhalt. The appearance of Major Berner on the scene has brought to light new, important, information concerning the instructions of Admiral Schneider. I need to have this checked before I continue. That is all there is to the matter. We must proceed correctly or not at all. Now, where is the phone?’

  ‘Over there,’ said Berner, relieved. Reinhalt scoffed a fake laugh, glancing out the window, tapping his foot repeatedly.

  Fausten picked up the handset and then looked up. ‘Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, this is a conversation I need to make without influence from either of you. Or you, Sergeant.’

  They left Fausten to it, with Reinhalt stomping off into the dark. Brunswick lit a cigarette. Berner walked over to the bodies. The girl - he hadn’t been able to work out who she was - had disappeared, presumably back down into the cells.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Brunswick, taking in a lungful of smoke.

  ‘Get down to the cells,’ replied Berner. ‘It must be hell down there. Reassure them.’

  ‘You want me to tell them it’s going to be fine?’ asked Brunswick warily.

  Berner ignored him. ‘And while you’re down there,’ continued Berner, ‘see if all the exits are covered. You might need to hustle them out in a hurry if Reinhalt gets his way.’

  Brunswick gazed at him, aware that Berner was up to something. Then he smiled quickly and was gone.