Initiation Page 3

  .Berner spun round as he heard his office door open. Fausten stood silhouetted against the light. It didn’t look like a good result.

  ‘Major, I need you to go to Amsterdam. Now. Take your Sergeant with you for protection.’ Fausten’s eyes darted around to check Reinhalt was not nearby. ‘Please go to Divisional Headquarters and get them to intervene. I have tried and tried and cannot get a line to Berlin, or anywhere for that matter. I will hold Reinhalt off until you return. It shouldn’t take you long. You’ve got your own car?’

  Berner nodded. ‘You said I would need Brunswick for protection?’

  ‘I don’t trust him – Reinhalt, that is. Do you?’

  Berner knew he didn’t need to answer that one. ‘Colonel, we’ll get going. Thank you.’ Berner clasped Fausten by the hand. Fausten looked away quickly and let go of his hand as soon as he could, his expression utterly inscrutable.

  ‘You’ve had long enough, Colonel Fausten.’ It was Reinhalt. ‘Do you have any new orders that would prevent you doing what I asked you to do earlier? It’s the middle of the night in case you hadn’t noticed and I have other plans. Well?’

  Berner stepped in. ‘Colonel Fausten has ordered me to Amsterdam to get confirmation of your orders. I will be back by three.’

  ‘WHAT!’ exclaimed Reinhalt, pacing forward.

  ‘The Major is correct,’ said Fausten. ‘You may be SS but my part of this remains a Wehrmacht operation, and I need to confirm my orders. What Major Berner has told me is new information, and therefore you will kindly wait indoors where you will do no more harm.’ Fausten had found some gumption at last, thought Berner.

  Reinhalt fumed. He turned suddenly to one of the soldiers nearby. ‘Feldwebel, yes you, get your men together and form me a firing squad. This has gone on too long. Then get the rest of those stinking prisoners up here and let’s get this done!’

  The NCO looked sternly at Reinhalt, then to his Colonel. ‘What are your orders, Sir?’

  Fausten’s chest swelled a little. ‘Keep the prisoners guarded where they are. The Major here will clarify the situation and then your orders will be made clear. Anyone not guarding prisoners can be stood down for the now.’

  The NCO looked back at Reinhalt with a face like a brick wall. Flapping his hands in defeat, Reinhalt stormed off.

  As Brunswick appeared, Berner flicked his head towards the car. Brunswick shot Berner a quizzical glance but walked to the vehicle all the same.

  Berner paused as he opened the car door. ‘Colonel Fausten, thank you for intervening. I can trust you, yes?’

  ‘Just get going. This is a terrible business, Berner. Terrible business.’

  Berner didn’t quite understand but got into the car quickly, explaining the situation to Brunswick as they set off. After years in the Hamburg Police, Brunswick knew how to handle a car in a hurry and the kilometers to Amsterdam soon ticked by.

  It was no use. Everywhere they went, the offices were either shut or the right people were not available. Berner and Brunswick tried every telephone exchange and number they knew of and on the one occasion they got through to Berlin, but no one knew anything about Berner’s agents.

  ‘I give up,’ sighed Berner, looking at his watch. ‘Let’s head back. At least the absence of an order should be good enough to buy more time. I have left a message for the Admiral. We have to trust it will get through to him.’ Berner fiddled with the car door handle all the way back to Purmerend.

  They swept around the final corner to find the barracks in pitch darkness. The trucks and the troops were gone. Brunswick and Berner shot a glance at each other as Brunswick drove slowly forward. The barrier across the road was up.

  The dimmed headlamps swept across the courtyard, and Brunswick came to a slow halt. There they were. All his agents were piled up dead in the corner.

  Both men sat in silence for a moment. Berner opened his door and climbed out unsteadily. Neither shut their car door but instead just trod onward, very slowly. Brunswick slipped on an empty brass cartridge case. Both men remained silent for a long time.

  ‘Fausten must have had them killed as soon as we left,’ said Berner, staring ahead at the bodies.

  Brunswick knelt down to one of the bodies to feel its temperature. ‘They’ve been dead a while, so I think you’re right, Sir.’

  ‘I thought Fausten was acting strange when he came out of that office. He must have known what he had to do and just wanted us out the way before he could get on with it.’

  Berner looked down at the grotesque scene before them. It was like the last war all over again. He recognised the girl he saw earlier, sprawled dead on the cobble stones.

  ‘Do you know anyone who can get this lot buried?’ Berner was taking this all practically. The classic soldier’s solution.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ answered Brunswick in distraction. ‘I will get onto it in the morning. Why do this?’

  Berner winced. ‘I don’t know. What am I going to say to the Admiral? The old man will have a heart attack.’

  ‘And what’s he going to do to us, Sir?’

  ‘That I don’t know. I need a drink, don’t you? There’s a bottle or two in my room. Let’s get away from here. I will start making phone calls in the morning.’

  Berner recognised Agent Jute, laying on the ground, arms outstretched. Berner, numbed by it all, bent down to touch one of Jute’s hand apologetically.

  The hand gripped back.

  ‘Agh!’ cried Berner, pulling his hand back quickly in surprise. ‘He’s alive!’

  Brunswick leapt over and rolled Jute onto his back.

  ‘Peter, Peter, can you hear me?’ Berner was desperate.

  Agent Jute’s head lolled weakly from side to side.

  ‘Where are you hit, Peter? Please tell me. I’m so sorry, Peter, I’m so--’

  Jute lifted his head and looked Berner straight in the eye. Through rasping breath he said one word:

  ‘Traitor.’

  Then his head flopped backwards.

  Berner stumbled back. Brunswick took over, trying to save Jute. It was no good.

  If Berner had felt dazed before, now he was in total shock.

  ‘You all right?’ asked Brunswick over his shoulder.

  Berner couldn’t answer but just looked down at his own hands.

  ‘Did you hear what he just called me?’

  Brunswick didn’t reply, as Jute’s blood stained Berner’s white shirt with a deep, accusing red.

  * * *

  Parked hurriedly in a tunnel to avoid the eyes of American aircraft, the railway carriage was poorly lit and dark. Berner, still wearing the clothes he wore last night, had only just had time to shave and get here in time. He felt scruffy and unprepared. Berner’s sumptuous surroundings, in the travelling office of Admiral Schneider, did not match his shocked and confused state of mind.

  Decorated with the elegance of a better age, this office in a railway carriage seemed surreally out of place. In one corner stood the Admiral’s grand, dark, empty desk. On one of the long walls, between two fine cabinets, hung a painting of a British Dreadnaught, cutting through turbulent seas. Brandy glasses sat polished and ready nearby.

  On the wall opposite the Dreadnaught was a vast map of Europe. Berner walked over to study it. He assumed the row of red flags marked the latest positions of the Soviet Army and the Eastern Front. Each flag stood at the end of a small row of pinpricks, plotting just how fast and how deeply the Soviets were penetrating. One flag in particular stood far too close to Dresden for Berner’s liking. The graves of his wife and daughter could soon be in Soviet hands.

  Berner was snapped from his thoughts as the end carriage door opened suddenly.

  Through the door, stooping slightly as he entered, came the head of the Abwehr, Admiral Schneider, wearing a dark suit and a black necktie. His appearance hadn’t changed since Berner had last seen him in Berlin: white hair, puffy cheeks, bushy eyebrows and a slightly unsteady gait. Donnish but avuncular, the Admiral straightened u
p as his bright, searching eyes honed in on Berner’s. The world’s deadliest grandfather, Berner thought darkly.

  Schneider shot out a hand of welcome. ‘My dear Berner, you look awful and I’m not surprised.’ Schneider seemed to sense Berner’s hesitation. ‘I mean it. To have all your people killed like that. I’m so sorry, Berner, really I am.’ The Admiral clasped Berner’s arm tightly. ‘They claimed Berlin’s approval for these murders, you say?’

  ‘Yes, Colonel Fausten said he had RHSA approval and Reinhalt was there to authenticate his orders.’

  ‘Mm,’ said Schneider with a thoughtful nod. ‘And how are you?’

  Berner had to think about that. ‘I don’t know, Admiral, if I am honest with you. I don’t know what to think. One of the Agents, Jute, was still alive when we got to them. He …’ Berner’s voice trailed off.

  ‘That sort of thing will linger with you for a long time,’ said Schneider with sympathy.

  Berner stared the Admiral straight in the eye. ‘Did you know about this?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Schneider looked shocked. ‘My God, man, let me assure you, Walter, let me be clear: I knew nothing of any prisoner escape or any plan to interfere in any way with your operation. This whole thing was a disaster. I did not find out that your circuit was blown until late last night and even then, there was no talk of having them killed. I just wouldn’t have allowed it, you know that. It was my signature on the piece of paper that guaranteed their lives, remember. The Abwehr did not know what was coming. I’m having all the files re-checked.’

  It was Schneider’ turn to pause. ‘This was a deliberate act, Walter. To shoot the agents and circumvent the Abwehr, to circumvent me.’

  ‘The RHSA suspects we have a mole?’

  Schneider laughed mockingly. ‘Take out the mole. Simply leave it as the RHSA suspects. Someone has the Fuhrer convinced the Abwehr is incompetent and can’t be trusted. I have hung on for some time but I really do think that this is not about you or your agents. It’s about getting rid of me. Getting rid of all of us.’

  ‘But you’re the head of military intelligence!’

  ‘Today I am.’ The Admiral tapped a fingertip gently on a tabletop. ‘Who knows what tomorrow will bring? It’s no secret to me the SS that want all intelligence and counter-intelligence work placed under their control. It gives them power, Walter. Whoever is behind this, they clearly can’t justify taking us over just yet. But it’s coming, rest assured. One day, they will come for me and take all the Abwehr with it.’ He looked beaten already.

  As if he may have given a little too much away, Schneider searched for a distraction and stared at the map with the pins in it. He was thoughtful for a moment. Then he walked over to the drinks cabinet, poured two Cognacs, passed one in silence to Berner. ‘Take a seat; you look like you need it. I know I do.’

  Berner sank into a soft chair, resting his glass. The Admiral placed his own glass on the small table next to his chair, returned to the cabinet to collect the bottle and placed beside his glass. He sat down heavily. ‘Look what happens when the German Army ends up being controlled by a Nazi. The whole thing turns very ugly.’

  ‘Careful, Admiral, lesser men than you have been killed for saying things like that.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Berner, I’m just sharing my thoughts with you, which you will do well to remember. See how much I have grown to trust you!’

  Schneider paused, watching his brandy swirl in his hand.

  ‘Trusting people in this game is dangerous; isn’t that what you taught me, Admiral?’

  Schneider smiled into his drink and nodded. ‘I’m sending you to Paris,’ he said at last.

  Berner shot forward. ‘What?’

  ‘Well, you’re compromised here and you’ve no agents to run.’

  Berner crumpled.

  ‘I apologise, Major, that was unfair, I take that back. What I mean is that there’s no work here anymore for a man of your talent. You’ll be watched everywhere you go here. In all probability, they’ll know that you and I are having a conversation now. Face it: you have to leave the Netherlands, and Berlin’s the last place someone like you should be right now. In your state, they could lure you into all sorts of trouble and then I’ll have lost you as well as all those British agents. I must salvage something from this. Something good.’ The Admiral took a sip of his drink.

  Berner’s eyes narrowed. ‘Paris?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘What do you have in mind?’

  The Admiral placed his elbows into dents in the armrests of his chair, where arms must have rested over the years. His owl-like gaze burned from under hooded eyelids.

  ‘There’s an invasion coming, Walter. From England. We don’t know when it’s coming but come it shall. Berlin is fixated on the Eastern Front, so I think it’s time we looked west, don’t you?’

  Berner remained silent, letting Schneider to continue.

  ‘My problem - our problem - is that as an intelligence organisation we haven’t a clue where or when they’re going to come across the Channel.’

  What did he just say? Berner was startled. Was the Abwehr not only impotent in Berlin, but also ignorant?

  ‘We really don’t know?’

  ‘No. Nothing.’ Schneider seemed to sense Berner’s incredulity. ‘So, as I say, I am sending you to Paris. You’re going to work out when they Allies are coming, where and how. Then cause a little confusion amongst the Allies for me, make life difficult for them all, in your own inimitable style.’

  ‘Now I am really confused. Pardon me, Admiral, but I am a counter-intelligence officer. I chase the enemy’s agents, not their battle plans.’

  ‘We’ve tried all that and failed.’

  ‘We’ve no one in Britain who can do this work?’

  Schneider slowly shook his head. No wonder Berlin considered the Abwehr incompetent, thought Berner. ‘So what do you have in mind for me, then, Admiral?’

  ‘You’re going to run the Englandspeil again.’ Schneider was re-filling his glass already. ‘You will convince captured agents to signal false information back to London in order to get back small snippets of the invasion plans. Then piece them all together, establish where Allied activity is being concentrated and…’ Schneider let the sentence finish itself.

  ‘The Abwehr needs a real coup to stay alive, Walter. All the usual ways of trying to learn about the invasion have failed. So I want to see if your methods will work where others did not. We need intelligence of such importance and accuracy the RHSA and the Fuhrer will have to believe in us again.’

  Berner knew he was still looking shocked.

  The Admiral went on: ‘Walter, you and I will be fighting two enemies on this mission – the Allies and the SS. I intend to beat them both.’ Schneider’s eyes started to twinkle.

  Berner smiled. Getting revenge on the SS was just what he needed. But he still wasn’t convinced; last night’s murders were still very fresh in his mind. ‘Do you not think that now the Allies know just how penetrated they were in Holland? Seeing me in Paris will only increase their suspicions, surely.’

  ‘That is why you will keep a very low profile. You hear me? A very low profile. Remember, it’s not just the Allies you are avoiding, it’s the SS too. Oh, and the Abwehr.’

  ‘The Abwehr?’ Berner was incredulous at this.

  ‘The Abwehr office in Paris is only a stone’s throw from the SD and the Gestapo on Avenue Foch. Walk into one building and the fellows in the other will know all about it in moments.’

  ‘So where can I work?

  ‘You won’t be working on Avenue Foch, that’s for certain. I have found you somewhere else.’

  ‘You’re not going to tell me where, are you?’ said Berner with a grin.

  ‘Not yet.’ Schneider looked at his watch. You need to go now, go and pack. Be back by 4 o’clock – I want to be setting off as soon as it’s dark.’

  ‘So I’m going straight away?’

  ‘Yes, no home leave for you.’<
br />
  Berner’s eyes shot across to the map.

  ‘Ah, sorry, Walter. I’m not being too tactful today, am I?’ Schneider flushed, evidently embarrassed at having to apologise to his best agent twice in the same conversation.

  Berner kept his eyes on the map. ‘Apology accepted, Sir. There’s no one there for me now anyway.’

  As Berner took a drink, trying not to think about the past, Schneider changed the subject.

  ‘Tell Brunswick to pack everything up and to set off for Paris in two days’ time. And tell him from me he’s not to say a word of this to any of his girlfriends, you understand? I will brief you further when you are back on the train; you can fill in all the details with Brunswick when you are both in Paris.’

  Berner drained his glass and stood up.

  ‘Oh, and Walter.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Wear civilian clothing. Get Brunswick to send your uniform down with the rest of your things once it’s been altered. That way, people won’t realise you’re not a Major any longer.’

  Berner’s eyebrows dropped as fast as his heart. Demoted?

  Schneider smiled. ‘Go and pack, Oberstleutnant Berner. That’s right, Berner, I’m promoting you. The extra rank will give you clout. Oh,’ he added, ‘and your promotion is thoroughly well deserved, of course.’

  Berner could feel another apology from his boss coming on.

  Chapter Three

  In the fading light, Eve took in the spires and steep roof of the manor house that for the time being was both her home and her spy school. The manor’s architecture, like many of its occupants, had a discernable French accent. Eve, light on her feet as she knew she was, cringed at how the wooden spiral staircase creaked as she climbed towards the Chief Instructor’s office. Her legs continued to complain, stiff and painful from last night’s wading through the lake. But Eve, having dried out, warmed up and rested, was feeling considerably more human, her confidence returning.

  She strode to the leather-covered bench in the corridor that served as a waiting room and sat where the most sunlight beamed through the window. The Chief Instructor’s overbearing secretary Patricia smiled an impatient ‘Good afternoon’ before all too quickly returning to her work, typing loudly and purposefully, no mood to hint at the reason for Eve’s unexpected meeting. Clearly, thought Eve, now was not the time to ask Patricia to break a long-standing habit and be nice to a student. Eve sat still and, as the typewriter hammered on, grew increasingly nervous.