Authors: Alex Gerlis
‘Have you spoken with Edgar?’ Viktor sounded
impatient.
‘Yes.’
‘Where is he?’
‘In Bern: they’re expecting me to be on the train
that leaves here at ten past five. I’ve no excuse for not being on that one.’
‘Don’t worry, you will be. You have it?’ Viktor
looked anxious.
Henry took the sealed Reichsbank envelope out of his
briefcase, but held on to it while he spoke.
‘I do Viktor, but it’s sealed. How are you going to
open it without Edgar and Remington-Barber realising?’
Viktor took the envelope and passed it over to the
man,
addressing him in German.
‘Arndt, what do you reckon?’
The man took the envelope and held it under the
light, turning it very slowly one way and the other, moving it close to his
eyes then running his fingers along its every surface. He nodded and replied
into a squeaky, high-pitched voice.
‘This shouldn’t be a problem. Give me an hour, but I
want everyone out of here.’
‘Apart from me,’ said Viktor.
‘Of course, apart from you, Viktor,’ Arndt said
obediently, half-bowing as he spoke.
As Henry left the room he could see the man
arranging a large camera, a lamp and various tools on a bench. He was about to
operate. Henry spent the next 15 minutes standing silently in the alley behind
the tobacconist with Sergei. When Viktor called Henry back in, he was clearly
finding it hard to contain his excitement. Little Arndt was packing away his
equipment, the surgery over. The envelope was handed to him. ‘Examine it,
please. See how perfect it is.’
Henry looked at it carefully. It was impossible to
see how it could have been opened. With a huge arm around his shoulder, Viktor
shepherded Henry to a corner of the room and whispered into his ear.
‘We have made a copy: you have no idea how important
it is,
synok
. We will transmit the entire text to Moscow tonight. You
have 40 minutes before your train, so tell me everything you can about this man
who supplied the document. It’s so important that Moscow will ask me many questions
about it: I need to have the answers.’
‘Before I do that Viktor, I need to ask a favour of
you.’
Viktor looked at him puzzled: a favour?
Henry did
not ask favours of them. They asked favours of him.
‘What is it?’ he asked, hardly managing to hide his
irritation.
He looked at the Russian, wishing he was more
sympathetic at times. Even some gratitude wouldn’t have gone amiss.
‘I don’t want to sound like I’m going soft or
anything, and I’ve coped very well in Germany so far, but I have this worry they’ll
send me back there, and sooner or later, I…’
‘Why, have they said anything about that,
synok
?’
‘No, but I get the impression they don’t exactly
have a team of agents queuing up at the border waiting to be sent into Germany.
I feel exposed when I’m in Berlin and I was wondering: do you have anyone I
could contact there – in an emergency?’
Henry shrugged, eager Viktor should not think the
request an unusual one.
What I am I to do – tell him I’m determined to go
back there anyway?
Viktor looked at Henry, suspicious at first but then
more understanding.
‘Let me see what I can do, Henry. There’s the
embassy, but I don’t trust anyone there. I do have some people, I’ll let you
know. Now, tell me how you got this document.’
***
Edgar
arrived at
Whitchurch Airport just after 12.30 on Monday 10th March on BOAC
flight 777 from Lisbon. A black Humber Imperial with military plates was parked
close to the base of the aircraft steps and three hours later it deposited an
exhausted Edgar outside the building overlooking St James’s Square where
Christopher Porter was waiting for him in his office on the top floor.
Edgar handed over the film of Directive 21 to
Porter, who promptly left the room, returning five minutes later.
‘We’ll have that developed straight away and sent
off to the analysts tonight. They’ve been told to deal with it as a matter of
priority. We’ll meet here tomorrow afternoon to hear what they make of it. But
well done Edgar: something of a coup to get our hands on that. How’s our chap
Hunter?’
Edgar leaned back in his chair, barely stifling a
yawn. ‘Turns out to be rather good at his job actually. Not someone you’d
automatically think of as spy material, but I suppose that’s the whole point,
isn’t it? I remember that classics don who trained him saying he looks for
people who’re
slightly apart from the crowd but not so much that people would
notice them. He said he’d never come across someone who fitted that bill quite
so well as Hunter. He’s survived three missions into Nazi Germany now: if he
looked or acted like a spy he wouldn’t have lasted more than an hour or two.’
‘And his other masters… Would they have seen the
Directive?’
‘I certainly hope so. We allowed him enough time in
Zürich. One of Basil’s men spotted him leaving the station with Viktor, so I
think we can assume they have the document. There is one concern, though…’
‘With Hunter?’
‘No, with our Portuguese friends actually. When I
came back through Lisbon Sandy was in a bit of a flap about Telmo. He’s been
rather elusive and Sandy’s worried he may be getting cold feet. Telmo seems to
think the PVDE may be on to him, though there doesn’t seem to be any evidence
for that.
Personally, I think he’s just getting twitchy; agents get like
that from time to time, as you know. There is a
well-founded concern about
Dona Maria though.’
‘The lady in Berlin?’
‘Correct.’
‘Telmo says she’s been transferred within the
Portuguese
Legation there: she’s no longer
working for the
Military
Attaché, she’s now with the First Secretary.’
‘A demotion?’
‘Not as such, but it gives her less access to the
kind of intelligence we’re interested in and also to the Diplomatic bag. Apparently
the First Secretary is quite high up the hierarchy at the Legation, but his
role is more ceremonial. She’s worried they may be watching her: she’s certain
her desk was searched recently and she thinks she’s been tailed on a few
occasions’
‘By whom?’
‘Not the Germans; security people from the Legation.
Also, her home leave has been brought forward to 24
th
March: which
is two weeks on Monday. She’s worried that once she returns to Lisbon she won’t
be allowed back again. Telmo is demanding an absolute promise from us that the
minute Dona Maria arrives in Portugal, we put both of them in hiding and bring
them to Britain as soon as possible.’
‘And you said?’
‘Yes, of course. I told Sandy to agree to whatever
he asks for. I told him to say that once they get to England they’ll be given
money, a house and new identities. I hope that’s in order?’
‘Oh, I’m sure the Service will be happy to find them
some love-nest somewhere or other.’
***
The
following afternoon, Edgar and Christopher Porter were in a large map-room in
the basement of the St James’s Square office, along with a number of colleagues
from the Service and a few men in uniform. Copies of Directive 21 were handed round
by a lanky Brigadier from Army Intelligence who cut a colourful figure with his
florid face and a large black-and-grey striped moustache. When he spoke it was
with a Welsh accent.
‘These are English translations, as you’ll see. The
document itself is astonishing, quite astonishing. Let me quote: “
The
German Armed Forces must be prepared, even before the conclusion of the war
against England,
to
crush Soviet Russia in a rapid campaign.”
That last bit – crushing the Soviet Union – is underlined. The
Directive says preparations for the invasion
“…
will be concluded by 15th May 1941”
.’
There was murmuring around the room, and people looked
at each other with raised eyebrows and barely concealed surprise.
‘They even have a code name: Operation Barbarossa. However,
we must be cautious. The most important question we have to address is whether
the document is genuine because there’s no point in us acting upon it if we
feel that, on balance, it’s not what it purports to be. We’ve had all types of
experts studying this ever since we got our hands on it.’
The Brigadier removed a pair of reading glasses from
a case in front of him and glanced at some handwritten notes.
‘First of all, we’ve had the Directive subjected to
something called text analysis by a German expert. What he does is compare one
text with others, to see if they’re from the same source. He believes it’s very
similar to other ones released by Hitler. I quote from his report: “It feels
identical in terms of tone, syntax and vocabulary to other documents released
by Hitler. The mixture of rhetoric and military detail, the constant reference
to himself in terms of orders being given and decisions being made – all that
is very familiar.”
‘Then there’s the question of how feasible it is
that Germany would consider breaking its pact with the Soviet Union. The
consensus is this is perfectly likely. The Nazis hate Communists and Russians
and Slavs almost as much as they hate the Jews. In fact, they tend to see them
as one and the same thing: when they think of a Russian, they see a Jewish
communist. So the pact was a surprise in one respect, but not in another –
Hitler was being shrewd. He was buying time, ensuring his Eastern Front
remained quiet while he conquered Western Europe and attempted an invasion of
the British Isles. So, breaking the pact would not be a surprise, it was only
ever a short-term ruse.’
The Brigadier walked over to a large map on the wall
behind him.
‘So if we accept this document is genuine, then we
need to analyse its feasibility from a military point of view. It’s an
extremely ambitious plan: one which depends on co-operation from the Finns in
the north and the Romanians in the south, which may be a problem as they’re
unlikely to be as committed to an invasion of the Soviet Union as the Germans
are. It also depends on two other critical factors: a significant element of
secrecy and surprise, and the Red Army being utterly ill-prepared for this. We
do know the Red Army isn’t in a good state, but even so…’
The Brigadier was looking at the map then at the
directive. He peered closely at the map and pointed to a spot around the
Polish-Russian border.
‘Hitler seems to be talking about concentrating the
main German thrust here, around the Pripet Marshes. He talks about having two Army
Groups operating north of the Marshes and one Army Group south of it. The key
object of the southern group looks like the Ukraine, with all its agriculture
and industry. The aims of the northern groups, it says here, are Leningrad and
Moscow. This is what he says about Moscow: “
The capture
of this city would represent a decisive political and economic success, and
would also bring about the capture of the most important railway junctions.”’
A colonel wearing the insignia of a Guards
regiment walked noisily over to the map, his boots echoing on the floor. After
studying it for a while he turned around and spoke unnecessarily loudly, each
syllable carefully enunciated. ‘Personally, I can’t see the Germans attempting
this with less than 100 divisions – talk about putting all your eggs in one
basket. If Hitler thinks he’s going to get as far as Moscow the only advice I
can give him is that he’d better get a move on. Once that Russian winter starts
even the greatest army in the world doesn’t stand a chance. From a logistics
point of view this would appear to be almost impossible.’
For the next two hours the men crowded into the
map-room weighed up the pros and cons of Directive 21. All the participants
took it in turn to play devil’s advocate at every opportunity, but the
discussion kept coming back to a point of agreement: on the balance of
probabilities, the document was a genuine one.
It was ten o’clock that evening when Porter and
Edgar went up to the office on the top floor. Porter pulled back the blackout
blinds and turned off his desk lamp, allowing the light from the full moon to
fill the room. For a while they sat in silence, picking at the plate of stale
sandwiches on the desk between them.
‘And what happens now?’
‘Number Ten will be informed first thing in the
morning,’ said Porter. ‘I’m told
the Prime Minister and Eden
discussed the matter this morning once they knew the directive had arrived. They
agreed that if this meeting concluded the directive is genuine we’d not waste
any time. We’d get a copy of it over to Moscow as soon as possible and Cripps
himself will take it to the Kremlin. So, well done Edgar – you’ve done an
excellent job. The Soviets can hardly ignore Directive 21 now, can they? It
corroborates the copy Hunter showed Viktor.’
The two men left the office together and walked
as far as Pall Mall.
‘You look exhausted Edgar.’
‘I’ve booked two weeks leave sir.’
‘Splendid.
I expect your family will be
pleased to see you. Heading down to Dorset are you?’
Edgar carried on walking in silence, apparently
oblivious to what Porter had been saying. They had now reached Waterloo Place,
from where each would be going in different directions.
‘Probably not sir: as far as my family are
concerned, I’m in the Far East: it’s easier that way. I shall probably sleep
for a week then go walking on my own in Scotland.’
Porter slapped Edgar on the back. ‘Understood: Five
have an interesting case on at the moment and have been asking for your help,
but first have a good rest. Remember, I don’t want to see you for a fortnight,
that’s an order.’
***
Edgar
had gone straight to his small apartment in a mansion block behind Victoria
Street and slept most of the next day and a good deal of the day after that. By
the Thursday, he felt rested and even slightly bored. He visited the dentist,
had his hair cut and began to suspect that two weeks off may be a week too
long. He decided to wait until after the weekend before deciding whether to go
to Scotland, stay in London or even go back to work. The decision was made for
him by a ring on his doorbell early on the Monday morning. It was a driver he
recognised from the offices in St James.
Very sorry to bother you sir: Mr Porter would like
to see you sir. Now sir, if you don’t mind coming with me. There’s a car
waiting outside sir.
Christopher Porter was pacing up and down his
office, managing to look both angry and embarrassed. He told Edgar to shut the
door and sit down.
‘I thought I was under orders not to see you for a
fortnight?’
‘You were Edgar, but those were my orders and I
consider I’m allowed to break them. I’m not going to beat about the bush:
there’s been a change of heart. It’s all Winston’s fault – and the bloody
Foreign Office. Wouldn’t be surprised if Five haven’t tried to queer our pitch
too.’
‘I’m not sure I’m following you sir.’
‘Let me lay the cards on the table then. As you
know, we agreed the copy of the Operation Barbarossa directive Hunter brought
back from Berlin is genuine. It was sent in code to Moscow and Stafford Cripps
took it to the Kremlin and handed it to Molotov personally on Thursday. Cripps
said that Molotov appeared to be angry, but he couldn’t tell whether he was
angry with him or the Germans, or more likely it was just his usual demeanour. Then
last night I was summoned to Downing Street. Apparently they’ve been having
second thoughts.’
‘Second thoughts about what?’
‘About what we should be telling the Soviets after
all. Their thinking – and one has to acknowledge it does have a certain logic
to it – is that the whole business could rebound on us. As things stand at the
moment, Hitler’s priority is still to invade Great Britain, even though we seem
to be doing a rather decent job of defending ourselves. If this Operation
Barbarossa turns out to be true, it’ll take an enormous pressure off us. Hitler
will be diluting his forces by fighting on two fronts and it makes the chances
of even an attempted German invasion of these shores – let alone a successful
one – very remote indeed. I can hear the tinkle of teacups approaching Edgar;
shall we pause for a moment?’
Five minutes later, fortified by surprisingly strong
cups of tea, Porter resumed. ‘If the Soviets finally choose to believe the
Barbarossa Directive and other intelligence, and accept the Germans do have
hostile intentions towards them, they’ll stop trusting the Germans, shore up
their defences and reinforce the border. That would make a German invasion of
the Soviet Union significantly less likely. The question that Number Ten have
been asking themselves is this: would such an outcome be in our best interests?’