Agent in Peril, page 21
The bar owner had agreed to drive them in his van on his way to collect his supplies. He seemed glad to be getting rid of them. They crossed the Danube Canal on Stadionbrücke into the Third District and he then dropped them by the side of the Botanical Gardens. She checked with him the quickest way to get to Fleischmarkt in the First District and he said it was quite a walk, he’d be happy to take them, for a fee of course. Sophia said she was very grateful, but they preferred to walk, the man they were due to meet wouldn’t be there for a while.
She paused by the side of the road watching the bar owner’s van disappear into the distance.
‘We’re meeting someone at Fleischmarkt?’
She shook her head. ‘That’s what I want him to think. I’m not sure how much I trust him. We needed to be in the van to get away from the port, but now he’s served his purpose. Come, we head this way. It’s not too far. I hope that case isn’t too heavy. And remember to limp.’
It was a few minutes before nine on the morning of Saturday May 1 when they arrived at Südbahnhof. Sophia had already bought first-class tickets for her and Roman to travel to Innsbruck. The train was scheduled to leave at nine-thirty, giving Sophia just enough time to brief Roman.
‘Our destination is Feldkirch – west of Innsbruck. It’s close to the Swiss border, which is where we’re heading. There’s a psychiatric clinic, which has a reputation for being very good – and you have a reservation there. The plan is to get close to the clinic and then cross the border. Our story will be that we’ve been in Vienna for you to see a psychiatrist and get a referral. I have all the papers. But please try and speak as little as possible: your German is good, but the Polish accent is detectable.’
The first-class ticket helped. They travelled in a comfortable compartment with one other passenger, an elderly lady. The first inspection was soon after they’d left Vienna, Roman dozing as Sophia explained to the guard and the policeman that her husband was a sick man.
‘He served the Reich and look at him now – a shadow of himself. He is desperate to fight again, but he’s in no fit state. We travelled all the way to Vienna to see a specialist in that field and he has referred us to the clinic – you can see everything there in the letters.’
Roman opened his eyes just wide enough to see Sophia weeping so convincingly that both the uniformed men in the doorway looked embarrassed and said they quite understood and all the paperwork appeared to be in order so if they could just check their cases, they’d leave them alone.
‘That won’t be necessary, officer.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
It was the elderly lady, a fur stole round her shoulders and an elaborate hat on her head. Her manner was of someone who expected to be listened to.
‘Didn’t you hear what the lady said? Look at the poor man! He’s a wreck, all in the service of the Reich. Where were you injured?’
Roman stirred and said at the Battle of Smolensk. In 1941.
‘You hear him? On the Russian front – while you were no doubt bothering passengers travelling first class!’
The two men disappeared into the corridor and Sophia thanked the woman very much, but avoided the latter’s efforts to engage in conversation. The woman left the train at Salzburg and was replaced by a man in his sixties who was determined to travel in silence.
The train arrived in Innsbruck just before five o’clock. They were staying at The Grand on Südtiroler Platz, just across the road from the station.
They remained in Innsbruck until the Monday morning. Sophia was worried that travelling west on a Sunday could be difficult: there were few trains and she knew Roman needed to be as fit as possible. When the elderly woman on the train had described him as a wreck, she wasn’t far wrong: he looked exhausted. He slept for most of the Sunday.
The following morning, they left Innsbruck for Feldkirch, arriving there just before midday. ‘This is where we’re at our most vulnerable,’ Sophia confided on the train. ‘We’re close to the border and we have no reason not to be heading for the clinic. At least we ought to head in that direction.’
‘Which direction?’
‘The direction of the clinic: it’s in the south of the town. Very close to the border with Liechtenstein, as it happens.’
Roman nodded as he looked out of the window, the glorious scenery now caught by a bright sunlight. ‘Excuse my ignorance,’ he said, ‘but Liechtenstein – it’s part of Austria, I thought – is that correct?’
She shook her head. ‘They’d put you in prison if they heard you say that in Liechtenstein! It’s an independent country, run by some kind of duke, I think.’
‘And it’s an ally of Germany?’
‘No, it’s neutral. Like Switzerland.’
* * *
They checked into a pension close to the station in Feldkirch, telling the owner they were there for a walking holiday for a day or two and perhaps if he could recommend a shop to buy suitable clothing?
When they returned from the shop, they asked the pension owner for suggestions of where to walk. The prettiest routes were to the north, he said. To the east was the most demanding, to the south was the least interesting but the easiest and to the west was very pretty too but being by the Swiss border full of security.
They told him they were really novices so south seemed the best idea and he said in that case he’d recommend the woods to the south-east of the town, but they’d need to be careful. ‘If you take the wrong path you could end up in Liechtenstein: it’s a surprisingly easy place to get into but a devil of one to get out of, and you’ll die of boredom while waiting. They’re building proper fences soon: they should have done so years ago!’
They left their cases in the pension along with the clothes they’d changed out of. They just carried their rucksacks, managing to get the Tatra boxes in them. They booked and paid for dinner at the pension that night and when they asked the owner – who was falling over himself to please them – how to get to the woods, he offered to drive them.
There was one checkpoint just as the town began to fade into countryside and the owner talked them through it. Ten minutes after they’d been dropped off, they were in the wood, crouching in the bracken and staring at what they took to be the border, a series of ten-foot-high white posts spaced five yards apart. They waited for another quarter of an hour, during which time they didn’t hear or see a soul. Moments later they were in Liechtenstein.
* * *
Noel Moore had taken the call that Monday evening. The call came through to the telephone line in the embassy that was reserved for Sophia von Naundorf. She’d been promised someone would answer it at any time of the day or night.
The line was normally in the duty office but by the Monday they were expecting to hear from Sophia any day now as they knew Roman and his devices had arrived in Vienna on the Saturday, so Noel had had the line switched through to his office.
The sun was setting over Berne and Noel was contemplating switching the line back to the duty office and leaving for the night when it rang.
It was unquestionably the Sophia Line, as Basil called it. He looked at the phone for a moment or two before picking it up.
‘Berne Furniture Supplies, this is Karl speaking.’ They’d joked about that. Basil insisted he sounded like a furniture salesman and Sophia said he sounded like a Karl.
A slight pause. ‘I am enquiring if the French sofa has arrived yet.’ She sounded very calm. The reference to the French sofa and the use of the word ‘arrived’ meant it was unequivocal good news. He just hoped she wasn’t confused, though that would be most unlikely.
‘It has – and when would you like me to deliver it?’
If she replied ‘as soon as possible’ that would mean they’d been caught.
‘Whenever suits you: tomorrow would be convenient.’
Noel Moore almost wept with relief and heard himself say ‘thank heavens’ and then he asked her if she was able to say where she was.
‘Vaduz.’
‘I beg your pardon, my dear? The line isn’t as clear as one would like.’
‘Vaduz. It’s a town in Liechtenstein. In fact, I think it may be the only town in Liechtenstein.’
The ambassador was changing for a diplomatic dinner when he was persuaded to return to his office in the embassy.
‘But Liechtenstein is neutral, Basil. Can’t they just stroll across the border into Switzerland?’
‘I’m not sure we can take that risk, Sir Christopher. Inevitably they have links with the Austrians – well, the Germans, they’re one and the same these days. There’s always a chance someone could decide to hand them over. Especially if they realise they aren’t who they say they are.’
‘And this Roman – he’s the Jew, eh?’
‘Exactly, sir.’
‘So, what is it you’d like me to do?’
‘I understand the head of the Federal Political Department will be at the dinner tonight.’
‘Charles, yes…’
‘Call in a favour and ask him to issue papers permitting Gerhard and Johanna Krüger to cross the border under Swiss protection. There’s a border post on the Sevelen Bridge in Vaduz. We’ll be waiting on the other side.’
‘Very well. And what happens then?’
‘I imagine,’ said Basil, ‘that London will want to get their hands on Roman Loszynski and his boxes pretty damn quick. We’ll need to organise something clever, through France I’d have thought.’
* * *
Basil Remington-Barber never did have to organise something clever through France, though it certainly wasn’t for the want of trying.
The Polish chap had been very amenable when he arrived in Berne. It had all been rather jolly, in fact: Sophia and Jack were of course delighted to be reunited once more and Roman seemed very relieved to be there.
But the next day he was in a bit of a state, fretting and then demanding to know when his wife and children would be joining him in Switzerland.
It all seemed to be a bit of a pattern, Basil had remarked to Noel. We get them out of danger and then they get all… worked up, wanting this and that. Noel said it was understandable and he’d have a word with Roman.
He explained to Roman he wouldn’t be staying in Switzerland for very long: arrangements were being made for him and his machines – which Roman wouldn’t let out of his sight – to be smuggled into France where an RAF plane would fly him back to England. There he’d have access to the finest workshop the RAF had. Everything he needed to work on the machines would be at his disposal.
This was when Roman said he wasn’t going anywhere and sat back in his chair with his arms folded tightly high across his chest.
Petulant was the word that came to Basil’s mind.
‘When we were in Zakopane I was told very clearly by the people rescuing us that Lea and the children would stay there for a while and then be brought to me when it was safe. That’s more likely to happen if I’m in Switzerland. I’m not going to England: not without my family.’
Basil said the problem was they were in Switzerland and were rather caught in the middle between London and Poland and it was very difficult to know who said what and when and certainly while they’d do their best, it would be rash to think that Roman’s family would be able to leave Poland in the near future and if they were somewhere safe in Poland then maybe that was for the best.
‘I tell you what,’ said Basil. ‘I’ll have a word with London. It’s their game after all.’
* * *
They were surprised – very pleasantly surprised – quite how well Barney Allen had taken it.
Leave it with me for a day or two, Basil.
And a day or two later he’d come back to him and said to ask Roman what equipment he needed to develop his machinery beyond the prototype stage and Roman supplied a list, which surprised Basil because it wasn’t very long at all and some of it was rather basic, the kind of things his brother-in-law – a dab hand at fixing cars and the like – kept in his garage at home.
Barney Allen replied the very next day.
‘The French Section at the SOE has a jolly good man in Geneva: Jewish chap from Strasbourg, brilliant engineer, escaped from the Nazis, now he makes and services radio equipment for the SOE from a very well-equipped workshop in Geneva. Send Roman there and give the French chap whatever funds he needs.’
‘Are you sure, Barney? You’re being awfully understanding.’
‘I already had my concerns about getting Roman into France and safely onto a Lysander and back here. We’ve had a few nasty experiences recently. The Nazis are infiltrating too many resistance groups. This way we keep Roman happy and safe and there’s another consideration – when the devices are ready to test, we don’t need to worry about how to get them into Germany, do we?’
Basil said he wasn’t quite sure what Barney meant.
‘Think about it, Basil: they’ll be with you in Switzerland, won’t they? You just need to get someone to pop over the border with them, eh?’
Chapter 22
England
May 1943
‘Well, we meet again. Just like a school reunion!’
They were meeting in the same stuffy room in the basement of Downing Street, the participants the same as the previous month: Piers Devereux and Barney Allen from MI6, Frank Hamilton and Martin Marlow from the RAF, Sir Roland Pearson and Lord Swalcliffe from Downing Street.
Roly Pearson was treating it with the jollity of a school reunion, acting very much as the host and said Winston was delighted, though of course he hadn’t gone into too much detail with him and he understood that Air Marshal Harris was also delighted, and Frank Hamilton said that was indeed the case, not least because Bomber Command was coming under a good deal of criticism over the effectiveness of the Ruhr bombing campaign.
Roly Pearson continued in this vein for a while until he was interrupted by Piers Devereux who suggested that perhaps they could now turn to the purpose of the meeting and get an update from Barney?
Barney Allen removed a folder from his briefcase, which he placed on the table in front of him. ‘You all received your copies yesterday afternoon, I trust? My apologies for not allowing longer to digest this report, but you’ll appreciate that time is of the essence.’
‘Perhaps if you were able to summarise it, Barney?’
‘Of course: the report details how, thanks to the efforts of the Polish and Slovakian resistance, Roman Loszynski escaped from Warsaw on the twenty-first of April and arrived in Vienna on the first of May, which was a Saturday: he was met there by Sophia von Naundorf and they entered Switzerland on Tuesday the fourth, via Liechtenstein.
‘I remain of the view that bringing his wife and two young children is out of the question, so they remain in Poland where they’re being hidden by the resistance. I think it is fair to say that Mr Loszynski is extremely unhappy with this, so much so that he refused to leave Switzerland: he feels he is nearer to them there than he would be in this country. As it so happens, I believe this is no bad thing. I had concerns about getting him and his equipment from Switzerland to England. I understand we’ve had some bad experiences recently getting people out through France and I felt there was too much risk. This was your view too, Piers?’
‘It was indeed: SOE say too many resistance circuits in central France have been infiltrated recently. I agreed with Barney that we’d best keep Loszynski in Switzerland. SOE are being very helpful: they’ve given us access to a workshop in Geneva and we’ve moved him there and Sophia and Jack Miller are keeping an eye on him.’
‘What we’re interested in is these machines he’s brought with him. When can we test the damn things?’
‘Very soon, I’m told, Lord Swalcliffe. Loszynski regards the version he brought with him as Mark One. He’s currently developing a Mark Two and says when a Mark Three is completed it will be ready to be tested.’
‘Which will be when, Barney?’
‘I’m told within a week to ten days, Roly. There was one particular part that Loszynski needed, some complicated little electronic unit which we managed to borrow, for want of a better word, from the University of Geneva.’
‘Bomber Command are extremely keen to test it as soon as possible,’ said Group Captain Marlow.
‘And how do you propose to do that?’ Lord Swalcliffe leaned back, as if he’d asked a pupil a difficult question for which he didn’t expect Barney to have an answer.
‘We’ll fly an agent into France where he’ll be looked after by the Cathedral Circuit, one of the few resistance groups we can still trust. They’ll get the agent into Switzerland and he’ll meet the team in Geneva, pick up the transmitter part of the device and then take it into Germany, where it will be tested at a time and location to be co-ordinated with Bomber Command.’
‘And the receiver unit, the one which goes on the plane?’
‘That will come out in the diplomatic bag via Lisbon.’
‘And where in Germany do you propose he takes the transmitter?’
‘There’s an agent in Düsseldorf called Felix who Miller says is very much on board.’
The room fell quiet, everyone in it having the same thought, which was eventually expressed by Roly Pearson, no longer sounding as upbeat as he normally did.
‘We’re expecting an awful lot, aren’t we? Agent flies to France, resistance gets him in and out of Switzerland, to Germany and back to Switzerland, then France and Germany again. How big did you say this device is, Barney?’
‘The size of a biscuit tin, though Loszynski hopes the Mark Three will be far more compact.’
‘How much more compact?’
‘The size of a small biscuit tin, I understand.’
‘Rather like the ones we get toffees in at Christmas?’
‘Hopefully, Roly, yes.’
‘Well, it’s going to require an enormous amount of luck.’
