The Black Baroness (6 page)

Sylt was probably the best-defended military zone in all Germany, and instead of being directed to attack any of the innumerable vulnerable points in the German economic system, which were comparatively lightly defended, our wretched pilots had been ordered to go for this base which positively bristled with anti-aircraft guns. In consequence, twelve British bombers had been shot down, with hardly a thing to show for it.

Dissatisfaction in France had led to the fall of the Daladier Government, and
Monsieur
Reynaud had been chosen as the new Premier; so it seemed that public opinion there was at last pressing for a more vigorous prosecution of the war. In Britain, too, there was evident discontent. Churchill was the only outstanding figure who really possessed the confidence of the public, and the broadcast that he made on March the 30th, in which he warned neutrals that it was quite time they took their ostrich heads out of the sand and, facing facts, united against Hitler before they were gobbled up piecemeal, was a joy to listen to. But he seemed to be carrying the whole burden while the remainder of the War Cabinet concerned themselves with fostering Britain’s trade prospects after the war before they had even started to think about how they were going to win it.

By April the 2nd, even with the knowledge that he had conducted himself as warily as possible, Gregory was becoming intensely anxious. They had now been in Norway for a fortnight. At any moment some little cog in the vast German system might turn over and
Herr Gruppenführer
Grauber learn that the pseudo
Oberst-Baron
von Lutz and the beautiful Erika von Epp, his two most inveterate enemies, were hobnobbing
with all his best agents in Oslo and informing themselves of exactly what was going on.

After that it needed only one brief radiogram to blow the whole party sky-high. The people at the German Legation would warn Paula and her friends to make no apparent difference in their attitude to these enemies who had crept into their midst, but to report their every movement; the Gestapo murder-squad in Oslo would be instructed and, like a bolt from the blue, the blow would fall. The steering-gear of the car that Gregory had hired would suddenly go wrong when he was driving along one of the mountain roads around the city, so that they crashed over a precipice; or one night at a party poison would be put into some sandwiches specially prepared for them, then a doctor who was in the Nazis’ pay would make it his business to see that they did not recover.

There were so many things which he had no means of guarding against, and he knew that they were running a frightful risk every day that they now remained in Oslo. Although they had not secured even a hint of the invasion date the material he was getting through was of considerable value, so he was determined to stay on himself, but the work could be continued without Erika’s assistance and he became desperately anxious to have her safely out of it.

At first when he tackled her on the subject she flatly refused to go, but he managed to bring her to a more reasonable frame of mind by pointing out that if trouble broke he would be in a much better situation to cope with it if he had not her to look after; and over breakfast in bed on the morning of Wednesday, April the 3rd, they reopened the project of Erika’s flitting into Sweden, with the proviso that in the event of an emergency he should join her there.

An hour or so later when Gregory was dressing in his own room, Kuporovitch came in looking extremely glum and, on Gregory’s asking him what was wrong, he said:

‘Paula has been ordered to leave Norway; she received fresh instructions last night from
La Baronne Noire.
’

‘The Black Baroness,’ Gregory murmured with a puzzled look. ‘And who may she be?’

The Russian shrugged. I have no idea. It is just a
nom-de-guerre
by which they sometimes refer to one of their key agents. Anyway, Paula is being sent to Holland.’

He then went on to say that it seemed as if Hitler’s secret
weapon had done its work in Norway and Himmler did not want the pick of his young women murdered by the infuriated Norwegian populace when they realised that their leaders had sold them out to the Nazis. In consequence, Paula and her friends were methodically receiving instructions to tell their Norwegian
chers amis
that they were returning home for a short holiday or that they had to leave Norway for a week or so on urgent business affairs but that they would return as soon as they could to continue the good life, and in the meantime the Norwegians were to be good boys and carry out all the things that they had promised.

Erika joined them at that moment and, on discussing that matter further, they then recalled that several of Paula’s friends had disappeared in the last few days and that others had talked vaguely of ailing relatives or of husbands who were coming on leave to their homes in Germany, which would necessitate their leaving the delightful Norwegian capital for a brief spell.

‘How does Paula take the idea of going to Holland?’ Gregory asked.

Kuporovitch grimaced. ‘Not at all well. She says that the Dutch are even duller than the Norwegians and that she will be broken-hearted unless I agree to go with her.’

‘But you have no passport.’

‘That, apparently, can be arranged. Major Quisling could fix it with the Norwegian Foreign Office.’

‘What,
that
conceited little poop?’ exclaimed Erika.

Kuporovitch half-closed his eyes. ‘It is a mistake to underrate that Quisling man because he appears to be only an empty-headed swaggerer. He has a finger in every pie.’

‘Yes,’ Gregory added. ‘He’s a nasty piece of work if ever there was one, but he’s up to the neck in this thing. I can hardly recall a party at which he hasn’t been present and I’m quite convinced that he’s the fellow who produces some new Norwegian general or statesman every time another blonde arrives from Germany. What have you decided to do?’

‘I should like to go to Holland, as it is no great distance from France, and once I am in possession of a Norwegian passport I could easily get to Paris; but I would not say anything definite without consulting you, so I told Paula that I would think matters over and let her know.’

‘That’s fine. Now, d’you think that you could get Erika a passport in another name and take her with you?’

‘That sounds an extremely tricky proposition. How d’you suggest that I should set about it?’

Gregory lit a Turkish cigarette and replied quietly: The story that you will tell is this: Erika has also been ordered to Holland, but she’s afraid to go there in her own name because a young Dutchman fell in love with her when she was there about eighteen months ago and as she refused to have anything to do with him he practically went off his rocker and threatened to kill her. Even if he doesn’t attempt to do that, he may make an appalling nuisance of himself and seriously interfere with her duties should he learn that she has returned to the country. In consequence, it would make things ever so much easier if she could go there as a Norwegian. The Gestapo people here could, of course, fake a passport for her, but it would be much simpler and sounder if the Norwegian Foreign Office could be persuaded to grant her one instead. Naturally, she’s in no position to apply for this officially, but if Major Quisling can get
you
a passport I see no reason why he shouldn’t wangle one for Erika at the same time.’

‘So far, so good,’ Kuporovitch nodded. ‘But you seem to forget that this business has to be negotiated through Paula, and I hardly imagine that she will look kindly upon my proposal to take another woman to Holland with us.’

Gregory grinned. ‘That, my friend, is where your devastating sex-appeal comes in. As you have known Paula barely a fortnight you are still in the first hectic flush of your love-affair with her. That gives you the whip-hand, and it is pretty certain that although she may treat you to a pretty scene she will give in and do what you wish when you make it clear that it is conditional upon your going to Holland with her. To still her jealousy you can say that Erika once did you a great service and that you wish to repay her in this way, but that otherwise you have no interest in her at all and not the least objection to her travelling in a different ship from Paula and yourself. That, I think, should put matters right.’

Kuporovitch stubbed out his cigar and stood up. ‘Very well; I’m seeing her this afternoon and I will let you know tonight what happens.’

When the Russian had gone Erika smiled rather wanly at Gregory. ‘So you’re determined to get rid of me?’

‘Yes, darling. If only Stefan can do his stuff this opportunity is much too good to miss. Apart from the risk you’re running
here already, Oslo is such a small place that Grauber would be certain to spot you when he turned up—as he always does wherever the Nazis mean to make a kill.’

‘You’re convinced that it will be soon, then?’

He nodded. The rats are leaving the sinking ship, so these stupid Norwegians who have been playing with fire will, very soon now, find their flirting and dancing replaced by bloodshed and famine.’

Paula pouted, wept and swore—but she had fallen completely under the spell of the sardonic Russian, who treated her with the utmost brutality but made love to her with more vigour than any man she had ever known; so eventually she agreed to put up to Major Quisling the matter of obtaining a Norwegian passport for Erika. Stefan left her with the conviction that she was really frightened of him and so would do as he said, but it was an anxious time waiting to hear the result of her endeavours.

On the Wednesday night that she was to tackle Major Quisling news came through that there had been a reshuffle in the British Cabinet, but its results were disappointing. The only definitely good thing which came out of it was the appointment of Lord Woolton as Food Minister. The other leeches clung on to their jobs in spite of the fact that both Press and public obviously considered them incompetent to fill them.

On the Thursday morning Paula telephoned to say that she thought that things would be all right, and that if Erika had any preparations to make she had better get on with them, as, subject to the arrangements going through, they were to sail in a boat which left two days later—Saturday, April the 6th.

On Friday they learned definitely that the matter had been settled. That afternoon Erika received her passport in the name of Yonnie Rostedal, and Kuporovitch his in the name of Odo Assburg. Both passports had been duly visaed by the Dutch Legation and each was accompanied by a note to say that special accommodation had been reserved in the ship which
was sailing for Rotterdam on the following day.

‘Such,’ remarked Gregory cynically, ‘is the power of the Nazis in this so-called neutral country.’

Ever since their discussion with Kuporovitch on Paula’s projected departure Gregory and Erika had realised that the possibility of their own separation was once again imminent, but they did not take the thought by any means so hardly as they had done before.
Then
it had been their own affair and a voluntary act which might result in their not seeing each other again as long as the war lasted;
now
it was dictated by policy and they could part with a reasonable hope of being reunited in the comparatively near future. There was no longer any question of Erika’s leaving for the United States, as in Holland she would now be able, under a new identity, to continue her work against the Nazis with some degree of safety.

The plan was that she should live there very quietly, so as to run as little risk as possible of meeting any Germans who might know her as Erika von Epp, but keep in touch with Paula through Kuporovitch and transmit, by carefully-worded letters to Sir Pellinore in London, all the particulars that could be obtained about the operations of Hitler’s secret weapon in Holland. Gregory, meanwhile, would remain in Norway and continue his endeavours to ascertain the date of the projected invasion until either he was found out or the balloon went up; but he meant to join her in Holland as soon as his work permitted.

On the Thursday evening Paula was giving a farewell party to which they were all invited. When they arrived about half-past nine they found her big apartment already crammed to capacity. The women were nearly all Germans, Austrians or Hungarians who came from good families and had been specially picked for their looks. The men were Norwegians or pro-Axis members of the Diplomatic Corps in Oslo. No secret was made of the fact that Hitler was regarded as the master of them all and they laughingly ‘
heiled
’ one another as though the party were being given in Germany. But although Gregory cautiously sounded everyone there to whom he talked about the date of the anticipated German take-over he drew a complete blank; none of them seemed to know anything definite.

Major Quisling was there; an arrogant-looking man with fair hair that was turning grey, and heavily-lidded eyes. He quite obviously considered himself cock of the walk and many of the
Norwegian officers who were his senior in rank openly deferred to him.

At one period of the evening, when Gregory was exchanging playful badinage with a plump, dark-haired, bright-eyed little Hungarian girl, Quisling was standing just behind him talking to the dashing German Air Attaché, Captain von Ziegler. Straining his ears Gregory endeavoured to listen to their conversation but he could catch only scraps of it. They were planning something for which Quisling said that the airman would receive the personal thanks of Hitler, but what, was by no means clear. Then Quisling said, ‘If you succeed you must fly him straight to Germany,’ which gave Gregory the cue that a kidnapping was on foot.

Von Ziegler had a sense of humour, and he replied with a laugh: ‘I shall need an outsize plane for that, because he’s six-foot-two in height, you know.’ But immediately afterwards they moved away towards the buffet so Gregory heard no more, and there were so many people in Norway on whom the Nazis had designs that he knew he might puzzle his wits indefinitely without getting any farther, so he dismissed the episode from his mind.