The Serpent's Egg (22 page)

Kurt Framzl may have gone, but Max was still under the thumb of the Gestapo. This new man,
Jürgen Traut,
seemed even nastier than Framzl. He was going to find it difficult to keep fobbing off the man with excuses.

Anna had been disgusted when he told her he was going away again and she would have to spend another weekend alone. He would make it up to her somehow.

#

In the middle of the night Dr. Himpel got up to find the washroom and tripped over Max’s feet at the door. “Sorry, Max.”

“What time is it?”

“Three-thirty. Sorry I woke you.”

Max stretched and moved to correct a crick in his neck. He tried various positions selecting the least uncomfortable, his head wedged in the corner of the head rest. When the dentist returned, he asked him, “What happened to Peter Riese? Bruno said he was ‘unavailable’ for this trip. What did he mean?”

“They couldn’t find him in time. I expect he was busy with party affairs. He’s a leading figure amongst the Communists in Berlin.”

Himpel was soon snoring again. Max closed his eyes.

#

The train crossed the border as dawn broke. The Swiss border guards were even more lackadaisical and disinterested than the Belgians. Max got his first view of the Alps, jagged and majestic, bathed in gold by the rising sun. He searched and found distant peaks still capped with snow. In July! The sight almost convinced him that Madam Krauss’s prediction would come true.

When a steward came around announcing breakfast in the dining car, Himpel went off toward the front of the train to rouse Delma. He came back 15 minutes later with a long face that made Max laugh. “What’s the matter, Doctor?” Then he realized that something was seriously wrong. “It’s Delma, isn’t it? She’s not well?”

“She’s dead, Max. She passed away during the night.”

The idea of the young woman alone in a train berth coughing her life away turned Max’s stomach. Then he thought about how Vigo was going to react to the news. He made a dash for the washroom.

The train was delayed while the Swiss authorities removed Delma’s body and sorted out the paperwork. Acting as her immediate guardian, Dr. Himpel signed the papers to have her interred in Switzerland. There was little point in returning her body to Berlin. She was a refugee from Romania with no kin in Germany. Apart from Vigo.

#

Delma’s passing threw a blanket of gloom over Max and the dentist. Max did his best to respond to the conference delegates who all called him – and each other – ‘Comrade.’

The conference consisted of a series of lectures with strange titles such as: ‘The Proletarian Dream – Toward a Distant Utopia’ and ‘The Enemy Within – Fascism in Modern Europe.’

The real business of the day was conducted outside the lecture rooms where Dr. Himpel peddled the wares of the Red Orchestra. Now a united group with valuable contacts in a broad selection of German ministries, the range and depth of the intelligence on offer was priceless and should have been enough to make any Communist salivate, or so Max thought. But one by one the delegates from each country, the Swedes, the French, the Dutch, the Spanish, and those from the Baltic States turned them down. Moscow would not be interested in their intelligence information, not even where that information had a direct bearing on Soviet interests.

“It’s hopeless,” said Himpel. “We’re wasting our time here. I’m sure they think of us as bourgeois reactionaries.”

Max said, “We’re not Communists. Perhaps that’s the problem. If Peter Riese was here, we might have had a better response.”

Dr. Himpel curled a lip. “That wouldn’t have made any difference. They still wouldn’t help us.”

They took an early train back to Berlin.

Chapter 62

July 1939

Anna answered a knock on the apartment door. Max! She hadn’t expected him that early. He must have forgotten his key. She ran to the door and flung it open. Confronted by the blond figure of Jürgen, wearing a Gray SS uniform, she reeled backwards.

Jürgen stepped across the threshold and closed the door. “It’s good to see you again, Anna.”

“How… How did you find me?”

“I’ve been posted to the east. I wanted to see you one more time before I leave. I have an hour.”

“Jürgen, I’m a married woman, now…”

“Yes, but I know you like me. I’m not asking for a long-term commitment, just an hour of your time.” He grasped her arms above the elbows and pulled her to him.

She pushed at his chest. “I don’t love you, Jürgen. I could never be unfaithful to my husband. Please leave.”

She could feel his mounting sexual frustration. She could smell it.

He put a hand on the back of her head and pulled her to him. He kissed her roughly. She bit his lip – hard – drawing blood.

He pushed her from him. “You whore. I’m bleeding!”

“I told you, I don’t want this. Just leave.”

“Get me something for the blood.”

She went to the kitchen and ran some water over a dishcloth. She handed it to him and he dabbed at his lip. “You shouldn’t have done that. What’s the matter with you, woman? We could have had a pleasant hour together.”

“I don’t want that. I love my husband. I don’t even like you.”

Quick as a snake strikes, he struck her across the face. “How could you turn me down? You know that the Fatherland will soon be at war. I could easily be killed.”

Hopefully.

She took a step backwards. “Just leave.”

#

Max arrived back in the apartment early on Sunday evening.

Anna hadn’t expected to see him that early. “Have you eaten?”

“No, and I’m hungry.”

“I gave all your food away to the Rosens.”

“You found out where they’re living?”

She shook her head. “I gave the food to Frau Greta to pass on.”

“She had news of the family?”

“They are all well. She keeps them supplied with food. They’ve applied for visas for Britain. Apparently there’s an official in the passport office of the British Embassy sympathetic to the plight of German Jews.”

Anna made him an omelet from vegetable scraps. While she stood at the stove, he told her about the conference. Finally, when Anna had extracted as much fun as she could from his descriptions of the delegates, the lecturers and their lectures, he told her about Delma.

“We were escorting an agent to Switzerland.”

“A Communist?”

“I don’t know. I think she might have been.”

“
She?
How old is she? What does she look like?”

“She was very sick, Anna. She passed away on the train.”

“Oh, how sad. What was the matter with her?”

“She had consumption.”

Max’s gloom returned. Delma had been too young to die in such a miserable way.

While he ate, Anna fantasized about
escaping to Switzerland.

She said, “It would have to be the German part of Switzerland.”

Max agreed. “Yes, Anna, but the German they speak there is very different. It’s difficult to understand.”

“I expect we’ll get used to it in time. Tell me what the houses are like.”

“Much the same as here.”

She poured him a cup of coffee. “How old was she, this agent who died?”

“Her name was Delma. She was about your age.”

“What did she look like?”

“She was very sick, very pale.”

“Tell me about your sleeping arrangements on the train.”

“Doctor Himpel and I shared a compartment. Delma slept in a berth.”

She gave him a weak smile. “Tell me about the Alps.
Did you see any snow-capped mountains?”

“Yes Anna, I saw a few as we crossed the border.”

Chapter 63

August 1939

Every scrap of intelligence collected by the combined Resistance group during August pointed to an imminent military action to the east. Harro and Arvid were convinced that the Wehrmacht was planning to put Operation Fritz – the invasion of the USSR – into action. An invasion of Poland would be a prerequisite for this. They chronicled a massive build up of troops and equipment on the German border with Poland. Reports from Madam Krauss confirmed their worst fears. Senior figures in the Wehrmacht were getting jumpy about being sent to war in the east, which was now regarded as a racing certainty in military circles.

Sketchy reports in the newspapers suggested frenzied diplomatic activity between the German and Polish Foreign Ministries. The British and French had signed agreements of mutual support, both countries insisting that diplomatic discussions must continue between Germany and Poland.

On August 21, Germany’s Foreign Minister set off on a trip to Moscow. Speculation had it that Stalin would take the opportunity to issue a stern warning to Hitler not to consider moving his troops any further east than Germany’s existing border with Poland. Meanwhile, diplomatic sources confirmed that an Anglo-French peace mission to Moscow had broken up without agreement, the Soviets insisting that Polish territory and rights of passage must be conceded.

On August 22, Harro was invited to the home of Adolf Hitler, the Berghof on the Obersalzberg in Bavaria. Everybody who was anybody was there, from Hitler’s deputy, Rudolf Hess, through the senior members of the government, the OKW and all three branches of the Wehrmacht. German wine was served with delicate canapés. It reminded Harro of one of Libertas’s cocktail parties, but without the women.

As several clocks chimed 4:00 pm, the Führer made a dramatic entrance dressed in an elaborate uniform modeled on the Wehrmacht style. The guests all hushed. Hitler stood on a low platform and made a long, rasping speech that left no doubts about his intentions toward Poland and the Polish people; he intended to exterminate the people of Poland and colonize their land with Germans. Harro was shaken by the experience. He arrived back in Berlin in time to hear the triumphal announcement that the Soviet Foreign Minister
Vyacheslav Molotov and the German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop
had signed a non-aggression pact between the two countries. Under the terms of the pact, Germany and the Soviet Union agreed not to initiate hostile action against each other and to remain neutral if either were to be attacked by a third party.

Harro and Arvid held a secret meeting to discuss the pact. They agreed that the implications for their Resistance group were as serious as they could be. The lead story in their latest broadsheet had suggested a possible invasion by the Soviets. This non-aggression pact had holed that theory below the waterline. What was much more important, their relationship with Soviet Intelligence had been blown out of the water. Given the amount of material they had been sending to Moscow pointing to a planned invasion of the Soviet Union by Germany, any meager credibility they had with Stalin would now surely be in tatters.

Chapter 64

August 1939

In Whitehall, the
Joint Forces Contingency Committee was in emergency session. Assistant Director of Military Intelligence, Sidney Blenkinsop-Smythe, was on his feet, but no one was listening to him. The room was in uproar.

Air Commodore Frank Scott rapped the table with the bowl of his pipe for silence. “Gentlemen, a bit of decorum, please.”

The hubbub subsided. The members of the committee resumed their seats. Blenkinsop-Smythe picked up where he’d left off. “The situation is critical. We are days away from war with Germany. I don’t need to tell you what a cataclysmic prospect faces us now that Hitler and Stalin have become allies.”

The Air Commodore waved Blenkinsop-Smythe into his seat. “Thank you, Assistant Director. Our task today is to consider how his Majesty’s armed forces should respond to this new and immediate threat.” Five voices all began to speak at once. The Air Commodore held up a hand. “I suggest we go around the table. That way all three armed services will have an opportunity to speak. Group Captain Pinkley, perhaps you’d care to start.”

Group Captain Cameron Pinkley of the RAF got to his feet. “Thank you, Air Commodore. As the only other representative from the RAF around this table, I’d like to say that Great Britain and her allies would have no realistic prospect of victory in a ground war against such insuperable odds. Our best course of action, in the opinion of Air Command, is to pump all the resources we have into our air defenses. We need more aircraft and we need more pilots to fly them. We need anti-aircraft artillery to defend our cities against enemy aircraft. And we must give the highest priority to the design and development of new aircraft to keep us ahead of our enemies. Surely, the lessons of the last War have shown us the destructive effectiveness of a well-directed bomb thrown from an aircraft.”

“Thank you, Group Captain. Perhaps we could have a response from the Royal Navy next…”

The more senior of the two RN officers rose to his feet. “Air Commodore, gentlemen, I’m sure I don’t need to remind everyone here of his Majesty’s Royal Navy’s enviable reputation all around the world. Since the time of Sir Francis Drake, we have been masters of the sea in all four corners of the globe.”

“This is no Spanish Armada we are facing, Rear Admiral,” someone muttered.

“I don’t need to be told by anyone here that modern naval warfare is more sophisticated than it has ever been. You should recognize that many, if not all, recent technical advances worldwide are Royal Navy developments. There is not a single fleet at sea that can compete with us on strength, on reach, or on technical capabilities. Let them try.” He brought a fist down on the table. “We are ready for them.”