Dr Kramer pulled up at a hangar at the Bromma airfield near Stockholm in an unremarkable Opel sedan. There were a few Ju52s, DC3s, and Lockheed 14s scattered about the airfield. He got out of his car and went inside, passing a mechanic working on a small plane. Kramer paid no attention to him and went directly to the freight manager’s office. Sven Ekstrom in shirtsleeves looked up as Kramer appeared in the doorway.
“Hello, Dr Kramer.”
“Morning, Herr Ekstrom. I need your shipping invoices.”
“What’s the hurry? You get them every Friday.”
“A bit of a crisis. What have you shipped this week to Scotland?”
Ekstrom searched the shipping invoices.
“The usual loads of SKF bearings, sir,“ Ekstrom noted. “ABA and BOAC flights to Aberdeen. As you know the British have orders with Svenska Kullagerfabriken AB in Gothenburg.”
Ekstrom passed the invoices over to Kramer, who quickly jotted down the total load for the week in a small notebook.
“Thanks, Herr Ekstrom. I will be on my way. Good day.”
Kramer left the office, leaving Ekstrom frowning. He was already breaking every company rule in providing the Germans with sensitive information about shipments of SKF bearings, and now the man was coming around mid-week hungry for the latest. If this continued, Ekstrom could lose his job.
A secretary stopped by Anders’ desk on the press floor.
“A letter for you, sir.”
Anders tore open the oversized envelope and took out a large photograph and a letter. The picture showed a man on a rooftop wearing headphones. From the figures in the lighted windows on the floor below, it looked as if some kind of party was going on and the man with the headphones was listening in to conversations. Anders picked up the letter, which bore the letterhead of the British press office. It read simply: ‘Gestapo spies working in Sweden.’
Anders was curious and dialled a telephone number as he lit a cigarette. The phone rang several times until it was picked up.
“Press Office, Tennant speaking.”
“Hello, I am Anders Berger at the Stockholms-Tidningen newspaper.”
“Yes, Mr Berger. What can I do for you?”
“I just got the photograph, sir.”
“Sorry, I don’t know anything about a photograph,” the man replied, sounding confused.
“The Gestapo man with headphones on the roof.”
“Oh, that one. The Gestapo man, yes, I remember it now,” said Michael Tennant, suppressing a laugh. In the Legation Press office, Joanna pricked up her ears and listened to Michael’s side of the conversation.
“Oh, yes, very troubling that photograph, sir,” Michael said, playing it for all it was worth.
“Can you tell me when it was taken?” Anders asked.
“In July, I believe during a Legation reception.”
“Has Gestapo surveillance been a problem for you at the Legation?”
“It’s been absolutely terrible!” Michael complained, suddenly irate. “We can’t turn around here without running into some kind of surveillance. It’s been going on for several years.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” Anders replied.
“We are having a terrible time trying to keep a low profile in this country and getting no help from the authorities.”
“I will take this to my boss. You won’t mind if we publish the picture?”
“Of course not, Mr Berger. Goodbye.”
Michael hung up and then turned to Joanna.
“You remember Bernie’s photograph of that Säpo man eavesdropping on the roof?”
“Of course.”
“Peter must have sent it to Anders Berger at the Stockholms-Tidningen newspaper,” Michael said. “He thinks the man works for the Gestapo. He’s going to publish it.”
“But the man is easily identifiable, he's a Swede. He works for the Swedish Intelligence Services.”
“I know, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if they make that mistake? We embarrass both the Gestapo and the Swedish government at the same time.”
“What will the ‘angry rabbit’ say about that?”
“The angry rabbit can shit a brick. I don’t care what that arsehole thinks. Let’s see how it unfolds first.”
Michael laughed, thinking about the implications.
“It will be very embarrassing for the Swedes,” Joanna said.
“They’ve earned it,” Michael said. “Don’t they know that the Germans are losing the war?”
“My boss is very happy with your work,” Bridget said.
“Wonderful, Bridget. I had no idea whether it was working for you or not,” Hanne replied.
At the Ansell house, Hanne and Bridget were sitting comfortably in the living room as Elsa served them tea. The gramophone played Mozart in the background.
“I have brought you some money as compensation for your services,” Bridget said, putting an envelope with Swedish krona on the table. Hanne looked annoyed.
“I am not doing it for money, Bridget, please.”
She pushed the envelope back towards Bridget.
“Take the money, Hanne,” Elsa said. “Bridget knows that you do not do it for money.”
“Hanne, please take it. We pay our people,” Bridget replied. “This is hard work and dangerous. You need the money.”
Hanne looked at Elsa and then at the envelope.
“You’re too damn proud, Hanne,” Elsa said. “You take the money now, please!”
Hanne appeared undecided.
“You take it or I take it and hold it for you.”
Hanne nodded her acceptance reluctantly.
“Thank you, Bridget,” Hanne said in a whisper. “Dr Kramer is off to Berlin next week. He has meetings with Schellenberg and Schmidt.”
“How do you know this, Hanne?” Bridget asked.
“I saw it in his agenda and Frau Kramer mentioned his travel plans. He leaves on Wednesday.”
“So we must do a pickup on Tuesday,” Bridget said, “just before his departure. Then we await his return.”