Stockholm
Karl-Heinz was locked up in a Gestapo interrogation room in the basement at number 2, Hovslagargatan. He was unshaven and dishevelled after a long day and night in detention. A detective carrying a briefcase arrived, and the guard opened the door.
“Hello, Dr Kramer. I am Kriminalinspektor Bauer. You have been arrested for treasonous activities under instruction from Berlin.”
“How long do you intend to keep me here?”
“That all depends on you, Dr Kramer.”
“Why have I been arrested?” Karl-Heinz asked. “I’m a busy man, I have important work to do.”
“You remember Oberleutnant Kemper who was recently found dead in mysterious circumstances at Nynäshamn. It was in all the papers.”
“Yes, I remember Kemper very well. He recently joined the SD Ausland office here in Stockholm.”
“Our information is that his assailants were British. What was your relationship with Oberleutnant Kemper?”
“I hardly knew Kemper,” Karl-Heinz said. “He was just another Abwehr employee who worked for Herr Golcher.”
“Oberleutnant Kemper was to take the Austrian Jew Hanne Gabor to Danzig on a fishing boat. You remember the woman?”
“Of course, she was my cleaning lady. I left her with your people.”
“She was sent to Berlin for further interrogation and Oberleutnant Kemper was to travel with her. Somebody tipped off the British to our plans.”
“Really. That’s very interesting but I am not sure what this has to do with me.”
“We believe you informed your British friends of their location and they attacked Kemper and his man on the dock.”
“That’s a lie,” Karl-Heinz said. “I have no idea how the British knew about Kemper’s operation.”
Bauer stood up and walked around the cell.
“Did you know that your boss Walter Schellenberg has been arrested in Berlin for treason?” Bauer asked. “It appears that he too has been working for the British SIS.”
“I don’t believe a word of this. That’s a ridiculous assertion, Herr Bauer. Schellenberg doesn’t work for the British, he works hand-in-hand with Himmler.”
“We know about your dealings with a certain Josefine working in Britain. Can you describe the activities of this source?”
“I cannot discuss it with you, Herr Bauer,” Karl-Heinz said angrily. “You are talking about a top-secret intelligence operation. You Gestapo people are ordinary policemen. You are not cleared for top-secret RSHA intelligence.”
“Who is Siegfried, Dr Kramer?”
“Siegfried is another source, you moron,” Karl-Heinz snapped. “You have been through the Abwehr files. Damn it, I should have known that you wouldn’t leave them alone. I will have to report you to the RSHA.”
Bauer leaned across the table and shook his finger at Karl-Heinz.
“Don’t you threaten me, Dr Kramer!” Bauer warned. “We are only doing our jobs.”
“Well, if you continue in this line of questioning, Herr Bauer, then you are writing your own ticket to the Russian front. This is top secret work and none of your business.”
Red in the face, Bauer stood up and quickly grabbed his file before leaving the room. Karl-Heinz smiled at the back of the frightened man.
Bernie drove Peter to the Grand Hotel in his newly acquired Opel car. Peter entered the lobby and saw a bespectacled man quietly reading a British newspaper who suddenly got up and disappeared through the door to the restaurant. Peter followed the man and watched him go into the kitchen and then out the service door into the alley behind the hotel. Peter stepped outside and followed the man up the road to a local working man’s bar.
The bar was full of painters, bricklayers and carpenters having their morning coffee and aquavit. Peter stepped up to a table at the back where OSS station chief Wilho Tikander was sitting.
“Peter, it’s good to see you,” Wilho said. “Sorry about the little detour.”
The men shook hands, and Peter sat down. Wilho signalled the barman and ordered two coffees. He was a tall Finnish-American lawyer from Chicago. Bernie had received an anonymous card in the mail from the OSS chief, asking for an informal meeting with Peter and insisting that he follow him out of the Grand Hotel before actually making contact.
“I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding me.”
“No. Why the subterfuge, Wilho?”
“I am American but I’m also Finnish,” Wilho said. “I have a family in Helsinki so I am a target of the NKVD.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Peter said. “As you know we have been warned off any collaboration with your organization. Nothing personal, of course.”
“I know. Our ambassador is not very keen on covert operations, I’m afraid. Hershel Johnson thinks any kind of spying is the work of the devil.”
“Well, he may be right but we all have jobs to do.”
“Colonel Hallamaa sent me, Peter,” Wilho said in a low voice. “It’s not going well with Harold Nicolson and Anthony Eden. They’ve given Hallamaa the brush off.”
“I’m sorry that it didn’t work out.”
“We Americans are using Colonel Hallamaa’s code-breakers and helping finance their operations so we do owe them some favours. You know there are plans to move all the RTK staff in Helsinki to Stockholm and the government here approved it.”
“I suppose they want to keep their operations out of the hands of the Soviets.”
“Yes, that’s the idea,” Wilho said, “it’s still in the planning stage of course. They need to find a ship to bring seven hundred Finnish code-breakers and their families to Sweden. It will not be easy.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
“Peter, the colonel considers you to be a very good friend, but he needs your help. He wants you to send a letter to Felix Cowgill, head of MI6’s Counter-intelligence Section V.”
“I will do whatever I can for Hallamaa, Wilho.”
“Hallamaa will leave a letter for you at the British Legation,” Wilho said. “He wants you to send it on to Cowgill by diplomatic courier as soon as possible. It’s urgent.”
“Of course, Wilho.”
“Let’s try to get together from time to time, unofficially of course. I must be going,” Wilho said as he dropped some Krona coins on the table and stood up. “Please wait here for five minutes before leaving. Goodbye, Peter.”
Peter nodded to Wilho and watched him leave.
Hanne and Elsa stood at the door to the Kramer house and rang the doorbell. Eva opened the door.
“Hanne!” Eva exclaimed with surprise.
“I have come for my pay, Frau Kramer.”
“Well, you better come in.”
They walked past Eva into the kitchen where a new girl was feeding little Heidi. Eva went to a cupboard and handed Hanne an envelope with her pay.
“I’m so sorry, Hanne. I owe you an apology.”
Hanne was astonished. Eva was not the kind of German woman who apologized easily. She led the women out of earshot into the hall.
“We discovered that it was Wilhelma who was stealing the toys,” Eve said in a low voice. “They were for her sister’s children. I’m so sorry.”
“I accept your apology, Frau Kramer.”
Elsa noticed the packed boxes lining the hallway.
“You are moving?” Elsa asked.
“The war is lost for Germany. Some families have gone home and others are applying for visas to stay in Sweden,” Eva said with a pitiful air.
“Are you returning?” Hanne asked.
“No, we have decided to stay,” Eva said and burst into tears.
“What happened?” Hanne asked.
“They have Karl-Heinz, Hanne,” Eva said. “The Gestapo has taken him. They took him on Monday and he hasn’t come home.”
Hanne smiled, tasting the sweetness of retribution. She almost laughed, realizing that the Gestapo had seized that arrogant bastard Kramer who had delivered her to the selfsame torturers.
“I’m so sorry, Frau Kramer,” Elsa exclaimed, frowning at Hanne’s smirk.
“What will you do?” Hanne asked.
“I don’t know. We’re waiting for news,” Eva said, dabbing her tears with a handkerchief.
Peter headed back to the Grand Hotel along the quiet street. As he turned the corner, he noticed his friend Wilho dart out of a side street, followed by two large men who grabbed him by the arms hauling him back to their waiting car. A third man joined them, holding up a glass syringe which he plunged into Wilho’s neck.
Peter ran to help Wilho but saw that it was too late to stop the kidnappers. Their car drove off at high speed leaving Peter, standing in the road.