The Stockholms-Tidningen and Aftonbladet newspapers both featured front-page photographs of Schellenberg waving from the Swedish government limousine.
“Look at the Aftonbladet,” Bridget said indignantly. “It used to be pro-German and now it’s criticizing the government for working with a Nazi war criminal. It says that the government is offering him Swedish citizenship.”
Peter had just come into the office with the newspapers and dumped them unceremoniously on Bridget’s desk.
“Well, Schellenberg did help Bernadotte save thousands of Scandinavian prisoners from German concentration camps,” Peter said. “That’s a strong argument in his favour.”
Bernie knocked on the door and entered.
“Hello Peter, Bridget.”
“Hello, Bernie,” Bridget said, removing the newspapers from her desk.
“Is that an engagement ring I see on your finger, Bridget?”
“Yes, it is. Peter and I are planning to get married.”
“Congratulations to you both. When do you think you will tie the knot?”
“We don’t know yet,” Bridget said, “but you will be the first to know.”
“Thanks for coming,” Peter said. “I called you because we have a bit of a security problem.”
“A bit of a problem!” Bridget exclaimed. “Peter was almost run over on the weekend.”
Bernie dropped into the nearest chair.
“You better tell me the whole story, guv.”
“Cup of tea, Bernie?” Bridget asked.
“Please.”
Bridget went to fetch the tea as Peter sat down in Bridget’s chair.
“I was in London recently to see my boss at MI6. He’s an old friend of mine, Major Keith Linwood. He was struck from behind by a car at the corner of Broadway and Victoria Street. The car jumped the curb and crushed his legs. He’s now in a wheelchair. He could have been killed.”
“So you think the same people are after you?” Bernie asked.
“I don’t know. I was walking on the footpath near the canal when a car jumped the curb. I was lucky. I threw myself into the canal at the last moment.”
“You jumped into the bleedin’ canal? Were you hurt?”
“No, I fell into the water and was able to pull myself out.”
“Did you recognize any of your attackers?”
“No, all I remember is that there were three men in the car. It happened so fast, they’d scarpered before I got out of the water.”
Bridget handed Bernie a cup of tea.
“I think someone is trying to get a message to you, guv.”
“A message?” Bridget exclaimed. “Someone is trying to kill him.”
“I rather agree with Bernie,” Peter said. “If they wanted to kill me, they would have stayed to finish the job.”
“For an ordinary bloke working at a desk job,” Bernie said, “you seem to be attracting a lot of attention.”
Peter shrugged.
“I know you met with that Saarson chap and that Jap general recently, but who have you really teed off? Outside of the NKVD, the ‘Svestapo’, and the Germans?”
“The war is over, Bernie,” Bridget said. “It’s got to be the Russians.”
“Bridget, please,” Peter said.
“This might not be the local boys,” Bernie said, “but a hit squad. Same MO as in London.”
“A hit squad? Peter!” Bridget exclaimed.
Peter frowned at Bernie.
“They want to make it look like an accident. You remember the Sedov case?”
“Yes, Bernie. Yes, I do.”
“Who is Sedov?” Bridget asked.
Peter decided that Bernie had said enough. He gave him a warning look before turning to Bridget.
“Just a Russian chap in Paris,” he said dismissively, “an old story Tennant likes to tell.”
The waterfront bar was popular with foreign journalists and military personnel. It was very crowded, and it took Peter a few moments to locate the man he was looking for and push his way to the bar.
“Ewan, how are you?”
Ewan looked lost and miserable, alone among the lunchtime crowd. His eyes lit up at the prospect of company.
“Well, well. You got my message, Peter. It’s a pleasure to see you, old chap.”
“It’s been quite a while,” Peter said. “How is the angry rabbit treating you?”
“That bastard can go to hell. What can I get you, Peter?”
“A whisky, please.”
“Bring a Macallan for my friend,” Ewan told the bartender in a loud voice.
“So what is Schellenberg doing at Tullgarn?”
“I can’t talk about it, Peter.”
“They’re saying he’s looking for Swedish citizenship.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. Officially, he’s here negotiating the surrender of 400,000 German soldiers in Norway. He sent the German ambassador to the border to talk to General Boehme, who has refused to recognize the Dönitz government.”
The waiter brought the whisky for Peter.
“Cheers, Peter,” Ewan said.
“Cheers, Ewan.”
They clinked their glasses.
“Let’s drink to a speedy end to the war,” Peter said.
The two men sipped their whisky as lively conversations sprang up around them.
“Schellenberg is a nasty piece of work,” Peter said.
“Not for us, he isn’t,” Ewan insisted. “He’s going to be a big man in intelligence circles, mark my words. His secret files will be worth a bloody fortune in the West.”
“You still working with Anthony Blunt?”
“I can’t talk about that, Peter,” Ewan said, “but I can tell you that Mr Blunt has taken an interest in our Joanna.”
“Joanna?”
“Yes, I sent Joanna to deliver some papers to Blunt the other day at the Grand Hotel and he’s requested that she provide him with assistance in whatever he is doing.”
“Joanna is SOE. She shouldn’t be working with Blunt.”
“I agree, Peter. I thought you might be interested.”
“Joanna doesn’t have the clearance to work with Blunt.”
“Agreed, Peter.”
“Have you asked her about the meeting?”
“I haven’t seen her.”
A huge party was underway at the British Legation celebrating the ‘Victory in Europe’ day. On May 7, the German High Command in the person of General Alfred Jodl had signed an unconditional surrender of all German forces. The war in Europe was officially over. Victor Mallet had pulled out all the stops for the celebration with an open bar and party decorations. Numerous Americans were in attendance, including Ambassador Hershel Johnson and his wife who were chatting with Mallet. Peter and Bridget joined Bernie and Wilho.
“Bridget, this is Wilho Tikander from the American Legation,” Bernie said.
“Good evening, Bridget, Peter,” Wilho said.
“You were looking a little bit pale the last time I saw you, Wilho,” Peter said with a laugh.
“Yes, I remember,” Wilho said.
“Hello, Bridget,” Sabrina said as she arrived with a glass of white wine for herself and a whisky for Bernie.
“Sabrina. It’s so good to see you.”
“I heard about your engagement. Bernie tried to keep it a secret, but I pestered him long enough that he let it slip.”
“I’m sorry, guv,” Bernie said. “I only told Sabrina.”
“Bridget, I want to thank you again for Aksell’s award. He’s preparing his acceptance speech and so looking forward to travelling to Britain. Bernie and I are trying to diminish the importance of the award, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”
“Well, well. You know, Peter and I never thought about the long-term consequences of handing out a bogus award.”
Sabrina and Bridget laughed as a blonde in a tight dress picked up a microphone and started to sing Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, accompanied by three black musicians on the stage. Peter and Bridget joined the crowd on the dance floor.
Outside the hall with its VE Day balloons and decorations, Peter was on his way to the men’s room when he bumped into Anthony Blunt.
“Mr Blunt, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Well, well. We do get around. How are you, by the way?” Blunt asked with genuine curiosity.
“I’m fine, sir. A wonderful night.”
“Yes, it is. I’m here consulting with your colleague Ewan Butler. Top secret work, I’m afraid,” Blunt said.
“Yes, I heard,” Peter said. “Major Linwood chewed me out about it, so I have kept my distance.”
“Good advice. Poor Linwood. He had that terrible traffic accident not so long ago. Someone ran over him and now he’s in a wheelchair.”
“Yes, I know, sir.”
“The poor man’s gotten into his head all kinds of conspiracy theories, quite ridiculous assertions, if you don’t mind me saying so. We had to get rid of him. He took early retirement.”
“Early retirement?” Peter asked, stunned by the news. “I thought he was still away on sick leave. I’ve known Keith from prep school, sir. He’s not one to exaggerate or to make ridiculous assertions.”
“How’s Jane?” Blunt asked.
“Jane, sir?”
“Jane Archer. We got a report about your visit to her home from security. She has quite a lovely cottage in Essex, Walton-on-the-Naze, I think the town is called. She’s a very valuable member of the intelligence community.”
Peter was stunned and could only stare.
“Well, it’s been a pleasure, Faye. Keep up the good work.”
“Goodbye, sir.”
Peter returned to the party in a state of shock and joined Bridget, Sabrina, and Bernie. The blonde singer and band were playing There’ll Be Bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover and the dance floor was packed with couples. Many a tear flowed from the cheeks of the British staff, hearing Vera Lynn’s sentimental song.
Peter pulled Bridget aside.
“I just ran into Anthony Blunt,” Peter said. “He said that Keith was forced to take early retirement. He knows about my visit to Jane Archer.”
“What’s he doing in Stockholm?” Bridget asked.
“I’ve heard that he’s involved in discussions with Schellenberg. The Swedish government has kicked him out of Tullgarn, so now he’s staying with Folke Bernadotte at his summer cottage.”
“Well, he doesn’t suspect you of anything, does he?”
“He knows of my concerns, Bridget. He knows I’ve been talking to Jane and Keith.”
“Well, you better keep out of it or you could lose your job, my darling.”