Karl-Heinz stepped into the Bromma Airfield hangar followed by Herr Golcher, clean-shaven in a business suit and fedora. The two men greeted Sven Ekstrom, the freight manager, who arrived from the tarmac.
“Guten Tag, Dr Kramer. The spring has finally arrived.”
“Yes, it has been a very long winter, Herr Ekstrom,” Karl-Heinz said. “This is Herr Golcher, a colleague of mine. He’ll be in charge of all our shipping interests from now on.”
“I have received two packages from Germany for you, Dr Kramer,” Sven said. “They are in the ‘in transit’ cargo.”
“Very good. I have to return to town. Why don’t you show Herr Golcher how it works?”
“Of course, sir.”
Kramer turned and headed back to his car.
“Come with me, Herr Golcher,” Sven said.
Golcher followed Sven into his office.
“You want a coffee, Herr Golcher?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Sven put the kettle on the hotplate and sat down at his desk.
“Now I suppose you know what the term ‘in transit’ means?” Sven asked.
“Of course, I do,” Golcher said. “It means travelling between one place and another.”
“I’m talking about freight ‘in transit’, Herr Golcher?”
“Is it a shipping term?”
“You are new to this, I think. What was your previous occupation? No, don’t tell me.”
Sven smiled at Kramer’s man.
“The term ‘in transit’ refers to freight that we hold temporarily until we ship it out to a new destination. It does not go through Swedish customs.”
“Okay, I understand.”
“Freight ‘in transit’ is held in a separately locked warehouse. It never enters the country.”
“So these packages are in the ‘in transit’ section, the international zone?”
“Very good, Herr Golcher,” Sven said. “Dr Kramer wants to send them on to new destinations, so they will require a new bill of lading.”
Golcher suddenly caught on.
“So I bring you a new bill of lading, which you then stick on the package and send it on its way.”
“Not exactly, Herr Golcher. It is illegal for me or any Swedish employee to tamper with freight ‘in transit’. We will lose our jobs and go to prison.”
“You will lose your jobs? Is it illegal?”
“Yes, under Swedish law. So my job will be to get you into the ‘in transit’ section and you will change the bill of lading and destination as you see fit. There is a room in there where you can do your work.”
Golcher looked worried by the illegal nature of the work.
“Don’t worry, Herr Golcher,” Sven said. “No one will ever see you in there. No one goes into the ‘in transit’ area except to deliver or remove packages and during daytime hours only.”
Golcher seemed reassured.
“Dr Kramer has requested that you be allowed to bring a friend with you to identify the contents,” Sven said. “So you may need to open the boxes and repackage them before shipping. Can you do that?”
“Of course, nothing could be simpler.”
“Wonderful, Herr Golcher.”
Shortly before one o’clock, Bernie struggled down the lane in the wet snow behind the Kramer house. He stepped over the fence into the garden, quickly crossing to the side of the house. Moments later, he struggled back across the fence and disappeared down the lane with the cloth bag. He climbed on his bike and took off down the road, pedalling fast. Moments later, he arrived at the shed and laid the bike against the wall.
“You look wet,” Allan said as Bernie entered the shed.
“I’m wet and bloody freezing,” Bernie said, closing the door and stamping the snow off his boots. He gave Allan a sour look. The photographer had been waiting for him, sitting comfortably on an old couch and drinking hot tea from a thermos. Allan took the bag from him and opened it. There were several documents inside, and he laid the first of them on the Minox copy table.
“Hang on a minute,” Bernie said, walking over to the table. “That one looks familiar.”
He leaned over and squinted at it for a moment, then clapped Allan on the shoulder.
“Don’t just stand there, Allan, my boy. Take your pictures. We’re about to make the boss very happy.”
Allan gave him a quizzical look and set to work.
Several hours later Bernie was in the Legation darkroom when he answered a knock on the door.
“I got your message,” Peter told him through the door. “Bridget said it was urgent.”
“Just a moment, guv.”
Bernie used forceps to pick up the B&W print in the acid bath and dump it in the stop solution.
“Come in. You need to take a look at this.”
Peter entered the darkroom bathed in red light and peered in amazement at the photograph of the bogus Soviet airplane production figures.
“Seen this before?” Bernie asked, grinning. “It was in with the Kramer documents today.”
“Bloody hell. Is it the same?”
“Course it is guv. It’s got Joanna’s ‘Hans Weber’ signature right there.”
“That was fast. What are we today?” Peter asked.
“Tuesday.”
“It’s only been what, two and a half weeks.”
“I thought you’d want to know.”
“Thanks, Bernie.”
Peter hurried out of the office.