Hamburg, Germany
Obersturmbannführer Pauly and his assistant drove to a remote railway work site with Bernadotte and Anders in the back of a German military staff car. At the SS-Eisenbahn Baubrigade camp, there were some fifty prisoners in rags hauling iron rails from a truck parked near the tracks. With the frequent Allied bombing of German railways, the SS had organized special work teams to repair bombed-out sections of track.
The staff car pulled over so Bernadotte and Anders could get a look at the prisoners. They got out of the car and approached the work crew.
“They are Russian prisoners who work for the Reichsbahn repairing bomb damage,” Pauly said. “It’s good work, you know, and not too dangerous.”
Pauly waved to a guard carrying a Schmeisser machine gun, who saluted him. Bernadotte and Anders approached the prisoners who sneaked looks at them. They were rough-looking men with scowling faces but they looked relatively well-fed to do the hard work of laying track.
There was a Deutsche Reichsbahn rail repair vehicle and a rail carriage on the tracks for transporting and feeding the prisoners. Anders peeked inside the carriage, where there was a man cooking food for the prisoners over a gas stove. He waved at Anders, who looked at the wooden benches and tables where the prisoners ate.
Pauly and Bernadotte joined Anders at the carriage door and looked in.
“These men are well cared for, Herr Berger,” Pauly said. “They have to work fast and move quickly to new sections of track. Allied bombing is destroying our rail links and yards. It’s terrible.”
“What do your other Baubrigaden do?” Bernadotte asked.
“All kinds of jobs. We have them clearing buildings after air raids, removing bombs and recovering bodies, and doing repairs. It is often very hard work.”
Stockholm
Peter was in the office early, typing up a report to Keith Linwood as Bridget came in.
“Peter, how did it go yesterday?”
“Very well. Saarson’s contact was Colonel Hallamaa of the RTK. I had lunch with him. He’s a very knowledgeable man.”
“Good, but aren’t the Finns officially off-limits?”
“They are and they aren’t. Their intelligence is just too good to ignore.”
“I’m happy it went well. Bernie was worried about you.”
“No need to worry, Bridget. The Finns can provide us with top-secret intelligence, but in exchange, they want help from the British government in their war with the Soviets.”
“The Soviet Union is our ally in the war, Peter. That won’t go over well with the government.”
“I agree. I’m putting it all in my report to Keith. London can deal with it.”
“Got a minute, Bernie?” Peter asked, entering the document room as Bernie looked up. He was hunched over a table under a very bright light, examining something with a jeweller’s loupe. Several tiny objects sparkled on a lint-free cloth near Bernie’s lunch box.
“Bernie, are those diamonds?” Peter asked.
“Yes, they are,” he said proudly, ”I’ve got me a new hobby. See these stones, I bought them from Sabrina’s brother Magnus. He’s a jeweller in town. Diamond traders are selling them at bargain prices. A lot of them are war booty.”
“I heard most of the dealing was in gold.”
“Gold, diamonds, silver, artworks. You name it, there is someone out there selling it. Diamonds are going at half price, but you’ve got to know what you’re buying with a diamond, right? Cut, colour and clarity.”
“I suppose so, Bernie.”
“You want diamonds. I can fix you up, even have them appraised for you. When you return to Britain, you sell ‘em for a profit and Bob’s your uncle.”
“I think I’ll stick with sterling, Bernie.”
“What about an original work of art? Something you can put on your wall, or maybe gold that you can hide in an old shoe?”
“No, thanks.”
Peter removed the Webley service revolver from his pocket and put it on the desk.
“Any news from Stora Essingen?” Peter asked.
“I went out there this morning to take a look, but the window was closed, so nothing’s happening today.”
“We’re still waiting for confirmation that everything is okay with the nanny. It may be a while before we resume the operation.”
“Peter, I heard from Saarsen about the shooting,” Bernie said, picking up a diamond with his forceps. “Did you know that the Finns shot one of their attackers?”
“No, I didn’t, but please don’t tell Bridget,” Peter said. “I haven’t mentioned the shooting to her yet.”
“My lips are sealed, guv.”
Bernie picked up the revolver and handed it back to Peter.
“You need to keep this,” Bernie said. “It could save your life.”
“I don’t know, Bernie.”
“Please, do it for Bridget. Stockholm can be a dangerous place what with the natives settling grudges and the bad blood between friends and enemies.”
“We were having this wonderful meal and suddenly, all hell broke loose,” Peter said. “Men were firing into the cottage through the front door and through a window at the back. I was on the floor with the colonel and the cook.”
“Peter!”
Bridget and Peter were lying naked in bed together in the darkened bedroom.
“We managed to escape through a trapdoor to a tunnel in the basement.”
“You could have been shot,” Bridget said.
“We got to the dock and escaped by taking a motorboat back to Kapellskar. We were very lucky. The NKVD has it in for the Finns.”
“Who have you told?”
“No one, absolutely no one,” Peter said. “Bernie knows, he heard it from Saarson.”
“I hope you didn’t mention it to Keith. He could have you recalled after an incident like that.”
“No, of course not. I didn’t mention it.”
“That nice lady is NKVD,” Bridget said. “You think she is involved?”
“Absolutely, she must be. Her husband is Major Petrov, who runs the NKVD in Stockholm. He has to know about the attack.”
“You better keep it to yourself, Peter, if what you are telling me is true.”
“The colonel says that the Soviets have several moles in our intelligence services.”
“You don’t suspect me, do you?” Bridget asked.
Peter laughed.
“You were my first suspect. I thought I would torture you with kisses to get you to talk.”
Bridget pinched Peter.
“Go on then, let’s see some more torture.”
They kissed briefly, and Peter caressed her shoulders.
“Peter, I think you like dishing out torture. Just like any man.”
“Is this like any man?”
“No, but keep going, darling. You’re getting better at it all the time.”
“You know what the colonel said. Our intelligence services are so compromised, we should close them down and start over.”
“What are you going to do, Peter?”
“I can’t talk to Blunt. I don’t trust the bastard,” Peter said. “I thought I might be able to talk to Liddell, but he’s working with Blunt, so that would just alarm them. I was thinking of a plant.”
“What do you mean, a plant?”
“Just that. Slip a planted document into the Kramer file.”
“But Peter, that could get you fired?”
“I agree, but anything I do can get me fired!”