Bernie took a picture of a female employee for an identity card in the basement document room. The young woman stepped away from the white wall.
“I’ll send it up to you later, miss.”
“Thanks, Mr Dixon.”
The employee left the room, almost running into Peter on her way out. Bernie looked up from his camera.
“Thanks for coming down, Peter. I have some information for you. The freight manager at ABA is Sven Ekstrom. I heard from a contact that he knows Kramer.”
“So you think Ekstrom reports to Kramer?” Peter asked.
“It looks like it, guv. Kramer has been seen out there several times.”
“Ekstrom must be their source.”
“Ekstrom is the freight manager, so he knows all about those SKF shipments.”
Peter thought about Ekstrom as the source and what to tell London.
“I hope you don’t mind, guv, but I need to talk to you about a personal matter.”
Peter nodded and sat down.
“You met Sabrina at the Christmas party. Her dad is locked up in the Florsberg camp.”
“The Florsberg camp? Isn’t that one of those Swedish internment camps? I’ve seen the name somewhere.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Isn’t it for Swedish communists?”
“Yeah, Reds, anti-Nazis, German refugees, anybody the government doesn’t like. They chuck them in a camp and throw away the key. Aksell is an artist and anti-Nazi, but he’s not political.”
“What do you think I can do?”
“Well, Aksell was a music composer before the war. He wrote music. I don’t know whether he was any good, but he did play in a symphony orchestra years ago. He’s a fuckin’ musician, gormless and about as useful as tits on a door.”
“I don’t know, Bernie. This sounds like a matter for Swedish internal affairs.”
“The minister is all piss and wind. Sabrina has written several letters to him complaining about her dad’s treatment, but nothing ever happens. The Legation has had some success releasing Allied airmen.”
“Look, Bernie, this is way outside my remit.”
“Sabrina’s worried. Aksell has committed no crime. She thinks the Legation could put in a special request to release him on humanitarian grounds.”
“I’ll talk to Tennant. That’s all I can promise.”
“That would be great. Any help from the Legation would be a leg up for Sabrina and Aksell.”
The normally calm atmosphere of the Abwehr station was suddenly shattered by heavy footsteps and the bark of shouted orders.
“Achtung! Achtung! We’re taking control of the office,” yelled a loud male voice from the entrance.
Kriminaldirektor Golcher was getting up from his desk to investigate when a rough, unshaven man in a fedora and dark coat barged into his private office.
“Herr Golcher, we have orders to take over this station,” the man announced. There was a scar on his face and his left eye blinked incessantly.
“This is outrageous!” Golcher snarled. “I will call Canaris and have you sacked.”
“Admiral Canaris has been arrested, Herr Golcher.”
”That’s not possible.”
“It’s not only possible,” the man smirked with his blinking eye, “but it has already been done. We have orders to secure this station. You are being taken over by the SD (the Sicherheitsdienst or security services). We are sending your people home.”
Golcher looked flabbergasted. He glanced over the man’s shoulder to see four Gestapo agents in fedoras and dark coats herding his staff out of the main office. Among them were Kemper and his secretary.
“Tomorrow, sir, we will start to reorganize the office,” the Gestapo man said. “Do not look so unhappy, Herr Golcher. If you cooperate with us, you might still have a job.”
Golcher looked at the man’s self-satisfied grin and sat down defeated.