It was snowing heavily as Bernie approached the back garden of the Kramer residence, pushing his bike through the snow. The Gestapo had disappeared with the cold weather. Bernie climbed up on a snowbank to step over the gate into the back garden. He walked through deep snow to the house, keeping his head down. He collected the cloth bag with the documents and slid it under his coat as he made his way back to the lane. Halfway across the yard, he heard a voice from the house. He turned to see Wilhelma, standing at the back door, watching him.
Bernie stopped dead in his tracks.
“What are you doing?” Wilhelma asked.
Bernie looked at the nanny and smiled.
“Elektricitet, kraftledning,” he said in Swedish, pointing to the power line.
Wilhelma said nothing and quickly shook out the bread crumbs on her tablecloth before going back inside.
Bernie hurried away.
“We’re snookered,” Bernie said, dumping the cloth bag on the table in the shed. “The Kramer nanny saw me.”
“When?” Peter asked with concern as he watched Allan set up ready for work.
“Just now, as I was leaving the house. I hear this voice coming from behind me. So I turn around and there’s the nanny standing at the back door. I told her I work for the electricity company.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. She went back inside.”
Peter tried to make sense of this encounter.
“I’m not sure she noticed anything out of the ordinary,” Bernie said, ”but I can’t be sure.”
“Did she see you collect the shoe bag?”
“I doubt it. I was leaving and halfway across the lawn when I heard her voice.”
“I see,” Peter said. “You better be very careful when you return the documents. I don’t want you walking into a trap.”
“Don’t worry, guv, I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“We may have to delay future pickups and wait to see whether your presence there has set off an alarm.”
“Yeah, I reckon we will. It was bloody stupid of me to be caught crossing the yard.”
“It could happen at any time, Bernie.”
Bernie removed the first document from the bag and handed it to Allan.
“Let’s get to work,” Peter said, as Allan laid the first document on the copy stand.
“H is still at it, Bridget. Amazing stuff!” Peter said as he entered the office. “Kramer has access to British cabinet papers at the highest level. The source is Soviet, probably GRU.”
“GRU?” Bridget asked. “How on earth can they get their hands on that kind of intelligence?”
“It’s extremely sensitive material. There must be a mole in our security services. This should light a fire under that arrogant prick, Anthony Blunt, but we’ve got a problem.”
“A problem?”
“The nanny saw Bernie crossing the yard.”
“Oh, God, that’s Wilhelma,” Bridget said.
“I’m not sure the game is up,” Peter said. “Bernie told her he worked for the electricity company and was out there checking on the line.”
“He’s quick-witted, Bernie is.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Well, I’ll call Elsa and tell her,” Bridget said. “You have mail, Peter.”
Peter picked up the decoded message on his desk. He read the message and frowned.
“What is it?”
“It’s Keith Linwood. He’s telling me in no uncertain terms to keep my distance from Ewan Butler. He threatens to have me recalled. This is my old friend Keith talking.”
“But why, Peter?” Bridget asked in disbelief.
“He seems to think that Michael and I have been bullying Ewan and are responsible for his nervous breakdown.”
“Keith obviously doesn’t want you poking your nose into this business with Mallet.”
Peter nodded.
“I better contact Michael and tell him I’ve been warned off.”
“I’m being forced out, Peter,” Michael said. ”I’m being transferred to the Paris office. Mallet can’t wait to see the back of me.”
“Paris?” Peter asked.
“Yeah, it does sound good, doesn’t it?”
Michael and Peter were walking along a snowy path next to the canal, where several riverboats were tied up.
“With the liberation of France and the war now on Germany’s doorstep,” Michael said, “they need help reorganizing SOE personnel at the embassy. My new title will be ‘information counsellor’. It’s got a nice ring to it.”
“How’s your wife taking it?”
“She’s fine with it. She’s never been to Paris. I’m happy that I won’t have to put up with Mallet’s secrets any longer.”
“That’s wonderful, Michael. I still don’t understand what Anthony Blunt has to do with these negotiations with the Germans. What’s his role?”
“Security, Peter. From what Ewan told you, I would think he’s working for the royals trying to keep a lid on any rumours about Mallet and the bankers pursuing Nazi assets.”
“You think so?”
“What else can it be?” Michael asked. “You need to keep your nose out of it and be very careful.”
Söderhamn, Sweden
An old Ford entered the car park of the Florsberg concentration camp on the north coast several hours' drive from Stockholm.
Bernie and his wife Sabrina staggered out of the car and headed toward the entrance of the old sanatorium. There were no observation towers, but an armed guard at the gate controlled visitors. The man waved them through and they checked in at the front desk. Minutes later, a guard arrived to take them back to a meeting room where prisoners were allowed to see their families.
Saturday was visiting day and there were numerous people gathered in the room waiting to see loved ones. There were left-wing activists and communists from the labour movements, German refugees, anti-Nazis, and common criminals. They were all imprisoned without trial, nor with any idea of the accusations made against them. Most were foreigners.
A tall, very thin man in his sixties dressed in prison garb was brought in. Aksell looked like an intellectual with his round glasses and short beard.
Sabrina jumped up from her seat and ran toward him.
“Pappa.”
Sabrina kissed her father while Bernie stood up and came over to shake hands.
“Good to see you, sir,” Bernie said.
“You too, Bernie,” Aksell replied.
Sabrina and her dad sat together, chatting in Swedish while Bernie stood by.