Alex, however, was still concerned at what the young woman, Astrid, had told him, and he thought he might sound out her credentials through the Russian Monarchist Union, although he had no way of contacting them in Sweden. As his links with the union were somewhat tenuous, he resolved to place his trust in Uncle Walter, although how he would communicate with his benefactor, he had no idea. Rather than wait until his next leave, whenever that might be, Alex decided that a letter would be the most inconspicuous method, and if it were worded carefully, it would likely not attract the attention of the censor at the legation, as even personal mail to family was subject to scrutiny.
The letter was chatty and full of repentance that Alex had not written for such a long time. He asked after his mother and explained that he was fully knowledgeable that they knew of Teddy’s decision to return to service. He hoped that by telling his uncle of matters of which he was already fully aware, Uncle Walter’s mind would hone in on the one piece of information that he did not and realise that this was what Alex was asking.
Of the eight-page letter, only two paragraphs were of interest, and when the letter was delivered by the General Post Office some five days after Alex had sent it, Uncle Walter immediately understood what he was being asked.
Uncle Walter’s reply arrived almost by return of post, which was unusual for such a busy man, and Alex understood that the letter contained some meaningful information. His adoptive uncle had taken Alex’s theme of writing several paragraphs of nonsense that Alex quickly discounted. Finally, midway down the third page, Alex came to the meat of the letter: ‘Do you remember the son of my old tailor, Jacob? The poor lad has quite taken leave of his senses and taken up with some thoroughly unsavoury characters from the East End. His poor father must be spinning in his grave, as Jacob had striven to give the boy a much better life than what they had formerly, but it seems he has gone backwards. They say that drink was his downfall; such a shame as he was so lovely as a child. You may well remember what my dear wife used to say of drunkards whenever she was embarrassed by them – “The ocean comes up to a drunk man’s knees” – and then we all joined in to finish the proverb: “but a puddle comes up to his ears!”41 It seems to be appropriate in this case as the old grey cat, as we called him, appears to have been compromised.’
Alex remembered that Uncle Walter’s tailor’s name was Solomon, who had also provided Alex’s first suit. So the son of Jacob was clearly a reference to Jakobsson and the rest a clear indication that the allegiance of Astrid Jakobsson had reverted to the east… She was now in the pay of the Soviets. Despite racking his memory, he could never remember Uncle Walter’s wife, Viktoriya, ever using any phrase about drunk men, let alone there being a family response. It did not take long before Alex had worked out the code in the message. The identification phrase of ‘V temnote vse koshki sery’ [In the dark, all cats appear grey] had been replaced by another saying that required the initiator to say the first half and the recipient to respond with the second half – a verbal handshake to prove that the person with whom you were conversing was a trusted union member.
So, Alex surmised, Astrid Jakobsson was working for the Russians and, more to the point, they knew of his previous life as Alex Carlsson. For how long had Sigrid’s work been compromised? Had the enemy known his former identity when he was serving in Finland? Accepting that it was unlikely that Aubrey Withers had ever been romantically attached to Sigrid, had the Soviets been responsible for her death? So many questions that Alex needed answering.
*
For much of the rest of January, Alex spent his time in an endless whirl of receptions interspersed with the occasional burst of diplomatic activity at the legation. It soon became apparent that Captain Alistair Stewart had approached his role in Stockholm from the angle that the role of a diplomat was that of a perennial socialite, and as Alex had taken on Stewart’s responsibility, the invitations very quickly started to be addressed to him personally. Alex met Brad Proudfoot on several occasions at these functions, and it was not long before a good working relationship was established between the naval attachés at the British and American legations.
At two or three of the functions, Alex met Colonel Toivonen, who was formally civil but did not extend the friendship shown at their previous meeting. It was natural, Alex imagined. After all, Finland was allied to the Germans, and the senior military diplomat of a country in league with the Nazis could hardly be expected to hobnob with his counterpart representing the interests of an enemy. However, whilst there was no open sign of friendship, neither was there any indication of animosity. On the contrary, the two merely ignored each other when in the same room.
At a function at the Grand Hotel towards the end of the month, a Finnish lieutenant cornered Alex in the gentlemen’s lavatory. When they were alone, and Alex was washing his hands, the lieutenant occupied the adjacent sink and whispered that Colonel Toivonen would appreciate a brief meeting, at Alex’s convenience, but within the next few days. He suggested a meeting at eleven o’clock the following morning at the statue of Carl Linnaeus, the Swedish botanist, in the Humlegården. Alex nodded and dried his hands before leaving the washroom without saying anything.
Alex recorded the approach the following day when he arrived early at the legation, and he left almost immediately to ensure that he was not being followed before he arrived at the statue as a nearby church bell struck the eleventh hour. The Finnish colonel was sitting on one of the stone benches surrounding the monument and was dressed in an elegant Astrakhan coat that looked warm and a stylish Homburg hat. Alex’s double-breasted Crombie overcoat had more than a nod to military design, and with his battered old trilby, Alex paled into insignificance compared to the colonel’s practical clothing as gentleman’s winter apparel. The colonel looked up as Alex approached.
‘Ah, good morning, Alex,’ said Colonel Toivonen. ‘Thank you for being prompt. Shall we walk and talk?’ The colonel rose with the assistance of a silver-topped cane, and together they strolled through the park.
‘Stockholm is such a beautiful city, even in the depth of winter, do you not think?’ the colonel asked. ‘I shall quite miss it when I return to Helsinki next month.’
‘You are leaving?’ Alex asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ the colonel said with more than a hint of sadness in his voice. ‘Prime Minister Paasikivi has asked me to join the defence ministry as second-in-command to Minister Väinö Valve. It is, of course, a significant promotion for this humble soldier and a great honour, but I shall miss Stockholm in the spring.’
‘Congratulations on your good fortune,’ Alex said warmly, and the colonel smiled in appreciation.
‘Thank you, although I suspect that we shall meet again in the years ahead,’ the colonel responded enigmatically. ‘But that was not the reason why I asked to see you.’
‘Aha.’ Alex made a noise to invite the colonel to continue.
‘You have an interest in obtaining justice for a Swedish citizen who was your compatriot and who recently lost her life, I believe?’ the colonel asked.
‘Indeed,’ Alex responded.
‘And I also understand that you have subsequently met, shall we say, a courtesan by the name of Astrid Jakobsson?’ Alex was astounded that Colonel Toivonen should be aware of his meeting with Astrid.
‘That is so,’ Alex responded warily.
‘Are you aware that there is a brother who serves in the Swedish military?’ the colonel asked.
‘I believe I saw something to that effect in her file,’ Alex ventured, although, in truth, he had not.
‘Löjtnant Benjamin Jakobsson is, I fear, a constant disappointment to his family,’ the colonel continued conversationally, ‘but the one highlight of his recent past was his association with Siri Nyqvist, with whom he formed a romantic attachment. Sadly, the relationship was short-lived, as the man has a volatile temper.’
Alex thought of Sigrid’s previous relationships and wondered why she seemed drawn to men of a violent nature.
‘Please do not think harshly of the löjtnant’s sister. It is probable that she was only seeking to protect her brother from the outcome of any investigation, which would likely bring shame on her family.’
‘Colonel,’ Alex asked directly, ‘are you saying that Astrid Jakobsson’s brother was responsible for Sigrid’s murder?’
‘I think,’ the colonel said thoughtfully, ‘that would be too certain. I have good contacts in the Swedish police, and Löjtnant Jakobsson was always their prime suspect. They just could not gather sufficient evidence to charge the man.’
‘Could they not interrogate him?’ Alex asked.
‘Oh,’ the colonel said, smiling, ‘the Swedish police did certainly question him, but their methods of interrogation are, shall we say, rather well-mannered. They prefer persuasion to a more forthright approach. It lies outside their code, do you see?’
‘What of the army? Could they not elicit the truth?’ Alex asked.
‘They were not interested.’ The colonel continued, ‘It was not a military matter, and whereas they would happily cooperate with the police, they were unlikely to meddle in any investigation. Besides, Löjtnant Jakobsson’s alibi was that he was in the barracks at the time, which could not be disproven.’
‘So,’ Alex persisted, ‘how do you surmise that he may be guilty of the crime?’
‘There is a witness,’ Colonel Toivonen declared, ‘but not one that would be available to give evidence, as the witness was working clandestinely at the time.’
‘For whom?’ Alex asked.
‘That,’ the colonel said sadly, ‘I am unable to divulge, but the source is irreproachable.’
‘So,’ Alex concluded, ‘it is an uncorroborated allegation.’
Colonel Toivonen winced slightly. ‘Not so much uncorroborated, more sensitive. The witness was engaged in a separate matter related to Löjtnant Jakobsson, who was under surveillance in an ongoing investigation of the utmost gravity. Jakobsson was seen entering the apartment block of Siri Nyqvist, and there followed a noise that the witness described as being like a car backfiring, but the witness could not be clear about the direction or origin of the noise. Only afterwards, when the body was discovered, did the witness believe that he may have heard the shots that killed Miss Nyqvist. Jakobsson left the block a short time later, and the witness maintained surveillance. ‘The witness is prevented from disclosing this information to the Swedish police, as to do so would jeopardise the continuing inquiry into a far more serious matter than the issue of murder. I am sure you understand.’
‘Is Astrid Jakobsson aware of her brother’s possible involvement?’ Alex changed tack.
‘I am sure she is,’ the colonel responded. ‘She certainly knew that her brother was involved with the victim, and we know that Astrid is aware of his unpredictable temper – she has experienced it herself.’ Alex looked at the colonel quizzically. ‘She has received medical attention in the past.’
‘I see,’ Alex said. ‘One wonders whether her life would be improved if she were an only child.’
‘Undeniably,’ Colonel Toivonen agreed, ‘but as we say in Finland, veri on vettä sakeampaa.42’
‘Hmmm,’ Alex pondered. ‘I am uncertain why you have brought this to me. Yes, I knew Siri Nyqvist in a previous role, and I liked her, but that was then, and this is now.’
‘Alex, my friend,’ the colonel said disappointedly, ‘I hoped we could be honest with each other. Miss Nyqvist worked for the British. You met with her since you have been in Stockholm and have been to her resting place. You had feelings for the girl.’
‘I am amazed at your knowledge, Colonel,’ Alex said with a fair amount of resentment. ‘I had no idea that I was under surveillance myself.’
‘You are not,’ Colonel Toivonen was just a little too quick in his denial, ‘at least, not specifically to my knowledge, but we are all subject to scrutiny when we are guests in another country. In this case, however, the police noted your presence at the cemetery, and your meeting with her at the restaurant was discovered as part of the investigation into her death. In fact, at one time, the police wondered whether you may have been culpable yourself. The dinner date was in the victim’s diary.’
‘Then you seem to have remarkable contacts with the Swedish police.’ Alex was getting tired of the conversation.
‘Sweden and Finland are inextricably linked by history,’ the colonel stated as a matter of fact. ‘We shall always be close. We help the Swedes, and they assist us. There is nothing sinister. In this instance, the Swedish police are constrained by circumstances, but they still want the matter resolved. They felt that I might be a conduit in that resolution. I am sorry if I have caused an affront. It was not my wish. I thought that if I presented the facts to you unofficially, you might also want to be part of the resolution.’
‘Throughout my time in Sweden, Colonel,’ Alex explained, ‘I have felt that I have been used as a pawn in the power games of different factions. Perhaps that is the nature of the diplomat, or maybe my naivety, but it is not a role with which I am content.
‘I shall consider your representations in this matter carefully, and you will appreciate that I shall have to record the outcome of this meeting with the legation. You have said that you are leaving Sweden and returning to Finland. I doubt, in that case, whether we shall meet again, despite your prediction that we shall. If we do, then I genuinely hope it will be in happier times. I thank you for what you have told me. I assure you that I shall give it my utmost attention, and I wish you well in your new position, but now I must take my leave and return to the legation.’
Alex shook hands with Colonel Toivonen and even managed a smile before turning on his heel, leaving the park by the nearest exit and hailing a passing taxi to take him back to the legation. Colonel Erkki Toivonen shrugged his shoulders inside his voluminous overcoat and smiled to himself before following Alex out of the park.
*
Alex’s report of the contact was both lengthy and detailed, and when he took it into Colonel Buckeridge to be countersigned, the colonel read it through from start to finish.
‘Been fraternising with the enemy again, have we, Alex?’ Buckeridge asked.
‘Hardly, sir,’ Alex responded. ‘Besides, the Finns are hardly a threat to Britain, are they? I thought we had agreed that they had only aligned themselves with Hitler because we have an ally in Stalin.’
‘And because we did bugger all to help them in their hour of need,’ Buckeridge commented.
‘We did send them quite a few Hurricanes and allowed them to build Blenheims under licence,’ Alex countered. ‘Besides, I have a suspicion that we may want to cosy up to them after we have defeated Hitler if only to prevent Stalin from annexing the country.’
‘That is as may be,’ Buckeridge warned, ‘but they are currently on the persona non grata list. But, nevertheless, your Colonel Toivonen seems to have come up trumps with the murderer of Agent Pipistrel, would you not say?’
‘What worries me is that their source is unable to corroborate the story for fear of compromising an undercover operation,’ Alex rationalised, ‘which makes me wonder with what their source is actually involved.’
‘Ye-es,’ Buckeridge acknowledged thoughtfully. ‘Any thoughts?’
‘I have been through all known operations and cannot find one where Löjtnant Benjamin Jakobsson’s name is even mentioned. This means that either they have an operation underway of which we know nothing, or we are aware of the operation but have not yet linked Jakobsson’s name to it,’ Alex ventured.
‘Or that it is a domestic matter and has damn all to do with us,’ Buckeridge commented.
‘Yes,’ Alex agreed, ‘but if it relates to the death of Agent Pipistrel, then it does rather involve us, would you not say?’
‘Peripherally, perhaps,’ Colonel Buckeridge acknowledged. ‘Alright, run with it for a while and see what you can dig up, but don’t waste too much time chasing moonbeams.’
‘I won’t, sir.’ Alex picked up the report that Colonel Buckeridge had signed and was about to leave the office when the colonel called him back.
‘By the way,’ Buckeridge said, ‘Sir Victor is holding a legation bash on Thursday to celebrate Burns Night – it is a bit of a tradition here, and you have been designated as chief steward.’ Alex’s face fell.
*
The run-up to Sir Victor’s party was a hectic time for Alex, who had no idea of the complexities of being a steward. However, he quickly learned that he was in charge of everything, and if anything went wrong, it was up to him to resolve the issue. Undoubtedly, if anything went wrong on the night, that would also be his fault, so he was determined that nothing would. Typically, preparing for a diplomatic function of the magnitude that the chargé d’affaires was planning should have been a full-time job for a team of stewards, but working on his own and trying to fit it around his other duties was proving challenging. Still, the task served its purpose, and Alex hardly thought about Operation Vidar during the preparations.
The function was, however, a spectacular success. One of the embassy drivers, a Scot by the name of McDougall, dressed in his regimental kilt and piped the haggis that had been imported from Scotland in the diplomatic bag into the dining room at the minister’s accommodation at the legation, and completed Burns’ ‘Address to the Haggis’ without notes and in a suitably incomprehensible manner that all who heard it acclaimed it to be the finest rendition they had heard. Sergeant McDougall accepted a quaiche43 of neat Scotch whisky from Sir Victor, which he downed in a single gulp before shouldering his pipes and retiring.
Meanwhile, as the guests enjoyed the revelry of the Burns Night celebrations in Stockholm, in the village of Drøbak near the Norwegian capital, Oslo, a fishing boat had returned from a night’s fishing with two new crew members. Foul weather had prevented the intended parachute drop into Norway, so a submarine had partially surfaced to allow the two agents to transfer to a fishing boat owned by one of the men’s families and take off the two regular crewmen. Ole Sigurdsson had grown up in the fishing village before joining the Norwegian navy at the beginning of the war, and his ship was at sea when General Otto Ruge signed Norway’s capitulation on 10th June 1940. However, the captain of the Royal Norwegian Naval destroyer, HNoMS Hamar, ignored orders to return to Trondheim and surrender his command to the Germans. Instead, he sailed across the North Sea and into Scapa Flow in the Orkney Islands and committed his vessel to the Free Norwegian Forces in exile.
Ole Sigurdsson was a Kvartermester 44 when he was plucked from the relative safety of the ship’s company for what sounded like a suicide mission in his home country, but as a patriot, he did not hesitate to volunteer when asked. Sekondløitnant 45 Jan Pedersen was training in Scotland when his country surrendered to the Germans, so he joined No 10 (Inter-Allied) Commando under Lieutenant-Colonel Dudley Lister, where he was quickly promoted to second lieutenant. Like Ole Sigurdsson, Lieutenant Pedersen did not think twice about volunteering when his section commander asked. Although the team’s senior man, a strong friendship had grown between the two agents and rank was of no consequence; they were a team charged with getting a job done. Both men were sent about as far south as it was possible to be sent for training, and they both arrived at the SOE training camp in Beaulieu. Both men knew that they would be picked up by the submarine when the job was done if they were lucky.
If they were unlucky, they would have given their lives in the pursuit of a free Norway.