‘But doesn’t the British government think the Czechs have no chance?’
‘That’s the Ambassador’s view. He says they’ll be overrun in days. He’s just as bad as Henderson here in Berlin. And for some reason your government listens to the diplomat rather than the soldier when it comes to assessing military capabilities. You know, you really should get yourself a new government some time. Do you still have elections in your country?’
‘We do, but they don’t seem to change anything,’ said Conrad. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Here – I brought you some real whisky,’ said Warren. He disappeared to his room and reappeared with a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label.
‘Excellent,’ said Conrad, and poured them each a glass, adding a splash from his soda siphon.
‘So, how is Anneliese?’ Warren asked, sipping his whisky. ‘I hope I’ll get to see her.’
‘I’m afraid you won’t,’ said Conrad grimly. ‘She’s in Sachsenhausen.’
Warren frowned. ‘Oh God, I am sorry. Boy, it doesn’t take you long to realize you are back in the Thousand Year Reich. Why did they take her there? Or was it just one of those random round-ups?
‘It was my fault. Her old boyfriend, the Gestapo officer, got jealous of us and had her locked up. But I’ve just seen someone who thinks he can get her out in the next few days.’
‘Is she OK? Have you heard from her?’
‘No, I haven’t. But I’ve been told she has a head injury.’ He frowned. ‘It’s quite serious.’
‘Is she going to be all right?’
‘I hope so,’ Conrad said. ‘I have to believe so. But in a camp, who knows?’ The reason that Conrad had been late to meet Warren was that he had just seen Wilfrid Israel again. Good news had been mixed with bad. The head injury worried Conrad.
Warren shook his head. ‘Good luck with that. The sooner you get her out the better.’ A thought seemed to strike him. ‘Say, I thought I saw some Gestapo boys in this square when the cab dropped me off.’
‘What!’
‘They weren’t in uniform, but I can still identify them a mile off.’
‘Were they watching this building?’
‘It’s hard to say. Why, are you expecting a visit from them?’
‘They’ve picked me up twice so far,’ Conrad said. ‘I suspect third time is unlucky.’ He sprang to his feet and moved over to the window. ‘I can’t see anyone in the square.’ He looked closely at the church, the chestnut tree, the parked cars, the doorways. ‘Of course they might be in one of the flats. Wait a moment, I think there’s someone in that car!’
‘Take it easy. They are probably after someone else.’
‘Believe me, Warren, it’s never a good idea to take it easy these days. Christ, here they come!’
Two Mercedes drove rapidly into the square and stopped outside Conrad’s building. Several men got out, including a large figure Conrad recognized. The door of the car Conrad had spotted opened and the watcher hurried over to the group.
Conrad thought rapidly. He only had a minute at most before the Gestapo reached his flat. Hiding there was impossible. He could try hammering on the door of another occupant of the building, but the Gestapo would be sure to search the whole building if they didn’t find him in his own flat. The only way out was the back window, which overlooked a small courtyard. The Gestapo probably didn’t have a man in there. Yet.
‘Look, Warren. When they come in, say that I left the flat a couple of minutes ago to buy some cigarettes. They’ll think I’m hiding out somewhere else in the building.’ He moved over to the rear-facing window and opened it. ‘Shut this behind me, will you?’
‘Sure,’ said Warren, still bemused.
‘And Warren?’
‘Yes?’
‘You’re welcome to stay here for the next few days. In fact I’d appreciate it if you looked after the place. I might be gone for a while.’
With that he clambered out of the window. Outside was a small ornamental iron balcony, no more than six inches deep, and scarcely wider than the window itself. There was nowhere to crouch out of sight; he would have to move on, and move on fast.
Conrad had spent a few summers in his teens climbing in the Alps with his elder brother, Edward. He was agile and strong and had no fear of heights. But the wall of the building was smooth, the balcony was four floors up and there was nowhere to go. Except perhaps the next balcony along. It would require a leap and a stretch, and then, most importantly, the strength to grab the railings and hang on. Conrad thought he could leap the distance, but wasn’t sure he had the strength of grip required. Also the gaps between the bars of the next balcony were quite narrow. He would have to judge it perfectly. There was a chance, a good chance, that he would fall.
He considered the odds. He had wriggled out of Gestapo interrogations twice in the past, couldn’t he do it again? On balance, he thought it highly unlikely. Schalke wasn’t here to play games with him. He was here to kill him, Conrad was sure of it.
So he jumped.
Arms outstretched, his fingers slipped through the gap in the bars and wrapped around the iron. As his body swung under the balcony, its weight tore at his wrists and hands, and his grip almost broke. But it held. It required all the strength in his forearms to heave himself up on to the balcony. He heard a short scream from within, and through the window recognized one of his neighbours, a woman in her thirties whose husband put on a brown uniform on Sundays. Not the kind of neighbour to hide him from the Gestapo. In fact, as soon as they knocked on her door they would know where he was.
He moved fast. Another balcony. And another. His wrists and forearms were on fire. He wasn’t sure whether he had the strength for many more. Fortunately a drainpipe ran down the wall right beside the next balcony. He jumped and his grip held. The drainpipe looked easy to climb, either up or down. Down below was the courtyard with no direct opening out on to the street. The Gestapo would be out there any moment. Up was the roof.
Conrad shinned upwards.
He came to the eaves when he heard a window opening below. He swung himself up on to the tiles. Keeping to the reverse slope of the roof away from the street, he stumbled along for thirty or forty yards until he came to a corner. Another twenty yards, and he slid over the gable of the roof on to the slope facing the street, a small road leading off the square. He could see no Gestapo below, but he could hear the sound of tiles slipping off behind him. They were on the roof.
He searched for a likely drainpipe, but couldn’t immediately see one. But there was a plane tree whose branches reached almost to the eaves. Another leap, another scramble and he was hanging from a branch. It seemed to take forever to get down the tree. Any moment the Gestapo might crawl over the gable of the roof and spot him. He jumped the last eight feet on to the pavement, and then ran as silently as he could along the narrow street.
He turned into Bülowstrasse, a larger thoroughfare, and slowed to a rapid walk. A running man was just too conspicuous, but a walking man was too slow. He was debating what to do when a tram swished past him and then ground to a halt at a stop not far ahead. He hopped on just as the doors were closing. Through the window he glimpsed the Gestapo men spilling out on to the street, and swiftly found a seat on the opposite side, away from the pavement, where they wouldn’t be able to see him. He took the tram all the way up to the Kurfürstendamm and then changed on to a bus heading east towards Hohenzollernstrasse.
He needed Theo’s help.
Ten minutes later he was in Theo’s flat, glass of whisky in hand, recounting the story of his escape. Theo listened closely.
‘Stay here tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ll speak to Canaris tomorrow, I’m sure he can sort this out. I can’t believe the Gestapo would arrest someone they know is one of our agents.’
‘That seems to be what they are trying to do,’ said Conrad. ‘Perhaps Schalke is acting on his own initiative.’
‘If he is, he’ll be in big trouble,’ Theo said. ‘That�
�s not a wise thing to do in this country. More whisky?’
He poured out two more glasses of Scotch from a decanter. They were still speculating on what the Gestapo were up to when the doorbell rang. Theo raised his eyebrows, found his belt and buckled it on. With his pistol at his hip, he went downstairs to where the door to his flat opened out on to the street.
There was Schalke with three men behind him. ‘Lieutenant von Hertenberg, please let us in,’ said Schalke.
Theo stood up straight. ‘Why?’
‘We are searching for a British spy. A friend of yours.’
‘A friend of mine? I don’t know any British spy.’
‘Conrad de Lancey.’
‘You are correct, Herr de Lancey is a friend of mine. And, as you know, he is doing some confidential work for the Abwehr.’
‘Spying on the Gestapo?’
‘What do you mean?’ said Theo.
‘We have evidence that de Lancey has been spying against senior members of the Gestapo.’
‘Ridiculous,’ said Theo.
‘We went to his flat and he evaded arrest half an hour ago. We think it is possible that he is here.’
‘Well, he isn’t.’
‘Let’s see,’ said Schalke and raised a hand to push Theo out of the way.
In an instant Theo had pushed him back into the street and drawn his pistol. ‘How dare you try to force your way into my home!’ Theo screamed. ‘I give you my word as a German officer that de Lancey is not in here, and that should be enough. I know what this is all about, you ignorant pig!’ Spittle was flying from his lips now and his face was going red, the scar on his jaw showing up a livid white. ‘You are jealous of him because he became friendly with your Jewish girlfriend.’ Schalke stiffened at the word ‘Jewish’. ‘The problem with swine like you is that you think with your dick, not with your brains.’ Theo’s eyes were bulging, and Schalke took two steps back. ‘I will permit you to enter my flat if, and only if, I receive a direct order from Admiral Canaris requiring me too. Until then, piss off, the lot of you!’
Tall as Theo was, Schalke was two centimetres taller, yet he was intimidated by the pistol and by the fury. For a moment he looked as if he would stand and argue, then he turned on his heel and, with a quick order to his henchmen, he got into the car and drove slowly off.
‘Whew,’ said Theo when he returned to Conrad in the flat. ‘That certainly got the circulation going.’
‘Very impressive,’ said Conrad. ‘Your face is still red, you know.’
‘It’s the Prussian breeding,’ said Theo. ‘Von Hertenbergs have been screaming at ignorant dogs like that for centuries.’
‘Well, I’m glad they took your word as a German officer.’
Theo smiled. ‘Don’t tell Father.’
‘Did they leave?’
‘Just around the corner. You can be sure they will be watching this place like hawks.’ Theo corrected himself. ‘Or like cats around a mouse hole.’
‘Did he say why they are after me?’ Conrad asked.
‘Yes. Something about you spying on senior Gestapo officers. Do you know what that is about?’
‘No,’ said Conrad. ‘No idea.’
‘Are you sure?’ Theo looked at his friend closely. ‘No secret mission for our friend Foley?’
‘No,’ said Conrad. ‘And please don’t scream at me.’
Theo smiled. ‘All right, I won’t. It could cause a problem, though. If the Gestapo have a convincing story about you spying on them, it will be difficult for Canaris to stand up for you without provoking a showdown with Heydrich. Which is something he will wish to avoid, at least for the next few weeks until things are resolved one way or the other.’
‘So what do I do?’ said Conrad.
‘Let me think.’
Four hours later, at about midnight, a tall upright figure in the uniform of a lieutenant of the Wehrmacht, cap pulled down over his eyes and carrying a small case, left Theo’s flat, strode smartly over to his car, started it up, and pulled off. A minute later four Gestapo officers, led by Klaus Schalke, broke down the door of Theo’s apartment and rushed in. Barely two minutes after that they were retreating back on to the street, Theo’s invective raining down on them.
Conrad drove the Horch to a street a couple of blocks from the U-Bahn station at Dahlem, an affluent suburb on the Grunewald’s eastern edge. Having parked the car, Conrad pulled out his shirt and trousers from the case and changed out of Theo’s uniform. He locked the case and the uniform in the boot, and after checking to make sure no one was watching, placed the key behind the rear tyre. Then, glancing at the torn square of map he had brought with him, he tramped the leafy streets of Dahlem until three in the morning. There was no one around, no one to see him. Finally he approached a small, white-painted cottage with a thatched roof that backed on to the forest itself, and knocked softly. A short young man came to the door in his pyjamas. He fumbled for his spectacles and scanned the note Conrad had brought him from Theo and let him in.
They were three tourists driving around Berlin looking at the sights: a middle-aged woman at the wheel of the powerful Hispano-Suiza with a young man, just a little too old to be her son, sitting next to her, and a middle-aged gentleman in the back. The young man was Theo, the woman was Elisabeth Strünck, a wealthy friend of Oster’s, and the gentleman in the back seat was General Count Brockdorff-Ahlefeldt, the commander of the 23rd Division based at Potsdam and General von Witzleben’s right-hand man. They had driven slowly up and down Wilhelmstrasse, past the Reich Chancellery, Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse and Göring’s Air Ministry, and were now en route to the SS barracks at Lichterfelde. Theo was busy scribbling his notes as von Brockdorff identified the strengths and weaknesses of each building – points which were vulnerable to attack, escape routes that needed to be cut off, estimates of how many men would be required to capture and hold it.
Theo had almost cancelled the outing. The Gestapo’s sudden interest in Conrad had disrupted things. The morning after Conrad had slipped through the Gestapo’s net, Theo had spoken to Canaris, who in turn had spoken to Heydrich. Heydrich had told Canaris about the rumours of a German politician reaching London, and also that the Gestapo had evidence that Conrad had been seen in Halle spying on them. The admiral decided it was time for the Abwehr to drop its support for Conrad, at least in the eyes of the Gestapo. To Heydrich he had sounded troubled and promised to try to find out what Conrad had been up to and where he was now. And he told Theo to make sure that Conrad laid low and stayed out of the way.
All the agitation meant that Theo was now under Gestapo surveillance. He had shaken off his tail by going for a ride in the Tiergarten with a friend in the early morning, galloping to the other side of the park and leaving his horse at a stables there. The Gestapo had not yet perfected a technique for surveillance on horseback. Theo had then taken the U-Bahn, and met General von Brockdorff at Yorckstrasse station, where Frau Strünck had picked them both up in her car.
After a hesitant start, plans for the coup were coming together well. Oster was coordinating everything, with Theo supporting him from below and Canaris from above. Halder was still committed to leading the coup, and Beck was helping in the background. Generals von Witzleben and von Brockdorff would deliver the army units around Berlin, and General Hoepner’s First Light Division, based in Thuringia, was prepared to cut off the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler Division should it march on Berlin from its position on the Czech border.
The plotters had kept the circle of officers who knew the specifics of their plans to a minimum, but they had a list of those generals, like General Adam on the West Wall, on whom they could count. Theo had drafted detailed orders to be sent out as soon as the coup was launched to the leader of each military district, specifying which buildings were to be secured and who was to be arrested. They wouldn’t know how many of the generals would obey these orders until the day of the coup itself, but Oster was optimistic that it would be most of them.
Even the
consciences of the conspirators had been taken care of. General Beck had arranged for a number of them to visit the canon of St Hedwig’s Cathedral, Father Bernhard Lichtenberg, a persistent critic of the Nazis’ treatment of the Jews. The deeply Protestant officers listened to the Catholic as he justified the oath-breaking and even assassination that they were contemplating. For men whose primary motivation was a sense of duty, it was an important preparation.
Politicians, police, army, lawyers, civil servants: they were all ready.
Because of Halder’s insistence that they should wait until the country was on the brink of war, the timing of the coup was entirely in the hands of Hitler. The conspirators judged that the most likely date was 14 September, only three days away. The Nuremberg Party rally was in progress, and Hitler was due to make the closing speech on 12 September. There was a good chance that he would use the opportunity to provoke war with Czechoslovakia. Göring had already ranted about a ‘miserable pygmy race without culture’ that was ‘oppressing a cultured people’ with ‘Moscow and the eternal mask of the Jew devil’ behind it. If Hitler decided to act, the conspirators had to be ready to move as soon as he returned to Berlin and ordered the commencement of Case Green.
The sightseers spent a whole day on their tour, visiting all the principal strongpoints that would have to be seized. By the time they had finished, Theo and von Brockdorff had a clear idea of what needed to be done. They were optimistic: it would require more troops than they had initially estimated, but with the tacit support of the police, control of Berlin could be theirs.
Confident that he had no Gestapo tail, Theo went on to Dahlem to see Conrad and the people he had sent him to without warning. The house belonged to an old friend of his from Prussia, Hans-Jürgen von Wedemeyer, and his Swedish wife Elsa. Hans-Jürgen was a lawyer and Elsa was seven months pregnant. Theo had some explaining to do.
Hans-Jürgen greeted Theo at the door. ‘Your friend’s upstairs, in the attic.’
Traitor's Gate Page 28
