‘All right. Since that does not seem to make sense there must be some other explanation. Perhaps you have been misinformed. Yes; that must be it. Police forces are not infallible. I suggest that we postpone this discussion for twenty-four hours while you have fresh enquiries made. I’ll bet you a hundred pengos the result will be that there is no one calling himself Etienne Tavenier living at Razac after all.’
‘Then you would lose your bet.’ Cochefert’s vulture head nodded and his yellowish teeth showed in a cynical smile. ‘I will tell you now how we know the truth. My first enquiry was only our normal check up with Vichy on all Frenchmen arriving in this country. Vichy reported back that the name Etienne Tavenier was not on the list of those to whom passports had been issued this year, but that there was a retired Commandant of that name. The real Commandant Tavenier was sought out and interviewed. It is true that he returned to France last March with the British when they made their raid on St. Nazaire. He was not only shot and severely wounded but afterwards thrown into the dock by a German corporal; so it is not at all surprising that anyone who witnessed the incident should have reported him as among the killed. But he was hauled out while still alive and put into hospital where he remained for two months. When discharged he was crippled for life; so, although a de Gaullist, instead of being interned he was allowed, on compassionate grounds, to go to his home.’
After pausing for a moment, Cochefert went on. ‘So, you see, I was only amusing myself when I let you produce that poor hare about a cousin of the same name. It is useless for you to flounder like a fish in a net any more. Whatever game you have been playing it is finished now; and, no doubt, after a little persuasion you will tell us all about it.’
The game of bluff was so clearly up that Gregory only shrugged and asked, ‘What do you intend to do with me?’
‘To enter any country on a false passport is an offence. Under Hungarian law you are liable to a term of imprisonment, then to deportation. But for the duration of the war we have somewhat different arrangements. The Hungarian State Police have the right to detain you indefinitely but should they have no particular grounds for doing so they will, on an application for your extradition, hand you over to me. I shall then send you under escort to France, and my colleagues there will extract from you any information you may possess which would help us to defeat those who, by continuing to oppose Herr Hitler, are preventing the restoration of World Peace.’
Gregory knew that there was little to choose between the uniformed thugs whose reign of terror kept the Pétain government in power and the Gestapo. They had no more scruples than the Nazis about torturing the leaders of resistance groups, or agents of the Allies parachuted into France—including women—who had the ill-luck to fall into their hands. He was terribly tempted to tell Cochefert just what he thought of the senile old Marshal and the gang of unscrupulous politicians with which he surrounded himself.
But this was no time to air his true feelings. Russia was being hammered to pieces. If she broke it might take twenty years of war before Europe could be liberated—just as it had in Napoleon’s day. And he, Gregory, held the threads of a move that would hamstring the German advance into the Caucasus, put Hitler in the devil’s own mess, and bring his defeat very much nearer. The fact that the real Commandant Tavenier had had the good luck to survive the St. Nazaire raid now threatened to render any chance of that move abortive. For Gregory to pretend any longer that he was the Commandant was obviously futile; yet an issue of enormous consequence hung upon his keeping his freedom.
Even had he still had his gun and succeeded in shooting his way out that, as he realised more fully now, would have been no real solution; for, as a fugitive, it would be next to impossible for him to complete his mission.
There was only one chance left to him. He still had a last card up his sleeve, and he must play it. It could prove an ace, but might well be regarded as just as phony as his passport was now known to be. If so, there could be no escape from being marched off to prison and turned over as a de Gaullist agent to the tender mercies of the Vichy secret police. In any case, he was most reluctant to produce this fraudulent trump because it would tie him up with the Gestapo and, even should Cochefert accept it at its face value, unless he could get out of Hungary quickly it might have most disastrous repercussions. But there it was. It was that or the absolute certainty of being marched off to prison there and then.
He took the plunge artistically. No one hearing him could have suspected for one moment that he regarded the men of Vichy as a bunch of treacherous self-seeking swine. Drawing himself erect he clicked his heels together, bowed sharply from the waist and said to Cochefert with a genial smile:
‘My congratulations, Kerr Hauptmann. I have done my utmost to preserve my incognito; but you have got me in a corner from which I see no escape. Since you supposed me to be an enemy agent, such work is most commendable, and I shall not fail to see that you get a good mark for it in the right quarter.’
Staring at him with a puzzled frown, Cochefert muttered, ‘What the devil are you talking about?’
Gregory had been fingering the left lapel of his jacket. With the one word, ‘This,’ he drew from a secret pocket he had had made under it a small square of cardboard, and laid it on the dressing-table. On a dark night in the previous December he had taken it from a man whom he had first shot twice in the stomach. He had then, for his own good reasons, hacked off with a chopper the man’s right hand and thrown his body into Lake Geneva. It was the card issued by the Geheime Staatspolizei to Obersturmbannführer Fritz Einholtz, and signed Reinhard Heydrich.
For a minute that seemed an age Gregory’s eyes were riveted on Cochefert’s carrion-crow features, striving to assess the movement of every tiny muscle and judge whether he would accept it or declare it, too, to be a fake.
As the Frenchman read the card his eyes widened. When he spoke his voice had lost its cocksure sneering tone. It was lower and held an unmistakably servile note:
‘I had no idea…. The last thing I would wish is to interfere with the operations of the Gestapo.’
Taking the tide of fortune at the flood, Gregory instantly reacted. As though set in motion by the sudden pressing of an electric switch, he stamped hard with his right foot on the wooden floor, jerked his body erect, threw back his head, shot out his right arm at a steep angle and cried:
‘Heil Hitler!’
Taken by surprise, his two visitors hesitated only a second. The Hungarian got swiftly to his feet, then both in chorus responded with the Nazi salute.
‘Now,’ said Gregory, ‘you, Herr Hauptmann, are clearly a man to be trusted; so I propose to take you into my confidence.’ His whole manner had undergone a complete change. He spoke in a sharp official voice, and as a superior who was about to do an inferior a favour. Giving a quick glance towards the Lieutenant, he added in French, ‘But what of our friend here. Can he be relied upon to keep his mouth shut?’
‘Yes, Colonel,’ Cochefert replied in the same language. ‘He is an Arrow-Cross Party member.’
‘Good!’ Gregory reverted to German, and turned to Puttony. ‘Herr Leutnant, I shall also confide in you. All that I say must be regarded as of the highest secrecy. You will report to your superiors that you are fully satisfied about the bona fides of Commandant Tavenier, and not even hint at the work I have been sent to Budapest to do. Is that understood?’
The plump, lethargic looking Lieutenant, who had so far been a silent spectator of the scene, was now standing stiffly to attention and regarding Gregory with the veneration of an athletic-minded schoolboy for a Rugby Blue. Tensing his muscles, he snapped out, ‘Ja, Herr Oberst?
‘Very well, then.’ Gregory took out his cigarette case and, without offering it to either of the others, lit a cigarette. He then perched himself on the arm of the easy chair that Cochefert had been occupying and went on:
‘Reports have reached the Führer that certain elements in Hungary are not putting their full weight behind the
war effort. This applies particularly to the magnates. Many are still leading lives of luxury and pleasure highly discreditable to them at a time when the whole German people are making the utmost sacrifices to achieve victory. Allies should share their burdens. In Germany thousands are being rendered homeless by the bombing of our cities and the people submit cheerfully to strict rationing, while here, in Hungary, it is as though a state of war hardly existed. That is very wrong. But I should make it clear that we do not blame the Hungarian people. It is only natural that they should continue to enjoy the good things of life as long as they are encouraged to do so by the example of the nobility. It is those who set this example who must be disciplined; and I have been instructed to list the worst offenders so that the Führer can insist that the Regent should take action against them.’
Gregory paused for a moment, then went on. ‘But there is a still more serious matter. It is reported that some of the senior officers in the Hungarian Army are adopting a most reprehensible attitude. One cannot say they are defeatist. To do so would be absurd when it has been obvious to everybody from the beginning that the Führer will triumph over all his enemies. But they are putting obstacles in the way of sending further divisions to the Russian front. They are deliberately conserving Hungarian man-power at the expense of Germany. They do their best to arrange that the spoils Hungary will claim after our victory shall have been paid for in German blood. Worse, much worse, it is even said that some of them question the wisdom of Germany having gone to war with the Soviets, and speak slightingly of our glorious Führer.’
Cochefert and Puttony both shook their heads and made murmurs which could be taken as expressing amazement and horror at such blasphemy. Having given time for this little demonstration of loyalty, Gregory continued.
‘Such men are traitors. They must be identified and routed out. I have come here for that purpose. Naturally they would not be quite such fools as to air their subversive views in front of a German; but it was thought that they might do so before a Frenchman, particularly if that Frenchman pretended to get drunk at some of their parties and showed himself to be at heart a de Gaullist.
‘A fortnight ago I was summoned by Herr Himmler to his Headquarters in the Albrecht Strasse and charged with this mission. The appropriate department then provided me with the identity of Commandant Tavenier. They thought it important that I should be able to talk as though I had been evacuated from Dunkirk and had imbibed the British point of view while in London. We have good contacts in the Free French Headquarters there, who had reported Tavenier as having been killed at St. Nazaire; so his identity seemed very suitable. In failing to check with Vichy, which would have disclosed the fact that Tavenier was still alive, the Albrecht Strasse slipped up badly. Had I been in an enemy country it could have cost me my life. I am fortunate to have been found out only by collaborators. No harm is done; but you will both appreciate my reluctance to admit that I was not Tavenier. If that got out it would completely ruin my mission.’
‘Of course, Colonel. You may rely on us.’ Cochefert gave a quick bow. ‘It may even prove that we can be of some assistance to you.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Puttony added quickly. ‘If you want a watch kept on certain people, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Apart from being an officer in the Security Police I am also the commander of an Arrow-Cross Youth Section; and my lads will do just as I tell them without asking questions.’
Standing up, Gregory replied, ‘I thank you both. Should an occasion arise when I need the help of either of you, I will certainly avail myself of it. Now, let us go downstairs and, without ostentation, drink a baratsch to the health of our glorious Führer.’
Taking their agreement for granted, he strode towards the door. But just inside it he turned suddenly and said to Puttony, ‘By the by, you still have my pistol.’ With a murmured apology, the Lieutenant handed it over. Hiding a smile, Gregory pocketed it and, with the arrogance in keeping with his new rôle, marched on, leaving his ‘collaborators’ to tag along behind him.
Down in the courtyard, at a small table across which the leafy branches above now cast long shadows, he became genial and talkative, while maintaining the sort of condescending charm suited to a lordly representative of the Herrenvolk who wished to make himself pleasant.
Over the drinks he learnt that he had got nearer to the mark than he knew when inventing a mission for Himmler to give him. Puttony disclosed that the Hungarian Nazis were worried and angry because their country was not pulling its weight in the war. They had already made representations to the Führer about it, with the recommendation that he should summon Regent Horthy to Berchtesgaden and insist on his purging both his Cabinet and Government offices of their lukewarm elements.
Gregory guessed that the move was an attempt by the Arrow-Cross leaders to secure a number of the key jobs for themselves, with the hope that this would later enable them to get control of the country. But he thought it unlikely that it would come off. Whatever the Regent might be bullied into promising, the magnates were too firmly entrenched and the Hungarian Nazis still too few and lacking in influence for it to come to anything in practice. Nevertheless he regarded the information as a windfall, since it would make an excellent lever for exerting pressure on the Committee appointed to discuss terms with the Allies.
As soon as his visitors had gone he took stock of his situation. Upstairs in his room he had had to skate on the thinnest possible ice, and there had been several nasty moments when he had thought that nothing could save him from going through it. Even Einholtz’s Gestapo card had been a doubtful asset as, although it was genuine after all that had gone before, and the fact that Heydrich had now been dead for three months, he had half expected it to be declared a forgery, or Cochefert to accuse him of stealing it. That it had instantly been accepted at its face value had saved his bacon. But, all the same, he was far from happy at having had to produce it.
On the credit side, doing so had completely cleared him in Cochefert’s eyes, and Puttony could now be counted on to stall off tactfully any unwelcome interest that the State Security Police might begin to take in his activities. In addition, with the subtlety and swiftness which made him such a brilliant secret agent, he had improvised a reason for his imaginary orders from Himmler which would give him better cover for his own mission. Not only was he now free of any necessity to implement his old cover by calling on several foie-gras merchants, but he could hob-nob with the Hungarian aristocracy as often as he pleased without it being thought strange that a truffle farmer should do so.
But on the debit side Cochefert and Puttony now both believed him to be a fairly senior official of the Gestapo and that might prove his complete undoing. It was a sure thing that the Gestapo would have Liaison Officers in Budapest with their own headquarters, and that the normal drill would have been for him to report there on his arrival. Should Puttony, after all, prove indiscreet and a mention of ‘Commandant Tavenier’s’ mission reach the ears of one of those Liaison Officers, the fat would be in the fire with a vengeance. The thought of such a possibility quite spoilt Gregory’s dinner.
He was uncomfortably aware that his only really safe course was to leave Budapest next morning but, now that his mission showed such promise of developing from a tentative reconnaissance into a concrete hope of bringing Hungary over to the Allies in the comparatively near future, he felt that he could not possibly throw his hand in prematurely. He knew that opportunity did not often knock twice on the same door, and that some hazard of war might soon change the outlook of the Hungarian nobles. He had them well warmed up now, so must remain in Budapest until they had completed their ‘Heads of Agreement’ for him to take back to London. Then the Foreign Office would have the chance to strike while the iron was hot.
He endeavoured to comfort himself with the thought that Puttony must have had security training; so it was really very long odds against his gossiping. Anyhow, it was a risk that must be taken, and the only way to minimise it was to urge
the Committee to complete their deliberations as swiftly as possible.
The Committee met the following afternoon in a small private room at the Nobles Club. Count Zsigmond Szegényház, a tall thin man with the delicate features of a dilettante intellectual, was the second oldest member of it. He was also the head of a department in the Hungarian Foreign Office; so obviously the best choice for Chairman, and he was duly elected. After the preliminary of drafting their own ‘Terms of Reference’ had been completed, Gregory asked leave to speak and addressed the Committee at some length on the question of Security.
He pointed out that while the work the Committee was engaged upon was inspired by the highest patriotism it could be classed as treason, and that if its activities came to the ears of pro-Germans in the State Security Police the Government would be compelled to take notice of it. Should that happen, however anxious the Regent might be to protect friends and relations of his who were involved, Hitler would be certain to demand that drastic steps should be taken against them. Therefore, if for no other reason than to save the Regent from grave embarrassment, it was only right that they should take all possible precautions to keep their proceedings secret.
The sound sense of this was admitted and as a move in the right direction it was agreed that, instead of future meetings being held at the Club, they should take place at the home of each member in turn.
Gregory then went on to give an account of his narrow escape from arrest the preceding evening, and ended by repeating Lieutenant Puttony’s statement to the effect that the leaders of the Arrow-Cross Party had recently made representations to Hitler that he should summon the Regent to Berchtesgaden and insist that Hungarian affairs should be brought more into line with Nazi interests.
Count Zsigmond nodded. ‘What he said is true. But the Regent has consistently refused to kowtow to Hitler, and I am glad to say that he has refused to go to Berchtesgaden. However, the Germans’ case for Hungary’s bearing a greater share of the war-burden could not be ignored; so it has been agreed that Ribbentrop should come here for discussions. He is due to arrive early next week.’
Traitors' Gate Page 12
