Jubilee- Spies and Raiders

by Conor Bender

  ​Cutter thanked him and started to move the car forward. When they were past the checkpoint he looked at Talia. She stared back at him in silence and they both erupted in laughter.

  ​“You’re a dangerous woman.”

  ​“Indeed I am.”

  ​Cutter smiled. It felt as though the tension between them had relaxed. Her laughter excited him and calmed his nerves. They drove down to the harbor and found a place to park.

  ​“Where do you want to go?”

  ​Cutter looked around and spotted a small cafe along the harbor walk. “We’re in no rush. Let’s go and sit down for a while at that cafe.”

  ​They casually strolled over, taking their time and peeking into shop windows as they walked. Cutter made a handful of mental notes, observing how busy the street was and how many soldiers he had spotted. They walked over to one of the cafe’s outdoor tables and sat down.

  ​A waiter approached and asked what they wanted. “Two coffees please.” The waiter bobbed his head and walked back inside.

  ​Cutter looked around the street casually, a look of general disinterest etched on his face. Talia leaned back in her chair and stretched. A playful smile ran across her face as she enjoyed the sunshine. Cutter couldn’t help but notice the buttons on her blouse were straining as she stretched.

  ​“Are you still cross with me?”

  ​Talia’s smile curled into a smirk. She wanted to believe Olivier, but she was still hesitant. The pain was still fresh from how he had treated her the morning after they had made love. “I’m warming up to you, but I think I’ll hold on to the pistol for a while.”

  ​“I believe that’s the default position for any romantic relationship.”

  ​Talia cocked an eyebrow, but let his remark go unchallenged. “I haven't been to Dieppe in ages.” She looked around. “Whenever I came from Paris with my family, we always stayed in the village.”

  ​“You never talk about Paris.”

  ​“It’s hard to talk or think about with so many horrible things happening there.”

  ​Cutter nodded and decided now wasn’t the time to pry.

  ​“What was it like when you were there?”

  ​Cutter shrugged but didn’t say anything. Sitting at the cafe brought back vivid memories of Paris. Of times when he would sit along the Seine with Victor and his wife and daughter just enjoying the evening, taking a respite from their daily duties of building a circuit in Paris and tailing Nazi bureaucrats. The waiter arrived with their coffees and quickly departed to tend to three German officers who had just sat down at one of the tables outside.

  ​Cutter shot a quick look at the three officers and was relieved that he didn’t recognize any of them. Two were majors in the army, but the third was a lieutenant colonel in the SS.

  ​“Don’t look, but over your right shoulder are three senior officers.” Cutter brought the coffee cup to his lips, maintaining a look of disinterest. “One of them is an SS lieutenant colonel.”

  ​“Does he have a scar above his lip?”

  ​Cutter waited a moment and casually looked toward the three German officers, as if waiting to get the waiter’s attention. It was difficult to see since they were on the opposite side of the cafe, but he could make out a disfigurement. “Yes, he does.”

  ​“That is Obersturmbannführer Weber. He is in charge of the SS detachment in the city.”

  ​“How come I’ve never heard about him before?”

  ​“He arrived a few weeks ago. Rumor is that he came from Casablanca.”

  ​Cutter nodded and darted a glance back over to the German officers. As he did so, a tall gentleman in a dark suit and black leather trench coat walked up to the Germans’ table. “Someone else just walked up to the table. Gestapo, if I had to guess.”

  ​“We haven’t been able to identify any Gestapo agents.”

  ​Cutter watched the four Germans with his peripheral vision, never directly looking at them. He couldn’t hear them, and could only guess at what they were discussing. He watched their body language surreptitiously. The three officers treated the man in the trench coat with deference. If he wasn’t Gestapo, what else could he be? There weren’t any administrative positions in Dieppe that were being run by any German bureaucrats. He had to be Gestapo. Cutter chewed his lip, his mind buzzing.

  ​“We should continue to drive around the city.” He pulled a few francs out of his pocket and paid their bill. He helped Talia out of her chair and they made their way back to the car, passing the Germans as they did so.

  ​They walked in silence until they got into the car. “Obersturmbannführer Weber has been aggressively ramping up searches for the Resistance. He was the one who recruited Amsel,” Talia said as Cutter opened the car door for her.

  ​“Who were the two majors?”

  ​“They are the commanders of the two garrisons that patrol Dieppe and the surrounding area.”

  ​“Do they always meet like that? Out in the open, exposed?”

  ​“That is the first time I have ever seen them do that.”

  ​Cutter grunted. Perhaps there was a possibility to assassinate the three of them and that Gestapo agent. “Did you recognize the man in the suit?”

  ​Talia shook her head. “If I had to guess, he most likely is from Cherbourg. Claude has been getting occasional word from contacts there that the Gestapo has set up their Normandy headquarters in Cherbourg as well as Caen.” She stole a final glance over at the four Germans. Their behavior was so cavalier. They’re overconfident after killing three cells and seizing those caches. Talia looked over at Olivier. He didn’t look panicked about it. It surprised her. She half expected him to be frantically looking for an escape, but the look on his face was similar to a hunter eyeing game. His calm reassured her. Maybe he has changed.

  ​“We need to talk to Claude about this.” Cutter started the car. “I also need to get on the hook with London.” Cutter shot one final glance at the four Germans at the cafe as they turned down a street. An aggressive SS commander and Gestapo agent bent on flushing out Resistance fighters did not bode well for Talia, Claude, Durand, and him; but for some reason, Cutter’s instincts told him that there was an opportunity in front of him. He hadn’t been eager to kill Amsel because he interacted with Resistance members every day and didn’t know it. There was a small logical list of suspects that the Gestapo would rope up from Quiberville if that happened. It was another story to kill the SS commander or senior Gestapo agent. They were big enough targets that the list of suspects would be a mile long.

  CHAPTER 13

  POLITICAL ANIMALS

  ​Hambro chewed his lip as he reviewed the latest report from Cutter. He leaned forward at his desk and set the report down, turned in his swivel chair, and looked at the array of maps that sat behind his desk. As he did so, a knock came on his door.

  ​“Enter.”

  ​The door opened and Atkinson walked in. “Good morning, sir. I’m going to be attending a meeting with General Montgomery and the raid commanders this morning. Anything you’d like me to pass?”

  ​“Have you seen this?” Hambro motioned to the report.

  ​Freddy frowned and picked it up. “Must’ve come in after I left for the night.” He scanned the report and his eyes widened. “Gestapo? In Dieppe?”

  ​“Out of the frying pan and into the fire. How long till the raid?”

  ​“A few weeks. Has he been made?”

  ​“I don’t know.”

  ​“I hate to point this out, but he knows about the raid, sir.”

  ​Hambro took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know, dammit.”

  ​“We need to extract him.”

  ​“No, it’s too risky. If we pull him, our information network will crumble. There’s too much riding on this raid, and it’s already on shaky legs with Mountbatten planning it.”

  ​“So do nothing?”

  ​“For now, yes. We’ve suspected the Gestapo wer
e in Dieppe for a time. All this means is that it’s been confirmed. Go to your meeting. We’ll talk more later.” Hambro perched his glasses back on his nose and waved Atkinson away.

  ​“Very good, sir. I’ll let you know if the general has anything to pass.”

  ​“Good man,” Hambro said as Freddy closed the door. He waited a moment to ensure Atkinson was gone before he picked up the phone. “Hello, dispatch? Yes, I have an urgent message that needs to be sent for code name Willow. It shall read as follows: Upon risk of capture, Cartographer is to be executed immediately. Did you get that?” Hambro didn’t wait for an answer and hung up, furious with himself.

  ***

  ​“Are you sure it was the Gestapo?” Durand looked at Talia and Cutter in disbelief.

  ​Cutter’s arms shot up in a shrug of feigned ignorance. “I suppose we can’t be too sure. He didn’t have a swastika on his arm and he lacked a toothbrush mustache.”

  ​Durand shot Cutter an annoyed look. “This isn’t funny, Olivier.”

  ​“No, it’s not.” Cutter and Talia stood across the table from Claude and Durand in the basement of a cottage between Quiberville and Varengeville-sur-Mer. The owner of the cottage, a cattle farmer, and his two boys were keeping watch as they met.

  ​Claude paced the length of the table impatiently, his hands clasped behind his back and his caterpillar eyebrows furrowed into a unibrow. “I’m sorry, but that is not enough to incriminate a man as a member of the Gestapo.”

  ​Cutter stared at the two of them in disbelief. His mind jumped to the memory of the Dieppe cell that had gone quiet prior to his return to London. “The Dieppe cells that we’ve lost, did we find out what happened?”

  ​Durand and Claude exchanged looks but said nothing.

  ​“What happened?”

  ​“We found two of them,” Claude said somberly. “Their bodies were found in a ditch naked and badly beaten. They each had a few fingers missing and a number of burns on their bodies.”

  ​“Damn.”

  ​They were quiet for a moment. Cutter looked at Claude and Durand. “You have a Resistance cell dead, a new Waffen-SS commander aggressively searching for you, and a meeting between him, the two garrison commanders, and an anonymous civilian. The circumstantial evidence is there. He’s Gestapo.”

  ​“Olivier is right,” Talia spoke up.

  ​Cutter looked at her, surprised that she was agreeing with him.

  ​“Why do you say that?” Claude stopped pacing and leaned forward, resting his hands on the table.

  ​“Obersturmbannführer Weber and the two majors greeted the man as though he were a superior. He may be Gestapo, he may not be, but he is most certainly a German authority, which makes him a target for us.”

  ​Claude grunted and exchanged a look with Durand. “I don’t know. It’s too risky.”

  ​Cutter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could they be this recalcitrant? They’re scared. Cutter stared at Claude and Durand in surprise. Both were dragging their feet because they were worried about the fallout from killing such an important target.

  ​“This is a bad idea.”

  ​Cutter shot Durand a look of annoyance. “And why is that?”

  ​“You’re about to tell us that you want us to shadow this man and plan to assassinate him. As soon as we do that we will have kicked the hornet’s nest again. Every German in Normandy will descend on Dieppe and the surrounding area. That will bring us under a microscope and they will pick us apart.”

  ​Cutter chewed his lip in frustration; Durand had a point. The moment they killed a Gestapo agent, let alone the commanders of the garrison, the Resistance cells in the area would be unable to operate due to how aggressively the Germans would be searching for them. But the opportunity to take out not only an SS commander but a senior Gestapo agent was too good to pass up.

  ​Claude pushed off the table and stood upright, his hands open in a diplomatic way. “Perhaps we should hold off on acting on this information until an opportunity presents itself.”

  ​Cutter grudgingly nodded his head in agreement. He couldn’t force them to do something they didn’t want to. He was only there to advise and he didn’t want to push them too far in a direction they would resent him for being placed in.

  ​“In the meantime, we were able to get you the information you wanted.” Claude handed Cutter a scrap of paper. Durand pulled a map out of his breast pocket and placed it on the table. “We estimate around twelve hundred soldiers inside of Dieppe.” Claude pointed to Dieppe on the map. “There are an additional six thousand soldiers in the surrounding area acting as an occupying force.”

  ​“What unit?”

  ​“The 302nd Static Infantry Division, a German home guard that was sent to oversee the coastal defense. Most are conscripts. Not the most professional.”

  ​“Neither are we.” Cutter smirked, not bothering to look up from the map to see Durand’s annoyed reaction. “Armor?”

  ​“Tenth Panzer Division. They operate further inland.” Claude pointed south of Dieppe.

  ​“I haven’t seen any tanks the whole time I’ve been here.” Cutter looked up from the map in surprise.

  ​“They avoid the coast unless ordered. They try to stay near heavily forested areas and locations where they can hide from your aircraft.”

  ​Cutter nodded. Getting an accurate number of German tanks in Normandy was a region-wide problem for the SOE and the RAF. “Artillery?”

  ​“We’ve counted four batteries. One between us and Dieppe near Varengeville, and another three on the east side of the city.”

  ​Cutter looked at the map and Claude’s notes. “What’s the expected time for the division to reinforce the city?”

  ​Durand gave a low whistle and exchanged looks with Claude, who shrugged. “Tough to say. Maybe fifteen hours to be fully reinforced. I’d say two hours before Nazi tanks showed up.”

  ​Cutter didn’t bother to ask about the Luftwaffe. He knew that a whole wing could be airborne and over Dieppe within an hour of being informed of the attack. He stared down at the map. A little over a thousand men in Dieppe and four artillery batteries established along the coast. That was just what they knew; it wasn’t enough, but he couldn’t risk having the Resistance dig anymore and being discovered. “It’s a good start. We need to keep on the lookout for minefields, troop movements, that sort of thing.”

  ​Claude and Durand nodded.

  ​Cutter put Claude’s notes in his pocket. As he did so, an idea came to mind. “I think I just figured out how to deal with this Gestapo agent. Can we find out where he works, where he sleeps, what patterns he shows?”

  ​Talia gave him a puzzled look. “What do you have in mind?”

  ​“I’d rather not say just yet. Just get me that information, sooner rather than later, please.”

  ​Claude hesitated but gave a slight nod. “We can do that, but nothing more.” He looked around the room to see if there was anything else. “If that’s everything, I received this message the other night and feel you should know about it.” He pulled another piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Cutter.

  ​Cutter looked at it suspiciously and read it.

  Upon risk of capture, Cartographer is to be executed immediately.

  ​Cutter shook his head in annoyance and crumpled the message up. He knew the message was from Hambro. The cold calculations of ensuring operational security wasn’t something Freddy was fond of or willing to speak plainly about. Cutter had to give Hambro credit, he got to the point of things.

  ​“Thanks, boss.” Cutter lit a match and touched it to the paper, igniting it.

  ​“What did it say?”

  ​Cutter was quiet a moment. “It says kill me if I risk being captured.”

  ​The room went quiet, no one entirely sure what to say.

  ​“I’ll do it myself, don’t worry.”

  ​Talia studied Olivier for a long moment, the stalwart look on his
face betraying nothing. “How can your leadership order that?”

  ​“It’s the way of war. Let’s not dwell on it,” Cutter said softly. He looked up at Claude. “Thank you for giving me that. I expect to hear from you in two days and I want to know where the Gestapo agent works.”

  ​Claude nodded. “I’ll have it. I promise.”

  ​“Good, let’s get out of here. We’ve spent too much time here as it is.”

  ***

  ​Faraday sat under his Spitfire inspecting the vertical stabilizer. “The pedals felt a bit sticky.”

  ​Sergeant Roland moved the stabilizer left and right with his hands. He bit his lip in frustration as he assessed the problem. “It could be rust on the cables. I’ll add some lubricant to it as a quick solution. If it gets worse, let me know.”

  ​Faraday nodded and rolled out from underneath his aircraft. As he stood up, he spotted Vance making his way toward him.

  ​“Sir, a courier just arrived with orders.”

  ​Faraday frowned. “Why weren’t they just radioed?”

  ​Vance looked around to ensure no one was around. “They’re from SOE, sir.”

  ​Faraday shot Vance a quizzical look but said nothing, his mind already predicting what the orders said. He started to walk toward his office and Vance fell in step next to him. “Any idea what they want?”

  ​“No idea, sir, but when SOE comes knocking, it’s never good.”

  ​Faraday nodded in agreement. The word “SOE” was not something the RAF looked favorably on when orders originated with them. SOE missions were synonymous with low life expectancy for RAF pilots, and Faraday did his best to shield his pilots from those missions.

  ​“Most likely a low-altitude recce.”

  ​“Can’t say for certain until we see the orders, sir,” Vance said in his usual analytical way.

  ​They walked back over to the office and found a courier straddling a motorcycle, waiting patiently with a dispatch bag.

  ​“Sir, are you Squadron Leader Faraday?” the courier asked as Faraday walked up.