by Alex Gerlis
Vienna Spies
Alex Gerlis
Other books by Alex Gerlis
Novels
The Best of Our Spies
The Swiss Spy
Kindle Singles
The Miracle of Normandy
The author
Alex Gerlis was a BBC journalist for more than 25 years before leaving to concentrate on his writing. In 1994 he helped to produce the BBC coverage from Normandy of the 50th anniversary of D-Day, an event that inspired his first novel, The Best of Our Spies (2012).
His second novel, The Swiss Spy (2015) is also an espionage thriller set in the Second World War and based on real events. The Swiss Spy is a prequel to The Best of Our Spies, with the plot revolving around the German plans to invade the Soviet Union in 1941. Both books have featured prominently in the Amazon bestseller charts and between them have received more than 1,200 Amazon reviews. He is also the author of The Miracle of Normandy, published in 2014 as a non-fiction Kindle Single.
Vienna Spies features a number of characters from The Swiss Spy, notably Major Edgar (who also appears in The Best of Our Spies) and the Soviet agent Viktor Krasotkin.
Alex Gerlis lives in London, is married with two daughters and is represented by Gordon Wise at the Curtis Brown literary agency. Now that his team has finally been promoted back to the Football League, he is happy to admit to being a supporter of Grimsby Town – having first seen them play even before England won the World Cup.
Facebook.com/alexgerlisauthor
Twitter: @alex_gerlis
www.alexgerlis.com
Contents
List of main characters
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Author’s note
List of main characters
Rolf Eder
Austrian, British agent. Alias: Gerd Schuster
Katharina Hoch
German, British agent. Alias: Anna Schuster
Edgar
British intelligence officer
Sir Roland Pearson
Downing Street Intelligence chief
Christopher Porter
Edgar’s boss
Basil Remington-Barber
MI6 agent in Switzerland
George Whitlock
Former head of MI6 in Vienna
Crispin Meredith
MI6 trainer
Fowler
MI5 officer at Pentonville
Neville Ponsonby
MI6 agent in Moscow
Vernon Wanslake
British spy in Vienna
Sister Ursula
Nun and British spy in Vienna
Viktor Krasotkin
Russian spy master. Alias: Otto Schneider
Ilia Brodsky
Krasotkin’s boss
Johann Koplenig
Chairman of the Communist Party of Austria
Irma
Secret communist and friend of Viktor in Vienna
Paul the plumber
Secret communist in Vienna
Frieda Brauner
Rolf Eder’s fiancée and member of Hades resistance cell
Joachim Lang
Member of Hades resistance cell. Codename: Acheron
Ernst Lang
Father of Joachim Lang
Manfred Becker
Member of Hades resistance cell. Codename: Styx
Hans
Schoolboy, member of Hades resistance cell
Ján Kuchár
Skipper of Slovak coal barge
Alois
Member of Hades resistance cell at Heinkel factory
Franz Josef Mayer
Former member of Hades resistance cell
Wolfgang Fischer
Former member of Hades resistance cell
Alexei Abelev
NKVD officer
Hubert Leitner
Prominent Austrian politician
Frau Graf
Owner of safe house in Währing
Frau Egger
Concierge in Leopoldstadt (son: Otto Egger)
Walter Baumgartner
German spy at Pentonville Prison
Geoffrey Hayfield-Smith
Baumgartner’s lawyer
Wilhelm Fuchs
Contact of Walter Baumgartner in Vienna
Johann Winkler
Manager of hat shop
August Otto Unger
Lawyer and former schoolmate of Rolf Eder
Wolfgang Plaschke
Manager of Bank Leu in Vienna
Franzi Landauer
Friend of Frieda Brauner. Alias: Anna Wagner
Karl Strobel
Vienna Gestapo officer
Strasser
Vienna Gestapo officer
Doctor Rudolf
Vienna Gestapo doctor
Franz Josef Huber
Head of Vienna Gestapo (to December 1944)
Rudolf Mildner
Head of Vienna Gestapo (from December 1944)
Andreas Schwarz
Vienna police officer
Dr Peter Sommer
Nazi doctor at children’s hospital
Father Bartolomeo
Vatican priest
Sir Percy
British diplomat to the Vatican
George Harman
Surgeon, London
Captain Henry Steele
5th Infantry Regiment, US Army
Montse
Spanish prisoner at Mauthausen
Marie
French prisoner at Mauthausen
Yulia
Russian prisoner at Mauthausen
Prologue
Zürich and Linz, March 1944
‘Remember, you’re supposed to be married to each other, so please act accordingly,’ said Basil Remington-Barber. ‘Don’t give the appearance of being strangers. According to your paperwork you’ve been married for six years now so one would expect the occasional argument.’ He paused to allow himself a little chuckle ‘In fact, I can assure you from personal experience that a few cross words every now and then are par for the course!’
The MI6 agent’s parting advice was given as they stood at the back of the railway station in Zürich, waiting for the Munich train to board. They had found a quiet spot just along from a kiosk selling newspapers.
At that moment the locomotive on the platform nearest to them let out a loud whistle and a thick cloud of white steam rolled towards them. When it finally ebbed away, Remington-Barber had gone. Rolf glanced around looking for him but Katharina reached out for his arm and pulled him close to her.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go to our platform. Smile and laugh occasionally. Maybe you should carry both suitcases. Here, let me straighten your hair.’
***
‘She’s good and she’s brave,’ Remington-Barber had assured him in the safe house a few days previously as Rolf struggled to absorb the news that he’d been married since 1938 to someone he’d yet to meet. ‘She was actually our agent in Stuttga
rt, but you never met. She’s German but has been in Switzerland since 1941, so for the purposes of her identity she’s a Swiss-German, from Zürich. You have a Swiss passport too. Your cover story shows you met in 1936 and married in 1938. You’ve all of the paperwork for that – and in addition her nursing accreditation goes back to 1932. If anyone bothers to check those records they’ll stand up to some scrutiny, though of course one would worry if someone felt the need to check things out to that extent. When you arrive in Vienna, this chap Wolfgang Plaschke will meet you and sort things out.
‘The important thing,’ he slapped Rolf’s knee hard as he made the point ‘is for you both to have utter confidence in your cover story. If you believe it then other people are more likely to.’
***
They were aware the initial part of their journey would be the most difficult: crossing the border into Germany would be the first test of their new identities. They’d found themselves in a six-seater compartment with two elderly Swiss ladies and an overweight German businessman. The train came to a noisy halt at Schaffhausen railway station, just on the Swiss side of the border.
The Swiss border guards came through first, checking everyone’s papers and were followed into the compartment by the Germans: two uniformed policemen and a Gestapo officer in plain clothes who asked the two Swiss ladies the purpose of their visit to the Reich. To visit an older sister who lives near Munich. The Gestapo officer nodded, returning their passports to them. Everything was in order with the businessman, too, who exchanged enthusiastic ‘Heil Hitlers’ with the Germans.
‘Have you ever visited Vienna?’ he asked Rolf.
Rolf shook his head. The Gestapo officer was a small man with an unusually flat nose, and he constantly fidgeted with his collar. He checked Rolf’s passport and nodded.
‘And the reason you’re visiting the Reich?’
‘Work. I’m employed by Bank Leu in Zürich and I’ve been transferred to Vienna. My wife is a nurse and…’
The Gestapo officer handed Rolf’s papers back to him and turned to his wife, who handed her passport over. He flicked through her papers, running his finger under his collar as if trying to loosen it. ‘Very well then,’ he announced, and with a snap of the head he turned on his heels and left the compartment, followed by the two men in uniform.
Katharina squeezed Rolf’s knee gently and smiled briefly, and they both made a concerted effort not to look too relieved. A minute later, though, they heard shouting in the corridor outside their compartment and movement further down the carriage. The small Gestapo officer appeared in the doorway of their compartment looking agitated.
‘You!’ he was pointing at her. ‘Come with me!’
Rolf opened his mouth to say something and felt her hand grip his knee tightly, her nails digging through the material of his trousers.
‘Come on quick. Leave your bag, hurry up.’
Rolf stood up.
‘No! You stay there, only her.’
The two Swiss ladies did their best to avoid looking at Rolf while the German businessman smiled awkwardly. Rolf shifted over to the window seat. He could just see three or four German police officers running across the tracks towards the train. There was the noise of slamming carriage doors and shouting further down the train.
Rolf tried to order his thoughts: evidently she’d been arrested and it was surely only a matter of time before they came for him. The train was still in Switzerland, though only just. As far as he could tell, all the activity was taking part in the front of the train – the part closest to Germany. If he slipped out of the carriage now and moved towards the rear he may be able to escape. It would mean abandoning his companion but what was he meant to do: wait to be arrested with her? He peered out of the window, but couldn’t see anything. There was still a commotion further down the train and he decided to leave the compartment, at least to see what was going on. The other passengers would expect him at the very least to wonder what had happened to his wife.
He looked down the corridor and at the end of the carriage saw a German policeman, who pointed at him. ‘Get back in your compartment!’
‘But my wife… I was…’
‘I said, get back in!’
Rolf turned towards the other end of the carriage. A Swiss border policeman was standing there, blocking any exit and nodding towards Rolf, as if to say he should do as he was told. Rolf stumbled back into the compartment, frantic with worry. He felt a wave of fear come over him and there it remained. Two hours out of Zürich, what kind of a mission is that? A failure, an utter disaster.
He caught the German businessman looking at him. ‘I don’t understand what’s going on! This must be a misunderstanding.’ He did his best to allow what he hoped sounded like an irritated laugh pass his lips.
The businessman shrugged and suddenly became very interested in a magazine he was holding. There was more noise coming from down the carriageway, approaching his compartment. They were coming for him. He shouldn’t have remained in the compartment. Surely the Swiss border policeman couldn’t have physically prevented him from leaving the train?
Katharina swept into the compartment, a German policeman behind her repeating ‘thank you, thank you’. She smiled sweetly at Rolf and the others in the compartment, and sat down next to the man who was meant to be her husband, kissing him softly on the cheek. As she did so the train coughed into life and lurched forward. Rolf looked at her quizzically. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Yes, thank you dear. An old man had collapsed in a carriage towards the front of the train. They remembered I was a nurse, so asked me to help before the ambulance arrived. I made him comfortable.’
She smiled again and patted Rolf on the thigh and he placed his hand on hers, keeping it there until they reached Munich.
***
At Munich station they had just enough time buy some food before finding the right platform for their connection to Linz, where they arrived shortly after 6.00 that evening. They found a hotel near the river that looked as if it had been plucked from a glade in the Black Forest. After dinner they returned to their room and sat by the window: they turned off the lights but opened the curtains. There was enough light from the moon for them to look out over the river, the city and the countryside beyond that. They sat there for a while, the previously unspoken tension now evident. In turn they shot glances at the double bed, the only one in the room. They were avoiding looking at each other.
‘I’ll sleep on the chair,’ said Rolf eventually. ‘You have the bed.’
She frowned. ‘It’ll be too uncomfortable, you won’t get any sleep. You sleep on top of the bed. I’ll get you a couple of blankets.’
‘Are you sure? I’ll keep these clothes on, obviously.’
She nodded, the only sound the distant rush of water.
‘It’s a clear night,’ said Rolf.
‘Possibly too clear: in Stuttgart we used to call these good nights for the bombers.’
Rolf scanned the sky. ‘It does look as if Linz has been bombed quite a bit,’ he said. ‘Maybe they’re targeting it because it’s Hitler’s home town?’
He paused. ‘That’s the Danube, you know,’ he said, pointing at the river. ‘It’s hard to believe it’s the same river that flows through Vienna. It’s so much narrower around here – like a stream in comparison.’
‘Ah, the Danube,’ she said. ‘It seems such a romantic and mysterious river. Perhaps we could sail on it tomorrow from here to Vienna and arrive in style!’
They both laughed, the tension of the day lifting just a little.
***
Their arrival at the Westbahnhof in Vienna the next morning was not in any kind of style. A troop train had arrived just before them – Wehrmacht soldiers apparently en-route to the east – and the station was a heaving mass of ill-tempered people pushing in different directions. A group of emaciated labourers in what looked like prison uniform were repairing a damaged wall at the front of the station; some Hitler Youth hurried pa
st them; and they were jostled by a porter pushing two enormous suitcases on a rickety trolley.
As arranged, they waited for Wolfgang Plaschke in the ticket hall, which was jammed with people and so noisy they could hardly make themselves heard. Katharina leaned and shouted in Rolf’s ear.
‘I said… how on earth will he recognise us? There are so many couples in here.’
‘I know,’ said Rolf. ‘Maybe he thought it’d be quieter at this time.’
They waited patiently for half an hour, having eventually found a vacant bench to sit on. A smartly dressed man appeared in front of them, asking if they might be Herr and Frau Schuster? It was Rolf’s new boss, greeting them in a formal manner.
Twenty minutes later they were climbing to the top floor of a small apartment block on Ungargasse in Landstrasse, the 3rd District. Herr Plaschke explained the apartment belonged to his mother-in-law, who was now in a nursing home.
‘These days, if a home’s left empty for too long it can be appropriated by the authorities, so it makes sense for you to live here. My wife hopes her mother will be able to return one day, but I very much doubt it: she hardly knows who we are when we go to visit her these days.’
***
Herr Plaschke took Rolf for a walk to show him where the bank he’d be working at was based. He returned to the apartment on Ungargasse later that afternoon. His new wife called him into the kitchen, where she turned on the taps.
