Vienna Spies

by Alex Gerlis

  At the same time on that Friday afternoon as the Kripo scientists reached the conclusion the same contaminated oil used in the previous attacks had been used at the Heinkel factory, Hans cycled home from school and changed into his Hitler Youth uniform.

  He grabbed a biscuit from a tin with a painting on the lid of a healthy-looking Hitler selflessly taking part in the harvest and jumped back on his bike. He headed to the area around Wipplinger Strasse in Innere Stadt. His plan was to distribute dozens of his Nazi Party leaflets (‘warm clothes for the troops’) and at the same time look for somewhere to leave a few copies of the latest Hades leaflet (‘Budapest today: Vienna tomorrow!’).

  As he cycled down Wipplinger Strasse he thought he spotted the perfect place to leave the Hades leaflets; an office block apparently closed for the weekend but with a side door ajar. He’d hurry in, leave a few leaflets on the stairwells and, with luck, they’d be found when people came back to work on the Monday. Disaster struck, though, as he turned his bike across the street. His front wheel caught in the cobbles and, as he tried to free it, an army lorry clipped his back wheel, sending him flying into the gutter. When he stopped and picked himself up he was bruised but otherwise unhurt: he was more concerned about the state of his bike. A few seconds later he realised that was the least of his problems. Spread out on the cobbled street were the contents of his satchel, both the Nazi leaflets and the Hades ones. He tried to gather them up, helped by a couple of passers-by.

  ‘What’s this?’ A smartly dressed older man with a swastika tie-pin and glasses perched on the end of his nose was gingerly holding the Red Army leaflet between his fingertips, as if it was contaminated. Hans snatched it and picked up another two or three from the ground.

  ‘They’re nothing to do with me! These are my leaflets, look here!’ He held out the Nazi leaflets – warm clothes for the troops. At that moment a policeman appeared and took charge. What on earth, he wanted to know, was going on? The man explained how the boy had been knocked over then how he’d found the leaflets on the road. ‘These are official ones – but look at this!’ He thrust the Hades leaflet into the policeman’s hand.

  ‘Why would I be carrying that rubbish?’ Hans appeared indignant.

  ‘Why,’ the man asked the policeman, ‘don’t you search his satchel?’

  ***

  An hour later a terrified Hans was sitting opposite Kriminalrat Andreas Schwarz in the Kripo headquarters. Schwarz said nothing as he carefully read the leaflet, no flicker of emotion on his face. On his desk was a selection of the previous Hades leaflets. The detective held a few of them up in his right hand. ‘These would appear to be from the same machine as this one, would you agree?’

  In his left hand was the Red Army leaflet, one of a number the policeman had found in the compartment of his satchel. Hans was crying and said he’d no idea. He also had no idea how those terrible leaflets had got into his bag.

  The detective had been quietly spoken up to now and even appeared to be understanding. He continued in the same tone. ‘Look, Hans, I can well imagine the situation. Some older person or persons forced you to distribute these leaflets, maybe they gave you money, I don’t know. You seem like a nice boy, I’m sure you were forced into this. I doubt if you believe this nonsense. If you tell me who they are, then I promise I’ll personally ensure you’ll be treated as leniently as possible.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about those leaflets,’ said Hans. ‘I was delivering the other ones, sir. I’m a member of the Hitler Youth. Why on earth would I have anything to do with that kind of rubbish?’

  ‘Because, Hans, the leaflets were concealed in a compartment inside your satchel.’ Schwarz had raised his voice now, enough to sound angry and impatient. ‘I’m no fool, you ought to know that. I’m one of the most experienced detectives here in Vienna. I suggest you co-operate with me. If you don’t, then maybe we’ll have to involve the Gestapo. You’re lucky you weren’t handed over to them straight away.’

  Over the next hour Schwarz began to make some progress. Hans had started to trust him and believe him when he said he was fortunate to be in the hands of the Kripo rather than the Gestapo.

  ‘A man gave me the leaflets but I didn’t look at them,’ said Hans eventually. Schwarz didn’t believe him for one moment, but it was a start. There’d be progress over the next few hours, he was sure. If not, a night in the cells would do it. Even for a grown man, a night in a police cell was a sobering experience and usually had the desired effect. Few people weren’t more forthcoming the following morning. But for a 14-year-old boy – and one who was clearly frightened already – the effect would probably be dramatic.

  And so it went on. The man told him not to look at the leaflets. The man said he was a Nazi Party official. There were only a few of them. He hadn’t distributed them and was going to throw them in the river. He knew nothing about any of the other leaflets. He was a good Nazi. He was counting the days until he could serve the Führer.

  Schwarz was satisfied. Hans’s story was inconsistent and it was only a matter of time before he had some names. At 7.00 that evening he allowed him a break to have something to eat, then he’d question him for another hour or two before going to bed. If he didn’t come up with names the following morning then they’d bring his mother in. Either way, his experience told him he’d have the names by the following lunchtime and the Kripo would chalk up a further success over the Gestapo.

  But one thing Schwarz had learnt about the Gestapo was not to be surprised by anything they did. Their predilection for brutality was matched only by their stupidity, and that evening he saw both deployed in equal measure.

  He was sitting at his desk, while Hans had his meal in a cell, when the door to his office burst open. In front of him appeared the stocky figure of Karl Strobel, his face red, his pointed little beard quivering and his chest heaving as he caught his breath. ‘Where is he, Schwarz?’

  ‘Where’s who?’

  ‘The boy with the leaflets, you fool! And how come I wasn’t informed?’

  ‘Because, as you know full well, it was decided the investigation into the leaflets would be handled by my team after yours failed to get anywhere.’

  ‘Don’t be so fucking insolent with me, Schwarz! I bet you sympathise with what’s written on them, eh? You should be investigated. You’re not even a member of the Party, are you?’ Strobel was standing so close that the detective could taste the alcohol on the Gestapo man’s breath.

  ‘Sit down and I’ll explain to you what’s happened, as a matter of professional courtesy. I’m making some progress: the boy is frightened and is beginning to give me information. I’m confident that by late tomorrow morning he’ll have provided us with the names we want.’

  ‘And what’ll you do then?’

  ‘Give the names to you.’

  ‘I want the boy now.’

  ‘I told you, I’m still questioning him. Children need to be handled carefully.’

  ‘How old is he?’

  ‘Fourteen.’

  ‘Fourteen! He’s hardly a child! I demand to see him now. Huber said I could. Call him if you don’t believe me.’

  The argument went on for 15 minutes before they reached a compromise: Schwarz would allow the man from the Gestapo to see the boy in his cell for a few minutes then Strobel would leave. If Schwarz hadn’t obtained any information from him by the following lunchtime, Hans would be handed over to the Gestapo.

  The moment they entered the cell, Schwarz realised he should never have trusted Strobel. ‘I’m Kriminaldirektor Karl Strobel from the Vienna Gestapo!’ Strobel shouted as he stood over the boy, who was picking at a meal. Hans sat frozen in fear. ‘Don’t you show any respect to the Gestapo, you scum?’ With that he swept the plate and cup off the table and pushed the table hard into the boy’s body.

  ‘Come here, Strasser,’ shouted Strobel. His assistant joined them in the cell. ‘Get him up.’

  ‘Kriminaldirektor,’ said Schwarz firmly. ‘I insis
t you leave him alone now. Our agreement was very clear; he’ll remain my responsibility until tomorrow. Please… no!’

  While Strasser was holding Hans upright, Strobel hit the boy hard, first in the face then in the groin. Hans squealed in pain and doubled up as far as he was able. Schwarz tried to position himself between the two, but Strobel pulled out his pistol.

  ‘I’m taking him now, Schwarz. Call Huber if you have a problem.’

  ***

  ‘Watch me,’ Strobel told Strasser as they drove Hans to Morzinplatz that evening. ‘I’ll have those names in an hour. None of the Kripo acting like it’s a kindergarten. An hour with a professional, you’ll see.’

  They worked on the boy for four hours, until nearly 1.00 in the morning. At first Strobel just questioned him, believing the very fact he was in the basement of the Gestapo headquarters would be enough to ensure his co-operation. But the effect was the opposite and perhaps more predictable. Hans was too terrified to utter a word. Strobel did his best to hide his embarrassment from Strasser and acted as if this was going as he expected.

  ‘Get him on that table Strasser. Come on, quick – what’s keeping you?’

  Two hours later and the boy still had revealed nothing. Strasser was convinced Hans had gone into a state of shock and told Strobel this when they went into the corridor for a cigarette.

  ‘So what are you saying, Strasser? You’re as soft as the Kripo.’

  ‘I’m simply saying he’s in a state of shock and may be unable to speak. If we let him rest and start again in the morning, I think he’ll be more forthcoming.’

  ‘You think he’s suffering from shock do you? I’ll show you shock!’

  When they returned to the cell Hans was strapped naked to a chair and electrodes were attached to his genitals. The boy was trembling violently, even before the electricity was turned on. After the first surge, he screamed so loud the stone walls seemed to shake. After the second, he sobbed and drooled then started muttering something about a man.

  ‘What man? Can you understand what he’s saying, Strasser?’

  Strasser bent down in front of Hans, his ear against his mouth. ‘What man? Tell me his name and we’ll unplug you.’

  In between noisy sobs the boy said something.

  ‘What the hell’s he saying?’

  ‘If you’re quiet for a moment, sir, then maybe I’ll be able to hear what he’s saying… Hang on sir, he’s saying something… Go on Hans… What’s that? The Russian, sir, that’s what he’s saying – the Russian.’

  ‘What Russian? I want names!’ Hans mouthed something but, as he did, Strobel turned on the electricity again. Hans’s body arched upwards and Strasser smelt burning flesh. When Strobel finally turned off the power the boy slumped back unconscious, thick streams of blood-speckled mucus running from both nostrils and his mouth.

  They had to leave him in the cell overnight. Strasser noticed that, when they went into the office, Strobel’s hands were shaking as he poured them each a large measure of schnapps. ‘You see what I mean, Strasser? We’re almost there; you’ve just witnessed a professional in action. We know it’s a Russian. Mark my words, he’ll tell me everything in the morning. That’ll show Schwarz.’

  ***

  The following morning Strobel was summoned into the office of the head of Vienna Gestapo as soon as he arrived at Morzinplatz.

  ‘What the hell’s going on, Strobel?’

  ‘I’ve arrested a suspect with the resistance leaflets and he’s in the process of confessing all, sir.’

  ‘So you have names?’

  ‘Not yet, but I’m very close.’

  Huber looked stressed as he got up from his desk. He walked over to the window, sat down again then went to pour himself a drink before lighting a cigarette. ‘I don’t need this, Strobel. I thought it was clearly understood this matter was to be investigated by the Kripo. I gather you used my name to remove him from their headquarters? The boy’s 14. He’s a member of the Hitler Youth and you’ve been torturing him.’

  ‘But he had the leaflets on him, sir?’

  ‘And ours too! Maybe there’s an explanation. All I know is that if he had something to tell us, like names, surely he’d have told us by now. Look Strobel…’ Huber looked around his empty office, as if there were other people there he didn’t want to overhear him. ‘The Russians are in Hungary now. The way things are going they’ll be here sooner than we think. I can’t afford to have a matter like this taking up my time. Bring him up here.’

  ‘Who sir?’

  ‘The boy, you fool. Maybe if you can’t get anything out of him, I can.’

  Strobel and Strasser went down to the basement where Hans was being held. They met the doctor in the corridor. ‘Is he still alive Rudolf?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but don’t forget he’s young: he won’t be as physically resilient as an adult. He was very badly hurt yesterday. And I fear if you push him too hard he won’t survive… I don’t want my staff or I to get the blame yet again for someone dying before you’ve obtained information from them.’

  Strasser hauled Hans from the bench in the cell and the two of them dragged him upstairs. The boy was barely covered by a blanket, which kept slipping off.

  ‘Leave it,’ said Strobel. ‘Don’t bother. Humiliation is often more effective than pain.’

  So Hans was dragged naked up to the top floor and into Huber’s office. The bright autumn sun streamed in from large windows, which looked out over the front and side of the building. Huber looked uncertain of what to make of the sight of the naked and terrified boy in front of him.

  What happened next unfolded very slowly. Strasser let go of the boy’s arm and roughly pushed him towards Huber. Huber manoeuvred himself up from his chair.

  At that moment Hans let out a yell and lurched towards Huber’s desk. Before any of them could react he’d grabbed a large paper knife from the desk and plunged it into his neck. Blood spurted everywhere. Strasser clamped his hand over the wound and Strobel shouted for someone to fetch Doctor Rudolf.

  By the time the Gestapo doctor arrived, Hans had slipped into unconsciousness, the blood still pulsing out of him. Doctor Rudolf and a nurse worked on him for a few minutes but eventually they gave up. The elderly doctor shook his head. Huber, Strobel and Strasser all looked at each other, saying nothing and not knowing who to blame.

  ‘A boy,’ said Huber eventually. ‘You had a boy in your custody for 12 hours and you got nothing. Nothing. Get out of my office.’

  ***

  Manfred Becker heard of Hans’s disappearance before he heard of his death. On the Friday night the boy’s mother had knocked on his door. She knew Hans often did odd jobs for him, as he did for many others in the street. Have you seen him, Herr Becker? He came home after school and cycled off in his uniform, I’ve no idea where he is.

  The following morning – the Saturday – Becker’s wife told him to look out into the street; there was a lot of activity around Hans’s house. Becker saw it was the Gestapo going in and out of the house, taking away bags and eventually Hans’s mother, younger brother and sister. He contacted Lang and they got word to Viktor. Later that afternoon they gathered in the cellar of Becker’s mother’s house.

  ‘He doesn’t know my real name or yours, Joachim,’ said Viktor. ‘If the Gestapo have got him it’s just a matter of time before he speaks. But we’re just speculating, aren’t we? All we know is he’s missing and the Gestapo are at his house.’

  ‘But he had leaflets with him, I’m sure,’ said Becker. ‘The ones about the Red Army reaching Budapest. He said something about leaving some around Innere Stadt.’

  ‘Do you have anything incriminating around your house?’

  ‘Of course not, Viktor,’ said Becker.

  ‘Very well. I suggest we dismantle this machine now, and burn all the paper and anything else in the cellar that could get you into trouble.’

  They heard about Hans’s death on the Monday: the official line was he was an enemy of the s
tate who’d killed himself after confessing to crimes against the Reich. His mother and siblings had been taken away. But as soon as they heard the news of Hans’s death, they also realised that the boy had died without disclosing anything about them: had he done so, the Gestapo would have turned up long before the news did. Nevertheless, Viktor decided to put Hades activities on hold. No more leafleting or sabotage for the time being. Now the priority would be to find Rolf and Leitner.

  Chapter 20

  Vienna, December 1944

  By the second week of December a few Christmas markets had sprung up in a half-hearted fashion around the city, mostly in the Innere Stadt, but they were miserable affairs compared to what the Viennese could remember. Most of the decorations and gifts on sale appeared to be second-hand; the food was sparse and even more expensive than in the shops; and the spiced wine was more spice than wine. The few Christmas trees on sale were little more than branches and people eyed them as if trying to estimate how long they’d last on a fire.

  The American air force had done their best to add to the Christmas spirit. They’d helped light up the city by bombing the Winterhafen oil storage depot, and the fire raged for days, casting a seasonal glow over the city. The Moosbierbaum oil refinery had also been hit. As a consequence there was hardly any fuel to be found in Vienna. Virtually all non-military transport ground to a halt.

  But for Rolf all this symbolised how badly things were going for the Reich: if Vienna couldn’t manage even a half-decent Christmas then things must be bad. Life for him and Katharina had become somewhat routine, even ordinary since their meeting with Leitner in June. The message that had eventually come back from London had been clear enough.

  Well done on locating Leitner. Tell him we agree to his terms: our intention is to ensure Austria is a free and independent state after the war and we’d like him to head up the provisional government ahead of elections. Meanwhile, keep him where he is. It sounds as if he’s as safe there as anywhere else. We’ll tell you when to move him. Make sure you two don’t arouse any suspicion and please do let us know if you see any sign of the Russian.