Vienna Spies

by Alex Gerlis

  And that was where he remained. Deeper into the forest was a small stream where he could get fresh water and wash, and there were mushrooms in the woods he knew were safe to eat. There were bushes with a strange winter berry he remembered was edible, although it was quite sour. He spent most of his time sitting in the hut, though, looking out through its small window at the vineyards rolling down before him towards the Danube, with Vienna in the distance. At night, he’d watch the bombers fly in from the south then the city light up. The thick beams of the searchlights would pierce the sky and occasionally pick out the planes, then would come the sound of the bombs and the flash of explosions when they landed. The oil refineries and depots were often targeted, he could tell that from the ferocity of the fires. The factories of north east Vienna also seemed to be bearing the burden of the raids. He watched all this with an air of detachment, as if it was an entertainment laid on for him. And for many days he did little more than just look: he couldn’t remember one thought he had during that time. It was as if he was clearing his mind of all emotions. He slept soundly at night once the air raids were over, despite the bitter cold. By what must have been the Sunday he began to think more clearly. It was then he recalled what Franzi had said to him that night, after she’d told him Frieda had been killed.

  ‘Rolf,’ she’d said. ‘More than anything else she regretted you and she parted as you did. She told me you argued the night before you left for Switzerland, and that it was her fault. Yes, she wanted you to stay but she bitterly regretted not going with you. She was determined to join you in Switzerland, but it was too late. She loved you more than anything else, but you know that, don’t you?’

  Until Franzi had said that, he hadn’t known it. Frieda had certainly never said it to him, it wasn’t her way – despite their engagement. At times it was clear she was fond of him, but he’d always thought that was as far as it went. He was younger than her, not her intellectual equal, certainly not as politically committed, and sometimes he’d wondered if he was an amusement to her as much as anything else. He knew he was good-looking and had an easy-going charm, but he’d always worried she’d never seen him as more than that.

  But on the Sunday in the vineyard high in the Vienna Hills, once his mind had become as clear as the air around him, he was able to take in what Franzi had said. She loved you more than anything else…

  And, once he’d really understood that and believed it, he felt at peace. A calmness he’d never before experienced spread over him. Franzi had appeared before him with a message from Frieda and that had allowed him to live again.

  ***

  But in the apartment on Ungargasse Rolf simply told Katharina he was so shocked at the news of Frieda’s death that he’d had wandered off into the country, where he hoped he’d find the privacy to absorb the news. He assured her he’d now come to terms with it. They continued to sit together on the sofa, now very close and each holding the other’s hand. At one stage Rolf leaned forward, his head in his hands and Katharina instinctively caressed neck. Her thumb moved up and down firmly, her fingers gently spreading out and rubbing him. It was the most extraordinary sensation for Rolf: a sense of relaxation and wellbeing spread throughout his body. And, as she continued, the feeling became quite erotic. No further words were spoken. They stood up, still holding hands, and one led the other into the bedroom.

  Chapter 22

  Vienna, January and February 1945

  January 1945 came in the middle of a bitter Viennese winter, and the winds blowing east across the Danube and down the Alps from the north seemed to compete to see which could hurt the city the most. There was such a shortage of fuel it was rare for the civilian population to be allowed any. That would be a waste of a precious commodity when it could be better put towards the war effort. As a result, the city was wrapped in an inescapable chill.

  But for Viktor the third week of January brought a spring-like sense of hope and optimism after two dark months. Following the capture and death of young Hans in November, he’d brought the activities of the Hades group to a halt. At first this had been because of the strong possibility that Hans might have revealed details about the cell. But even when it was clear danger had passed, Viktor decided he should no longer risk the small group on leafleting and sabotage. His priority was to prepare for a communist takeover in the city and to find Hubert Leitner.

  The sense of optimism Viktor experienced in the middle of January was first brought about by the news he heard on Soviet radio. It was, of course, illegal to listen to foreign radio broadcasts and it was often very hard to receive them, but Red Army radio had begun to transmit concise, one-minute bulletins that contained news of their progress. For some reason, the authorities were having trouble blocking these and for a few weeks they were surprisingly clear. The group met occasionally in the basement of Becker’s mother’s house to listen to the broadcasts, Viktor hunched over the radio set, his ear pressed against the speaker. On Monday 15th January, Lang and Becker watched a look of disbelief then delight creep over the Russian’s normally impassive face as he listened to the latest broadcast.

  ‘It’s wonderful news,’ he said when the broadcast had finished and they had hidden the radio under a pile of sacks. ‘Truly wonderful news. A major offensive began last week – German forces are being attacked throughout Poland and East Prussia. In Poland it is the 1st Ukrainian and the 1st Byelorussian Fronts.’

  Viktor paused, the slightest flicker of emotion in his voice covered up by a cough. ‘The 2nd and the 3rd Byelorussian Fronts are advancing through East Prussia.’

  ‘What about further south – how long before they reach here?’

  ‘Be patient, Joachim. They’re still working their way through Hungary and Slovakia. But the Red Army massively outnumbers the Nazi forces, it’s only a matter of time.’

  Later that week Viktor had a further cause for optimism. Since he’d carried out the devastating sabotage at the Heinkel factory in November Alois had been under strict instructions to lay low: he was to come to work, lead a normal life and do nothing that would arouse suspicion. But one lunchtime in the middle of January Manfred Becker was walking across the factory complex from his office towards the canteen when he heard someone hiss. When he turned around it was Alois, standing inside a doorway and gesturing for him to join him. A few moments later Becker found himself behind a large machine in the gloom of an empty workshop with Alois. ‘Are you crazy? I told you: do nothing and have no contact with me. If anyone catches us… Tell me, what’s going on, have you come under suspicion?’

  ‘No, you don’t need to worry. I told you, I never came under suspicion for that hoist business. No, I’ve something interesting to tell you that I thought maybe your friend would like to hear.’

  Alois began to recount a long story, resisting Becker’s urging him to get to the point. ‘A few weeks ago,’ he said. ‘We went to visit my wife’s cousin and her family out in Liesing. Before lunch I went for a drink with her cousin’s husband, Walter – a nice chap, rather boring, but decent enough. He’s a schoolteacher, a few years younger than me: he collects coins and stamps, that kind of person. He was very concerned about conscription, poor chap. I know that before ’38 he was on the left but always kept it quiet… His job, you understand.’

  ‘I do understand Alois but, really, you must get to the point.’

  ‘At the bar there was an acquaintance of his, someone he was at school with but hadn’t seen for years. Anyway, he was a bit surprised this man, who was called Otto, appeared to be… How can I put it…? Simple. You know what I mean… Like he didn’t really function normally. Walter had a chat with him and he confided it was his way of avoiding being called up. I think this Otto may have drunk too much to be frank, but then Walter had said something about how he was worried about conscription, so maybe Otto felt able to be more indiscreet than he should have been.

  ‘Anyway, he then said something very interesting: he told Walter he was doing his bit to help and Walter as
ked him what he meant. He then clammed up, as if he realised he’d said more than he intended. So I bought them both large schnapps and asked again what he meant. Otto eventually said he was helping protect Hubert Leitner. Walter asked him where and he said “here in Vienna” and that was it. “Forget everything I told you,” he said then hurried out of the bar.’

  Becker gasped. Lang had also heard rumours about Leitner being in Vienna and possibly in contact with the British, and he knew how much importance Viktor attached to this. ‘Did you find out where this Otto lives?’

  ‘No. When I walked back with Walter after the drink he said that was the kind of conversation we need to forget very quickly. I did try and push him a bit about Otto, but all Walter would say was he believed Otto no longer lived in Liesing. He thought he lived with his mother on the other side of the city – that was how he put it – and that possibly his mother is a concierge, but it was all unclear. Walter can’t even remember Otto’s surname. I didn’t push him; I didn’t want him to suspect anything about me.’

  ‘When was this, Alois?’

  ‘Just before Christmas.’

  ‘And you waited until now to tell me?’

  ‘I thought it would be safer to wait until I bumped into you.’

  ‘I know, but this is important Alois, very important,’ said Becker. ‘As soon as you can, you must find a pretext to go and see this Walter and get him to find out more about this Otto – his surname, where he lives now… Whatever you can find out. You have to press him on this.’

  Alois looked down. ‘There’s a problem,’ he said. ‘Walter was called up a week ago. Apparently he’s somewhere in Poland now.’

  To Becker’s surprise, Viktor chose to receive the news about Leitner in a positive manner, despite the fact Alois had failed to find out any more. ‘Sure,’ he told Lang and Becker when they discussed it in their basement hideout. ‘It would have been wonderful to have been given the address where Leitner’s living, but in my world life is rarely as easy as that, and I’d be suspicious if it was. The important thing is we now have another source confirming he’s alive and here in Vienna. We need to be alert and keep our eyes open – and we could also do with a slice of luck.’

  ***

  The following week someone was alert, kept their eyes open and had that slice of luck.

  Ernst Lang found himself on Schubertring on a desperate mission. So few customers visited his music shop in the 9th District these days he was worried he’d have to close. What little money people had went on food and fuel. Even in Vienna, music was now low down the list of priorities. His lowest point had come when a man bought a large box of old sheet music – second-hand and damaged copies – and, as he paid, told Lang he was going to use it for the fire.

  So Herr Lang was in Schubertring to visit his bank, pleading for yet another loan and an extension on his previous one. ‘When we’ve won the war and business improves, I’ll flourish again!’ He thought that may help him, but the manager who was reluctantly dealing with his request looked at him over the top of his spectacles, his eyebrows raised just far enough to indicate that if Herr Lang really believed that he was an even worse businessman than he thought.

  Come back next week, I’ll look into it, he’d been told. So Lang walked dejectedly along Schubertring, looking at the various banks and wondering if any of them would help him.

  Which was when he saw him.

  It was unquestionably Rolf, the young man who’d turned up at the shop back in May asking about Joachim – and who Viktor was so desperate to find. He was on the other side of the road, but crossing over to Lang’s side. Lang stepped back into a shop doorway and pulled his collar up. The young man paused outside the entrance to Bank Leu, spoke to a woman who was coming out then walked in. Lang waited outside the bank: he’d follow Rolf when he came out. Viktor, he hoped, would be so pleased he’d undoubtedly reward him. Who needs the banks when you’ve got the Soviet Union!

  But Rolf didn’t come out, not for five minutes, not for 10 minutes, not for 15. Herr Lang pulled his trilby as far down over his eyes as he felt he could do without arousing suspicion and entered. Rolf wasn’t among any of the customers in front of the counter but he could see him quite clearly at a desk beyond it.

  There was a decided spring in his step as he headed back to Berg Gasse.

  ***

  In Paris, Viktor had as many as 12 – and a similar number in Geneva. In Zürich, he could count on 10 and even in Berlin in the mid-30s he could muster nine or 10. In cities such as Marseilles, Brussels and Madrid he’d rely on a smaller number, more like seven or eight, and the one time he’d been in London, in 1936, he’d had six. In Moscow he once trained with 15, though that was too many. But the point about these teams was that every one of them was experienced and trained. Following someone wasn’t, he’d tell them, the hardest thing in the world, but following them for day after day and in a way so they’d no idea they were being followed – well, that was quite another thing. So was following someone as part of a team.

  Early in his career, when he’d been based in Moscow and apparently happily married, Viktor would occasionally take his wife to the Bolshoi and found he was able to tolerate the performances by seeing them as exercises in espionage, though that did tend to be his approach to most things in life, which hadn’t made for an ideal marriage. At the Bolshoi he’d watch in admiration as the dancers moved around the stage, avoiding each other when they needed to, finding their perfect positions – all as one fluid movement. That, he’d tell his teams, was how you follow someone: to know intuitively exactly when to fall back; to take over as lead follower; to cross a road; to follow someone from in front of them.

  But in Vienna in January 1945 he had none of that. He needed to keep Irma for another task and both Lang and Becker would have to be used sparingly: neither had been trained in the art. He refused to use Alois, who he still felt was a fool, which left just him. Often having just one very skilled follower was feasible, though the fact Rolf would know what he looked like was a serious problem: it would mean he had to be very cautious.

  So many people had been called up from the locomotive works that Viktor was working far longer hours. It wasn’t unusual to work six 10-hour shifts a week and there were times when he was expected to give up that one day off ‘for the cause of the Reich’. There was an especially unpopular shift that began at 8.00 in the evening and ended, if they were lucky, at 6.00 in the morning. Viktor volunteered for this, which allowed him the time to wait outside the bank at around 5.00 in the afternoon when it closed – when he expected Rolf to leave.

  There was a technique Viktor taught his agents, which enabled one person to follow someone in a way that would minimise suspicion. It depended on being able track the person over a period of days or even weeks. It only worked if they followed a routine, but this was an ideal opportunity.

  Viktor called it the relay, the principle being that if the prey left a certain place at the same time every day and always went in the same direction, you’d pick them up at a different point each day until eventually you’d find out where they were going to.

  It took Viktor a week to track Rolf from Bank Leu to the apartment block on Ungargasse. On the first day he waited among the trees on the wide island that ran along the centre of the Schubertring. He just stayed there, not attempting to follow his prey, just observing: making sure there was no other tail on Rolf or whether his prey was taking any special precautions. He took time to light a cigarette and generally give the annoyed appearance of waiting for someone who was late. Nearby an old lady crouched down, picking up twigs and stuffing them into what had once been an elegant handbag.

  Viktor decided he could only risk following Rolf every other day. On his next trip he followed Rolf as far as the bridge over the Wiener Fluss in the Stadt-Park. When he returned two days later he was waiting near the bridge and Rolf arrived at the time he expected him. From there he followed him as far as Am Heumarkt. It took four sessions, over the peri
od of a week, before he finally watched Rolf enter the apartment on Ungargasse. He returned there twice over the next five days to watch him enter it after work and only then was he sure that he had found where he lived.

  He noticed that when Rolf entered the apartment block he checked the mailboxes on the ground floor, so a couple of days later he risked placing himself closer to the entrance as Rolf came in and managed to spot the apartment number.

  Viktor returned a few days later, on a wet Wednesday afternoon in the first week of February. Working night shifts with little sleep in between was taking its toll on him, along with the reduced rations and the freezing conditions he was living in, but he knew this was a lead he couldn’t let slip.

  In December he’d been working on the electrical supply into the locomotive works, along with some staff from the city’s Electrical Supply Authority. During that operation he’d managed to remove one of their identity cards and this provided him with perfect cover.

  He watched as Rolf left the block to walk to work then followed an elderly lady into the apartment block as she opened the front door. He climbed to the top floor, where Rolf’s apartment was located. There were just three apartments on that landing. He left Rolf’s apartment until last. The other two were both empty, but Rolf’s apartment was opened by a woman in nurse’s uniform.

  Is there a problem with the electricity? There’ve been reports that some of the apartments were having issues…

  No, she assured him, everything was fine.

  Perhaps if I come in and check?

  It’s difficult at the moment, I’m about to go to work, she told him.