by Alex Gerlis
So I see! Which hospital are you at? The AKH… You do a wonderful job. Anyway, I see everything’s fine, so you don’t need to worry.
Two days later he returned and watched the woman leave the block in her nurse’s uniform just after 2.00. He entered the block, again armed with his Vienna Electrical Supply Authority identity card. It only took him just a few seconds to pick the lock to the apartment. He removed his shoes and set to work, allowing himself half an hour to find out what he could. The apartment, he discovered, was rented by Gerd and Anna Schuster, but there was nothing he could find to indicate that either of them was working for the British or had any other identity, but he knew there must be something there. He continued to search, beyond the 30 minutes he’d permitted himself. He checked the small attic but found nothing: the apartment, he felt, was a bit too sparse and devoid of clues, rather as his would have been. It was approaching an hour when he found the money under the sink, cleverly wrapped in waterproof cloth and hidden in a hollowed-out space behind the tiles.
Thousands of Reichsmarks: the amount and the fact they were hidden was proof enough they were up to something. He carefully replaced the cash, suspecting there’d be other clues in the apartment, but he’d been there too long.
He’d found enough.
Chapter 23
Vienna, Slovakia and Hungary, February and March 1945
There were occasions during that February and March when, for the first time in a long career, Viktor had to contemplate failure. The locomotive works had ground to a halt as a result of Allied bombing, and one especially heavy air raid in the middle of the month had blown to pieces a workshop that Viktor had been in an hour before, killing everyone inside.
For a couple of days, he hung around with the other electricians in the rubble of a storeroom, unsure of what they were meant to do in a factory with no electricity supply. The Germans had a ready solution: their main barracks in Vienna, the Maria Theresien Kaserne in the 13th District, was experiencing daily power blackouts and an urgent instruction had gone out for a team of experienced electricians to be based there as the 6th SS Panzer Army had moved in and insisted on there being an uninterrupted electricity supply.
Not only was Viktor now working at the main German garrison in Vienna but he was also living close to it. He and three other electricians shared a two-bedroom apartment the army had requisitioned in Hietzing, just around the corner from the barracks. Although this meant he could move out of the filthy and freezing room in the boarding house in Floridsdorf it was hardly the ideal place for one of the top Soviet agents in Nazi-occupied Europe to be living.
But he was able to get away from the barracks for a few hours each day. He did what he could to tail Rolf, hoping that somehow he’d lead him to where Leitner was hiding, but despite his very best efforts, he couldn’t get near him. He allowed himself various explanations. There was always the possibility that, despite what Lang and Alois had heard, Leitner wasn’t in the city and Rolf had nothing to do with him. As much as that was a possibility, it was one Viktor couldn’t allow himself to entertain. There were other possibilities: that he was losing his touch; that Rolf and the woman were particularly skilled or were very lucky.
If forced, he’d have guessed at a combination of the last three. On the occasions when he was able to follow them, Rolf would leave the bank and head back to Ungargasse, occasionally stopping at a bar; the woman would go either to the hospital or to the local shops.
One Saturday, at the end of February, he arrived at Ungargasse just as they were both leaving. Arm in arm they strolled across the city, into the Prater then through the park. Viktor knew he was pushing his luck by following the pair for so long on his own, but it was the first time he’d managed to follow them together and his instincts were alerted by their behaviour: too many changes of directions, going back on themselves – the kind of techniques someone would use to throw off a tail.
So he carried on, until there was a quick but tender kiss and the couple separated. Had they headed in opposite directions there may have been some logic to it, but as far as he could tell, they were both heading north. He decided to stick with Rolf and followed his prey through Leopoldstadt, towards the Augarten Park.
It was then Viktor committed a basic error – one for which he’d have unhesitatingly sacked one of his own agents. He always instructed his agents that when crossing a road, the follower should allow the prey to complete their crossing to the other side before beginning to cross themselves. If they didn’t follow this rule there was a danger the follower could get too close to the prey or be caught out by them doubling back. Whether it was exhaustion, whether he was losing his touch or whether Rolf was being especially smart, Viktor didn’t know. But when he was halfway across a busy road, Rolf hopped on to a traffic island and stood there. Unaccountably, Viktor had already begun to cross. By the time he realised he was about to stand next to Rolf it was too late: an army lorry hooted him and he couldn’t turn back. Viktor knew he had to abandon the pursuit. He hurried across the road, weaving between a motorbike and a tram then turned left, walking as quickly as he could without it looking suspicious and not once glancing back.
That evening he had plenty of time to replay in his head what had happened. He was almost certain Rolf and the woman were heading somewhere they didn’t want to be followed to. Whether Rolf had deliberately stopped suddenly on the traffic island, he didn’t know. He hoped that the fact he’d gone straight across and carried on would mean Rolf suspected nothing.
But his mind was now made up. He needed help.
***
The next day Viktor went to Irma’s apartment, the first time he’d done so for weeks. In the square below he paused just long enough to check the tall porcelain vase was in its place on the window ledge then went in. She wasn’t expecting him and looked shocked when he arrived, but he said nothing. He pushed past her and went straight into the lounge, still wearing his heavy coat and his work boots. He loosened his black silk scarf and slumped into an armchair. Hecould feel himself fighting sleep. She went into the kitchen and returned with a large piece of cake on a china plate.
‘I only have a few minutes,’ he said, crumbs spraying out of his mouth and onto the front of his coat as he spoke.
‘You look dreadful. What on earth have you been up to?’
‘I wouldn’t know where to begin. I need a drink,’ he wiped his mouth with the black silk scarf.
Irma went to the sideboard and fussed around with various bottles. ‘Would you like this Armagnac? He brought it back from France, apparently it’s very good.’ She poured him a large measure and sat down. ‘You look like you’ve lost weight.’
‘I’ve been doing a lot of walking. Look, I have to be back at work soon, so listen carefully.’ He explained what he wanted her to do.
‘How do you know they’ll be there?’
‘They’re bound to be,’ he said. ‘Vienna is desperate for coal. If not today, then tomorrow: from what I understand they’re making the journey three or four times a week at the moment, maybe more. Go there this afternoon. If he’s not there, go back tomorrow. There’ll be nothing in writing, just memorise what I tell you.’
‘What if he refuses?’
Viktor snorted and held out his glass for a refill. ‘He won’t refuse, not now the Red Army’s closing in. Staying alive concentrates the mind; I find it’s a better incentive than money.’
Irma paused and sat quietly for a while. ‘And what about me?’
Viktor raised his eyebrows, suggesting he wasn’t sure what she meant.
‘I mean, if the Red Army gets here. What happens to me?’
There was another pause, this one longer as Viktor thought about the question. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort something.’ He looked around the room and pointed at a framed photograph on the sideboard of her husband in uniform. ‘Get rid of that for a start.’
Viktor stayed longer than he’d planned. The Armagnac had revitalised him so they went into th
e bedroom for half an hour. Irma left the apartment soon after the Russian. She went straight to the docks around Seitenhafenstrasse and bribed the same sentry with a couple of packets of Junos she’d bought on the way there.
‘Is the Jelka in port, from Bratislava?’
He studied a list on his clipboard. ‘It should be here this time tomorrow afternoon. That’s a nice watch you have.’
Irma fingered the gold watch on her wrist. It had been her mother’s. ‘If you let me in tomorrow then it’s yours on the way out.’
The following afternoon she found herself once again in the engine room of the Jelka. Ján Kuchár had listened carefully to her message and she asked him to repeat it. She had to lean close to hear his voice above the noise of the engines. She could feel his hot breath and smell his unwashed body as he spoke.
‘Yes, yes, yes… I understand: I’m to get a message to a Political Commissar in the first Red Army unit we can find. They are to contact Department 23 in Moscow, unit six – you assure me they’ll understand what that means – and tell them the blacksmith urgently needs a meeting with the cobbler. I’m to wait for the reply and I’m to deliver it to you as soon as possible: you’ll be back here in four days. Sounds straightforward to me!’ The big Slovak laughed sarcastically.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, assuming they don’t kill this messenger like they did the last one.’
***
Irma returned to the port four days later, as arranged. Kuchár was on the quayside by the Jelka and pointed for her to go aboard, taking her into a cramped cabin rather than the engine room. He gestured for her to sit on the bed and she hesitated, but he remained standing against the door.
‘Did you deliver the message?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘And nearly got myself killed in the process.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘When the Red Army is at gates of Vienna, which shouldn’t be too long now, you stroll up to them and tell them you have a message for Moscow. You’ll be lucky if they don’t shoot you first. Fortunately I speak enough Russian to tell them I’m a comrade. The commissar wasn’t sure what to make of it all and he looked like he wanted to shoot me too, but his tune soon changed when the message came back from Moscow: I was treated like a prince for the first time in my life, I could get used to it. Your man must be very important.’
‘What was their reply?’
‘They want to see him, in Komárom.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Hungary.’
‘And how’s he meant to get there?’
‘Looks like I’m taking him.’
‘When?’
‘Tonight.’
***
‘I’ll get shot for this,’ Viktor said. ‘I’m not sure which side will shoot me, but it’ll be a miracle if I make it back alive.’ They were in Irma’s apartment and she was telling him he had to go straight to the barge.
‘They’ll take you to Bratislava,’ she said. ‘After that it may be a bit tricky, but he’ll be your guide. You need to hurry though; do you need anything?’
‘When work finds I’ve disappeared there’ll be hell to pay. Look, I have an idea…’
That night Viktor managed to slip undetected into the port and board the Jelka. He’d brought with him most of the remaining Reichsmarks he’d stashed at Irma’s apartment to buy the silence of the crew and pay for his voyage.
The next morning Irma did as Viktor had instructed. Fortunately there had been some air raids the previous night, but then it was an unusual night in Vienna if there were none. She dressed smartly and took a tram to the 9th District. In a street approaching the hospital she bought an overpriced bunch of nearly dead flowers then entered the AKH.
She was shocked by what she saw. Over the years she’d visited the hospital on a number of occasions and it had the reputation of being one of the finest hospitals in Europe, as well as one of the largest. Now it was overcrowded: there were patients left on stretchers in the corridors and dried blood and dirty bandages on the floor. She made her way to a ward on the fifth floor that seemed to be especially busy. She removed a handkerchief from her smart handbag and dabbed at her moist eyes, looking distressed.
‘Are you alright… is there anything I can to do help?’ asked a harassed-looking young nurse.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Irma ‘I can see how busy you are. I came to visit a very close friend who was injured in an air raid last week and I’ve just been told she died…’ Irma paused, struggling to regain her composure. She was speaking in the most refined Viennese accent she could muster. ‘I need to let her husband Salzburg know and I was wondering if perhaps I could use a private telephone?’
The young nurse glanced around and nodded, pointing at an office behind her.
‘Quick though, if the sister sees you…’
Once in the office Irma closed the door and lifted the handset, getting connected immediately to the switchboard. Using as an authoritative voice as she could manage she demanded to be connected to the Maria Theresien Kaserne barracks. She smiled as she heard the operator tell the operator at the other end it was the AKH. Could they please connect the call to the electrical workshop…? Yes, it was urgent.
Once she was connected, Irma asked to speak to Ernst, Otto Schneider’s supervisor. I’m a sister at the AKH. Unfortunately Herr Schneider was injured in an air raid last night and is likely to be away for a few days. Yes, of course she’d pass on his best wishes.
***
They were barely an hour outside Vienna, heading east on the black mass of the Danube, when the skipper came down to the engine room and started shouting. Viktor knew enough Slovak to gather the skipper, on reflection, felt the money he’d received wasn’t enough. Ján Kuchár called Viktor over: would he like to give some more?
Viktor stared at the skipper, a short, muscular man with the eyes of a bully and a nose damaged by drink and the occasional fight. ‘No,’ said Viktor. He was aware of the skipper bristling and Kuchár coughing.
‘Tell me,’ asked Viktor. ‘How long do you think it’ll be before the Red Army arrives in Bratislava?’ The skipper shrugged and looked confused. He was unused to difficult questions. Viktor helped him out. ‘A month, two months… Certainly before the summer, yes?’
The skipper nodded uncertainly and Viktor leaned close to him.
‘And have you thought about what’s going to happen to you and your precious barge when the Red Army finds you’ve been supplying the Nazis with coal, eh?’
The skipper muttered something about being forced to.
‘If you shut up and behave then I’ll put in a good word for you. You may even get to keep your barge.’
Kuchár and Viktor stayed in Bratislava just long enough to travel to another quay, to the boat Kuchár had arranged to take them to their destination. It was a tiny, battered vessel that looked like it would have trouble staying afloat on a pond in a park on a windless day. The skipper was Vojtech, an elderly man with a handsome face. Kuchár assured him Vojtech was totally reliable: ‘He’s a good, old-fashioned red. He said it’d be an insult to offer him money.’
‘I’ve no idea where the front line is today,’ Vojtech announced as he eased the boat from the harbour into the centre of the Danube. Viktor was crouched between sacks of flour, the boat’s putative cargo. ‘It changes every day: I’ll get you as close to it as I can.’
Viktor congratulated Kuchár on the choice of vessel: it looked and sounded so pathetic that he doubted anyone would stop it, but it performed deceptively well despite the choppy conditions. The Danube was now grey; Viktor had forgotten just how wide it was around Bratislava and, as they headed east, it became even wider, almost as if they were at sea. Kuchár told him he wasn’t sure whether they were in Slovakia or Hungary. ‘That’s what it’s going to be like from now on, the borders shift every day.’
The river began to narrow and on both banks of the river, they could see the Ge
rman artillery in position. Ahead of them they could just make out the sound of gunfire. Just as a town came into view, Vojtech swiftly turned to the south bank and expertly steered the boat into a concealed inlet. Kuchár tied a rope to a tree while Vojtech cut the engine and scrambled ashore, disappearing behind a hedge. It was 20 minutes before he returned.
‘We’re in Hungary, at least it was two days ago,’ he said. ‘I’m not going any further, I’ll wait here until you return – but no more than 24 hours, you understand? Over there, that’s Göny_. When I last heard, the Germans had pulled out of the town but left a unit of their Hungarian allies to hold it, part of the 3rd Army. The Germans are probably happy to sacrifice them. Keep south of the town and head east for about four miles, until you get to Komárom.’
‘What’ll we find there?’
‘Your army.’
***
By the time they reached the outskirts of Komárom dusk had set in. Kuchár suggested they hide in the woods until daybreak, but Viktor insisted they keep going. They worked their way through the trees, the noise of their progress masked by artillery fire and the occasional sound of aircraft overhead. At the end of the treeline a small grassy stretch dropped down to a lane, with ditches on either side of it. The two men hurried down and hid in one. After a while, a patrol of around a dozen men worked its way towards them. Viktor watched them carefully then turned around to the Slovak.
‘They’re Red Army.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure! They’re NKVD Border regiment, I can see their green caps and shoulder boards – Beria’s men. We must be further behind our lines than we thought; their job is to stop the front-line troops retreating. You wait here; one of us will look less threatening than two.’ Viktor hauled his large frame out of the ditch; his hands raised high above his head.
