The Monte Cristo Cover-Up

by Johannes Mario Simmel

  In consequence of the swift decision taken by the French Government to forbid the export of capital no foreign countries were being flooded with French francs. The franc, therefore, in spite of the unfavorable circumstances, was remaining fairly stable, just as Thomas had anticipated. Its relative stability constituted, so to speak, the axis of the whole operation.

  Thomas Lieven, as William S. Murphy, traveled back to Paris with a suitcase full of dollars. Within a few hours this valuable currency was eagerly snapped up by the same rich people who intended to leave their country in the lurch as soon as possible and carry off their capital into safety.

  61

  Thomas Lieven made them pay double and triple prices for the realization of their despicable plans.

  His first journey brought him in 600,000 francs personal profit. Next, again as William S. Murphy, he returned to Brussels with five million francs in his courier's luggage. He repeated his procedure. The margin of profit rose. One week later four gentlemen with diplomatic passports were traveling back and forth between Paris and Brussels, as well as between Paris and Zurich. They were taking francs out of the country and dollars into it. Two weeks later there were eight of them.

  Thomas Lieven was in charge of the entire transaction. He took care, through his connections in Brussels and Zurich, that enough reserves remained available to meet his requirements. The enterprise already showed a profit ofmillions of francs.

  The melancholy eyes of the French secret service officers began to show faint gleams of hope, an expression of still incredulous gratitude, as Thomas Lieven transferred larger and larger sums to their accounts.

  Between September 12, 1939, and May 10, 1940, the date of the German attack on Belgium, Thomas Lieven's turnover reached the amount of eighty million francs. By reckoning his expenses and commission at ten per cent in all and investing the money thus earned in dollars he found himself in possession of 27,730 of those units of currency. Everything had gone quite smoothly except for one little accident

  Thomas Lieven, traveling on the evening train from Brussels on January 2, 1940, could not himself remember how many times he had made the journey before. The train stopped at Feignies, on the frontier, longer tha^n usual. Thomas, feeling slightly uneasy about the cause of the delay, was about to inquire the reason for it, when the door of his compartment was opened. The chief of the French frontier police, a tall man whom Thomas had often seen before put his head into the compartment.

  He spoke in a calm, official tone of voice. "Monsieur, I would advise you to alight, drink a bottle of wine with me and go on by the next train."

  "And why would you so advise me?"

  "This train is waiting for the American ambassador to France. His Excellency has had a slight automobile accident near here, in which his car was damaged. The next compartment to yours has been reserved for him. Three of his embassy staff are with him. ... So you see, monsieur, you really

  ought to take the next train. Let me help you with that big bag of yours . .."

  Five minutes later Thomas was asking him: "Who told you about me?"

  The tall police officer raised his hand in a warning gesture. "Colonel Simeon notifies us every time you travel this way and asks us to take special care of you."

  Thomas took out his wallet. "What ought I to offer you?"

  "No, no, monsieur! I'm only too glad to be of service. You owe me nothing in return. But perhaps . .. There are sixteen of us on duty here and recently we've been running very short of coffee and cigarettes . .."

  "Well, next time I'm traveling to Brussels ..."

  "Just a minute, monsieur. It's not so simple. We shall have to take care that those customs toughs don't spot the game. Next time you travel, but only if you come by the night express, please stand on the forward platform of the first-class coach and have the parcel ready. One of my boys will jump on to take it..."

  Thenceforward this trick was played two or three times a week. The Feignies frontier police station was better supplied than any other in France. "Humdrum jobs breed kind hearts," said Thomas Lieven.

  [10]

  General Effel offered him a decoration. But Thomas declined the honor. "I'm a convinced civilian, General. I don't care for those things."

  "Then is there anything else you would like, M. Lieven?"

  "I wonder if I might have a certain number of French passport forms, General? With the right rubber stamps. There are a whole lot of Germans in Paris today who will have to go to ground when the Nazis come. They can't afford to run away. I'd very much like to help the poor devils."

  For a moment the general made no reply. Then he answered: "It goes rather against the grain, monsieur. But I respect your wishes and will grant them."

  Thenceforth Thomas received many visitors at his luxury flat in the Bois de Boulogne. He didn't charge them anything. They got their forged passports for nothing. The only condition he made was the production of proof that they could only expect imprisonment or death at the hands of the Nazis.

  Thomas called his new business "playing consul." He en-:

  joyed the game of helping the poor a little after he had lifted so much money from the rich.

  For the rest, the Germans seemed in no hurry. The French called this strange war a drole de guerre.

  Thomas Lieven kept up his journeys to Brussels and Zurich. In March 1940 he returned home a day earlier than he was expected.

  By that time Mimi had long been living with him. She always knew exactly when to expect him home. But on this occasion he had forgotten to let her know that he was coming back sooner than usual.

  I'll give the darling a surprise, Thomas said to himself. And he really did surprise her—in the arms of the fascinating Colonel Jules Simeon.

  "Monsieur," said the colonel, busy with the many buttons of his uniform, "I take all the blame for this situation. I have seduced Mimi. I have betrayed her trust, monsieur. There can be no excuse for my conduct. You have the right to choose weapons."

  "Just you get out of this flat and don't let me ever see you here again!"

  Simeon's face turned a deep strawberry color. He bit his underlip and left the apartment.

  Mime said timidly: "Oh, you were rude!"

  "You love him, I suppose?"

  "I love both of you. He's so gallant and romantic, and you're so clever and cheerful!"

  "Oh Mimi, what on earth am I to do with you?" said Thomas in a dejected tone. He sat down on the edge of the bed. He had suddenly realized that he was very fond of Mimi...

  On May 10, the German offensive started. The Belgians had been mistaken. They were attacked for the second time.

  The Germans had 190 divisions in the field. Against them were ranged 12 Dutch divisions, 23 Belgian, 10 British, 78 French and 1 Polish. Allied aircraft totaled 850, some of obsolete design. They were opposed by 4500 German machines.

  The collapse followed at breath-taking speed. Panic broke out. Ten million French citizens took to the roads in a piteous plight.

  Thomas Lieven, in Paris, quietly dismissed his domestic staff. He was handing out the last few forged passports for his countrymen when he first heard the distant rumbling of the guns. He made neat bundles of his franc, dollar and pound

  notes, tied them up separately and hid them in the double lining of a suitcase. Mimi helped him. She wasn't looking well these days. Thomas was friendly but cool. He hadn't yet recovered from the affair with the colonel.

  Outwardly he appeared to be cheerful. "According to the latest reports the Germans are moving from the north to the east. So well just put a few more things together and then leave Paris in a southwesterly direction. We've enough petrol. Well go by way of Le Mans. Then on down to Bordeaux and ..." He broke off. "Are you crying?"

  Mimi sobbed: "Are you going to take me?"

  "Yes, of course. I can't very well leave you here, can I?"

  "But you know I've been unfaithful to you ...."

  "My dear child," he retorted with dignity. "To be unfaith
ful to me you'd have had to start on Winston Churchill!"

  "Oh, Thomas—you're so wonderful! And—and are you going to forgive him too?"

  "That'll be easier than forgiving you. He loves you and I can understand that."

  "Thomas ..."

  "Yes?"

  "He's in the garden."

  Thomas gave a start. "What on earth's he doing there?"

  "He's feeling so desperate. He doesn't know what to do. He's just back from a service trip. He can't find any of his people. He's all alone, no car, no petrol..."

  "How do you know all this?"

  "He—he told me. He was here an hour ago. I told him I would speak to you ..."

  "Well, that beats everything," Thomas said. Then he suddenly started laughing so heartily that the tears came into his eyes.

  [11]

  On the afternoon of June 13, 1940, a heavy black Chrysler was moving in a southwesterly direction through the Paris suburb of St. Cloud. Progress was slow. For innumerable other vehicles were rattling and bumping along in the same direction, carrying crowds of refugees from Paris.

  The near-side fender of the black Chrysler displayed the flag of the United States. A similar but larger banner covered the entire roof of the vehicle. Badges glittered on the

  front bumpers bearing the brightly polished letters CD: Corps Diplomatique,

  Thomas Lieven sat at the wheel. Mimi Chambert sat next to him. At the back, half buried among hat boxes and suitcases, sat Colonel Jules Simeon. He was now again wearing his once smart but now somewhat threadbare blue suit, his gold cufflinks and gold tie pin. Simeon was watching Thomas with an expression of mingled gratitude, shame and extreme embarrassment.

  Thomas was doing his best to relieve the tense atmosphere with optimistic conversation. "Our lucky star v/ill see us through." He glanced at the flag on the radiator. "Our forty-eight lucky stars, I should say!"

  The colonel grunted gloomily from behind him: "Running away like cowards! We ought to stand and fight!"

  "Jules," said Mimi soothingly, "we lost the war long ago. If you're captured now you'll only be put up against the wall.' !

  "That would be more honorable," said the colonel.

  "And stupider," said Thomas. "Personally I'm very keen see how all this nonsense is going to end. Honestly I am!"

  "If the Germans catch you, they'll stick you up against the wall too," the colonel told him.

  Thomas turned the car off into a side road which was less crowded, and drove on into a little wood. "The Germans," he explained, "have surrounded Paris on three sides. The open side runs roughly from Versailles to Corbeil. And that's where we are."

  "And suppose some German troops have already reached this zone?"

  "Believe me, there won't be any Germans in this insignificant side road or in this part of the country at all. Not one."

  They had now emerged from the wood and could see some way ahead. Along the "insignificant side road" a long column of German reconnaissance tanks marked with the black cross was moving toward them.

  Mimi screamed.

  Colonel Simeon groaned.

  Thomas Lieven said: "I wonder what they're doing here? They must have lost their way."

  "We're done for," said the colonel, who had turned as white as a sheet.

  "Oh, don't start all that again! You make me quite nervous!"

  Jules Simeon explained in a choking voice: "I've got secret

  files in my brief case with the names and addresses of all French agents."

  Thomas caught his breath. "Have you gone absolutely crazy? What on earth are you carrying that stuff for?"

  The colonel shouted back at him: 'Tve orders from General Effel to get those lists to Toulouse without fail and hand them over there to a certain person, cost what it may!"

  "I wish you'd told me that before!" Thomas snarled.

  "Well, if I had, I wonder if you'd have taken me along?"

  Thomas had to laugh. "You're right there!"

  A minute later they had met the head of the column.

  "I have a pistol," whispered the colonel. "So long as I live no one is going to touch my brief case."

  "I don't suppose they'll mind waiting those few minutes," Thomas observed, switching off the engine.

  German soldiers in dusty uniforms approached the car, staring inquisitively. A slim, blond first lieutenant alighted from a jeep. He walked up to the Chrysler, saluted and said:

  "Good afternoon. May I see your papers, please?"

  Mimi sat silent, as though paralyzed. The soldiers had now surrounded the Chrysler on all sides.

  "It's okay," said Thomas haughtily, in English. "We are Americans, see?"

  "I can see the flags," said the blond lieutenant in excellent English. "And now I want to see your papers."

  "Here you are," said Thomas Lieven, handing over his passport.

  First Lieutenant Fritz Egmont Zumbusch opened out the American diplomat's pass as if handling an accordion. After examining it with wrinkled brows, he scrutinized the smartly dressed young gentleman sitting with an expression of the most utter boredom behind the steering wheel of the heavy black car.

  Zumbusch demanded: "Your name is William S. Murphy?"

  "Yes," replied the young gentleman, yawning but politely raising his hand to cover his mouth.

  If one's name is not William S. Murphy but Thomas Lieven, if one is on the blacklist of the German secret service as an agent of the French secret service and apart from that happens to have landed right in the middle of a column of German military reconnaissance tanks, and if in addition one has a little French mistress and a high-ranking officer of the Deuxi&me Bureau in mufti sitting in the car, and if, finally, one knows that this officer is carrying in a black leather case

  secret files and lists of all the French agents and their addresses, well, it isn't at all a bad idea to appear most frightfully and utterly bored.

  First Lieutenant Zumbusch, with tight-lipped courtesy, handed back the diplomatic pass. For on that scorching day, June 13, 1940, the United States was of course still neutral. And of course Zumbusch, with Paris only thirteen miles away, didn't want any trouble. But, having made an unfortunate marriage, he happened to be a keen soldier. Accordingly he demanded, with conscientious attention to duty: "The lady's passport, please."

  Pretty little black-haired Mimi didn't understand his words. But she guessed what he meant, opened her handbag and produced the document required. As she did so she smiled at the soldiers thronging round the car, who responded at once with a unanimous murmur of appreciation.

  "My secretary," Thomas explained to the lieutenant, thinking, Well, everything's going fine. There's only Simeon now and we shall be through. But the very next moment came the catastrophe.

  First Lieutenant Zumbusch had stuck his head through the window of the car in order to give Mimi back her passport He then turned to Simeon, who was sitting at the back among hatboxes and suitcases, with his black leather case on his knees.

  Zumbusch may have made rather a rapid movement in stretching out his hand. Anyhow Colonel Simeon drew back from the approaching fingers of the Teuton and clutched the black leather case tightly to his chest with the fanatical expression of an early Christian martyr.

  "Hallo," said Zumbusch. "What have you got there? Let's have a look at it."

  "Non, non, non!" cried the colonel.

  Thomas, who had turned-his head to intervene, suddenly found Zumbusch's elbow in his mouth. After all, a Chrysler isn't exactly a playground.

  Mimi began screaming, Zumbusch banged his head against the roof of the car and began cursing. And the gear lever caught Thomas, as he turned, on a sensitive spot, his kneecap.

  That imbecile of a hero, thought Thomas grimly. Then, to -his indescribable disgust, he saw a French army revolver in Simeon s hand and heard him gasp in broken German: "Hands off or I fire!"

  "You idiot!" yelled Thomas. He nearly dislocated his arm

  as he knocked up Simeon's hand. The revolver wen
t off with a deafening explosion, the bullet lodging in the roof of the car.

  Thomas tore the weapon out of Simeon's hand, growling at him in French: "You give people nothing but trouble, don't you?"

  First Lieutenant Zumbusch snatched open the door of the car and bawled at Thomas: "Out you get!"

  Thomas alighted with a polite smile. The lieutenant was also now holding a revolver. The tankmen stood round them in a circle, their weapons at the ready. Everything had suddenly grown very quiet.

  Thomas hurled Sim6on's pistol into a cornfield. Then he gazed with raised eyebrows into the barrels of fifteen others.

  There's nothing for it now, he thought, but to make an appeal to our national respect for authority. Accordingly, he drew a deep breath and roared at Zumbusch: "This gentleman and the lady are under my protection! My car carries the United States flag!"

  "Out you get or we'll let you have it!" bawled Zumbusch at the apparent civilian, Colonel Simeon, still sitting, white-faced, in the back of the car.

  "Stay where you are!" yelled Thomas. He couldn't think of anything better to say. "This car is neutral territory! The people in it are on American soil!"

  "I don't give a damn for that..."

  "Okay, okay, if you want to provoke an international incident. It was just that sort of thing that brought us into the First World War."

  "Fm not provoking anything. I'm simply doing my duty. That man might well be a French agent."

  "Do you think that, if he were, he'd behave so crazily?"

  "Give me that brief case! Come on! I intend to know what's in it!"

  "It contains diplomatic material under international protection. I shall complain to your superiors."

  "You can do that right away."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You're coming along with us."

  "Where to?"

  "Operational Headquarters. A blind man can see that there's something fishy going on here. Get back behind the steering wheel and turn your car round. Try to get away and we shoot. And not at your tires," said First Lieutenant Zumbusch in a very quiet tone.