The major evidently found Thomas Lieven's eggs much to his taste. "A delicacy, monsieur. You're really a great man."
Josephine asked: "You used nutmeg, didn't you?"
"Just a trace, madame," he answered. "The most important thing to remember is to melt the butter first and then beat up the yolks, but in such a way that they both stay bright."
At the same time he thought, I understand Josephine and I understand Debras. Their country is in danger. We have attacked them and they naturally want to defend themselves and make a stand against Hitler. But personally I don't intend to have blood on my hands.
Thomas Lieven said: "The milk should only be added after poaching the eggs, the mixture being continually stirred until the sauce is thick."
At the same time he thought, I remember that when they put that book into my hands at that idiotic spy school near Nancy in order to learn decoding it seemed to me that the hero of that novel had practically the same experiences as myself. What was his name again? Ah, yes. The Count of Monte Cristo . . .
MENU (An Improvisation)
Sausage cJ^ests Oeufs a la Josephine Swedish Fruit Salad
19 AUGUST 1940
The "Black Venus" was enchanted by Thomas Lieven's Oeufs a la Josephine.
Sausa&e Nests
German or Polish wurst (sausage) is cut into large round slices a quarter of an inch thick, without removing the skin. Lard is heated in a saucepan, the slices placed in it and rapidly heated until they form "nests" Then they are immediately taken out of the saucepan and put on a plate, where some of the nests are filled with apple-cream (grated apples and horseradish with a dash of vinegar and salt). Other "nests" are stuffed with braised onions, tomatoes and such herbs as parsley and chives, together with olive oil. To be eaten with plenty of coarse brown bread.
Oeufs a la Josephine
A bechamel sauce is prepared and, when cool, two yolks and a little grated nutmeg are added. The sauce, which can also be used for other dishes, is in this case brought to perfection by chopped ham and grated Parmesan cheese. Poached eggs are then introduced so as to be well covered by the sauce. Parmesan cheese and flakes of butter are sprinkled over it and the dish is left to bake in the oven for five minutes.
Swedish Fruit Salad
A tin of fruit salad is well chilled in the refrigerator. The fruit is then sprinkled with a little rum and covered with plenty of cream, which may be tinned if fresh cream is not available.
Thomas Lieven inquired in honeyed accents: "Which way will you be traveling to England, Major Debras?"
"Madrid and Lisbon."
"Isn't that a very dangerous route?"
"I have another forged passport."
"All the same, as Madame was saying, there are spies all over this part of the country. If the brief case is found in your possession . . ."
"I shall have to risk it. Simeon is needed in Paris and has to return there. I shall have no one with me."
"You could have."
"Whom?"
"Me."
"You!"
The devil take all the secret services in the world, thought Thomas. He answered eagerly: "Yes, me. I just can't bear to think that the Germans might get hold of the thing!" Nor can I bear to think of you having it, he added inwardly. "Now that we have met you can see that I'm reliable." If only you knew how unreliable I am, he was thinking. "Besides, the idea amuses me. I should feel like a sportsman competing for a prize." Oh, how I wish I could be a peaceful citizen again, he thought ruefully.
Josephine looked up from her eggs and said: "M. Lieven is right, Maurice. You are like a red rag to a bull for the Germans and their spies."
"Of course, my dear. But how can we save that brief case from falling into the hands of German Intelligence?"
And of all the other secret services, thought Thomas. He said: "I met a banker named Lindner in Toulouse. He's only waiting for his wife to join him and then he's off to South America. He's offered to make me his partner. We shall be emigrating by way of Lisbon."
Josephine said to D6bras:."You could meet them in Lisbon."
Debras asked: "And why do you want to do all this?"
Because of my convictions, thought Thomas Lieven. He answered: "Because of my convictions."
Debras said slowly: "I should be infinitely obliged to you . . ." Patience, thought Thomas. "And apart from that the double journey would offer us further special opportunities." If certainly would to me, thought Thomas. "I could attract the attention of our pursuers to myself. That would ensure safety for you and the brief case." No doubt of that, thought
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Thomas. "Very well then. I shall travel by rail via Madrid. You, M. Lieven, since you will hold a transit visa, will still be able to go by air from Marseilles."
Thomas thought: You two are so likable with your pluck and your enterprise. I hope you won't be angry with me later on. But what else can a decent human being in my position do? I really don't want French agents to die. But nor do I want German soldiers to die. My country is not populated entirely by Nazis.
Thomas said: "It's simply a question of common sense, M. Debras. All the hunting dogs of this world are after you. I am still a blank sheet of paper so far as German Intelligence is concerned ..."
[6]
By a strange turn of inscrutable fate it happened that about the same time on this very same evening General Otto von Stiilpnagel, commander in chief of the German Army in France, was raising his glass of champagne in the Hotel Majestic, his staff headquarters in Paris, to drink a toast with two other gentlemen. One was the head of German Intelligence, Admiral Wilhelm Canaris. The other was the short, gray-haired tank general, Erich von Felseneck.
With a silvery clinking of cut-glass goblets the gentlemen drank to one another under an enormous portrait of Napoleon I. Uniforms of all the branches of the services gleamed brightly. Medals blazed.
General von Stiilpnagel said: "To the unknown, invisible heroes of your outfit, Admiral!"
"To the incomparably greater services of your soldiers, gentlemen!"
General von Felseneck had already drunk a little too much. He sniggered slyly. "Don't be so modest, Admiral. Your fellows can be pretty cunning." He was evidently enjoying himself. "I'm afraid I can't tell you the story, Stiilpnagel. I've been sworn to secrecy. But I can tell you that our friend Canaris has got quite a head on him."
They drank.
Generals von Kleist and Reichenau joined the group and carried off their colleague von Stiilpnagel.
Canaris suddenly began to take an interest in General von Felseneck, offering his cigar case and inquiring in a casual tone: "What were you referring to just now, my dear sir?"
Felseneck giggled. "Sworn to secrecy, Hen* Canaris. You won't get a word out of me!"
"Who was it, then, who insisted on your keeping such absolute silence?" the admiral wanted to know.
"One of your lads. And a daring young devil, too, I can tell you. Take my hat off to him!"
Canaris smiled, but with his lips only. "Come on, let's hear about it. I'd really like to know which of our little stratagems made such an impression on you."
"Well, well! It really would be a bit too absurd if one couldn't mention it to you of all people. But I think all I need say is 'the black brief case'!"
"Ah, yes!" Canaris nodded amiably. "Of course! The black brief case!"
"What a lad, eh, Herr Canaris? You ought to have seen him posing to me as an American diplomat! The confidence? The quiet self-possession after one of my people had arrested him!" Von Felseneck laughed heartily. "He carries off two French spies and the entire Deuxieme Bureau staff list into safekeeping for our benefit and still take time off to give me a recipe for potato goulash! I can't get the chap out of my mind. He's the sort I could well do with on my own staff!"
"Yes," said Canaris. "We have a few smart boys like that in the department. I remember your story now . . ." Of course he didn't really remember it at all. But his instinct told him that something p
retty awful must have happened in this case. He said with assumed indifference, as though thinking aloud: "Let's see, what was that fellow's name again?"
"Lieven. Thomas Lieven, Intelligence Department, Cologne Recruiting Office. He showed me his pass. Thomas Lieven! I shan't forget that name in a hurry!"
"Lieven, of course. Yes, that's certainly a name 111 have to take a note of." Canaris beckoned to an orderly and took two full glasses of champagne from a heavy silver tray. "Come, General, let's have another drink together, over in that alcove. I'd like to hear more about your meeting with our friend Lieven. I always enjoy feeling proud of my boys."
m
The telephone bell rang relentlessly.
Major Fritz Loos sat up in bed, bathed in sweat. More trouble, I suppose, he thought sleepily. What a stinking job this is!
It was some time before he could find the switch of the
lamp on the bed table and pick up the receiver. "Loos speaking," he croaked.
Crackling and crashing noises sounded over the wire. "Urgent priority call from Paris. I'm connecting you with Admiral Canaris."
At the last word a stabbing pain shot through the major's interior organs. My liver again, he thought testily. That just about puts the lid on it.
Then he heard a familiar voice. "Major Loos?"
"Yes, Admiral."
"Look here, there's been an appalling mess-up . . ."
"Mess-up, Herr Admiral?"
"Do you know a certain Thomas Lieven?"
The receiver slipped from the major's hand and dropped to the counterpane. He heard quacking sounds on the wire, snatched up the receiver again in a great state of excitement and stammered: "Yes, certainly, Herr Admiral, Fdo know the—the name—"
"Ah, so you know him, do you? Did you ever give him an Intelligence pass?"
"Yes, Herr Admiral."
'Why?"
"I—I engaged him, Herr Admiral. But it—well, it didn't work. The man disappeared. I've been worrying about the matter for some time—"
"You've got every reason to do so, Major Loos! Get on the next plane right away. I want you here at the Hotel Lutetia at the earliest possible moment. Is that clear?"
The Hotel Lutetia in the Avenue de l'Opera was the headquarters of German Intelligence in Paris.
"Very good, Herr Admiral," said Major Loos submissively. "I'll come as soon as I can. What, if I may ask, has the fellow been up to?"
Canaris told him what the fellow had been up to. Major Loos turned paler and paler. At last he shut his eyes tight. No, no, no, surely, surely not! And all my fault . . .
The voice in Paris blared like a trumpet at the walls of Jericho. "The man has lists of the names, addresses and recognition signals of every French agent! Do you realize what that means? The man carries our lives in his hands! We must get hold of him at all costs!"
"Very well, Herr Admiral, I'll put my best men on the job . . ." Major Loos drew himself up in bed in martial fashion. Unfortunately his nightshirt rather spoiled the effect.
"We'll get those lists and draw the fellow's teeth, if I have to shoot him down myself . . ."
"You seem to have taken leave of your senses, Major Loos," said the voice from Paris in silken tones. "I want that man alive. He's much too good to shoot."
[8]
20 August 1940 0215 hours
calling all stations—urgency roman figure one—chief intelligence to all service posts of secret police active duty france—german citizen thomas lieven wanted—30 years old—slim build—narrow face—dark eyes—close cropped black hair—smart civilian clothes—speaks fluent german, english, french—in possession of german intelligence pass issued by major fritz loos army recruiting centre cologne —genuine german passport number 543231 series 1 c— forged american diplomatic pass in the name of william s. murphy—left paris 15 June 1940 in black Chrysler with corps diplomatique badges and american flag on roof—in possession of pass issued by general erich von felseneck—travelled in company of young french woman and french man—in possession of most important enemy documents—immediate research ordered—all information including negative reports to major loos head of special group z secret police headquarters paris—in arrest of lieven weapons to be used only if absolutely necessary—message ends
While this order was startling secret police and many military personnel, including the captain who had put five cans of German army petrol at the disposal of a certain Murphy on June 16, at Tours, that urgently wanted man, Thomas Lieven, was alighting in high spirits from his little Peugeot in the rue des Bergeres at Toulouse. Contentedly clasping a black brief case under his arm, he banged the door of the car.
The gay girls Chez Jeanne were already asleep. The little restaurant was closed. The only light came from the old-fashioned drawing room with the gigantic mirror and the red plush upholstery. Mimi, Simeon and the seductive sandy-haired owner of the establishment were sitting there waiting for Thomas.
Sighs of relief resounded as he entered. Jeanne announced: "We were getting quite worried about you!"
"Is that so?" Thomas retorted. "And were you worried, too, when you sent me away?"
"We were obeying orders," Simeon told him. "But I must say I don't understand why you've got that brief case still."
Thomas helped himself to a generous measure of Remy Martin from a bottle on a side table.
"Here's to all our futures," he said. "The hour of parting is at hand, dear friends. I managed to convince Major Debras that it would be better if / took the documents to Lisbon. You, Colonel, are to return to Paris and report to Lotus Flower Four whoever she may be."
'That's the code name for underground resistance," replied the colonel in a solemn tone.
"Well, I hope you'll enjoy it," said Thomas. He looked at his handsome landlady. "And the best of luck to you too, Jeanne. All prosperity to your establishment!"
"I'll miss you a lot," said Jeanne sadly. Thomas kissed her hand. "It's always painful to part," he said.
Mimi, who usually took everything so lightly, suddenly burst into a tempest of tears. She choked and sobbed and moaned, exclaiming in high-pitched, forlorn tones: "Oh, I am stupid—forgive me—I don't really want to cry—"
Some hours later, as she lay beside Thomas—it was already light outside and raining*—he heard her voice through the sound of the downpour. "I've been thinking about it for such a long time, torturing myself ..."
"I understand," he said sympathetically. "You're worrying about Simeon, aren't you?"
She suddenly flung herself against his chest. Her tears trickled over his lips, hot and salty. "Darling, I love you. I'm really frightfully in love with you. But the last few weeks in this house have shown me clearly that you're not the marrying kind ..."
"If you're talking about Jeanne," he began. But she interrupted him. "Oh, it's not only Jeanne, specially. You're a man who likes women. But you like them all, not just one. You could never be faithful . . ."
"I could try, Mimi."
"You could never be so faithful as Jules. He's not nearly so clever as you are. But he's much more romantic, much more idealistic."
"My dearest, you really don't have to apologize for feeling that way about him. I've been expecting it for some time. You are both French and love your native land. But for me just
now there isn't such a thing. So I want to get away and you want to stay . . ."
"And you can forgive me?"
"I've nothing to forgive."
She snuggled up to him. "Oh, please, please, don't be so kind, darling. Otherwise I shall start crying again . . . Oh, isn't it awful not to be allowed to marry two husbands!"
Thomas smiled. Then he moved his head to avoid the pressure of the black brief case lying under his pillow. Thomas had determined never to part from it until he was ready to board the plane for South America. He couldn't do anything about the case while he was in Toulouse. There wouldn't be time. But in Lisbon he would take care that it could never do any harm.
"Thank yo
u, chtri" he heard Mimi whisper sleepily. "Oh, thank you."
"What for?"
"Oh, for everything . . ." She felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude to him for his gaiety and generosity, for the short hours of their happiness together amid bright lights, in luxurious hotels and railway sleepers, in bars listening to soft music and in expensive restaurants, enjoying marvelous meals.
That was how Mimi thanked Thomas once more, while the rain of that dreary morning drummed on the black cobbles of the rue des Bergere and the couple ended their affair as they had begun it and as all lovers should end their affairs—in love.
[9]
Thomas Lieven did not know that the German Army and German Intelligence were looking for him as if he were a pin. Consequently he was ready to rejoice with anyone when the prospective emigrant, Walter Lindner, crimson in the face and completely out of breath, burst into the kitchen of Jeanne's restaurant. Thomas was just making some onion soup.
Lindner dropped onto a stool, knocking over a bowl of cucumber salad, and blurted out: "My wife, my wife—Tve found my wife!"
'Where? How?"
"Here in Toulouse!" Lindner was laughing and crying at the same time. It looked as though he were happily married. "I went into that little cafe on the Place du Capitole and was about to sit down and play chess with those fellows from
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Briinn when I heard a woman's voice behind me say: 'Excuse me, do you by any chance know a Hen* Lindner?' Next moment she called out, 'Walter!' and rushed into my arms!"
Lindner and Thomas executed a little dance of joy, during which, sad to say, they completely ruined the spilled salad.
"Forward, quick march to the consulate!" cried Lindner. "Now we can get a move on, Herr Lieven! Heavens, how I'm looking forward to our new life together!"
And I even more, thought Thomas.
Then the future partners in a South American bank still to be founded started their preparations, at breakneck speed, for emigration. No country with a French frontier issued entry permits at this date. The very best one could hope for was a transit visa. But this in its turn needed a preliminary overseas entry permit.
The Monte Cristo Cover-Up Page 10
