Two men were sitting at a cafe table close to the pavement, drinking Pernod. One of them, the stout little Luis Tamiro, was looking through the passport which had been forged that afternoon. He murmured admiringly: "First-rate work. Really first-rate!"
ir When does your plane leave?"
"In two hours."
"Give Debras my regards. He must do his best to get here before my boat leaves in five days' time." ,
"I certainly hope hell be able to manage it.
"What do you mean by that?" Thomas Lieven asked.
Luis Tamiro, looking worried, pulled at his little Brazilian cigar. "The Spaniards are supposed to be neutral. But they let German agents do pretty much as they please. Three German 'tourists' are closely shadowing the major in Madrid all day and all night. They relieve one another every eight hours. He's quite well aware of it. But he can't shake them off. Their names are Loffier, Weise and Hart They are staying at the same hotel as he is, the Palace."
"What's the idea?"
"As the major's had his passport taken away, he can't leave Madrid. The three Germans know who he is but they can't prove it yet. They want to find out what he's doing in Madrid. Moreover, if he makes any attempt to leave the city, the Spanish police would have an excuse to arrest him immediately.
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And once he's in the jug he could be spirited away to Germany without anyone being much the wiser."
"So he's got to shake off those three."
"Yes, but how can he? They're straining at the leash like pointers. The moment he tries to escape they'll pounce."
Thomas Lieven looked curiously at the little man. "Tell me, Tamiro, what's your profession actually?"
The stout little fellow sighed, then pursed his lips. "I supply girls for all prohibited purposes. I smuggle people and weapons. I deal in the black market. Anything I'm paid for. I used to be a jeweler in Madrid."
"And then what happened?"
"The Civil War ruined me. My shop was bombed to bits, my goods stolen. And I got into political trouble on top of that. No, Fve had more than enough of an honest life. For me everything has its fixed price. Idealists can go and chase themselves so far as I'm concerned."
Thomas Lieven asked quietly: "I daresay you know a few other gentlemen in Madrid who are of your opinion?"
"Plenty!"
"And according to you everything has its fixed price?"
"Of course."
Thomas, with a smile, glanced up at the flickering newsreel. He murmured gently: "Listen, Luis. What would it cost—confidentially—to get a spontaneous little riot started?"
"What do you have in mind?"
Thomas Lieven told him what he had in mind.
[10]
"Aaaaaahhhhh!"
The black-haired, statuesque Consul Estrella Rodrigues woke up with a shriek, as Thomas Lieven entered her room at an advanced hour of the night. Quaking, she switched on the little red-shaded lamp behind the bed. One hand was pressed to her heart.
"Heavens, Jean, how you frightened me!"
"Sorry, darling, we were talking late—and then I saw the man with the passport to his plane ..." He sat down wearily on the edge of the bed. She threw herself into his arms.
"Kiss me ..." She hugged him tight. "Oh, thank God you are here at last! I've been waiting for you for hours—I thought it would kill me—I thought I should have to die ..."
"Because you missed me so much?" he inquired, flattered.
"Yes, that too."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I was hoping all the evening that you would come and let me have a little more money, so that I could go to Estoril."
"H—m—m."
"I rang them up. Elevens and tens and twelves were coming up at all the tables! Can you imagine it? Those are my favorite numbers! I might have won a fortune today!"
"Estrella, tomorrow I am going to introduce you to an absolutely first-rate forger. You can give him your passorts to sell on commission. He is ready to go fifty-fifty with you on the proceeds."
"Oh, Jean, how wonderful!"
Thomas went into the bathroom. She called tenderly after him: "I had such a strange dream last night."
"Oh, what was that?" he inquired from the bathroom.
"I dreamed you were a German—you, my lover! A German! And I, who hate the Germans so! I thought it would kill me. I thought I was going to die ... Jean, can you hear me?"
"Yes. Every word."
"Then why don't you answer?"
She heard him cough. "You gave me such a shock I swallowed half the water in my-tooth glass."
That made her laugh. "Oh, you're so sweet! Come to me! Come quickly to your loving Estrella .. ."
A little later the German-hating lady with the glorious figure awoke to hear Thomas laughing quite heartly in his sleep. She shook his shoulder violently.
"Jean, Jean! What's the matter?"
"Eh? Oh, I had such a funny dream."
"What about?"
"About a spontaneous little riot," he said, laughing again.
nn
On September 5, 1940, in Madrid, Inspector Filippo Aliados of the Secret Police composed the following confidential report to his chief:
TOP PRIORITY. At 1403 hours today the duty officer of the Fourteenth Precinct informed me that about fifty persons had assembled outside the British Embassy, No. 16 Calle Fernando el Santo, and were making hostile demonstrations.
I at once proceeded to the spot with five men and found that the rioters were all from the lower strata of the population. They were shouting insults, in chorus, against England. Four (4) windows in the Embassy had been smashed and three (3) flower boxes had been pulled to the ground. The Commercial Attache had come out into the street, at the request of the Ambassador, to interview the rioters.
On my arrival the Attache, who appeared greatly excited, said: "These men admit that they were paid by German agents to start a riot here."
Most of the demonstrators fled on being energetically charged by a police detachment. But we were able to arrest three persons. Their names are Luis Tamiro, Juan Mereira and Manuel Passos.
The arrested men repeated in my presence the statement that they had been paid by German agents, whom they named as follows: Helmut Loffler, Thomas Weise and Jakob Hart, all three residents at the Palace Hotel.
The British Commercial Attache insisted upon an immediate investigation of the matter, which he said would be the subject of a formal protest by his government.
In view of repeated official instructions to take every step to safeguard Spanish neutrality I immediately proceeded to the Palace Hotel and arrested the three above mentioned German tourists. They resisted arrest and had to be handcuffed before being taken into custody.
At the Station hearing they all indignantly denied having financed the demonstration. They were confronted by the three demonstrators arrested, but without recognition on either side. I then dismissed the rioters after warning them that they would be charged with a breach of public order.
The three Germans, however, are already known by us to be agents of German Military Intelligence and for that reason may well have inspired the demonstration.
They are still in my custody. I beg to request that I may be informed as soon as possible what is to be done with them, as the British Commercial Attache telephones me hourly to inquire what steps I am taking.
(Signed) Filippo Aliados
INSPECTOR.
A German fist came crashing down on a desk of .German oak. The desk stood in one of the rooms in a house on the Tirpitz Embankment in Berlin. The fist belonged to Admiral Ca-naris. He was standing behind the desk. In front of the desk * stood the liverish Major Fritz Loos from Cologne.
The face of the major was very pale. The face of the admiral was very red. The major kept very quiet. The admiral's voice was very loud.
"This is too much, Major! Three of our people expelled from Spain! Protest by the British Government! A gift to the enemy press. And that sly H
err Lieven of yours is laughing himself sick in Lisbon!"
"Herr Admiral, I really don't understand what that fellow, once again, has to do with it!"
Canaris retorted bitterly: "While our people were under arrest in Madrid for hours on end Major Debras left the country. Undoubtedly with a forged passport. He reached Lisbon without the slightest trouble. And do you know whom he embraced in public at the Estoril Casino and whose cheek he kissed? Your friend Lieven's! And do you know with whom he consumed a prodigious meal afterward? Your friend Lieven!"
"Oh no ... Oh, God, no ... surely not!"
"No doubt of it. Our people watched the whole touching scene of their reunion. What could they do about it? Nothing!"
Major Loos became aware of painful internal twinges and burning pains. There goes my liver again, he thought despairingly. That infernal scoundrel of a Thomas Lieven! Whatever possessed me to rescue him from the clutches of the Gestapo in Cologne?
"Herr Major, do you know what they are already calling you in the service? 'Let-'em-down Loos!' "
"Herr Admiral, with respect, that seems to me very unfair."
"Unfair? You pay the fellow ten thousand dollars for lists of the names of all the most important French secret agents and when we check on them here we find that they're all dead! I told you to bring the man back with you!"
"Portugal is a neutral country, Herr Admiral."
"To hell with that! I've had enough of all this, I tell you! I
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want that Herr Lieven here in my office! In this room! And alive! D'you hear?"
"Very good, Herr Admiral."
[13]
On September 6, 1940, at 1847 hours the secret service monitoring department reported to M.I.5 in London as follows:
Since 1515 hours intense radio activity between Berlin Intelligence and the German Embassy in Lisbon. Messages in clear, not in code, but obviously camouflaged to mislead. The Berlin messages were directed to the German Commercial Attache in Lison, ordering him to take steps for the repatriation of a merchant named Jonas as soon as possible. An important kidnapping operation obviously in view. "Jonas" must be a personage of the greatest possible interest to Berlin Intelligence ...
[14]
On September 6, 1940, at 2230 hours a conference was going on in the Casa Senhora de Fatima, the luxurious residence of the chief of the Intelligence Department at the German Embassy in Lisbon. The chief had sent away his fascinating mistress, the long-legged, chestnut-haired dancer Dolores. He, the naval attache and the air attache of the German Embassy were sipping champagne. The last two had also given their mistresses the evening off.
The news service chief declared: "Gentlemen, time presses. Berlin wants Lieven. And fast. Suggestions, please."
The air attache answered: "I suggest we drug the man and fly him to Madrid. Thence he could be transferred by courier aircraft to Berlin."
'Tm against that," said the naval attach6. "We've just been having trouble in Madrid. We know that the airfield there is positively swarming with British and American agents. We know that they photograph all passengers. We can't afford to risk any further diplomatic difficulties in Madrid."
'Tm entirely of your opinion," said the news chief.
The naval attache went on: "I suggest accordingly that we abduct him by submarine, gentlemen. We could get in touch immediately by radio with Werner's anti-blockade office in Madrid. He works in close liaison with submarine staff headquarters and can easily identify the location of any of their
units. He would be in a position at any time and with the greatest promptitude to direct a submarine to an agreed grid outside Portuguese territorial waters."
"And how do we get 'Jonas the merchant' there?"
"We could hire a boat."
"And how do we get him into the boat?"
"Well, I've got an idea about that." The naval attache told them what his idea was.
[15]
An old man was shuffling through the airport restaurant, trying to sell dolls in regional costume. He had big ones and little ones, but no luck. It was nearly midnight on September 8, 1940, and only about two dozen weary passengers were waiting for the departure of their aircraft to be announced.
The old man approached a table by the window. Two gentlemen were sitting drinking whisky there.
"Lovely dolls, gypsy, Spanish, Portuguese ..."
"No, thank you," said Thomas Lieven.
"Genuine, like in peacetime!"
"All the same, no, thank you," said Major Debras, who called himself, just then, Rafaelo Puntareras.
The old man shuffled away. Outside, on the arc-lit runway, the plane which was to take D6bras from Lisbon to Dakar was being refueled.
The major gazed with a sentimental expression at Thomas Lieven. "I shall never forget what you have done for me!"
"Don't mention it," said Thomas. He was thinking: When you find that I've altered the lists of your secret service agents, you certainly won't forget what Fve done for you!
"You saved those lists for me and you got me out of Madrid."
Correct, thought Thomas. And for that reason you may one day forgive me for having swindled you. He asked aloud: "What have you done with the lists?"
The major winked, "I followed your example and made friends with our stewardess. She has the lists in her luggage."
"Attention, please," announced a loudspeaker, "Pan American World Airways request all passengers traveling by Flight 324 to Dakar to proceed to the passport and customs barriers. Ladies and gentlemen, we wish you a pleasant journey."
Debfas emptied his glass and stood up. "Duty calls, my friend. Thanks once again. Till our next meeting."
"Please give Mme. Josephine Baker my very best regards," said Thomas Lieven. "And good-bye to you, Major. For we shall never see each other again."
"Who knows?"
Thomas shook his head. "The day after tomorrow I leave by steamer for South America. I shall never return to Europe." He allowed the major to embrace him once more and kiss his cheek.
A little later he watched him cross the runway toward the aircraft Thomas waved. Debras waved back. Then he disappeared into the passengers' cabin.
Thomas ordered another whisky. When the machine began to taxi down the runway he suddenly felt very lonely. After a while he paid for the drinks, stood up and left the table.
It was dark in the forecourt in front of the airport building. Only a few lights were burning. A big car gradually caught Thomas up and stopped beside him. The driver put his head through the window. "Taxi, Senhor?"
Not a soul was in sight.
"Yes, please," said Thomas absently. The driver got out, opened the door of the car and bowed.
At. that moment Thomas Lieven noticed that there was something queer, something very queer, about that taxi. He swung around. But it was already too late. The driver kicked him violently behind the knees, sending him flying into the back seat, where he was instantly seized by four powerful hands and flung to the floor of the car. The door banged. The driver dropped into his seat behind the steering wheel and accelerated.
A large damp cloth impregnated with a disagreeably sweet-smelling liquid was pressed down on Thomas Lieven's face. Chloroform, he thought. Choking, he gasped for breath.
With uncanny distinctness he heard a voice with a Hamburg accent exclaim: "Fine, fine. Now down to the harbor and we're through."
Then the blood in Thomas Lieven's temples began humming. Bells sounded in his ears. He sank into a faint, deeper and deeper, as though falling through the velvety darkness of a well.
[16]
Our friend slowly recovered consciousness. His head still hummed. He felt sick and cold. Thomas cautiously opened his
right eye. He was lying in the bows of an unpleasantly odoriferous fishing boat with a fussily clucking engine.
At the helm stood a wrinkled, undersized Portuguese wearing a leather jacket and a peaked cap. An extinct, short-stemmed pipe was clenched between his teeth. Behin
d the figure of the seaman the shore lights bobbed up and down. The wind was rising. The boat was making for the open sea. With a sigh Thomas Lieven opened his left eye.
There were a couple of burly fellows sitting on the bench next to him. Both wore black mackintoshes and grim expressions. Both held heavy pistols in their big, ugly hands.
Thomas Lieven struggled into half-erect position and said with an effort but without hesitation: 'The best of good evenings to you, gentlemen. I didn't have a chance to speak to you at the airport You're a bit to blame for that yourselves, you know. You ought not to have been so quick about knocking me down and chloroforming me."
The Hamburger said: "I warn you, Lieven. The slightest attempt to escape and these guns will go off."
The other tough spoke with a Saxon accent "The game's up, Herr Lieven. You're on the way home now."
Thomas asked in an interested tone, "You come from Dresden?"
"Leipzig. Why?"
"Just curiosity. I've nothing against this boat, gentlemen. But it's a pretty fair way home by sea from here, isn't it? Won't it be too much for us?"
"What a chatterbox you are," said the Hamburger. "You don't have to worry, Herr Lieven. We're only going as far as the three-mile limit in this smack."
The man from Leipzig added: "We're bound for Grid 135 Z."
Thomas noticed the boat was not showing any navigation lights. The sea was getting more and more agitated. So was Thomas, but he tried not to show it "And what is going to happen at Grid 135 Z, gentlemen?"
"In a quarter of an hour a submarine will surface there. It'll all go like clockwork, youTI see. Can't fail."
"German organization, eh?" Thomas observed politely.
The little helmsman said in Portuguese: "We're out of territorial waters now. Where's my money?"
The Leipziger got up, staggered over to the helmsman and gave him an envelope. The fisherman lashed the helm and
started to count the notes in the envelope. After that everything happened very fast.
Thomas was the first to see a big shadow loom up, for he was the only man looking astern. The menacing black phantom shot out of the night, straight at the rolling smack. Thomas meant to give a warning shout. But at the last moment he forced it back, biting his tongue. No, he thought. No shouting. Keep quite quiet now ...
The Monte Cristo Cover-Up Page 15
