Kat and Die Wolfsschanze

by Michael Beals

  Intrigued by the message, she studied it. Only Pernass could have written the message. The only question was, who was it meant for? Her stepfather was a cautious man. He wasn’t prone to leaving messages on mirrors for anyone to read. Had he guessed she would want to shower after the attack on Hitler’s bunker? What did it mean? Had he calculated that they would have to pass through Olsztyn of their way to Gdańsk? She quickly removed the message with a facecloth. She could hear Kelly yelling up the stairs.

  “What the hell are you doing, Kat!”

  “I’m combing my hair!” she called, unlocking the bathroom door. “Don’t you guys want to shower?”

  “Ay Lass,” Dore called out. “Me vocals could use a little tuning. I’ll be next as soon as ya move yer wee arse.”

  As Dore showered and sang unintelligible Scottish ditties, the team feared that the neighbors would summon the Police to put an end to all of Dore’s caterwauling.

  They headed south through the Masurian forests. Every so often, the forest gave way to farmland, and they would pass the occasional cow or an abandoned ox cart. They passed more lakes, glittering in the setting sun, and then more forest. There were few cars on the road, and when they finally reach Olsztyn, it was almost deserted, many of the houses empty and falling into disrepair. It was hard to imagine a bar being open. And then she saw it, a small corner bar with a blue sign hanging above the door.

  Bar Pasternak.

  “Anyone fancy a drink?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  “You’re not serious,” Kelly said, pulling into the curb and glaring at her.

  “I just thought it’d be nice to take a break. It’s a long way to Gdańsk.” She laughed. “Jock can sample Polish vodka.”

  “That’s a great idea!” Dore called from the back. “The General can compare it to grappa.”

  “What do we do with the MP40s?” Stewart asked. “Do we take them with us, in a public bar?”

  A fair question. Men in SS uniforms recently attacked the Wolf’s Lair. Word must have got out by now. “We’re driving a staff car, Harry. Officers don’t carry MP40s, but you and Jock can.”

  “We’re not getting drunk,” she said, climbing out. “Two drinks at the most.”

  To their surprise, the bar was full of Germans and compared to the deserted streets. The noise inside was deafening, and the bartender had to shout when they ordered their drinks. They took a table in the far corner of the room, where Dore proceeded to tell a shaggy dog story about his drunken youth in Glasgow. Kat found herself tensing. Even with his broad Scottish accent, he was speaking in English.

  “Jock!” she hissed. “You’re supposed to be German.”

  About to reply, he saw the bartender walking towards them. He peered at each of them in turn, studying their faces. “Sorry to bother you. Is there anyone here called Wolfram?”

  Kat’s heart missed a beat. If Pernass wanted to get a message to her, this was undoubtedly an effective way to do it. He could hardly have written a confidential message on the bathroom mirror. How could he have known when they’d arrive? She looked around the chaotic room. Pernass would never come into a bar like this. She glanced at Kelly and then Dore, but they both just shrugged. She looked at the bartender again. He seemed innocent enough, a local Polish man, running the corner bar.

  “I’m Wolfram,” she said. “Can I help you?”

  “There’s a phone call for you.”

  “A phone call? From who?”

  “I don’t know, madam. It’s a man. I don’t know who he is.”

  Grimacing, she knocked back the rest of her drink and stood up. It must be Pernass. “Where’s the phone?”

  “Behind the bar. If you follow me, I’ll show you.”

  Making her way across the crowded room, she followed him through a door at the end of the bar and into a narrow passageway that stank of stale beer.

  Picking up the receiver, she said cautiously, “Hello?”

  The husky voice that answered was brief, “Kat?”

  “Wer ist das?”

  “Your boss,” the man said, in English.

  “Commander?” she gasped. “You’re kidding. How on earth did you get through? How did you know I was here? We’re in the middle of nowhere.” Even as she spoke, she knew how Fleming knew… Pernass.

  “We have our ways. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  “About what? We’re in the middle of Poland.”

  “I can’t tell you over the phone.” He paused to let out one of his rattling coughs. “Excuse me. Can I assume you’re still paying a visit to King Canute?”

  “Hopefully.”

  “Good. Then when you get to the docks, look for a boat called the Marie Anne. Captain Dubrowski will be expecting you. When you reach your destination, don’t go anywhere until I contact you.”

  “I don’t know how long we’re going to be…” But Fleming had already disconnected, just the dialing tone buzzing in her ear.

  Making her way back to the bar, she found Capetti buying another round of drinks. Dore gave a toast, "oh Lord, we do not ask ya to give us wealth. But to show us where it is!”

  They weren’t drunk yet, but on empty stomachs, they were well on the way. She slumped into her vacant chair. The call only took a few seconds, but she felt exhausted.

  “Who was it?” Kelly asked, seeing her expression.

  “I’ll tell you in the car. You’re not going to believe it.”

  They were all telling each other humorous stories when they got back in the car, and they were approaching Ostroda before she related her phone conversation with Fleming.

  “How did he get through?” Dore asked, “and how did he know the number of a small bar in the middle of nowhere? How did he even know ya were going to be there? It’s incredible.”

  “Pernass,” she replied, glancing back at him. “Those two are cooking something up. We’ll have to be very careful when we reach Copenhagen. There might not be any war activity going on in Denmark, although Germans fully occupy it.”

  “So why are we going there?” Stewart asked. “Surely, we’d have been better off driving to Minsk. At least we’d have been able to speak English.”

  “Because it could have been a nightmare getting out of Russia. From Copenhagen, we can get a fishing boat back to England… or stay in Copenhagen for a while. If the war’s coming to an end, the Danes will soon chuck the Germans out. In fact, I’m surprised they’re still there.”

  “What’s the name of the boat in Gdańsk?”

  “The Marie Anne.”

  Ten minutes later, they entered the outskirts of Gdańsk. A chill dawn breaking on the horizon, and ominous clouds were scudding above. Kat scanned the road ahead. She’d never been to Gdańsk. The buildings on either side looked like a small town. There were cafes, and shops that sold hardware and yachting equipment, and at the far end of the street, she could see a gray sliver of water. It looked more like a deserted holiday area than docks.

  And then everything changed. When they reached the end of the street and turned left to follow the water’s edge, yachts and fishing trawlers began to appear. There were cranes, boathouses and slipways, a harbor wall that extended into the distance. And then in the grim morning light, Kat began to make out more ominous shapes.

  “Is that what I think it is?” she said, peering through the windscreen.

  “This can’t be right,” Kelly said, slowing the Studebaker to a crawl. “That looks like a U-boat pen. Did Fleming mention that?”

  “No, he didn’t. Shall we go around it?”

  He shook his head. “No point. We may as well car
ry on. This isn’t the docks, but there are fishing boats here. Maybe the Marie Anne isn’t moored at the main docks.”

  “You think they’d moor it next to a U-boat pen?”

  “They did in Palermo,” Dore remarked. “Fishing boats need deep water and so do U-boats... Hey Kat, look at this. There’s a damn Jap sub over there.”

  Kat squinted at it and said, “what the bloody hell?”

  Dore looked at Kat, “one guess why it’s here…”

  “No!” Kat looked at Dore wide eyed and asked, “what the hell could Pernass want with a Jap submarine?”

  “Haven't the foggiest… Looks like their ready to cast off.”

  As they continued down the quay, they began to see groups of German sailors. There were guards and gated gangways, men loading provisions onto U-boats, the bright flare of welding torches as workmen repaired damaged ballast tanks. Nobody turned to stare at them, but then, nobody would, they were German officers. The U-boats began to thin, replaced by German Motor Torpedo Boats and small yachts. And then they were passing trawlers again. Fishermen in rubber leggings were repairing nets. There were crates stacked on the dockside, people yelling.

  “There!” Dore called, pointing to a large trawler with a Danish flag fluttering from the mast. “That’s the Marie Anne.”

  Winding down the window, Kelly pulled up beside a creaking gangplank. It began to rain, and a sharp wind cut across the harbor. "Weather doesn't look good," he remarked.

  Kat let out a mischievous laugh. "It's perfect for blowing up Jap subs."

  "What!" Kelly exclaimed. "Kat, don't even think about it."

  She cocked her nose and looked around. "Why not? Half a mile from open water, all those plastic explosives going to waste. Besides, when the hell are we ever going to get another chance to blow up a Jap sub?""

  "Ay. Don't be a wee spoilsport Lieutenant," Dore said. "We'll be in Copenhagen tomorrow. Wouldn't you like to go out with a bang?"

  “No, I bloody wouldn’t,” he said, opening the door. “Shall we introduce ourselves?”

  They found the Captain in the wheelhouse. He was making coffee and wasn’t just startled when Kat and Kelly suddenly appeared, he looked frightened. Fleming clearly hadn’t warned the man what to expect.

  “Kapitan Dubrowski?” Kat ventured.

  “Tak?” he said nervously.

  “I’m Kat Wolfram,” she said in English. “This is Sam Kelly.”

  Holding a hand to his chest, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Mój Boźe. I thought you were Gestapo.”

  “Sorry about that. They should have warned you.”

  “That’s okay. I should have realized.” He peered past her. “You are alone?”

  She shook her head. “No. There are five of us. When are you allowed out of the harbor?”

  The Captain shrugged. “There are no controls. We come and go as we wish. Why? Are you being chased?”

  “No, thank God, but I’d like to get out of here before my men do something stupid.”

  Leaving the Captain to start the engines, she went looking for the others. She found Capetti and Stewart standing on the aft deck. They were gazing at the submarines and whispering to each other.

  “Guys, I hope you’re not cooking something up, because we’re leaving.”

  “What, now?” Stewart said, in a worried tone.

  “Yes, now. Where’s Jock?”

  Capetti pursed his lips as if having to think about it. “He gone to toilet. He need pee.”

  Clutching her collar, she gazed out across the harbor. The wind grew stronger now, and she wondered what it was like beyond the harbor walls. It would probably take ten hours to reach Copenhagen. If the sea was rough, it wouldn’t be pleasant. She’d heard stories about storms in the Baltic sea. If the winds came in from the east, it could be pretty bad.

  Seeing the Captain pull in the gangplank and prepare to cast off, it occurred to her that she still hadn’t seen Dore. Maybe she should check.

  “Jock!” she called, poking her head into the galley. With no answer, she went out on deck again. Capetti and Stewart were still standing there and seemed to be watching her. “Harry? Sandro? What’s going on? Where’s Jock?”

  “I saw him a moment ago!” Stewart called.

  She felt the trawler vibrate as the engine revs climbed, saw the rush of water as it pulled away from the quay. Where the hell was Jock? Surely he hadn’t gone ashore. He must know they were leaving. And then she saw him. Crouching over by the winches, Dore had his back to her, so she couldn’t see what he was doing.

  They were moving more quickly now, water churning at the back of the boat. Kat stared at it, mesmerized by the glistening swell. There was something in the water, something long and black, like a cord that shouldn’t be there. It snaked through the water, pulling ever tighter until it finally popped above the surface as the boat moved away. Kat knew what it was.

  And then a massive explosion almost blew her off her feet, its searing heat sweeping across the water and rocking the trawler. The Jap submarine erupted in a series of vicious explosions that continued to rip down its hull like a huge crackerjack.

  “Dubrowski!” she screamed. “Get the hell out of here!” The Captain didn’t need to be told, the trawler’s engines were already at full power. It wasn’t hard to guess what happened. Submarines don’t explode by accident. Dore, she thought. You maniac. You mad, caber tossing, haggis-eating maniac.

  CHAPTER 33

  Kat was curled up on the deck and half asleep when they entered Copenhagen’s inner harbor. She’d never been to Denmark, but she had seen pictures of its Little Mermaid. She gazed at all the wheeling seagulls, clinker-built fishing boats and colorful houses. After the ruins of Cologne and Berlin, it was like a fairy tale come true. For the first time in what felt like years, there was no sign of war. People strolled the harbor front or wandered amongst the many fish stalls. Children walked hand-in-hand with their mothers, women wearing long aprons and white headscarves, loaded boxes of fish onto wooden wagons. Best of all, there were no soldiers in sight, and it made her conscious of her Gestapo uniform.

  She found Kelly in the wheelhouse. He must have had similar thoughts because he asked Dubrowski about Danish money, whether they could easily change their Reichsmarks.

  “Of course,” Dubrowski said, as he nursed the trawler through the clutter of Danish fishing boats. “Any bank will change them for you, but you’ll get a terrible exchange rate. The German economy is on its knees. The Reichsmark is worth very little now.”

  “I’ll talk to Capetti about it. He’s our banker. When are you going back to Gdańsk?”

  “I don’t know if I am. Poland’s not good these days, and I have a girlfriend in Copenhagen. In fact, I come here quite a lot.”

  “So if the worse comes to worse,” Kelly said, “we can sleep on your boat?”

  “Sure. Excuse me.”

  She watched him as he shut down the engines, then went out on deck and tossed mooring lines to Stewart and Dore. With no free spaces left, they were securing the boat to another trawler, and she found herself wondering how the local crews would react to having the Gestapo nearby. Which raised another issue, with Dore and Stewart aboard, how would they react if they heard English spoken? From what she’d heard, the Danes weren’t very happy about being occupied by the Germans.

  “I’m not sure about sleeping on the boat, Sam. If the Germans get word that Gestapo officers are sleeping on a fishing boat, they might come to check us out.”

  He grimaced. “Ya, they might. Maybe it’ll never come to that. Shall we go for a walk?”

  “What, just the two of us?”

/>   “Specifically, just the two of us. The others could be a liability, especially Jock. I can’t believe he blew up that submarine.”

  She laughed. “Ya, I know. It’s usually Jock telling me to behave. It’s scary how much I’ve rubbed off on him after all this time… Do you think we’re being met?”

  “It feels like it.”

  Telling the others to stay on the boat, or at least in the vicinity of the fish market, they made their way across the decks and onto the quay. The fish market wasn’t very big, and lined with cafes, so they walked slowly. If Fleming arranged for someone to meet them, they wouldn’t be hard to spot. As it was, people were staring at them.

  They saw an Opel Admiral crawling along the quayside. People were getting annoyed, unsure whether to cross behind or in front of it. The driver was an attractive, dark-haired woman in her late twenties. She was peering at all cafes and almost jumped when Kelly walked up to her.

  “Are you looking for someone?” he asked, in English, peering into the open window.

  “Åh Gud!” the woman gasped. “You scared the life out of me.” She stared at him, her gaze roaming the eagle on his cap, the shiny belt, the SS insignia on his lapel. “I am looking for a woman with a Zenith watch.”

  Kat stepped up to the car. “I wear a Zenith watch.”

  The woman studied her. “Can I see it?”

  Kat pulled back her sleeve and showed it to her.

  “Is your name Wolfram?”

  “It might be. Who’s asking?”

  The woman continued to stare at her. “Where were you born?”

  Kat grinned. “Wow. So many questions. I was born in Littlehampton, a charming village in Sussex.”

  The woman nodded. “Please get in the car. I have to take you somewhere.”

  Opening a rear door, she grabbed Kelly’s arm and climbed into the back. “I hope it doesn’t involve a long journey. I have responsibilities.”

  Turning the car around, the woman looked back at her. “You know where Gunløgsgade is?”