‘Good. I only came today so I could be sure you know my position. I wish you luck with whatever you are doing here but I want nothing more to do with it beyond the agreement I have outlined to you. Do you both understand?’
‘We do,’ Gabčík confirmed.
He was already beginning to get up. ‘I will deliver the first note to the apartment tomorrow, as long as I feel it is safe. Now I must go.’
Šafařík, true to his word, rose from the table, almost knocking over a waiter who had appeared to take his order. The joiner stammered an apology then mumbled he had forgotten an appointment and was so sorry for the inconvenience. He then left the building at a pace brisk enough to arouse the suspicions of every man in the room.
‘Lord,’ exclaimed Kubiš when he had gone, ‘that is a nervous individual. Do you think he will be able to do this?’
‘I hope so, Jan,’ answered Gabčík. ‘I do hope so.’
Lieutenant Alfréd Bartoš counted himself a lucky man. He parachuted safely from the same plane that transported Gabčík and Kubiš to their homeland. Then he managed to evade the clutches of the Gestapo, who had searched his hometown of Pardubice following a tip-off that the resistance was active there.
What’s more, he had successfully fulfilled his mission, establishing contact with Agent 54, in the agreed manner. To his initial amazement, Agent 54 asked to have his first meeting with Bartoš in the double agent’s own home on the outskirts of Prague. Perhaps Bartoš had expected more clandestine meetings on park benches or in darkened restaurants, where classified documents would be passed under tables. Instead he found himself taking tea delivered by a houseboy, in a town house that befitted the status of its resident Paul Thümmel, the Abwehr’s top man in the capital.
‘I am surprised you chose to invite me here,’ Bartoš commented once the boy had departed.
‘You used the necessary access words to call a meeting and knew your predecessor. I had no reason to doubt your authenticity.’ Thümmel was a stout, middle-aged man with an outward appearance of studied calm but the dark grooves under his eyes betrayed the incredible stress he was under. Bartoš could scarcely imagine what it must be like to every day play the double agent against the most brutal regime on the planet.
‘I meant your choice of location.’
Thümmel smiled. ‘This is the safest place I can think of. If I met you in public we could be watched. I see you here and you are just another Czech turncoat who has come to report to me on the enemies of the Reich. What’s the matter, Bartoš, does that make you uneasy?’ and he laughed grimly. ‘You don’t think I am going to take all of the risk, do you? Just make sure you watch your back when you leave here. Don’t want you to end up with a knife in it; a gift from one of your patriotic countrymen.’
Bartoš did find this prospect alarming but deliberately chose to ignore Thümmel’s black humour. He reminded himself the man was a hero and heroes must occasionally be indulged. ‘I will, of course, meet you here regularly if that is how you would prefer things.’
‘It is,’ said Thümmel. ‘Actually, I insist on it.’
‘I understand you have been unable to communicate with us for some time now. Were you being watched?’
‘Everyone is being watched, all of the time but I think your predecessor was careless. He was caught with documents that could only have come from a senior source in the intelligence community. Lucky for me they were removed from his lifeless body; he was shot while trying to escape a raid. Otherwise I have no doubt he would have given me up like that,’ and Thümmel snapped his fingers, ‘and I wouldn’t have blamed him for a moment. We are the finest torturers in the world, you know?’ He smiled with mock pride as he acknowledged German excellence in this field.
‘There are not that many of us, a handful perhaps, with access to those kind of secrets. It’s a short list and I think Heydrich now has strong suspicions about me. He has let it be known they are searching for a senior double agent, now why would he do that unless he wanted to see how his suspects reacted? I think he is trying to force someone to run.’
‘And is that what you want to do? Run?’
‘Where would I go? There is nowhere I could possibly hide. I doubt I would make it more than ten miles from Prague. I have chosen my path and there is no deviating from it now until all this ends. Either Germany falls or I will.’
‘So what news do you have for Lieutenant Colonel Moravec?’
‘Not much right now; as you can imagine the risk is very high for me at the moment. I have some documents here you can read but you can’t leave with them. I won’t make that mistake a second time. I hope you have a good memory.’
When their meeting was concluded Bartoš shook Thümmel by the hand. ‘I know I probably should not ask you, Thümmel, but I am intrigued. Why is a German risking everything, including his life, to hand Nazi secrets to a Czech government in exile? It isn’t just the money we keep for you surely or are you the world’s last idealist? Is that it or something more personal? Are you the only man in Germany who despises Hitler?’
Thümmel looked Bartoš in the eye and nodded. ‘You are absolutely right, Bartoš.’
‘I am?’
‘Yes. You really should not ask. Now you’ll forgive me but I am late for an appointment.’
He walked Bartoš to the door then and stood on the step watching as the Lieutenant departed, ‘Be careful won’t you, Bartoš?’ Thümmel taunted. ‘I’ve heard Prague can be a very dangerous city.’ And then he laughed again.
19
‘The extermination of entire races including women and children is only possible by a subhumanity that no longer deserves the name German. I am ashamed to be German!’
Wehrmacht Colonel Helmuth Stieff
Heydrich had agreed to address the cream of the SS officer contingent to boost morale. The speech was a distraction he could do without but he told himself to be thankful he was still in a position to give it.
The incident with Bormann had been put into eventual perspective by Hitler’s merciful inactivity; evidenced by the very fact Heydrich was still the Reichsprotektor of Bohemia and Moravia; his fall from grace strictly temporary, a mere whim of the Führer’s, most probably forgotten within the hour. It had taught him a valuable lesson, though; never to take his position in the Reich for granted again. And he would finish Bormann alright. Just give him time.
The officers waited in the banqueting room where Heydrich had fenced with his subordinate. There was a buzz of anticipation as, for some of the men, this would be their first glimpse of the legendary Heydrich. Of course he kept them all waiting, underlining his seniority, then marched purposefully into the room, followed by a bevy of serious looking aides.
He wore the Iron Cross on the breast of his feldbluse, and sported the ever-present fighter pilot badge – for who had not heard of Heydrich’s exploits in the air? Envious of Göring’s reputation as the First World War fighter ace, holder of the Blue Max and the heir to Von Richthofen’s glory, Heydrich had been keen to get into the war himself and win his own medals. In typical style, he had learned to fly and taken to the skies in a ludicrously dangerous diversion. In 1940, he flew combat missions over France to the astonishment of his few superiors. Hitler finally banned him from his fledgling fighter pilot’s career when he was shot down over Russia during the early days of Operation Barbarossa. Men from Einsatzkommando 10a were stupefied to see who emerged from the wreckage of the downed Messerschmitt, which crash-landed in the field close to their patrol.
Reaching the middle of the banqueting room Heydrich stopped, turned round and began to address the gathering, commanding attention more on rank and reputation than on the quality of his voice. As a young naval cadet he had been teased for its high, slightly feminine pitch when he spoke. But no one teased Reinhard Heydrich these days.
‘Gentlemen, we stand today on the brink of an historic new era. T
he flag of the SS now flies proudly from the Presidential residency and the protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia is finally a Germanic province, in full step with the Führer’s vision in Berlin.’
There was brief, obligatory applause. As he spoke, Heydrich walked amongst the men and they moved silently out of the way to allow his progress, like passive sheep herded by a dog.
‘Our previous regime in Prague was a half-hearted, muddled compromise. One cannot truly subjugate a people yet continue to ask its opinion on domestic policy.’
There was a murmur of laughter from the men at this oblique reference to the Czech Provisional Government, which Heydrich’s predecessor Von Neurath had indulged. Most felt Germany was a conqueror and should behave as such, not allowing the tail to wag the dog. Heydrich ignored the mirth and continued.
‘Let me say this clearly, unequivocally…’ he paused for dramatic effect, picking out individuals in his enraptured audience for eye to eye contact, before quietly bringing home the message. ‘The Czech people have no right to be here.’
He let the words hang in the air as he paced the room, allowing them to sink in.
‘The Czech people have no right to be here!’ Heydrich’s voice echoed around the palace as he roared the words once more.
Seemingly becalmed, he continued in a normal speaking voice.
‘The protectorate is a German land, it has always been a German land. The scandal of the Versailles treaty, at the conclusion of the last war, robbed the German nation of its birthright. We have now reclaimed it. A minority of Czechs, with suitable genetic material, may be allowed to settle here permanently and be integrated into the Greater Reich. The majority, however, will simply be shipped out, either to the General Government in the former Polish territory or further east.’
This last phrase was, as usual, deliberately ambiguous but they all knew it as a euphemism for the enthusiastic work of the death squads.
Heydrich pressed on. ‘In the short term the needs of our successful campaign against the Bolshevik threat are paramount. This means enlisting the cooperation of the Czech population. The economy of Bohemia and Moravia must be totally mobilised. For Czechs who are unwilling to adapt there is to be an unstinting policy of suppression. Use every method of state security at your disposal to hunt down agitators, saboteurs, passive resisters and enemies of the Reich.
‘The Czech must be made to realise there is only a choice of cooperation and survival or resistance and death. For the most part, the practical Czech is likely to outweigh the misguided patriot. Once again remember, in all of your dealings with him, the Czech has no right to be here. The Czech is subhuman!’
Heydrich dipped his head to indicate he had finished, and was met with rapturous applause from the SS men. The whole address had taken moments but his effect on the morale of the officers was as clear as his expectations of them. Cheering followed as Heydrich and his entourage marched sharply from the banqueting hall.
The Mercedes 540K shot out of the castle with no noticeable concern for pedestrians on the cobbles nearby. They scurried away like chickens evading the farmer’s axe. Heydrich, sitting stiff and upright in the passenger seat, afforded Gabčík his first clear look at the man he was going to kill. The Reichsprotektor had a noticeable air of self-importance, as he held his gaze fixedly ahead, refusing to acknowledge there was anything of significance to his left or right.
‘Come on, Liběna,’ said Gabčík after the car had passed. ‘I’ve seen enough of the castle.’
Liběna had offered to help Josef in his work and he accepted, without explaining his sudden interest in Hradčany. He told her he would look less like a suspicious stranger if he were one half of a couple, enabling him to complete his surveillance unhindered, and she didn’t contradict him.
Gabčík had to admit the real reason for Liběna’s company – to himself at least. The fact was, after a few days of her tender concern for his damaged ankle, her good-natured teasing and obvious interest in his thoughts and opinions on the world, Gabčík was smitten by her. He wanted to spend time with this girl and learn more about her. His mission still took precedence over everything, of course, but he told himself he was surely capable of pursuing two objectives at once?
As Heydrich’s car disappeared from view, Liběna and Gabčík ambled slowly down the steep hill, which took them away from the castle. Josef’s ankle was healing quickly but he continued to limp a little. Halfway along the street lay the house of Zelenka’s two anonymous girls. They would have the latest of Šafařík’s promised surveillance reports, if the man had not entirely let them down, of course.
The safe to proceed signal was a vase full of flowers on the windowsill. No vase meant no message today or stay away, it’s not safe. As Josef walked by the window he noticed with relief that a gaudy crystal vase occupied the sill and he quickly looked about him to ensure he was not being watched. As he did so Josef altered his trajectory to bring himself within touching distance of the open window. He spotted the little brown envelope, tucked almost out of sight behind the vase and weighted against the wind with a small stone. Without breaking stride he reached out and scooped the envelope up with his hand, immediately tucking it into the outside pocket of his coat with all the élan of a pickpocket. The pebble dropped at his feet and tumbled off the cobblestones as it bounced away down the hill.
As they reached the end of the steep descent from the castle, Liběna and Gabčík crossed the path of a column of Waffen SS troops marching unstoppably towards Hradčany. Liběna instantly linked her arm into his and drew herself closer to Gabčík, imitating the actions of a woman in love, who instinctively seeks protection from her sweetheart. Gabčík made no attempt to remove her arm.
‘Looks more natural this way, don’t you think?’ she whispered as the troops marched by.
‘Yes,’ he agreed.
Both pretended the act was intended to allay the suspicion of the passing soldiers. Liběna kept her arm in his as they walked back towards the Manesuv Bridge together as the sky continued to darken around them.
20
‘Heydrich’s only weakness was his ungovernable sexual appetite.
To this he would surrender himself without inhibition’
Walter Schellenberg, Head of the Reich Foreign Intelligence Service
Between Panenské Břežany and Hradčany Castle lie twelve miles of open road largely surrounded by fields and forest. Later, dwellings that mark the outskirts of suburban Prague appear, flanking the route. The buildings increase in age and grandeur the closer the traveller gets to the old core of the city, where cobbled roads lead right up to the Castle. Jan cycled the entire route on his first clear day, with a cover story if he was stopped by a suspicious German patrol.
‘You are visiting a sick relative in the country, a farmer who I have already arranged to support the story should the Gestapo choose to investigate it,’ assured Zelenka, ‘otherwise you will look too conspicuous cycling up and down the road, whatever your true intentions.’
As he pedalled he glanced from left to right, hoping to spot natural cover behind dense foliage or a rocky outcrop. He could then report back to Gabčík that he had found the ideal place for an assault on Heydrich. It proved a forlorn hope. By the end of the first day Jan realised the task would be far more difficult than he ever could have imagined. Large sections of the road were long and straight with little cover on either side, save for a few thin bushes and an occasional undernourished tree – hardly capable of keeping the men and their equipment hidden from view while they waited for their target to pass by.
‘How was it?’ asked Gabčík that night.
‘Cold as a witch’s tit,’ was all he received in reply, for the temperature had made the task an even more thankless one.
Kubiš realised a far more detailed analysis of the route was required and he took on the task with a methodical zeal. In the coming days, he spent hou
rs on his belly, ignoring the biting cold, as he lay flat on the frozen hillsides that overlooked Heydrich’s route. Kubiš counted the traffic. He monitored and logged the frequency and extent of German patrols and the occasional passing military convoy. He located corners where vehicles would be forced to slow down, leaving them vulnerable to attack, then found no natural cover or suitable firing point nearby.
It took Kubiš two weeks to painstakingly examine every yard of the route and still he found no likely spot. There were well covered areas where it might be possible to leap from the bushes and fire on the state car but it would be moving too fast to ensure any level of accuracy. Changing the plan to catch Heydrich in a sniper’s sights was ruled out early on. Kubiš and Gabčík were both more than competent marksmen but even experts with years of experience would find it difficult to hit a moving target at speed from what would be, by necessity, a withdrawn position. Nowhere on the route could they get close enough for a rifle shot, yet be far enough from the road to escape detection and there would be little prospect of getting away afterwards.
Kubiš spent further days walking the surrounding countryside looking for a suitable escape route, before eventually coming to the grim conclusion that any pursuer would have a distinct advantage over them. If the two men tried to flee on bicycles they could only head back down the road towards the city and would be trapped in minutes. A car, even if they could secure one, would be far too conspicuous, as they were seldom seen on country roads these days. If they tried to escape on foot and across country there were vast tracts of open land, making it almost impossible to elude patrols equipped with dog handlers and virtually unlimited manpower.
Each evening Jan would return home to Aunt Marie’s house exhausted and downcast. The enormity of their task had begun to hit him. Occasionally he would walk a part of the route with Josef, who was forced to agree with his gloomy forecast, but for the most part he worked alone.
Hunting the Hangman Page 12
