‘But you can’t touch him,’ cried Nicholls. ‘He’s an accredited foreign national from a neutral country.’
‘Correct, Alan’ smiled Menzies, enjoying Nicholls’ apparent outrage. ‘We can’t officially touch him. But we can spot anything the mole passes over. It could be a letter, or concealed in, say, a book, or a newspaper. We arrest the mole, and at the same time frisk Ruiz and relieve him of anything he’s received. Afterwards, he’ll receive a profuse apology- a dreadful mistake, completely unintentional, no idea you were an embassy official, that sort of thing. The Spanish will understand this - after all, they passed this information back to us in the first place. I’m sure the Foreign Office will subsequently be able to pour oil on any troubled waters.’
‘It would have to be done very carefully,’ Lockhart mused.
‘I couldn’t agree more, Richard. And we can’t afford to seriously upset the Spanish. The decision to pass the report back to us must have come from the very top, Franco himself. He may not be the most popular international leader, but without his intervention the Germans could know all our plans by now. It’s clear that he’s backing both sides in this race and is only in it for himself, but considering what’s happened to the Spanish in the last decade, I daresay that’s understandable.’
‘But what happens if nothing gets passed over?’ Nicholls would not lie down. ‘Perhaps all he’ll do is to tell Ruiz the name of the invasion area. You can’t arrest Ruiz, or interrogate him at length, or brainwash him into forgetting what he’s been told. He could pass a message back to Madrid via the diplomatic bag, and then where would we be?’
‘There is another way, ‘Williams spoke quietly, his voice cutting through the discussion like a hot knife through butter. ‘What about assassinating him? A well-placed sniper with a rifle would do the trick.’
‘My God, that’s monstrous!’ Nicholls exclaimed. ‘I know we’re at war, but you simply can’t go around shooting people on a whim. I-‘
‘Not on a whim, Alan.’ Menzies interrupted, grimly. ‘That would be a last resort, but we’re prepared, just in case. If it comes down to the choice between the murder of a Spanish embassy official and safeguarding the secrets of the invasion, then I know which one I would choose, however distasteful it seems. But I think it’s highly unlikely it will come to that. Schellenberg would need more than just a name to persuade Hitler to rearrange his forces in the West, especially if you consider all the reports we’ve doctored and sent back to Germany over the last nine months. He’s going to require documents, that sort of thing, to give Hitler conclusive proof. All we have to do is stop the mole and relieve Ruiz of what he’s just received, if that’s the way it turns out.’
Nobody spoke for a few moments. Lockhart looked around, and after a suitable pause, spoke. ‘Are there any more comments?’ He was met by silence. He turned back towards Menzies and Petrie. ‘Gentlemen, please wait outside for a few minutes. I need to discuss this with the other members of the committee, and then I‘ll call you back.’
Petrie closed the door behind him as they exited the room. They walked down the corridor for a few paces, their shoes squeaking on the green linoleum covered floor. Menzies stopped by a window, turned and sagged his weight onto a conveniently adjacent radiator, his back to the view that looked out onto a closed courtyard. He was the first to break the silence.
‘Thanks for sticking up for me in there, David, ‘he said. ‘I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but you could have made it much worse for me.’ He stuck out his hand.
Petrie grasped it briefly. ‘Well, I couldn’t stand by and watch that cretin Nicholls put the boot in. He really is a pompous ass. Mind you, with the exception of Lockhart and possibly that army chap, Williams, they’re all a bit stupid. None of them have any real idea of the difficulties we face in doing our jobs.’
‘That’s another of the very few things we tend to agree on,’ Menzies smiled. ‘Doesn’t this remind you of being back at school? Sit outside the headmaster’s office, while he decides your fate. Is it going to be a thrashing with the cane, or maybe something even worse than that?’
‘Speak for yourself, laddie, but I never got sent there.’ Petrie growled. ‘The trick was not to get into that sort of trouble in the first place, to avoid getting caught. Do you fancy a wee bet to see who wins, say, a fiver on it?’ He fished a folded five pound note out of his trouser pocket.
Menzies could not resist the challenge. ‘Done,’ he said, with a nod of his head. ‘What do you think the decision will be?’
‘Well, naturally they’ll pick me to head this operation.’ Petrie grinned self-importantly for a moment or two, then became more serious. ‘Actually, it’s not an easy one to read. But at least Lockhart is his own man. He’s not afraid to call a spade a spade. He might be somewhat crusty, but he generally tends to make the right decisions.’
They lapsed into silence, each man busy with his own thoughts. The building was quiet at this time of the evening. Most of the day staff had long since gone home. The occasional slam of a door was all that could be heard throughout the vastness of this bureaucratic edifice, a monument to the well-oiled and slick administrative heart of government. The sounds of discussion from room forty-two were too far away to be heard. After what seemed like an age, the door swung open and Turner, the naval representative, beckoned them back in.
They followed him back in and took their places, all the time wondering what the decision would be. Lockhart waited for the room to settle.
‘Thank you for waiting gentleman.’ He glanced at his fellow committee members. ‘It has not been easy to reach agreement, but I think we now have some degree of unanimity on our recommendation. The operation will be jointly run by MI5 and MI6. This task requires the resources of both departments. Stuart, I would like you to take charge of the operation overall. MI6 will be responsible for continuing surveillance on the Spanish Embassy and in particular Hyde Park. You will take the necessary precautions to ensure that every eventuality at the Hyde Park location is taken care of.’ Menzies nodded, aware of the unspoken import of Lockhart’s words.
‘David, your department will cover the address in Hanwell, and tail O’Malley wherever he goes. You have the appropriate man-power reserves to do this, and everything else must take second place in ensuring that no effort is spared in keeping O’Malley under supervision. I’ve decided to follow your advice about leaving him alone for the present, but he must be apprehended at the slightest sign of any trouble.
‘Stuart, you will liaise with David and report back to me here on a daily basis. The committee will need to be closely informed of developments, if possible as soon as they occur.’ Menzies nodded, giving the impression that he agreed in principle. In reality, events would probably happen far too fast for any cabinet consultations to keep pace with.
Lockhart continued. ‘I agree that it is probably unwise to trouble the Prime Minister at this time. Lord knows he has enough worries to contend with as it is.’ Nicholls stirred uncomfortably in his chair but remained silent. ‘However, he will need to be informed if we have to take any decisive action against Ruiz.’ The retired admiral neglected to mention that this would almost certainly be after the deed had taken place. ‘It will be my job to report to him should the need arise.’
He looked around the table. ‘I think that concludes this meeting. Are there any other comments?’
‘Just one, Richard.’ Menzies was careful to conceal his delight. ‘What shall we call this operation?’
Lockhart turned to the other members of the committee. ‘Does anybody have any ideas?’ There was no reply. He turned back to Menzies. ‘I’ve given the matter some thought,’ he said. ‘What about calling it ‘Matador’, in view of our Spanish connection?’
Nobody had any better suggestions, and the meeting broke up. Menzies and Petrie were both in a hurry to get back to their departments and catch up on the latest news, almost racing each other to get down the flights of stairs and out of the hallway.
But Menzies could move deceptively fast when he wanted to, and beat the smaller Scotsman to the revolving front door by a whisker. He held the door for a moment, and turned back to look at his former subordinate.
‘I think you owe me some money, old chap,’ he said quietly.
‘What about double or quits? I’ll bet we’ll make the arrest in the end, not your lot.’ Petrie abhorred losing, especially where money was concerned and in particular to his former boss.
‘Alright, if you insist.’ Menzies smirked. ‘After all, it’s now your money we’re betting on’.
14 Holly Park Terrace, Hanwell 2350 12/5/1944
The valves on the radio transmitter were cooling down, now that he’d turned off the ‘set’.Simon had just used their transmission time window to report back a coded ‘no contact’ message to Berlin, without waiting for a reply. There was no point in taking an unnecessary risk in staying on the air for any longer. After all, the British would almost certainly have a thorough surveillance operation in place to detect unusual radio activity in the capital and across the country, and the longer he spent transmitting the greater the risk of discovery there would be.
He sat alone in the dusty attic, wondering what he could do to occupy himself for nearly the next two weeks. He could vaguely hear Simms pottering about somewhere downstairs. No doubt the pharmacist would soon climb the ladder from his bedroom into the loft to inquire if everything was alright. The sound of a goods train chugging slowly past out to the rear of the house broke into his thoughts. He sighed to himself, and began reviewing the progress of his mission so far. Overall, it didn’t look good. Getting to London had been a relatively easy task, but somewhere along the line the opposition had begun to track him, maybe even earlier than he’d realised. And the signs here were not all that reassuring. The car parked up the street had disappeared yesterday evening, and there had been no further signs of overt observation from across the road, but he still suspected that all was not as it seemed.
He’d investigated the back garden and railway embankment area three nights ago, as part of checking out the local surroundings in case he needed to leave in an emergency. Then, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But late yesterday evening he’d noticed a shadowy figure lurking on the path along the side of the railway embankment a few doors up from his house. A few minutes later he went out himself to stretch his legs and casually explore the rear exit and escape route. The man he noticed was still there, but now he was accompanied by a shorter, dark haired woman in a hat and coat. As he passed by them they were kissing, wrapped up together in a crushing embrace. A quiet ‘good evening’ produced no response, and when he returned a few minutes later they had disappeared temporarily, only to return again when he checked half an hour later.
And today there had been a man working at the back of number eighteen. He looked like a cross between a gardener and a general handy-man. He stayed out in the back garden all day, despite the occasional rain shower, and had even eaten his lunch there. But Simon was observing him from behind a curtain at a first floor bedroom window, and noticed the very occasional furtive glance towards number fourteen.
Maybe it was all coincidental, and nothing but a combination of chance events and nosy neighbours, but perhaps it was high time to find another safe location to hide in and keep his head down. At the end of the meeting at Lake Havel, Canaris had given him some extra information that might come in useful. The first was a name and an address in London, an alternative just in case he needed a bolt-hole in an emergency. With that went a letter in a sealed envelope.The Admiral was quite specific about this address. It was only to be used as a last resort, and Simon should not do anything to compromise the identity of the addressee.
The one big problem with this was that this safe house did not possess a transmitter. Canaris was sure of that. The second address was that of a Catholic priest who lived in Belfast, who hated the British with a vengeance.This priest could be trusted to pass a message addressed to him back across the border into Eire. There a transmitter, operated by the German embassy in Dublin would beam the contents back to Germany. The old admiral was quite certain that the new security measures put in place to tighten up the border between the North and the South were still easy to circumvent, but it might take a week or two to get such a message back using this route, and that amount of delay would probably be unacceptable. The reverse route could be used to help his ex-filtration from England- again, slow but probably less hazardous. But if he decided to leave Simms’ house with little warning, would he be able to sneak back in and use the transmitter at a later date, without anybody knowing? How would Simms take it? Or would the watchers move in and seize Simms and the transmitter?
The trap-door to the loft lifted up, and Simms’ head appeared. He smiled. ‘Is everything alright?’
Simon made up his mind at once. It was time to move on. ‘Yes, but we need to talk.’ He walked over to where the ladder jutted into the loft, and followed Simms back down into the front bedroom.
Simms stood expectantly on the bedroom carpet, rather closer than necessary. He was wearing pyjamas underneath an open dressing gown. Simon thought he saw a bulge in the front of his pyjama trousers. ‘I’ve brought you a nice cup of cocoa to help you sleep tonight. That’s a rare treat in wartime England, very difficult to get hold of. I hope you’ll appreciate it.’ His smile made Simon feel distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Did Berlin say anything?’
‘Yes, they did. For security reasons they’ve asked me to move to another location in London.’ Simms face fell. ‘I’m very sorry’, Simon said, continuing the lie, ‘but it seems they’ve found me another safe house that they feel is better suited to the mission. Thanks for the cocoa, and all your help and hospitality. My boss is very happy with what you’ve done, and he sends the message that your efforts will not be forgotten.’
The little man was on the verge of tears. ‘What? After all this time I’m called on to do my duty, and all it amounts to is this? Please, please stay, I beg you. I’m sure we can work something out.’ Simms moved closer, putting his hand on Simon’s forearm. ‘We were getting on so well together. I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave…’
Simon quickly disengaged his arm and pulled away. Simms’ touch made his flesh crawl. Suddenly he realised that the older man was more than lonely. Was Simms attracted to him in some way, possibly sexually? He suddenly felt nauseated, repelled by the physical contact. That was another reason to get out of here as soon as possible. Another two weeks of staying here with a strange little man, almost certainly with homosexual tendencies? No thanks.
‘I’m sorry, but I really have to go now’. He moved away brusquely.
‘But all I want to do is help,’ wailed Simms. ‘What do you mean- ‘for security reasons’? Are we being watched? Are the Police outside?’ His face took on a look of pure terror. ‘I’ve noticed that you keep on looking out the windows at the front and back. You think we’re being watched, don’t you?’ The pharmacist’s eyes were wide open, his face a picture of fright.
‘No, for God’s sake. I keep on telling you that it’s just simple routine precautions in observing the locality- making sure nobody takes an unnatural interest in this place, the usual routine. It’s standard operating procedure.’ Simon was trying to keep from shouting. He didn’t want to alienate Simms completely, but it was hard to control his feelings of exasperation and disgust. ‘Berlin has decided a change is necessary, for whatever reason. Listen- you’re still vitally important to the mission. I will need to use your transmitter again, so it’s vital that you go about your normal routine, and make sure that nobody gets suspicious. Tell the neighbours I’ve been suddenly recalled back to my unit- I’m sure they’ll understand. I’ll be back a week next Thursday, or soon afterwards, to send a message.’
Simms still looked worried. ‘You’re sure nobody’s watching us?’
‘I’m sure,’ Simon smiled, aware of the lie but hoping he could convince the panicky pharmacist with a show
of confidence. ‘This is a routine change- it happens all the time. It’s nothing to get upset or worried about. Alright?’
‘Alright,’ Simms replied sulkily, still looking upset and tearful.
‘Good. I’ll need to borrow a small suitcase. Could you get me one while I pack?’
Simms nodded, and turned to climb back up into the loft. Simon headed off towards his bedroom, and began to neatly fold his clothes and gather his wash gear together. Suddenly, an air raid siren could be heard far off, wailing its piercing alarm through the night skies. He stopped and listened. Another siren went off, much closer now. He thought he could hear the sound of aircraft engines in the distance, a dense throbbing of noise that rumbled its way closer and closer, coupled with the sounds of heavy gunfire. Were the curtains drawn downstairs? He dashed out of his bedroom and raced downstairs, checking the lounge, dining room and kitchen and turning off the lights in each room as he left. Thankfully, Simms had done his job properly earlier that evening at blackout time and light security had not been breached. He was just about to head back upstairs when Simms called down.
‘Is everything okay?’ He still sounded upset.
‘Yes. I was worried just in case any lights were showing, and wanted to check while you were busy in the loft. Where’s the nearest air raid shelter?’
‘Not far.’ Simms came down the stairs, shielding something in his right dressing gown pocket. As he came into view, Simon could see that he was upset, but there was something in addition- a look of anger on his face. Two bright red spots highlighted his cheeks.
‘I don’t think you’ve been as honest with me as you should have been, Peter, or whatever your name is. There was no message from Berlin.’ He lifted up the note pad that was normally positioned next to the transmitter. ‘Nothing’s been written on this tonight, no code to be translated, not a single thing. You’ve lied to me. They warned me about this. I can’t let you leave.’
London Calling Page 17
