by Hitoshi Goto
“Lately the Abwehr has been committing blunder after blunder. Being caught by the Gestapo on suspicion of illegally channelling foreign currency was the first stroke of bad luck. It was Müller’s idea to witness Hans von Dohnányi passing US dollars to a Jew too. He was arrested, and even you were suspended from your post.”
“And Himmler’s over the moon about that case of the fake British Army major turning up in Spain,” the handsome, slender-faced Oster responded serenely, lightly shaking his head.
“You’re right there, Hans. I think that corpse is a trap. They didn’t just find a fake ID in the name Martin amongst his belongings, but also a love letter! He was carrying a secret document addressed to General Alexander containing the plausible lie that Sardinia was the objective of the Allied Forces.”
“A sign of Anglo Saxon cunning. But when you exposed that information to the Führer in May, didn’t you point out that there was a possibility it was a trick?”
Oster took one of his favourite slim cigarettes between his index and middle fingers, and lit it.
Canaris sat in an armchair and sadly shook his head. “As a result we have a problem. The Allied Forces were supposed to go to Sardinia, but turned up in Sicily. Given that the information was deliberately fake, just the fact the Abwehr was involved means the Führer has lost trust in us.” Looking even gloomier, Canaris went on, “And it’s the second blunder this year.”
“You mean the plot to eliminate the Führer?”
“If Hitler was dead, this war would already be over. At the time of the Gestapo raid in April, too, it was just before the trump card was seized.”
“The document informing the Vatican of the assassination plot…”
“The next time we’re caught out it’ll be the end. Kaltenbrunner, Müller, and especially Sonnenberger are not stupid, you know. It’s not as if we can keep running to Field Marshal Keitel forever. Unless we’re careful, the Abwehr itself could be assimilated into the Reich National Security Office. This would be the first step to bringing the Abwehr fully under the SS.”
“It’s true that we’re walking an extremely fine line fraught with danger. And what’s more, we have enemies both within and without,” Oster said without losing his cool.
“The enemies within are probably the most formidable.”
“Sonnenberger really is sharp. Since he took over at Inland Security, he’s been a huge threat.”
Canaris nodded.
“Admiral, what has the response been from the Anglo Saxons? Von Moltke was dispatched to Turkey in June, but how did the contact with America go?”
“Not a word. We are also getting Gisevius to contact Dulles in Bern.”
“Given that Gisevius was originally in the Gestapo, don’t you suspect him of being a double agent?”
“More importantly, America doesn’t have any desire to end this war. Dulles must be directly connected to Washington. The fact he doesn’t move means that Washington doesn’t want him to.”
“What about the National Committee for a Free Germany?”
“I’m not of a mind to deal with the Soviets.”
“Will you come to the table if they topple the Nazis and form a new government of patriots?”
“I don’t know. If they’re taken prisoner of war and forced to set up a committee, they’ll probably sell their souls to the communists, just like Faust.”
“But better than the SS.”
“True. If they can hold onto the Dnieper Front, they might be able to propose conditions for a ceasefire. It’ll be too late once Berlin has been reduced to rubble.”
“Under the Casablanca Declaration, the Allied Forces are demanding the unconditional surrender of the Axis powers. Even if they topple Hitler and install a new government, the Anglo Saxons probably won’t accept anything less.”
“I don’t know about that. London and Washington must know that’s not going to work, don’t they? They’re not like the French Resistance who, if worse comes to worst, can always hide themselves among the population. Just about everyone around them is a friend. But here in Germany there are still a lot of people who worship Hitler. If the Gestapo get wind of us then they’ll catch the lot of us with one cast of the net. We don’t have anywhere to run to or hide. It’s a dangerous game…”
Canaris gave a heavy sigh and seemed lost in thought for a while, then suddenly looked as though he had remembered something. He took a file out of the briefcase he’d placed beside his chair.
“By the way, Hans, there’s a report from 319th Infantry Division that is bothering me. What do you think?” he said, handing him a few typed pages.
“319th Infantry Division?” Oster said, tilting his head. “That’s the Channel Islands. Has another British commando unit infiltrated them again after so long? They must have come a long way in building fortifications in preparation for an attack by allied forces, so maybe they came to glean information on that?”
“No, no. It’s about some murders on Guernsey.”
“That’ll keep Emile and the detectives busy. But you said murders plural?”
“Three. Reminds me of that ‘Three Dead Men’ story by Eden Phillpotts, although that was over a decade ago now. I wonder if this is a reconstruction… although the circumstances are quite different. Two were washed up in the same location on the southern coast. A remarkable pair. One was an officer in the Japanese Army, an attaché stationed in France. He happened to be observing the state of the fortification works at the Abwehr’s invitation, and had been reported missing. He was still in his uniform, and had been shot in the chest.”
“And the bullet?”
“A British Enfield No.2 MK 1 handgun—a new version that had fixed the revolver malfunction, often used by paratroopers and commandos.”
Oster was about to say something, but Canaris silenced him and went on, “At his side at the mercy of the waves was a British maid, aged thirty. Previously resident in St Peter Port, and presently in Sankt Peterhausen.”
“Cause of death?”
“It’s thought she was pushed off a cliff on the south coast of the island. Of course it’s possible it was just be a coincidence that the two of them were washed up at the same point on the shore. A flower-patterned hairpin was found at the construction site of the military watchtower just inland from the cliff. According to the local police investigation, there is a strong possibility the hairpin belonged to the dead woman.”
“And the third person?”
“This came as a shock. Right next to where the hairpin was found, a German was found dead. A shot to the chest again.”
“A German?”
“They have his SS membership number too. One of Müller’s men.”
“A Gestapo?” He couldn’t hide his surprise despite himself.
“Now why would a Gestapo officer be in the Channel Islands?”
“It’s just a coincidence, but…” Canaris said, rising to his feet and beginning to pace around the room. “A naval officer from the Abwehr who happened to be in Saint-Malo was watching a man who appeared to be disguised as a civilian crossing to the island on a regular ship. It apparently bothered him that it was someone of the same race. Maybe it was that man.”
“Are all the deaths connected?” Oster asked, watching Canaris’s eye movements carefully.
“I don’t know. The times of death are just about the same, and the places they were found are all close by. And two more facts of extreme interest have come to light.”
Oster leaned forward.
“The first regards the murdered maid. Her name is Jayne Johnson. She’s originally from Guernsey, and stayed on without evacuating to the mainland even when we occupied it. She was working at the house of a certain German couple.”
“What do you mean, a certain German couple? Until three years ago the islands were British. Are they connected to the militar
y?”
“No, they have absolutely nothing to do with the Abwehr. The husband’s name is Hans von Manteuffel.”
“Any relation to the army’s General von Manteuffel?”
“A distant relative.”
“In which case,” Oster said, following the thread of his memory, “he must be a diplomat who was working at the German embassy in the UK before the war. A descendent of an East Prussian Junker family.”
“You’re absolutely right. A favourite of Ribbentrop’s.”
“The Foreign Office, eh? But why would they be in Guernsey…” he started, then stopped with a surprised expression on his face. “It wouldn’t by any chance be…”
“It’s probably what you’re thinking. He was a candidate for ambassador to Britain in the event that we subjugate them to the German Empire. If anything is left of the British Empire, that is. He was laying the groundwork for that eventuality, conducting fieldwork to learn how to rule over the British.”
“Before worrying about whether or not there’ll be anything left of the British Empire, it’s looking more realistic at this stage to wonder what will become of our own Empire. Does Ribbentrop still believe we are winning the war?”
“Who knows? But what is indisputable fact is that a diplomat and his wife is living in the sole British territory occupied by our nation.”
“You mentioned two things.”
“That’s right. The second concerns a photo taken during the investigation. Look at this,” Canaris said, passing a photograph to Oster. “Not there, more to the edge.”
Oster’s brow creased into a frown. “Who’s this?”
“Someone who shouldn’t be there.”
“The one who was there as an observer?”
“The murdered officer from Vichy came alone—and at the time this photograph was taken he was already dead, which means it’s someone else. What’s more he’s in civvies.”
“Strange. Have you checked with the Japanese embassy?”
“Yes. Maybe it’s in my blood, but I can’t get along with the army, so I showed an extra copy to Commander Oishi in the naval attaché office.”
“And?”
“It was extraordinary. He looked as though he’d seen a ghost.”
“Why?”
“It seems it was someone who should be in Tokyo, and he’s from the navy too. Oishi immediately got on the line to Tokyo.”
“You’re not going to tell me he was there?”
“It seems he was—or had been in early June. He must have come from Japan to Europe about forty days ago.”
“Wunderbar! A Gestapo, a Japanese army officer, and a British maid… and on top of that a Japanese naval officer who shouldn’t be there. A motley gathering, to be sure!”
“But whichever way I think about it, I just can’t grasp what the Gestapo was doing there. If his objective was to kill the attaché he needn’t have gone all the way to the Channel Islands to do so. So his mission must have been to kill the British maid.”
“What for? Was she a British spy, or something?”
“Not as far as I’ve been informed. Even if they did suspect, why would the Gestapo have to send in an assassin? Had she got hold of a secret that Müller feared she would reveal—and that we don’t know about? I find that hard to believe.”
“In any case, it must have caused a stir in the Gestapo and Japan.”
“But the Japanese are a strange lot. Commander Oishi strongly requested that we don’t inform the army about this case under any circumstances. Believe it or not, the army would panic over the fact he was found together with a woman from an enemy country. It’s apparently a huge scandal, and they are settling the matter by saying the officer tragically lost his footing while conducting his observations and fell off the cliff.”
“They’re not going to investigate?” Oster asked in surprise.
“The navy will send someone to investigate the apparent presence of a naval officer in the photograph. A civilian, mind you.”
“A civilian? No one connected with the military?”
“It seems they want to avoid provoking the army. There is considerable antipathy between the army and navy. So much so that I have to wonder how they ever manage to carry out military operations that require cooperation between them. Anyway, they are sending an artist resident in Paris, the brother of a naval attaché stationed in Berlin.”
“Is that information from Oishi?”
“Yes. Apparently he hasn’t yet been informed of the mission. He should be arriving here in Berlin any day now.”
“He will travel to Guernsey as an artist on a painting trip?”
“Actually, Oishi also requested our cooperation. Since it’s an important ally, he sent us a teletype instructing us to look after this artist.”
“And then there’s the Gestapo…”
“It appears Sonnenberger has already personally set the Gestapo in motion, although there aren’t any of Himmler’s men in the Channel Islands other than on Alderney, and they can’t allow the affair to be made public. I have issued instructions in Keitel’s name to the military administration in charge of the occupation, and 319th Division’s Müller and Schmettow, to obstruct the Gestapo. I dare say Sonnenberger will be put out.”
Canaris grinned, and Oster also looked amused.
“A small revenge, Admiral. This calls for a toast.”
Oster walked over to a rococo cabinet in the corner of the room, and took out two glasses and a bottle of Calvados. As he poured the brandy, the sweet scent of apples wafted up and pleasantly stimulated their nostrils.
“Hurrah for Normandy!”
They clinked glasses.
“By the way, what’s happening with that other matter?” Oster asked casually.
“The Romulus affair?” Canaris responded immediately.
“Yes, of course,” Oster replied, cradling his glass in the palm of his hand.
“Bormann is acting under the personal instructions of the Führer and unfortunately I haven’t received any more leaks. I only know as far as the hospital either in Dresden or Leipzig.”
“If it’s a matter of finding the specialist doctor, there can’t be all that many of them, can there?”
“Bormann has imposed an all-out gag order, apparently. No medical notes exist, although there is the possibility that they are hidden somewhere.
“And Romulus?”
“Being reared carefully in Bavaria, under strict guard…”
“I see. Being reared is the right way to put it.” Oster laughed.
“There’s something else that’s strange.”
“Which is?”
“The group that knows about Romulus. Only Himmler and a few of the very top officers in the SS have this information. Apparently they celebrated it with a performance of Parsifal at Wewelsburg.”
“Just like Himmler.”
“Other than them, the only ones to have some knowledge of this secret are Speer, Göbbels and Göring.”
“I see. The usual suspects,” Oster nodded, and briefly wafted his glass under his nose.
“And Ribbentrop.”
“Ah. His name comes up a lot these days.”
“And then his lordship Keitel of the Wehrmacht, although he’s only partially informed.” Canaris paused to clear his throat. “And that’s it. The odd one out is Ribbentrop. It appears Bormann recommended him to Hitler.”
“Why? Because he’s harmless?”
“No. When Field Marshal Keitel asked the same thing, apparently Bormann told him it was because he was the Ambassador to Britain. Keitel wasn’t satisfied with that, but Bormann just left it at that and went away.”
Oster couldn’t hide his surprise. “That’s worrying.”
“Yes, indeed. Bormann is too clever by half. There must be more to it.”
&nbs
p; And with that, Canaris drained the remains of his glass in one go.
Memorandum
My train at last pulled into Berlin’s Potsdam Station. I looked at my watch. It was exactly on time—an embodiment of German precision as though the national virtue had to up at all times regardless of the war. The hands of the station clock were showing seven minutes past seven in the evening, but the sun was still high. Puffing and blowing like a long distance marathon runner, the locomotive slowed down and came to a halt with a solemn squeal of brakes.
The carriage doors opened, and passengers alighted in small groups. Several soldiers, their arms and heads pitifully bandaged, descended slowly to the platform. They must have been injured on the frontline, but while the exhaustion showed on their faces, they were full of joy at having been able to return home alive. The women and children who had come to meet them let out a cheer.
I spotted my Kenichi in a dark blue suit standing waiting for me by the stopping place for the first class carriage. He was in civvies, but with his close-cropped hair, way his eyes looked sharply around, and his good posture, he was clearly a well-trained military man—and proud of it.
“Well, shall we?” said Sonnenberger, giving way to me to go first before he too alighted onto the platform. “Oh, is that your brother-in-law from the navy?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Shall we say goodbye here, then? I’ve had a lot of worries on my mind lately, but thanks to you I could enjoy a pleasant time on the journey to Berlin. I’m looking forward to our next meeting,” he said, holding out his right hand. “I don’t really want to be seen in public, but if it’s about art then please get in touch any time.”
I too put down my bags and art supplies on the platform and held out my hand to shake his. Sonnenberger roared with laughter and walked off towards the exit.
