On the 17th Johnny told me he had been ordered to a conference in Biarritz on the subject of Ivan. Johnny said he saw a clear trap in this and was certain that his immediate arrest was intended in Biarritz. Johnny added that if in the next few days any further signs of mistrust existing towards him on the part of Berlin are to be observed he intends to draw his own conclusions and will inform Ivan in good time.
Further signs of mistrust were not long in coming. The next day, the office secretaries, Lily Grass and Marie von Gronau, were ordered to return to Berlin within twenty-four hours. This was “a routine reduction of staff,” Schreiber claimed, since “all secretaries who have been here more than two years are to leave on the principle that they have had a long period of work in a pleasant place and should therefore be moved to somewhere less pleasant.” But Jebsen knew his moles within the system were being weeded out. The women were instructed not to speak to him before they left; both ignored the order. Jebsen even escorted Marie to the airport. As they parted, he said something that made her even more convinced that he must be a British agent. “Three days after the end of hostilities, a British pilot will report to a restaurant in Flensburg, Schleswig-Holstein, the Grossadel Bylond, and if you are present he will pick you up and bring you to England.” Marie promised to be there.
Jebsen met Charles de Salis at the safe house. Jebsen was deeply agitated, smoking furiously with trembling fingers. The MI6 man passed on the veiled warning about Brandes, but Jebsen seemed preoccupied with the forced departure of the secretaries. “Artist does not consider this a very good sign,” de Salis reported. “He feels very bitter. He rails against the pig-headed administration which has ordered this.” The order to go to Biarritz with Schreiber had been a “test” of his loyalty and obedience: “Further traps of this nature will be laid,” he predicted. Despite the precariousness of his own position, Jebsen had some important new intelligence to report: the latest strategic assessment by the German General Staff, as presented to a conference of generals in France. This predicted a “large-scale invasion attempt” across the Channel and in southern France, revealed doubts as to “whether Norway could be defended successfully,” and concluded that a precise assessment of American troops in the UK would be “decisive.” The Germans appeared to be concentrating on exactly the right areas. Before she was ordered home, Lily Grass had passed on some good news. “Tricycle’s reports have made a tremendous impression in Berlin and the General Staff are considering modifying their plans in consequence. The last report had already been classified as being ‘as good as sure,’ which is an almost unparalleled evaluation.” By the end of the meeting, Jebsen had regained some of his composure. “Artist is confident that Brandes will keep him warned of future traps, and hopes that in this way the ‘tests’ may be negotiated successfully. If this can be done, Tricycle’s position as the Ace Abwehr agent in the UK will be assured and all thenceforward should be comparatively easy.”
Before they parted, de Salis told Jebsen to be careful.
“Am I not always careful?” said Jebsen, with a pale smile.
The warning about Brandes had not registered. Or perhaps Jebsen chose to ignore it. He was a firm believer in friendship. Later the same day, he showed a document to Brandes, who was on the radio to Berlin within hours. “A telegram which has just arrived from England was shown to me by Johnny at his house. It was signed by his friend Baronet Anthony Rothschild. The contents read as follows: ‘Don’t worry, our business shall be finished very soon.’ ”
This was, of course, part of Jebsen’s elaborate tale about a rich member of the Rothschild family (now downgraded from peer to baronet) who was helping him get a refugee visa to Britain. He probably showed it to Brandes knowing he might soon have to disappear. There was no such person as Sir Anthony Rothschild. But Brandes did not know this, and to his mind the “telegram conveyed a hidden meaning, that the time was nearly due for Artist to come over to the British with such information as he had been able to gather.” Brandes told Berlin that Jebsen was again showing “noticeable curiosity about Ostro.”
Robertson summoned Masterman, Marriott, and Wilson to a crisis meeting. The intercepts revealed that “while Artist considered Brandes to be entirely his friend, Brandes was reporting unfavourably on Artist.” On the other hand, Most Secret Sources indicated that the Gestapo was no longer on his trail, and although the authorities wanted to interview him, they were concerned “solely with financial matters.” If Jebsen was asked why he was so interested in Ostro, he could “take a bold line” and insist that it was his “desire to expose Ostro if he could find proof that Ostro was a fraud.” (Which, as MI5 well knew, he was.)
Wilson summed up the situation, while admitting this was “too complicated to enable one to make any very confident appreciation of the position”:
Brandes is clearly telling tales about Artist but there is no indication, at least so far, that Brandes is trying to suggest Artist is working for the British. I am personally satisfied that the telegram [summoning Artist to Biarritz] was not a trap, but Artist is apt to get into a state of nerves where he quite genuinely imagines traps which do not exist. He may not have seen as clearly as we have that the Gestapo seems now to be convinced that he is best left in Lisbon, and he may quite honestly fear that the Gestapo are behind the attempt to get him into occupied territory where they will arrest him. No immediate action can be taken by us. There is a risk that, despite our warning, Artist may continue to place some confidence in Brandes, but we cannot strengthen our warning without danger to our sources.
They agreed to do nothing. The protection of Most Secret Sources was paramount. “I see no reason to be unduly nervous,” said Wilson, with a confidence he certainly did not feel.
Jebsen, meanwhile, decided to brazen it out with his bosses and conduct his own “test.” He told Schreiber he had received a message from Popov stating he would “brook no further delay over money.” To Jebsen’s surprise, Schreiber was most accommodating. He agreed to cable Berlin immediately and came back with the answer that he had “received immediate instructions to hand over all available funds to Artist.” He then presented Jebsen with $75,000 in cash. This, he said, was only a down payment. Jebsen was ecstatic.
“Artist considers this proof all is well and that general staff … will act on strength of Tricycle’s reports,” Charles de Salis reported back to London. “He now believes the investigation is over and Abwehr are satisfied both he and Tricycle are sound. Tricycle’s position as an ace agent is assured.” The crisis was over. Schreiber could not have been more friendly and told him that Berlin had cabled “at the last minute” to say that Jebsen was not needed at the Biarritz meeting after all. There was even talk of bringing back his lover Marie von Gronau. Jebsen wrote a triumphant letter to Popov:
You will know by reports coming from Cobb [de Salis’s cover name] about the tests the Abwehr tried to carry out. I am quite happy that it is over now and I congratulate you on being my beloved Führer’s best agent without any doubt, because, after having hesitated for some time, the Abwehr have decided the money should be transferred to you as arranged. I got 75,000 dollars, of which I will send 50,000 today. We might settle accounts later, but my share I am keeping here because I might be in need of some money to bribe heaven knows whom. Please give my best greetings to Ian, Frank and the Bentons. Be a good boy, and try to behave.… Yours always, Johnny.
Relief flooded through B1A. The Tricycle network was safe, and with it the rest of the Double Cross deception. This called for a celebratory dinner with Popov as guest of honor, to be held at the Hyde Park Hotel on April 26. A report was sent to Churchill:
The agent Tricycle has now returned from visiting his masters in Lisbon. He has once more succeeded in persuading them of his complete reliability and has extracted from them a large sum of dollars as an advance against his future services. He has received an interesting questionnaire. They appear to have the highest respect for him.
The day before the
dinner, Jebsen met de Salis again and “confirmed that everything was fine.” Schreiber had congratulated him on his handling of Popov and told him he was to receive a medal, a War Merit Cross (Kriegsverdienstkreuz, or KVK) First Class without swords, a civilian medal usually awarded for bravery behind the lines. Now that he was no longer under suspicion, Jebsen said he planned to go to Berlin, where he would gather more information for British intelligence. “From Artist’s point of view the outcome is a complete triumph,” de Salis reported. “To crown it all, Artist has been awarded the KVK 1st Class, an honour shared by no one in Lisbon. Schreiber in particular is envious.”
Jebsen dictated a letter to Mabel Harbottle (now fully in his confidence) telling Popov the good news:
A proof of the fact that Schreiber did not tell me stories [i.e., lie] is that I got another decoration, and this time the KVK First Class. First Class probably was given because you double-crossed them first class! I feel a little bit ashamed of getting the decoration for the work you and Ian did. I made up my mind to give it to Ian. Unfortunately I cannot get the Germans to put his name on the certificate, but I shall give him the decoration itself. If, as I hope, he collects curiosities, he might find a place for it in his collection. After all, he is an exceptional man and has the exceptional honour of getting a decoration with a swastika on it.
Schreiber had promised more money:
Knowing your mentality, I am sure you are much more interested in this than in the really funny story of my decoration.
Brandes is no longer your friend because he is terribly afraid you might betray the circumstances and date of the invasion and not only prolong the war but endanger his position as only 50% Aryan which must be more and more difficult. It might come out in the end that he is going to hang instead of the Nazi leaders if the war goes on for a very long time. Last time I forgot to send my best greetings to Frano [de Bona, Agent Freak]. This was because at the time I didn’t remember that he should know that I know what after all we all know. I sometimes forget to whom I have to cover what, and what I have to cover to whom. I think this letter is too long already. Besides, I have to think of the poor lady who has to type it and probably has something better to do than to amuse you. [Mabel Harbottle wrote in the margin with what, for her, was very nearly coquetry: “The lady herself is of course delighted at the thought of helping to keep you amused.”]
He ended with a flourish:
I hope you will give my love to all you can give it to without spoiling your, my, or anybody else’s cover. To you I can give my love anyhow, yours, as always, Johnny.
The letter was typical Jebsen: funny, insouciant, mercenary, and more worried about the fate of Hans Brandes than about his own. De Salis reported that Jebsen had been “in a very good mood and the difference between this and the last meeting, when he was obviously worried, was very noticeable.” Jebsen agreed to return to the safe house on May 5, one month and one day before D-Day.
Amid all the excitement and relief, no one spotted a message, sent the day before Popov’s dinner, from Aloys Schreiber to Georg Hansen, the new head of German counterintelligence: “The carrying out of the threatened plan is imminent. Request your permission to prevent this plan even if it should become necessary to use extreme measures.” Hansen gave his permission.
The dinner at the Hyde Park Hotel was most convivial. The key players in the Tricycle case were all there, in evening attire: Guy Liddell, Tar Robertson, John Masterman, John Marriott, and Ian Wilson, who had just steered the network through such rocky waters. MI6 was represented by Frank Foley. MI5’s director general, Sir David Petrie, raised a toast to Agent Tricycle. Popov was “full of praise for Wilson for whom he clearly has the greatest respect,” Liddell noted in his diary. “I think he realises that if Wilson had not been at his side coaching him, he could never have achieved the position which he has now reached. He told me also that Wilson had made a very good impression on Artist.” In a rare departure from intelligence protocol, as a mark of trust in Popov, “all those present used their own names.”
They did however, keep one secret from Popov: “It was unknown to Tricycle that the cigars smoked at dinner were kindly provided by Dr Emile Kliemann of the Paris Abwehr station.”
Clifton James, Australian actor, playing the part of General Bernard Montgomery. (PA)
Winston Churchill and the real Monty, preparing for battle. (Getty Images)
Dummy tanks ready for Operation Fortitude: hundreds of fakes would be deployed across southeast England, to give the impression of a vast army preparing to attack Calais. (The National Archives)
The dummy tanks were easy to move but tended to take off in high winds. (Roger-Viollet/TopFoto)
A dummy Hurricane fighter aircraft. It was hoped that no enemy spy would get close enough to spot the fake. (The National Archives)
Dummy landing craft at anchor in the River Orwell, part of the fake flotilla ready to transport a bogus army in an invasion that would never take place. (The National Archives)
Dusko Popov: a dashing spy at war. (Private Collection)
Roman Czerniawski’s certificate for the award of the Virtuti Militari, Poland’s highest military decoration. (Private Collection)
Emile Kliemann and Lily Sergeyev in the Castelo dos Mouros (Sintra, Portugal), March 1944. The photograph was taken with a Zeiss camera provided by MI5. (The National Archives)
Claus von Stauffenberg, ringleader of the July 1944 plot to assassinate Hitler. (Corbis)
Georg Hansen, anti-Nazi plotter and head of German counterintelligence. (Private Collection)
Baron Hiroshi Oshima, Japanese ambassador to Berlin, presents his credentials to Hitler, while Foreign Minister Von Ribbentrop looks on. (Ullsteinbild/TopFoto)
Tar Robertson: “immensely personable and monstrously good-looking.” (Private Collection)
Ian Wilson, the introverted but dedicated case officer for Dusko Popov and Johnny Jebsen. (Private Collection)
Charles de Salis, MI6 officer in Lisbon and Jebsen’s point of contact with British intelligence. (The Times [London])
General Dwight Eisenhower and Winston Churchill prepare for the “Great Crusade.” (Keystone/TopFoto)
General George Patton: “a goddamn natural-born ham.” (Ullsteinbild/TopFoto)
Erwin Rommel inspects German Channel defenses, confident that the Atlantic Wall could not be breached. (BArch Bild 101I-719-0240-22/Jesse)
German officers on the coast of France, 1944, awaiting the invasion. (Getty Images)
Hans Brandes, arms dealer, spy, and Jebsen’s “friend.” (Private Collection)
Major Wilhelm Kuebart: “the most intelligent man in the Abwehr.” (The National Archives)
Marie von Gronau, secretary at the Lisbon Abwehr station and Jebsen’s lover. (The National Archives)
Heinz Paul Moldenhauer, the Abwehr officer kidnapped with Jebsen. (Private Collection)
Johnny Jebsen on the waterfront in Estoril, Lisbon, 1944. (Private Collection)
Lieutenant Commander Mike Cumberlege, the piratical Royal Navy officer captured while attempting to blow up the Corinth Canal. (Private Collection)
8 Prince Albrecht Strasse, Berlin: the Gestapo prison where Jebsen was held. (BArch, Bild 183-R97512)
One of the thirty-nine solitary cells in the basement of the Gestapo prison. (Ullsteinbild/TopFoto)
Invasion troops disembarking on D-Day. “Just keep the Fifteenth Army out of my hair for two days,” said Eisenhower. (Getty Images)
Troops reinforced the beachhead after the Normandy landings. (Getty Images)
The vast artificial ports known as “Mulberry Harbours,” built in Britain and then floated across the Channel. (The Times [London])
Abwehr message intercepted three days after D-Day, in which Garbo warns the Germans to expect a second “decisive” invasion in the Pas de Calais. (Bletchley Park Trust/The Times [London])
Fortitude North: In Norway, German troops waited for an invasion that never came. (Ullsteinbild/TopFo
to)
Fortitude South: a German tank of the Fifteenth Army defending the beaches of Calais. (Ullsteinbild/TopFoto)
The heavily fortified coast of the Pas de Calais, where the Germans expected a second, even larger Allied invasion. (BArch Bild 101I-719-0240-26/Jesse)
Calais: “It is here that the enemy must and will attack,” said Hitler. (BArch Bild 101I-719-0240-05/Jesse)
Captured German map showing the invasion troops of FUSAG, the phantom army, clustered in southeast England: “It was almost identical with Plan Fortitude.” (The National Archives)
21. Operation Dora
On the afternoon of April 29, Aloys Schreiber telephoned Johnny Jebsen and asked him to come to the offices on Rua Buenos Aires, as he wanted to discuss the award of Jebsen’s War Merit Cross. Jebsen had a friend staying with him in Estoril, Heinz Paul Moldenhauer, a young Abwehr officer from the Cologne branch. Schreiber suggested that Jebsen bring Moldenhauer along, as he would like to discuss some intelligence matters with him.
Jebsen and Moldenhauer arrived at the office at dusk. The place was deserted. In Schreiber’s outer office sat two men Jebsen knew only vaguely, a signals officer named Bliel and Karl Meier, a burly civilian car mechanic. Schreiber welcomed Jebsen and Moldenhauer warmly and, after chatting for a few minutes, invited Jebsen to step into the inner office alone. Once Jebsen was seated and the door closed, Schreiber calmly explained that he had orders to take him “to Berlin by force, since he would not go of his own free will.” Jebsen made a bolt for the door, but Schreiber was faster and fitter. He punched Jebsen once and knocked him cold. When Jebsen came to, he found himself tied to a chair, along with Moldenhauer, who had been overpowered by Meier in the adjoining room.
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