“I see,” said von Kobenthal slowly. “Well, I suppose if von Pleisen decorated him he must be one of us. It seems a strange business, though, that we should be hand-in-glove with an Englishman when our two countries are at war.”
“No stranger than that you should have consented to go in with Charlton, here, last night.” Gregory pointed out.
“No; but the whole thing was arranged so swiftly that there wasn’t much time to think about it then.”
“Our interests were entirely indentical; you must agree about that.”
“Yes, that’s true; but since you are an Englishman, what’s going to happen if Wuolijoki finds that out? The whole report will be discredited as a fake and we’ll have landed ourselves in a pretty mess for nothing.”
Gregory smiled. “Oh, no. If the report had been faked they would have discovered that before now. You can bet that the Finnish Secret Service were working on it all last night and all today. They must have quite a bit of information about Russia themselves. The report will check with that and amplify it; whereas if there are lots of discrepancies and improbabilities in it the Finns would know that it was a fake—even if Goering had handed it to them himself. No. We’ve done our job, all right, and the report will do its work.”
“In that case we haven’t much to worry about,” said Freddie optimistically. “Directly Wuolijoki is convinced that the report is genuine he’ll become friendly again and get us all out of here.”
“That’s the spirit, Freddie, my boy!” Gregory patted him on the back. He was by no means certain that Charlton’s reasoning was logical, as it failed to take into account Wuolijoki’s extremely anti-British bias, which Gregory now considered to be their gravest danger; but he welcomed the cheery confidence of the airman, whose whole personality seemed to have changed since the day before when he had so unexpectedly found his Angela. All through their time in Germany he had been suspicious, difficult and pessimistic, whereas for the last twenty-four hours he had been willing, easy and amazingly cheerful; so the last thing Gregory wished to do was to damp his newfound optimism. For the morale of the whole party, too, it was much better that they should no longer dwell upon Wuolijoki’s change of attitude—at least, until they had some more definite reason to fear that it might bring serious consequences on themselves. He therefore loudly declared that Freddie was right, and proceeded to change the conversation.
Dinner-time came at last and, shortly afterwards, the doctor appeared to have another look at his patients. With him he brought a pair of crutches for Suki and the news that the United States had offered to arbitrate in the Russo-Finnish dispute.
The day had been one of great strain in the Finnish capital, so the doctor told them. Everywhere the whole population had been working frantically on last-minute preparations to face the onslaught of their giant antagonist; evacuating children, sandbagging buildings, preparing yet more and more beds in the buildings that had been taken over as temporary hospitals. All the younger men of the nation had been mobilised for weeks and were already at their war stations on the Mannerheim Line and along the chain of lakes and canals which form the Russo-Finnish frontier north of Lake Ladoga; but in the last few days many more classes had been called up. The streets were full of middle-aged reservists going off to join their units while men of any age up to seventy—and older—were drilling in the fire-fighting and ambulance squads against the possibility of devastating air-attack.
That was the great danger. The Finnish Air Force was absolutely negligible compared to the thousands of planes which the Russians could put into the air. Unlike London at the beginning of the war, Helsinki had no balloon-barrage and very few anti-aircraft guns for its defence, yet, according to the doctor, the people were wonderfully calm in spite of the great danger which threatened them and which they could do so very little to avert if it were once launched for their destruction. The women were proving as brave as the men and doing men’s work; filling the sand-bags, digging air-raid trenches and taking over a thousand and one jobs so that their men-folk could don their uniforms and go to the front. Nevertheless, that Wednesday had been one of terrible tension and the news of the American offer of mediation had been received with inexpressible relief.
America, the doctor went on, had always had especially friendly feelings towards his country because Finland was the only European nation which had honoured its debt and paid up in full the American loan made in the last Great War. True, the loan was not a very large one, but the thought that a small country that was by no means rich should have managed to meet its obligation, when other much wealthier and more powerful countries had failed, had appealed to American sentiment. The American people were passionate believers in democracy, too, so it was certain that they would not let Finland down. If the United States mediated, Finland might have to accommodate Russia on certain points—such as demilitarizing some of her island fortresses, giving trade concessions and allowing the Russians access to her ice-free port of Petsamo in the far North—but the great American people would see to it that Finnish independence was preserved.
“I wouldn’t count too much on that,” Gregory advised him. “I’m sure that the American statesmen would like to help you, and also many of the more cultured Americans, but unfortunately the fate of Europe means very little to the millions who live in the Middle West. In spite of papers and radio the bulk of them are still much more remote from world affairs than most of us are apt to imagine. They’ve known one war in their lifetimes and they can’t see any earthly reason why they should be dragged into another, just because what they regard as a lot of lunatics five thousand miles away from them have started to slit one another’s throats; and no political party dare go against them, for fear of losing votes at the next election.”
“That I do not believe,” said the doctor; “and if Russia refuses the just settlement which President Roosevelt will propose, the Americans will be so indignant that they will make our cause their cause and send us arms and supplies.”
“I trust you’re right,” replied Gregory slowly. He felt that now the United States had made this offer of mediation it indirectly involved them to the extent that the Finns would be even more ready to fight, believing that they had America behind them, should the Russians refuse a settlement of arbitration; and anything which even partially relieved him of the awful responsibility of inducing this little nation to resist its giant neighbour by force of arms came as a great comfort at the moment.
When the doctor had hurried away to assist in the preparations against air-attack which were still going forward, it was decided that in order that all of them could get some sleep that night Erika, Gregory and Freddie should take watches of three hours each, in case their two wounded companions needed anything, while the others slept. Erika took the first watch, from ten o’clock until one, Gregory took the second, from one till four, and Freddie the third, from four till seven.
Soon after seven o’clock the orderlies arrived and escorted the unwounded members of the party, together with Suki on his crutches, to the steam-baths; and on her return Erika set about washing von Kobenthal. Breakfast was brought up for them at eight, and a few moments later, while one orderly was still setting it out on the table, the other, who had temporarily left the room, suddenly came dashing back into it.
He spoke rapidly to his companion in Finnish, who thereupon turned to the prisoners and said in German: “It has come. We are at war. At eight o’clock the Russians launched a full-scale attack on the Mannerheim Line.”
“But I thought America was going to mediate,” Gregory exclaimed.
The man shook his head. “That was last night. Before our Government even had time to accept the offer the Russians broke off diplomatic relations as a result of the strong Note which we sent earlier in the day.” Picking up his tray the man hurried from the room.
“It looks as though Goering’s report did the trick after all, then,” Freddie remarked cheerfully.
Gregory nodded. “Yes.
It must have been that which caused the Finns to send the strong Note that the orderly spoke, of. The Government was definitely for giving in after the Russian air-demonstration here on Tuesday. The report must have changed their views and—and been the means of making them dig their toes in.”
For once in his life Gregory seemed stupefied and sat gloomily silent, thinking of the weight of woe which he had been responsible for bringing on that small and gallant people; but Erika guessed what was in his thoughts and, taking his hand, said gently:
“Liebchen, which would you rather do if you were a Finn? Go out and die for what you believe is right—as they are going to do—or, if we had been able to get married, see our property confiscated and us separated, with you working as a slave in the Russian mines of the Urals or the Don Basin, and me being sweated in some factory where in my off-time I was the plaything of the Russian overseers?”
He shrugged. “You needn’t ask, darling; you know the answer.”
“Well, cheer up, then! However much misery may come to Finland as a result of this war, you have done right; not only just acted in what you considered to be the best interests of your own country but right as a man in giving the Finns the opportunity to do what you would do yourself.”
Breakfast was a depressing meal, as although with their knowledge of the contents of Goering’s report they had all felt confident the night before that Finland could hold the Mannerheim Line until help reached her, they now began to have uncomfortable doubts about it. Was the Finnish Army really as good—small though it was—as people had been led to believe? And were the Russian masses really so ill-trained and ill-equipped apart from their great fleets of unwieldy tanks? Were the forts of the Mannerheim Line really of the strength that had been claimed for them? Or had that just been bluff on the Finns’ part and were they in fact, like the Czech “Maginot Line”, just concrete emplacements, many of which had no guns in them? What effect would the terrific Russian air-armada have on the campaign? Would it play the same part as the German Air Force had played in Poland—harrying communications, blasting bridges, railways and crossroads—so that the Finnish rear became utterly disorganised and neither supplies nor reserves could be got up? Then, even if the Soviet Army was of poor quality it would come pouring through the Mannerheim Line because the Finns no longer had the ammunition to drive it back?
Suki was the only cheerful member of the party. Although he was an habitual criminal and safe-breaker by profession he had never in his life killed a man or harmed a fly; yet he had boasted to his friends that if there were a war he would kill a dozen Russians and he was anxious to get on with the business. He was already hopping round on crutches and his wound was so slight that it would be completely healed in the course of the next few days, but he feared that on account of his participation in the episode with the Gestapo the authorities might detain him instead of letting him rush off at once to join up.
At a few minutes past nine Wuolijoki came in. He seemed in a great hurry and, having bowed coldly to them, said abruptly: “You will have heard that the die is cast. Finland is now at war with Russia. My country needs every able man. Suki, are you willing to serve?”
“Why, yes, sir, yes,” little Suki exclaimed. “I have promised my wife that I will kill a dozen Russians.”
“Very good. You were unarmed the other night so we know that you played no part in the shooting. Under an emergency decree we have power to release all prisoners who are held only on minor charges. You are free.”
Suki began to express his gratitude, but Wuolijoki cut him short and turned to Erika. “There is no proof, Frau Gräfin, that you actually participated in Tuesday night’s affair. Therefore we do not intend to hold you any longer.”
Transferring his glance to von Kobenthal, he went on: “That you were concerned in the shooting I have little doubt but I am convinced that you acted from the highest motives and with an entirely unselfish desire to serve Finland, the country of your adoption. I am having you transferred to a private nursing-home. Charges will be officially preferred against you but I shall arrange that when your wounds are healed you will disappear, so that you will never have to answer them.”
Von Kobenthal nodded. “That’s very kind of you, Wuolijoki. I hope, though, that you’ll also exert your influence to assist these other gentlemen. I’d take my oath on it that they acted from the same motive as myself.”
Wuolijoki ignored the remark and, opening the door, said abruptly to Erika: “You are free, Frau Gräfin, you will please to go.”
She glanced at Gregory and Freddie, and shook her head. “I’m not going until I know what you propose to do with these two friends of mine.”
“As you will,” he replied stiffly. “In that case all three of you will come downstairs with me.”
Giving them only the barest opportunity to say good-bye to von Kobenthal and Suki, the diplomat hustled them out into the passage. Two orderlies who were waiting there escorted them down to the ground floor and Wuolijoki led them into a room where the heavily-moustached Chief of Police was standing.
Closing the door behind him, Wuolijoki looked at Gregory and said: “We have satisfied ourselves about you now. Inquiries made through the German Ministry here yesterday resulted in a cable which came in early this morning. It states that the body of Colonel-Baron von Lutz was found in the woods near his home on November the 57th, the day following a shooting affray with some Nazi officials who were endeavouring to arrest him. You are therefore an impostor. You are not German at all, but British. Your friend is also British. He presents himself as an Air Force officer but—whatever he is—he has aided and abetted you in your activities as a secret agent. Both of you are British spies.”
“I deny that,” Gregory protested hotly. “But in any case your own Intelligence Department must by now have informed you that the report was genuine. It’s an invaluable document upon which you can act with every confidence and we brought it to Finland for you, so what the hell would it matter even if we were British?”
Wuolijoki’s German blood was very evident as he snapped: “If you had been Germans you would have observed my wishes and not fired on other Germans, but only held them up. Now it is clear that, being British, as your country is at war with Germany you deliberately took the opportunity to fire on your enemies. You have committed an act of war in a neutral country, and for that you are to be held accountable to the Finnish law.”
As Wuolijoki stepped back the Police Chief stepped forward. He produced a paper and addressed them:
“Four German citizens resident in Helsinki were wounded in an unprovoked attack which you made on the premises they occupy on the night of November the 28th, and one has since died of his wounds. It is my duty to arrest you both upon charges of arson, armed assault and murder.”
Chapter XVIII
Wanted for Murder
Murder! The blood drained from Erika’s face. This was far worse than anything she had anticipated and it seemed that nothing could be done about it; yet Gregory made a last, very able effort to maintain his imposture, knowing that their only chance of reprieve from having to stand their trial now lay in shaking his accusers’ belief that he was British. Turning to Wuolijoki he said in a most reasonable voice:
“Honestly, you’re making a big mistake. My letter of personal introduction from Marshal Goering clearly states that I am Colonel-Baron von Lutz. If the …”
“The letter must have been stolen,” Wuolijoki interrupted.
“On the contrary. I can prove that it was not,” Gregory declared sharply. “Your cable says that my body was found on November the 27th, yet the Marshal’s letter is dated the 28th, proving conclusively that I was still alive the day after the Gestapo believed me dead. That they should have taken the body of a man found on my estate for myself is not surprising; because, as I told you, I have been listed as either dead or missing for the past three weeks.”
While Gregory was speaking he had produced Goering’s letter again in tri
umphant proof of his assertion but Wuolijoki waved it impatiently aside. “That will not do. We have other evidence, besides the cable, that you are an impostor.”
He signed to the Police Chief, who abruptly pulled open a door behind him, and Erika’s heart missed a beat as Grauber marched heavily into the room.
“Can you identify this man, Herr Grupenführer?” the Police Chief asked, pointing to Gregory.
“Certainly,” Grauber piped in his thin falsetto. “His name is Gregory Sallust and he is a most dangerous British agent provocateur. He has twice been secretly into Germany since the outbreak of war and on each occasion he has been responsible for the deaths of a number of my compatriots. It is he who was the leader of the murderous assault upon myself and my colleagues on Tuesday night. We have already made an official request that he should be tried for murder under the Finnish law and if that request is not acceded to I shall apply for an extradition warrant so that he can be executed for his crimes in Germany.”
Gregory saw that the game was up but he meant to go down fighting so he snapped back: “And I shall request the British Legation here to apply for an extradition warrant against you, Herr Gruppenführer Grauber, for the murder of Thomas Archer on the night of October the 7th, in Hampstead, London.”
The Chief of Police turned to Grauber. “The matter of extradition warrants can be gone into later. At the moment it is my province to attend only to the case in hand; and you may rest assured that this man and his companion will be brought to trial for murder here.”
Wuolijoki scowled at Gregory: “So at last you admit …” he began; but his sentence was abrupty cut short by a loud, thin wail and suddenly the hideous warbling of air-raid sirens broke out all over the city. Next moment a deep booming note became perceptible which, in a few seconds, increased to a thunderous roar.
“The Russians!” exclaimed Wuolijoki. “The Russians!”
Faked Passports Page 24
