Hagen swore under his breath and snapped his notebook closed.
The mention of the SD piqued Johanna's interest. She knew it as the intelligence arm of Himmler's SS and a law unto itself. Most Germans she had spoken with, both in the Thirties and recently in Stuttgart, quailed at the very mention of the SD.
Hagen ordered the men to keep looking and showed them to the door. As he slid the door locks closed, he and Simon shared a look.
"A dead end," Simon said. "Not an auspicious beginning."
Hagen grimaced, picked up his suitcase and told Johanna it was time to leave.
Back in the car, Johanna asked Hagen if it was true what he said about Hitler ordering him on this mission.
"No, it's not true. I said that to get exactly the reaction you saw."
"So, it's an SD man that you're looking for?" He nodded.
"But you don't know who he is?"
"No."
That struck her as odd, and she added it to her mental list of things to follow up on.
"You're Abwehr, which is military intelligence," she continued. "That means spies looking for information on weapons, troop locations, arms shipment, things like that?"
"Yes."
"And the SD, they're the intelligence organization of the SS. They're interested in what, political information?"
He nodded again. "The SD is concerned with thwarting threats to the Nazi leadership and the SS. They are the Security Police, protecting the state."
Why would a military intelligence agent be hunting an SD agent?, she wondered.
Johanna thought that the tone of his voice revealed a dislike for the SD, not what she would have expected from a Nazi agent.
"Where are we going now?" she asked.
"JamaicaBay, do you know where it is?" She did, and directed him there.
Airplanes from Bennett Field buzzed overhead as he pulled off onto a dirt road that wound through the marshes. Sand and gravel crunched beneath the tires as Hagen drove until the road turned into a narrow path with tall reeds on either side.
Johanna watched as he pulled a penknife out of his pocket, flipped open the blade and began to pry off the chrome trim from around the car’s instrument cluster. He removed the oval strip of metal and grasped the exposed edge of the panel, prying the gauges away from the dashboard in one piece.
Johanna could see that there was something hidden in the dashboard. She leaned over to see what looked like a large radio dial with the word 'Telefunken' underneath. Hagen pulled one of the cases from behind his seat. From it, he produced a notebook and a telegraph transmitter, which he connected with a wire to the radio in the dashboard.
It's a shortwave transmitter, built into the car, she realized.
Hagen sat for a moment, writing on a page in the notebook. Johanna could see that he was encrypting a short message with a one-time pad, switching letters to numbers and then back again.
Just like the BSC taught me, Johanna thought.
He tuned the radio, to what frequency Johanna couldn't see, and tapped out his message.
Johanna asked about the radio and his message.
"The purpose of the radio hidden in the car is to remain mobile: even if the signal is discovered and the source located, it won't be the same place twice. The message is to inform Berlin that we have arrived safely and that I am operating."
He disconnected the telegraph transmitter and reassembled the dashboard.
As they drove out of the marshes, Johanna reflected on her situation. She had a decision to make: either she should get serious about escaping, or continue to go along with Hagen and see where it leads. His remark about her being a witness made her think that she was probably not in any physical danger. Otherwise, what use would she be as a witness? Her curiosity demanded that she find out what Hagen's mission was and what her part in it was supposed to be.
She decided to put off any escape attempts until later, when maybe she could take some information of value to COI.
First, she needed to get the real story from Hagen, who clearly was not going to be forthcoming. She would have to change that.
Back at the safe house, Johanna sat by herself in the disheveled parlor while Hagen and Simon conferred at the kitchen table for the rest of the day. Other than two small meals and trips to the bathroom, straining to hear their conversation was her only diversion. Soon boredom and fatigue overtook her and she fell asleep on the couch.
Later that night, Hagen woke her and told her to move into the bedroom, where he pointed to a metal-framed bed by the wall and said that she would be sleeping there. The three beds were so close together in the small room that she had to walk across the other two to get to it. He handcuffed her to the bed frame, checking to make sure that she could still lie down comfortably. He produced a blue bandanna from his pocket and said that if she promised not to scream or make any noise, he wouldn't gag her.
"If you do make any noise, I assure you that I am a very light sleeper. I will not hesitate to use this tonight and every night while we are here."
"I'll be quiet," she promised. "But only if you answer a question for me."
Hagen made no response as he turned off the light and lay on the bed by the door. He rolled over onto his side, turning his back to her.
Johanna propped herself up on her elbow as best she could with the handcuffs cutting into her wrist. She could see that his eyes were still open.
"What is going to happen to me when your mission is over?" she asked.
"Too many questions," he mumbled, his eyes closing. She watched him as his breathing slowed and he fell asleep.
She stared at the ceiling for a while, imagining that she had never accepted Charlie Daly's offer and had taken a teaching job. Right now she would be thinking about grading mid-term exams, and not wondering what Nazi spies were doing in the United States and what they wanted with her.
29
The next morning, Johanna awoke to find that she was alone in the bedroom. A thin ray of sunlight bore into the room between the two heavy towels that were blocking the windows. The other two beds in the room were upended, leaning against the wall. Watching the dust float in the sunbeam, she listened for any sign of Hagen or Simon. She heard nothing.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and began to examine the frame, looking for a way to pull it apart and free herself. At the first rattle of metal on metal, the door opened and Hagen walked in as if he had been listening at the door.
He strode over to her bed, reaching into a jacket pocket.
"You are awake." He produced the small handcuff key. "We are going to Yorkville. There is someone I need to speak to and I will not be leaving you here alone so that you can try to escape."
Johanna rubbed her newly freed wrist and shook her head.
"No."
Hagen looked at her blankly.
"I'm not going," she declared.
"Yes," he replied, grasping her hand and roughly pulling her to her feet. "You are."
She wrested her hand from his grip.
"I'm not going," she repeated. "I won't cooperate unless you tell me everything. I'm not about to be your witness or whatever it is you want from me. I'm an American, not a German anymore and certainly not a Nazi. And you can forget your threats. Once we're in the open, all I have to do is scream and there will be a hundred people to help me, and police besides. You can't just shoot me on a New York sidewalk and expect to get away."
Hagen's expression didn't change, but his face reddened.
"If you need me for a witness," she continued, "then that means you need my cooperation. You're not going to get it unless you talk."
She folded her arms and glared at him, waiting.
After several moments of angry staring, Hagen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"I have been telling our agents here that this SD man is a double agent working for the American government. This is not true – I've told them this to secure their assistance. The truth is that he is on a
mission from Heydrich himself. An operation against the United States that must not succeed. If you cooperate with me, I assure you that you will be acting in your nation's interest. I'm not asking for active cooperation. All I want is for you to go along with me and not make trouble."
This statement raised more questions in Johanna's mind, but she was too confused to do anything but nod in agreement. An operation against the US 'that must not succeed'? Why was a German intelligence officer trying to thwart the actions of his own government?
"How do you know you can trust me?" was all she could think to ask.
He shrugged and spread his hands.
"I don't. Either I leave you here where you can try to escape or I take you with me and you expose me. Both scenarios are equally undesirable, but at least if you are with me I can keep my eye on you."
Riding in the car to Yorkville, Johanna was feeling apprehensive about going back there, and in a quandary about her situation.
Everyone thinks I'm in Germany. COI and the Dalys must think I've been caught since I never met with the courier. Or did something happen to the courier? Are the police looking for me since, technically, I failed to appear for my 'espionage' trial? If Hagen and I are caught, I may have just as much explaining to do as he will. If I cooperate with him, am I a traitor? Even if I'm just acting as a witness, as he says?
What is this witness story all about anyway? A witness is someone whose word can be trusted. If I'm here to corroborate Hagen's story about stopping the SD man, why would they pick a known American agent to be a witness to other Germans? The only people who would consider me to be a believable witness are Americans. But, if the whole point of this was internal Nazi housekeeping, reeling in rogue agents – what would be the point of being a witness for Americans?
As she listened to the tires click on the joints in the pavement of the ManhattanBridge, she decided to go along with Hagen, for now. At the very least, she might be able to figure out just what he was up to, and what else he wasn't telling her.
30
Standing on First Avenue, Johanna had an intense feeling of paranoia. Although she was blocks away from her parents' building, she was afraid that every tall man on the street was going to turn out to be her father and every woman her mother. A policeman was strolling idly down the sidewalk across the street and Johanna was sure he was looking at her.
Hagen held her elbow, gentle but insistent, and steered her towards a storefront with the sign "Yorkville Book Shop" written in German above the door. A brass bell chimed as they opened the door and went in.
An older man with thick glasses appeared from behind a bookshelf and smiled. He had mussed gray hair that reminded Johanna of Charlie Daly.
"Gruss Gott," he said, nodding to Hagen.
"Good morning," Hagen replied in English. "I require your assistance."
The man nodded, still smiling, and waved them to the counter at the back of the shop. He walked around the counter and pretended to show Hagen a book.
Hagen repeated the same story about the SD agent that he had told the other men the night before. The smile disappeared from the shopkeeper's face and he shook his head.
"I only know of one SD man. His name is Otto Viersing. He used to work for the German consulate before they were all closed. After, he has been hiding in various places around New York."
Hagen face brightened. "Who would know where to find him?"
The man laughed and said, "Wherever there is food, drink and women, you will find Otto Viersing."
Special Agent Mark White shifted behind the wheel of his Bureau-issued Ford. His bladder was overfull of coffee, and his boss was taking too long on his turn to the toilet. He craned his neck to look in the side mirror for any sign that his boss was coming back to the car.
They were parked across the street from the Yorkville Book Shop, a known meeting place for Nazi spies. Rather than take the proprietor in for questioning, the FBI was keeping an eye on him for potential leads in other espionage cases. Right now, however, SA White was watching the door of a restaurant halfway down the block. Finally he saw his boss come out. He didn't wait for him to make it back to the car. He jumped out, taking short, quick steps to the restaurant.
As they passed on this sidewalk, his boss smirked at White's obvious discomfort.
"Did I miss anything?" he asked.
Without slowing, White replied, "A blonde knockout just left the bookstore. She had to be six feet tall. Great rack."
"Next time I'll be sure to hold it longer," his boss replied.
White groaned and sped up.
As he got back into the car, Special Agent-in-Charge Dan Wexler frowned. Something about a six-foot tall blonde nagged at him.
31
Back in the car, Hagen started the engine and pulled out into traffic. Johanna mulled over this new piece of information and had an idea. She turned to Hagen.
"Did you know that I was a member of the German-American Bund before I left for Germany?"
He gave her a look of disgust.
"It was part of my cover," she added. "Do you think they would be able to help find Viersing?"
"No," Hagen spat. "The Bundists are nothing but a bunch of stupid thugs. Abwehr has had no involvement with them for some years."
Johanna puzzled at this remark. 'Stupid thugs?'
"Well…," she replied. "If nothing else, Viersing sounds like most of the Bundists I've met: beer-swilling paramours throwing their money around and over-inflating their own importance."
Hagen seemed intrigued and asked her where the Bund's main offices were and if anyone was likely to be there during the day. She said yes and directed him there.
"I appreciate your cooperation," he said.
Johanna shook her head. "Oh no, I'm not cooperating. I'm just along for the ride – I want to see where this goes. Maybe if you tell me the whole story I might give you actual cooperation."
Hagen offered no response and made a left onto 85th Street.
Sitting in the car in front of the Bund's offices, Johanna tried to be inconspicuous. She sat behind the wheel with one hand handcuffed to it, waiting for Hagen to return. She had tried to convince him to let her come with him, but to no avail.
"You can't be seen by anyone who might know you," he had said. "Just being in Yorkville is enough of a risk."
She had objected to the handcuffs, but he had ignored her.
"I don't think I'll trust you just yet. We'll take small steps. First I will trust you to sit here quietly while I am in there. If you try to draw attention to yourself, I will see from the window and find some other way out."
Now, she waited in the car and began to shiver in the chill air. She had lost track of the days but it felt as if November must be close. All she had on was the same dress and red raincoat she had worn in Stuttgart.
She glanced in the rearview mirror and decided that she looked horrible. Her hair was pulled tightly back as usual. She found herself wishing that she could maybe wash her hair and at least put on a clean dress.
She stopped herself from continuing this train of thought when Hagen returned to the car. He was smiling as he undid the handcuffs and slid behind the wheel.
"The secretary rolled her eyes at the very mention of Viersing's name," he chuckled. "I said that I was a business associate looking for him. She asked me if he owed me money like she had heard it a hundred times before. 'Yes,' I told her, 'that's just it.' She then told me everything she could think of about him. She said she didn't know where he was living, but thinks he's been flopping since the consulate closed. 'All that talk about what an important man he was in Germany, and as soon as Roosevelt closes the consulates he's trying to hide and stay here for as long as he can,' she said. 'Once you get your money, be sure to turn him over to the police.' Ha!"
Johanna thought that sounded promising.
"So, now what?" she asked.
Hagen checked his watch and said that it was time for him to communicate with Berlin. He asked Joha
nna to direct him to the marshes just over the GeorgeWashingtonBridge in New Jersey. Red and orange leaves dotted the green shore on the other side of the Hudson River.
Once he found cover among the reeds and cat tails, Hagen again uncovered the shortwave radio built into the car. As soon as he switched it on, Johanna could hear beeping in his headphones. His pencil flew across the page of his notebook.
Fifth Column Page 16
