by Larry Loftis
Aware that the soft, psychiatric approach was intended to lull the interrogatee into a false sense of security, Dusko remained alert. Every hour or so, Major Schroeder would take over and pick up the pace, apparently to throw Popov off. Question. Answer. Rephrased question. Answer. Cross-examination. Answer. And on it went.
For nine hours.
Around five in the morning, Aloys gathered his notes. Dusko was worried. He had visited the places where Schreiber probed, but the sources he claimed were all MI5 fabrications and Schreiber had put his finger on them several times.
“One more thing,” Schreiber suddenly said, “we would like your consent . . .”
24
AUF
Dusko stirred. Truth serum.
He had to wonder if his ability to withstand Johnny’s interrogation was due to his inability to see Jebsen any differently than as a friend playing a game. Even in his semiconscious, sleep-sticky state, he knew he could always make out Johnny’s friendly voice. But could he maintain his deceit under legitimate, dunning, drug-enhanced interrogation?
The instructions at Arisaig—to start counting in your head so that when the drug took effect you’d only spout off numbers—was helpful but that pertained to interrogation with ether. They’d had no training or instructions about sodium pentothal.
Schreiber looked at him. “. . . your consent,” he said, “to contact Guttmann and to ask him to gather some additional details.” Popov sighed and nodded. GUTTMANN was the German code name for Dusko’s radio operator.
Aloys told him to return the following evening, and the game continued.
While Dusko was uneasy about the first night, he was “definitely on top” the second, he told Ian Wilson. Feedback from the interrogation was stellar; not only were Popov’s remarks well received, but Schreiber, Wiegand, and von Karsthoff waged fierce competition as to who would now run IVAN, and who would get to present his report in Berlin. Wiegand, it turned out, had been sent by Colonel Hansen to receive Popov’s report because Hansen feared that Schreiber might have left Lisbon before Dusko arrived. Since Popov’s information on the Allied invasion was the highest quality available, each German wanted credit for delivering it.
Von Karsthoff left immediately by train with the report. Wiegand, an ambitious lawyer in his early thirties, refused to be outmaneuvered and flew to Berlin to deliver an oral report before Ludovico arrived. In the end, Wiegand won the Popov sweepstakes, earning the right to control Germany’s best agent; Schreiber retained directorship of the Lisbon station, while von Karsthoff, whose reputation for laziness saturated the SD, was reassigned to Austria.
So entrenched was Popov that he demanded $150,000 from the Abwehr or he would provide no further information on the Allied invasion plans. Further, since von Karsthoff had promised Dusko a postwar business benefit—ownership of some type of agency—he demanded that the Germans confirm allegiance to the offer. The requests were outlandish, and Johnny and Ivo had advised against them, but Dusko forged ahead without bothering to run it by MI5.
The demands had multiple objectives: The financial payment would reveal where Dusko really stood with the Germans, and would compensate him for what he was owed and what he would do in the future. If the Abwehr paid, he could assist Ivo and Johnny, who was having trouble exchanging currency in Lisbon. By pressing for von Karsthoff’s promised postwar benefit, Dusko would feign assumption of German victory and exhibit steadfast loyalty to the cause.
Astonishingly, Wiegand and Schreiber took up Dusko’s case, pointing out to Berlin that Popov was not German and therefore was not morally bound to constantly risk his life in England. IVAN’s motives for being an Abwehr operative had been clear from the outset, Lisbon stressed, and von Karsthoff had indeed offered the postwar business to encourage Dusko to work hard. In short, the Lisbon station held, the Abwehr should retain “this valuable agent whatever the circumstances might be.”
»
Throughout the spring, British Intelligence received varied reports about how the Germans viewed the TRICYCLE net. On March 10 an ULTRA intercept indicated that GELATINE’s reports were viewed as “completely worthless.” The damage to Popov, however, was negligible. A week and a half later, Johnny met with Ian and updated him on how TRICYCLE’s information was being addressed in Berlin. Regarding Dusko’s prior report, Jebsen said, the German General Staff was unwilling to make correcting military dispositions unless Colonel Hansen could guarantee—in writing—that the TRICYCLE report was genuine. Hansen wouldn’t make the commitment and the staff postponed their decision until receipt of TRICYLE’s next report. That questionnaire, Dusko’s latest, “passed with flying colors,” Johnny said. The decision was made, however, to wait for confirming reports from Spanish agents before making appropriate adjustments.
Hansen and the General Staff knew the stakes. The success or failure of the Allied invasion of France would be determined by information given to Hitler, and corresponding directions given to Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt and to Rommel. Everyone wanted a scapegoat in case they were wrong. If the General Staff ordered inadvisable military adjustments, they could point to Hansen as having given invalid intelligence. Hansen, in turn, could point to the Spain Abwehr station. But at this point, so far as Johnny could tell, both German Intelligence and the Wehrmacht generals believed Dusko’s reports to be genuine and that they would indeed be influencing military decisions.
The General Staff circulated his reports to all Wermacht stations for consideration and possible modifications. Aloys Schreiber reported back to Johnny that Popov’s information had been classified “as good as sure,” an almost unparalleled evaluation. Colonel Hansen was so delighted that he boasted to Walter Schellenberg, his counterpart in the SD, that in IVAN the Abwehr had the one agent of real value in the UK.
Things were proceeding well for Dusko, and on March 23, Johnny presented him with a pleasant surprise—Ivo. Johnny had slipped Dr. Popov through the Yugoslav escape line and, in Paris, had given him a false German passport; from there Ivo flew to Madrid and on to Lisbon as “Hans Popper.” It had been three years since the brothers had seen each other, and Ivo had changed. Dusko wrote in his memoirs that Ivo was still dapper and handsome, but at the time he told an MI6 agent that his brother “had grown thin and old since he had last seen him.” The stress of living two lives, one laden with lies, was taking its toll.
Secret Intelligence prepared a small dinner, attended by Dusko and two MI6 agents, to welcome and honor agent DREADNOUGHT. “Ivo created the very best impression,” one of the agents wrote. “He speaks with the authority and deep sincerity learnt from his long experience of fighting for the Serbs under the cloak of collaboration with the Germans and witnessing the destruction of his country. This experience has left him his great personal charm, but has given him a seriousness and depth of feeling which contrasts with TRICYCLE’s expansive bonhomie.”
After dinner the Popov brothers holed up in the Palácio, where Ivo updated Dusko on their family and Ivo’s work in the Yugoslav resistance. Dr. Popov was practicing medicine by day, he told Dusko, and sabotaging Nazi trains by night. The Yugoslav economy had been destroyed, however—prices inflating twenty to eighty times—and Ivo couldn’t make a living as a physician. With Johnny’s help, he had purchased a shoe-polish company, and the supplemental income provided just enough to support the family.
When Jebsen wasn’t checking up on Ivo and Vladan—whose school expenses in Bologna Johnny was covering—he worked his currency scheme. Gold and hard currency exchange rates for German occupation marks differed in each country, Ivo said, and Johnny profited by taking advantage of the spread from one country to the next. At the end of the trail, after an investment had doubled or tripled, Johnny would park the funds in Switzerland. Jebsen didn’t need money, however, and took no part in the profits; his aim was to invest for Abwehr and SD officers and thereby bind them to him. Since the transactions were illega
l, Jebsen assumed these men would protect him from the Gestapo in case rumors arose about Johnny’s Allied assistance. For officers without means, Johnny even loaned the initial principal.
The scheme would prove to be a Faustian bargain.
The next afternoon Dusko took his brother to the Boca do Inferno (“Mouth of Hell”) cliffs of Cascais. Here, watching breakers crash into rocks of hell, Dusko told his brother how the TRICYCLE net might do likewise. If the Gestapo followed Johnny’s financial transactions, he said, the trail would eventually lead to them; in time the Germans would figure out that the entire TRICYCLE net was controlled. Ivo needed protection, Dusko said, or at least warning, if the Jebsen shoe fell. MI5’s plan was that if Ivo was in imminent danger, a coded message would be included in the BBC’s 8:00 p.m. Yugoslavian broadcast:
Mačka je dobila devet mačića.
The cat’s got nine kittens.
If Ivo heard that phrase, he was to go to General Mihailovic’s headquarters, report to the chief of the British Mission, and state that his name was “Sveta Popovic.” The British, it was understood, would slip him out.
Dusko had another idea. The safest bet would be for Ivo to move to Madrid. With SIS contacts, he said, Ivo could disappear for the duration of the war. Dr. Popov slept on it but in the morning told Dusko that there were too many involved and that he couldn’t desert the resistance; he had to return to Belgrade.
“But you won’t be able to protect them,” Dusko objected. “You’ll be the first one arrested and put up against a wall.”
“Then that will be their warning.”
»
The night before heading back to England, Dusko also had a heart-to-heart with Johnny. The dribble of information over the last month had consistently brought distressing news regarding Jebsen’s plight. On February 10 Johnny had received a call from Baroness von Gronau saying that, due to the recent defection of Dr. Erich Vermehren, the principal Abwehr agent in Istanbul, orders from Berlin were that Jebsen was to be “watched” because Johnny had spent time there and had at one point contacted Vermehren’s wife, Petra. The Germans expected Vermehren to pass through Lisbon, possibly in disguise, and ordered Lieutenant Kramer from Abwehr III to investigate. Johnny met with Kramer around this time and told him that the only thing Kramer could do was to shoot Vermehren at the airport. It was a strange suggestion, particularly given Jebsen’s predicament, but one that was largely impracticable. In any case, the baroness suggested that Johnny not return to Berlin.
About this time, Ivo also had discovered that the Gestapo was closing in on Johnny’s deals. With the SD looking to make a name for itself in the Abwehr takeover, the exposure of Jebsen’s illicit activity would be a high priority. Dusko recalled pressing Johnny about his precautions, hoping that by some miracle Johnny could escape to a small town in Spain.
“In theory,” Johnny said, “the people I’m doing business with will protect me. They have to in order to protect their own interests and their own safety.”
Dusko knew it wasn’t that simple. “But they could try to silence you . . . forever.”
“It’s a horse race.”
“But if you’ve backed the wrong horse?”
“I’m not backing. I’m the horse.”
»
Ivo and Johnny were in the same boat—taking on water but without opportunity to bail. Dusko had his own worries, to be sure, and continuing to mislead the Germans at upcoming interrogations would be no mean feat, but the fates of his brother and his best friend were what churned his stomach.
He and Johnny needed a break. Mental. Physical. Emotional. Anything for distraction.
Casino Estoril.
Several hours at baccarat tables seemed a reliable antidote, but it wasn’t; he and Johnny went through the motions, winning and losing with equanimity, their minds elsewhere. He walked Johnny home, Dusko wrote in his memoirs, and bid him good night. As he turned to leave, Johnny called out.
“. . . Nothing . . . I just wanted to have a look at you,” he said. “It’s going to be a while. I feel we are . . . going in different directions. Auf—” Johnny’s voice broke off. “Goodbye.”
Dusko shuddered. Johnny’s change of words thundered with an ominous permanence. He was about to say, Auf Wiedersehen— “Until I see you again.”
»
On April 13, 1944, Dusko returned to London. In his possession were two Yugoslav diplomatic bags, one genuine, one forged. Per protocol, he opened the pouches in Ian Wilson’s presence. In the forged bag were five reports from ARTIST, two Abwehr questionnaires about the invasion, a political questionnaire from the SD, $1,000 with instructions for GELATINE, $1,000 for FREAK, and $14,000 of Popov’s own money. Dusko told Ian that the SD had also shown him a military questionnaire, from which he was to take notes and supply information.
The SD was sending an agent to Lisbon in April or May, Dusko told his case officer, to interrogate Jebsen. Until recently the Gestapo had orders to arrest Johnny at the German border, he said, but now—since the SD was pleased with Dusko’s latest report—ARTIST was free from danger. Amazingly, Jebsen actually wished to return to Germany, Ian wrote in his debriefing report, saying that ARTIST wanted to “do something big for us.” Wilson didn’t like the idea and spoke to MI6’s Foley and Lloyd the following day. They agreed. So long as the possibility of Jebsen being interrogated remained, British Intelligence wanted him to stay in Lisbon, where he would be safe. But was he?
One of Johnny’s Lisbon sources, a colleague named Hans Brandes, was suspected by SIS of playing “his own game.” An ULTRA intercept indicated that Brandes had reported to Berlin that Jebsen was “showing noticeable curiosity” about German agent OSTRO. MI6 was fearful that Brandes might be playing Johnny—luring him into a false confidence—to ascertain information about the activities of ARTIST and TRICYCLE. Was Brandes double-crossing Johnny?
Popov’s fake Yugoslav Legation seal.
The National Archives of the UK
As April rolled on, Johnny received evidence that he was in the clear. Dr. Schreiber phoned and told Johnny that Oberst Kuebart in Berlin had requested that Jebsen meet with Schreiber and a Major Bohlen, administrative head of the war stations, in Biarritz on April 21. Johnny initially sensed it was a trap and demurred, suggesting that such a meeting would be unwise since it might blow his cover. He explained that the British knew that diplomats only operated in Lisbon and Madrid, and if he went to France it would reveal that he was more than a civilian.
It was a feeble excuse, but Schreiber seemed mollified and offered exciting news: IVAN’s last report had made a tremendous impression on Berlin, he said, and Kuebart had agreed to pay Popov’s financial demand. Aloys was authorized to give Johnny $75,000 now, the other half coming after IVAN produced the information in his questionnaire. Even better, Schreiber added, Jebsen was to be awarded a medal—the KVK* first class.
First questions of the “invasion questionnaire” given to Popov by the Germans (as translated by M15). The German original is three pages and has sixty questions, most with several subparts. First two questions: When and where?
The National Archives of the UK
Page 3 of the questionnaire. Dusko appears to be marking Folkestone, Dover, and Ramsgate as British launch sites (London is the irregular shape), and the beaches of Boulogne, Calais, and Dunkirk as landing locations. The interior box may indicate St. Omer as a notional bombing target.
The National Archives of the UK
Schreiber said that he would see what Bohlen wanted to discuss, and in the meantime he’d set up an award ceremony at the Lisbon Embassy; he could give Johnny IVAN’s money then, and afterward they could go over whatever information Bohlen wanted.
About this time Johnny also received an unexpected windfall from the Gestapo. Wolfgang Henss, his SD friend in Porto, had just been promoted to head the Gestapo station in Lisbon. Inf
orming Johnny of his promotion, Henss said: “If ever you get in trouble with my department and I have to organize a search for you, you had better hide in my house where no one will think of looking for you!”
It was the best protection he could hope for. Thrilled, Johnny met with an MI6 agent on April 21 to tell him that the investigation was over and that he and Dusko were out of danger. He also sent Popov a celebratory letter:
Dear Dusko,
. . . I congratulate you on being my Beloved Führer’s best agent, who is genuine without any doubt. By “without any doubt” I mean with money because, after having hesitated for some time, the Abwehr decided that the money should be transferred to you as arranged here with Schreiber and Wiegand. I got 75,000 dollars, of which I send you 50,000 today. To Ivo I shall send the 20,000 Swiss francs tomorrow. . . .
Please give my best greetings to Ian, Frank and the Bentons. Be a good boy, and try to behave.
Yours always,
Johnny
While Jebsen and MI6 were celebrating in Lisbon, London followed suit. On April 26 Ian invited Dusko to a dinner party at the Hyde Park Hotel. The banquet hall had been festooned for a grand occasion, Dusko recalled, and the guests were all of London’s senior officers from MI5 and MI6: Director-General Sir David Petrie, Colonel Tar Robertson, Major J. C. Masterman, Major Frank Foley, Major M. Lloyd, Captain Guy Liddell, John Marriott, Richard Butler, and Wilson.
As Popov observed the room, someone suddenly made a toast. Bewildered, Dusko was still trying to figure out the occasion when Wilson whispered to sit down. The toast and the banquet, he said, were for the guest of honor—Dusko Popov. After a number of heartfelt remarks about Popov’s exemplary feats, the evening was topped off when it was announced that he would be nominated for, and most likely receive, an order of chivalry. The Order of the British Empire, established by George V in 1917, was bestowed by the king in a ceremony at Buckingham Palace and was one of Britain’s highest honors. “It would have been a splendid evening,” Dusko remembered, “if I could have kept my thoughts on the festivities and not on Johnny.”
