End of Spies

by Alex Gerlis

  She asked him what the Field Security Section actually did. Captain Hart explained that their primary function was to run the denazification process, to interview people who’d been prominent in the previous regime, to look at documents and to assist with intelligence that could help the British forces in Austria.

  ‘Very well – and have you found many Nazis?’

  He paused as one of his men brought in a cup of tea and a plate of toast. He placed his cigarette in the saucer and drank the tea, looking at Hanne as if he was unsure of what to make of her. His first impression was that she was very calm and organised.

  ‘The trite answer would be no – very few people in Austria will admit to having been a Nazi, and those we can prove were members of the Nazi Party tell us they were obliged to join it otherwise they’d lose their jobs. It’s remarkable, actually: Carinthia was one of the most loyal regions of the Reich, yet somehow the whole place has gone rather quiet. People here insist Austria was as much a victim of the war as other occupied countries: they don’t seem to understand why we’re treating them like the Germans. So the long answer to your question is that we get remarkably little cooperation. We’ve sent a few prominent local Nazis to Klagenfurt, and at the moment my main priority is keeping an eye on whoever returns to the town.’

  ‘Meaning…?’

  ‘Meaning that many men from the town served in the German forces, and some of them are beginning to come home, especially those claiming to be Wehrmacht conscripts. We interrogate each and every one of those, just to be sure no SS chaps are slipping through the net. You’ll have seen when we drove in yesterday that the town was quite badly bombed, lots of buildings destroyed and two or three hundred civilians killed by all accounts. It doesn’t make them terribly well disposed towards us – when the Eighth Army captured the town, there wasn’t much bunting out, I can tell you. Anyway, how we can help you?’

  Hanne explained that they were searching for a Gestapo officer originally known as the Ferret whose real name was Friedrich Steiner. With the help of the Russians, they’d found out that his father, Wolfgang, was involved in organising an escape route called the Kestrel Line. They knew precious little about it, she said, other than that Friedrich was on it and that it started in Frankfurt and Villach was a stopping point.

  ‘You’re sure of that?’

  She said she was reasonably sure.

  ‘No other clues?’

  She shrugged. ‘He may be accompanied by a one-armed man – he was with him in Frankfurt when he escaped – but that’s about it. There is something else, Captain… I think if we were just searching for one Gestapo officer, we would have given up by now, but we believe Wolfgang Steiner was organising the Kestrel Line not primarily for his son but for a very prominent Nazi, for whom he worked in Berlin. His name is Martin Bormann.’ She was about to ask whether he’d heard of him, but Hart let out a long whistle and his eyes widened.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘He is certainly connected with it, but we don’t know where he is. We know he hasn’t been captured, and if he’s dead, no one has claimed it. So there’s good reason to believe he’s on the Kestrel Line. It should be easier to find Friedrich Steiner, and he could lead us to Bormann.’

  Captain Hart frowned. ‘I can see how important this is. I would suggest we interrogate prominent people in the town, and most especially the Nazis—’

  Hanne shook her head. ‘No, no, no – that won’t work; in fact it could just alert them. I doubt many Nazis in a place like this would know anything about the Kestrel Line, and if they do, they’re not going to say anything. I have a thought, though. Have you come across anyone here who you are certain wasn’t a Nazi – who perhaps has strong anti-Nazi credentials?’

  Hart laughed and pushed his chair back. ‘If there was anyone like that, they wouldn’t have survived through the war, I can tell you that. Remember, the Nazis came to power in Austria in early 1938. No anti-Nazi we could trust would have stayed free for seven years. But even if we found such a person, what would they know?’

  ‘They may have heard a rumour or picked up some gossip, you never know.’

  Hart said nothing for a while as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, slowly nodding it, deep in thought. ‘I wonder… I wonder…’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Now that I think about it, one of my corporals – Harcourt – did meet a Jewish gentleman… Let me call him in.’

  Corporal Harcourt seemed pleased that his advice was being sought, and yes, of course he remembered the gentleman. ‘He turned up in early August – he wasn’t registered in the area and his papers weren’t in order. When he told our chaps he was originally from the town but had fled the Nazis, they brought him here and I interviewed him. Would you mind if I sat down, sir?’

  He pulled up a chair and angled it to face Hanne.

  ‘The gentleman was in his fifties, I would say, and really rather charming. His name was Mayer, and he was brought up in Villach but left when he went to university and hadn’t lived in the town since then. His parents had a clothes shop near the station, which is on the north bank of the Drava. When they died in the early 1930s, he inherited the shop and the apartment above it, both of which he rented out to a couple called Winkler. He’d return to the town once or twice a year to check on his property, and was last here in 1938, just after the Nazis came to power. He described the Winklers as good tenants and decent people. They knew what was going on and agreed he could sell the property to them for a very modest amount to prevent it being seized by the Nazis: the understanding was that after the war they would return the property to him, and they even exchanged documents to that effect, which was most unusual.’

  ‘And Mayer obviously survived the war?’

  ‘He managed to get into Switzerland and remained there for the duration of the war. Now he was back and needed us to verify his identity so the ownership of the property could be transferred back to him. Herr Winkler had died early in the war, but Frau Winkler had kept the shop going and lived in the apartment. It was untouched by the bombing and she told him the bombers must have known it was a Jewish property. Mayer said she readily signed back the property to him and asked him to take rent she owed, which he wouldn’t do. He said she could not have been more decent: not only was there not a hint of anti-Semitism about her, but she was very anti-Nazi.’

  ‘Well, they all are, aren’t they?’

  ‘Mayer said she and her husband always were like that: in 1938 it would have been easy for them to claim the property by saying a Jewish landlord had treated them badly, or she could have destroyed her copy of the papers that showed the property would be returned to Mayer.’

  ‘So it seems we could trust her, Corporal?’

  ‘Absolutely, yes.’

  ‘But would she know about anything clandestine going on in the town now?’

  Corporal Harcourt shrugged. ‘Why don’t we go and ask her?’

  * * *

  They’d wanted to bring Frau Winkler to the FSS base on Hauptplatz, but Hanne suggested she go to the shop near the station on her own. It was dimly lit and dusty, with women’s clothes crammed on one side of a narrow aisle and men’s on the other. Most of the shelves were taken up with hats and gloves, and the rails with jackets and coats. At the end of the aisle Frau Winkler sat behind a raised counter, surveying the shop like a schoolteacher watching her pupils.

  Hanne explained that she was working for the British authorities, at which point she noticed Frau Winkler pale and grip the side of the counter. She told her not to worry, she was not in any kind of trouble; in fact Herr Mayer had told them how decent she’d been, and would it be possible to ask her some questions?

  Come back in forty minutes when I close for lunch: we can talk upstairs.

  The apartment was as crammed as the shop below it: dark furniture adorned with ornaments and framed photographs, many of them by a bay window draped in an ornate net curtain. Frau Winkler sat nervously on the edge of her sea
t and gave a series of polite but sparse answers to Hanne’s questions.

  Yes, Herr Mayer was a fine landlord and a decent man as his parents had been… All this dreadful talk about Jews, they were the most decent people in the town… The arrangement was a very fair one… There was no question we would honour our agreement to return the property to him after the war… No, my husband died in 1941 – from cancer…

  At that point Frau Winkler indicated a silver-framed photograph of a man in what Hanne assumed was the uniform of the Austro-Hungarian army, smiling at it fondly.

  We were always opposed to the Nazis; we considered ourselves social democrats… We were very private people… never wanted any trouble, you understand… but what the Nazis were up to was appalling, especially to the Jews…

  She explained how she and her husband had resolved they would do nothing to help the regime, but nor would they do anything to draw attention to themselves. ‘If someone had come and said their life was in danger, I hope I would have helped. But here, in this town, that situation never arose. After dear Klaus died, I was too occupied with keeping the business going by myself. Many shops were destroyed by the bombing, but this one was spared. Nonetheless, I was a coward. I’m ashamed of myself.’

  She was wringing her hands, looking down at the rug that lay between her and Hanne, tilting her head as if following the pattern. Her distress was quite sincere, and it was at this point that Hanne decided she could trust her.

  ‘Ashamed in what way?’

  ‘I feel I should have done something: maybe Klaus and I felt that promising ourselves we would return the property to Herr Mayer was enough, but other people in other places in Europe, one hears about how brave they were…’

  Hanne assured Frau Winkler there was nothing someone like her could have done. ‘But perhaps you can help me now. Do you know about any Nazis who were in the town – I don’t mean so much during the war, but perhaps people who’ve been active in the six months since the war ended? Maybe you’re aware of something suspicious?’

  Frau Winkler moved back in her seat. She was a tiny woman, and the armchair appeared to envelop her. She shook her head and frowned, and Hanne wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t really expected this widow in her late sixties to know anything, and she couldn’t blame her. Avoiding trouble was almost an act of resistance in itself.

  ‘I did have a friend, though, Frau Egger – perhaps friend is the wrong word. I’ve known her for years, in fact we were at school together, but she is a most unpleasant woman. She loves gossip and she loves using people, and she also loves a bargain: she expected a generous discount in the shop. I tolerated her before the war, no more than that, but once the war began, she became an active member of the Nazi Party, and in fact was the Blockleiter in this area – you know what that is? A Blockleiter was a Nazi who kept their eyes and ears open in a particular area, sometimes just a street or an apartment building. I encouraged her to believe we were good friends because I reasoned that one day I might need her: you never know, someone might have asked questions about me – that kind of thing happened all the time. Fortunately that need never arose. Since the end of the war, the foolish woman has been devastated: she comes into the shop and tells me how terrible everything is, and I take some pleasure in no longer allowing her the discount I felt obliged to give her during the war. I tell her times are hard – she understands that.’

  Hanne nodded politely and wondered how she could explain that she needed to leave soon without appearing rude. Frau Winkler was clearly unable to help: she just wanted to talk.

  ‘Frau Winkler, maybe I—’

  ‘Hang on, my dear, please… You asked me if I’ve been aware of anything since the war ended, and that’s what I’m coming to. You see, in the middle of September, Frau Egger came into the shop and was in a far better mood than she had been for a while. She was very upbeat and chose a fine pair of leather gloves for the winter and didn’t even ask for a discount. She told me she had a job – a very important one, she said, a reward for her loyalty to the Reich. She said she’d been approached by a man from Vienna who’d heard she was a good Nazi and a Blockleiter and that her sons had been in the Waffen SS. He told her he’d bought a house overlooking the Ossiacher See, which is a lake about five miles north-east of the town – you may have seen it. He wanted Frau Egger to work there as a housekeeper, going in to clean every day and doing the cooking when people stayed there. She found it hard to contain herself: she said very important people stay at the house, though usually only for a day or two. She also said there was an armed guard there. She said she’d been sworn to secrecy but knew she could trust me: she was beside herself with excitement. It had quite clouded her judgement.’

  ‘Did she give any names?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And the man from Vienna?’

  ‘No name either; she just said he was a gentleman and very important.’

  ‘And where exactly is the house?’

  ‘All she said was that it was near Sattendorf, on the north side of the lake. I didn’t think much of it at the time, not least because Frau Egger is prone to exaggeration and likes to make herself appear important. But when you asked me if I’d come across anything suspicious, I recalled what she’d told me. What do you think?’

  Hanne said nothing as she tried to work out what she thought. There was no question in her mind that this could be important, but she wondered how far she could trust Frau Winkler. The alternative, she decided, was to return to Hauptplatz and put it in the hands of Captain Hart and his men, but she wasn’t sure about that either.

  ‘You say Frau Egger goes to clean the house every day?’

  Frau Winkler nodded. ‘Apart from Sundays.’

  ‘Of course. And how does she get there?’

  ‘By bus – I see her every morning around eight o’clock waiting at the stop by St Nicholas’s church.’

  ‘Which bus does she take?’

  ‘I can’t remember the number – they’ve all changed since the buses started again – but it’s the Bodensdorf service. It starts on Hauptplatz, crosses the river, then stops outside the church, as I say, before heading through the town and along the north side of the lake. It stops at Annenheim, Sattendorf and Deutschberg before Bodensdorf, if that helps you: Klaus and I used to enjoy that trip, it was a lovely outing…’

  Hanne leaned forward and took the old woman’s hand. She said she hoped she’d understand if she asked her not to utter a word about this to anyone.

  Frau Winkler nodded with the eagerness of a child let in on a secret.

  ‘Can you tell me how I can identify Frau Egger?’

  Frau Winkler described someone of medium height who always wore a dark brown coat and a black beret. It could have been any woman in the town in their sixties.

  ‘Is there anywhere I could see her, perhaps?’

  ‘She returns from the house in the middle of the afternoon and goes straight to the bakery across the road from here. There’s usually quite a queue when they reopen at four o’clock, and she’s invariably in it, pushing her way to the front.’

  Hanne asked if Frau Winkler could walk past the bakery later on in the afternoon and approach Frau Egger so Hanne could identify her. ‘Perhaps stop and speak with her – maybe put your hand on her shoulder?’

  Frau Winkler said that would be no problem. In fact she’d buy some bread while she was at it. ‘You make yourself comfortable: you’ll have a good view from here.’

  * * *

  Hanne left Frau Winkler’s just after four thirty, after watching her hold what appeared to be a friendly conversation with Frau Egger in the queue, placing one hand on her shoulder as they parted. She held it there for slightly longer than Hanne would have liked, but it didn’t seem to bother Frau Egger, and when Frau Winkler glanced up at the window, Frau Egger didn’t notice.

  She walked back through the town to Hauptplatz, pausing on the Draubrücke to watch the Drava flow urgently beneath it on its long journey east from It
aly. She was mesmerised as the water changed colour and speed by the second, and by the trees arranged like small forests on both banks, encroaching into the river itself.

  She felt satisfied as she continued walking, pleased that she’d got somewhere and relieved that she didn’t have to involve the FSS at this stage. Once she was certain about the house, she’d tell Captain Hart. Until then, she was on her own. It felt safer that way. She couldn’t wait to tell Richard.

  She’d been so taken with the river and so busy thinking through her plan for the next day, she didn’t spot either of the two men who’d been following her since leaving Frau Winkler’s – not the older one, tall with a short leather jacket, or the younger one, who looked like a boxer waiting for the bell to ring. It wasn’t entirely her fault that she didn’t notice them: both men were skilled at ensuring they weren’t detected – they’d grown used to their lives depending on it.

  She didn’t spot them when they followed her as far as the FSS building on Hauptplatz, or when she emerged from the same building early the following morning and walked the short distance down the icy street to the bus stop. Nor did she notice them getting on the same bus as her when it pulled in before heading north, next stop St Nicholas’s church. By now the older man was accompanied by a woman.

  Frau Egger was waiting at the bus stop outside the church, shoving aside a mother and child to ensure she got a seat. She was wearing the dark brown coat and black beret of the previous day, and looked dumpier and less elegant than Frau Winkler, untidy silver-grey hair poking from under her beret and a pair of spectacles held together by tape. She sat towards the front of the bus, a few rows in front of Hanne.

  The bus made noisy progress through the town, and soon the lake came into view. A few passengers alighted at Annenheim, and when they passed a sign for Sattendorf, the vehicle slowed down and Frau Egger stood up and slowly made her way to the door. Hanne waited until it had stopped, not wanting to get too close to the woman she was following.