by Jana Petken
Judith’s fist connected with Paul’s face at a speed that knocked him backwards. He fingered the already-bruising cheek knowing full well he deserved it. He stood with his head bowed, unable to look at her. This was the dumbest thing he had ever done in his life. This was the reason why visiting families was forbidden, but he’d thought he knew better. “I’m so very sorry.”
“You burnt her?” said Adel, horrified.
“Yes ... no … I didn’t. Herr Weber, I shouldn’t be here in person. It is forbidden you see, but I was on my way home for the weekend and passing through your neighbourhood. I wanted to … I thought I could,” he gulped, knowing he’d gone too far. “I’d be grateful if you would keep this visit just between us…”
Judith’s eyes sparked with fury. Again, her arm shot out, slapping Paul’s cheek before he could duck or finish his sentence.
“Judith, that’s enough,” Adel growled at his daughter. “Control yourself before you get us arrested.”
“I knew something like this would happen,” she said, through gritted teeth. “They did something to her, Papa, and then they burnt her. They might have shot her, or stabbed her, or starved her to death for all we know. That’s why I wasn’t allowed to see her in Brandenburg – what did you do to my sister, Doctor? How did you kill her?”
Judith’s face crumpled as though something had sucked the breath out of her lungs. She sunk to the floor. Her fists hammered the tiles as if they were the culprits, as if her blows might bring her sister back. “Pigs. You’re all murdering pigs!” she wailed.
Paul unconsciously began to take steps back towards the door. He’d wanted to break the news softly to the Webers in their own home, thinking that would be a kindness. He’d been afraid that Judith might turn up at the hospital again, and he wouldn’t be there to inform her in a decent, sympathetic way, not that there was a right way to tell someone that their loved one had died. He’d made a monumental error. It was one he would regret forever and never, ever repeat.
Chapter Fifteen
Max Vogel
Holland, November 1939
Max and Frank hid in the upstairs bedroom of a dilapidated house at the edge of Emmen, a town set hard against Holland’s border with Germany. From their vantage point, they saw the Cafe Dackus’ car park where two MI6 officers, under diplomatic cover, were due to arrive for their third meeting in as many days with an unspecified number of Germans who opposed Hitler and were plotting against him.
Frank and Max, both four-year army veterans of the MI6 British Secret Intelligence Services had arrived in Holland five days earlier and were immediately picked up by Dutch agents who’d brought them into Emmen under cover of darkness. They had several missions on this trip, including one which involved observing and reporting back on this series of meetings, the latest in a line of clandestine gatherings in Holland between British agents and German opposition members.
Max, chewing a lump of hard cheese muttered, “I think the Germans are stalling. There’s something not right about this. It has dragged on too long. It shouldn’t take three separate meetings to make a deal.”
Frank’s response was more optimistic, “If it’s any consolation, our two chaps on the inside seem more excited about this meeting than they did the last two. If the German information is correct, the attempt on Hitler’s life will be made on Saturday, which means today will be their last chance to discuss what happens afterwards.”
Max and Frank had met with the two British operatives after the first and second meetings. The SIS had sent an experienced British Army Intelligence Officer who worked under the cover of a businessman residing in Amsterdam. Both Max and Frank had met with him in London months earlier. British Intelligence had also brought in an army captain, relatively new to Intelligence and working covertly for the British SIS in the Passport Control Officer in The Hague. The two men were late, but so was the German contingent.
Max had been sceptical about the British operatives’ German contact, one Hauptmann Schonenburg. He had promised to bring a general with him to the second meeting but hadn’t done so. According to the Hauptmann, the general had been called by Hitler to an urgent meeting in Munich to consider an appeal for peace made by the Queen of the Netherlands and the King of Belgium. Max had said at the time of the meeting with the two British agents that it didn’t add up, but they had brushed his concerns aside.
“I wonder who the mysterious German general is?” Max now mused aloud. “It would help if we had a name to reference. Do you think Schonenburg is reliable?”
Frank nodded. “He’s kept his word so far, and if he does bring a general here with enough clout to get the plot against Hitler moving, we could have ourselves a short war. Our men have come too far not to see this through.” Frank paused to look through his binoculars. “Hmm, I don’t like this either, Max. The cafe is busier than usual.”
While they continued to observe the car park from the freezing cold room with the glassless window and only half a roof, Max went over his last meeting with their boss, Jonathan Heller. British Intelligence knew of many German officials who wanted to end the war before it got out of control and too much blood was spilt, but all the meetings thus far had yielded nothing but the German side’s desire to support a plot against Hitler, and in turn, establish allied peace terms should their Führer be deposed. Max reckoned they were long shots but better than nothing.
He and Frank sat a foot away from the window on a couple of hard, three-legged stools. They both used binoculars to take note of who was going in and out of the Cafe Dakus’ car park, but not being able to stick their heads out of the window to look left or right in case of being spotted, that and the inside of the cafe itself, were all they could see.
Max studied the faces of every person leaving and entering the cafe. He was still uneasy. “I agree. There are far too many men in that cafe and not enough women. I’m not happy about this.”
“Let’s not panic. We’re right on the border. Women might not be keen on coming within a hair’s breadth of Germany. It’ll take only one stray bullet to start a conflict here.”
Apart from witnessing and reporting on these latest meetings, Max and Frank had also been ordered to report on German troop movements along the border between Holland and Germany. They’d managed to slip into Germany through a porous half kilometre of the border just before dawn each day and had a good picture of what was going on, or in this case, what was not going on.
Since declaring war, German and Allied-French troops had dithered on this battlefront without having fired a shot. Both forces loitered half-heartedly, apparently waiting for the other side to do something. Max had been pleasantly surprised at how easy it had been to step from one country to the other without being stopped, and it seemed to him that the border would have been more tightly scrutinised had there been no war on the horizon. It was an area that would, however, blow up at some point if the imminent meeting between the British and German plotters came to nothing but broken promises.
“Where did you tell my sister, you were going this time?” Max asked Frank who was scrutinising the car park.
“To another engineering training course in Durham,” Frank responded with a grin.
“She must think you’re rubbish at your job. That’s four training trips you’ve told her about in the past month,” Max laughed. “How’s married life treating you?”
“I love it. I don’t know how I managed before she came along. Honestly, mate, my life began when I met her.”
“Soppy bugger.”
“Don’t laugh at me. It’s time you and Paul fell in love, not with each other, of course.” Frank punched Max playfully on the shoulder. “I tell you, Max. I love everything about being married, apart from having to constantly lie to Hannah about what my real job is.”
“Well, that’s going to stop when we get back. We’ve been ordered to wear our army uniforms to the office from now on.”
“So, my wife’s going to know you outrank me? I don�
��t like the sound of that.”
A car drove into the car park. Max lifted his binoculars. “Relax, it’s not them – we both knew it was going to be hard lying to Hannah when we signed up for this four years ago.”
Frank shook his head. “Ah, but I didn’t. Remember, I only started dating her two years back, and I certainly didn’t plan on bringing her to England before we’d even got married. I’ve been caught on the back foot. I wanted to give the appearance of having a stable job in some engineering plant before she got to Kent. She thinks you and I spent years in universities. Jesus, she thinks I’ve just graduated.”
“You’ll work it out as you go along, and so will I,” said Max, frowning at the car park. “I suppose war makes liars of us all. My mother and father would have a fit if they ever found out what I do.” Max chuckled. “I wonder what my father would think of me now, sitting here freezing my balls off in Holland. As far as he’s concerned, Paul’s the genius and I’m the lazy bugger who never wanted to leave university to find a proper job.” Max was about to say something else about his family when another car pulled into the car park. “The Germans are here.”
It was just after four when the two British agents arrived. One of them was at the wheel of the car and drove straight into Cafe Dackus’ car park. Through the binoculars, Max saw the other operative sitting in the passenger seat while the Dutch liaison man, van der Weyde and the Dutch driver sat together in the back seat. Why the Dutch driver wasn’t driving would remain a mystery, one that Max would often wonder about. “We’re on. Get ready.”
Frank went for his pistol which was concealed in a side holster just above his waist beneath his jumper and coat. Max raised his binoculars and saw the two British operatives open their car doors. Then, another car raced into the car park blocking his view of the two Englishmen. Within seconds, men came running out of the cafe. The first gunshot, snapping loudly in the cold still air, was followed by a second, third and fourth. Still unable to get a good line of sight and unwilling to compromise their position, Max and Frank watched in horror as the Dutch Liaison officer fell to the ground in a hail of bullets.
A scuffle in the car park ensued. The two British operatives and their Dutch driver were bundled into the Germans’ car. The wounded man, van der Weyde, was thrown into the boot of the British car. A dozen or so men were involved, shielding the abductors’ car as it revved its engines and spun its tyres as it sped out of the car park.
Max and Frank raced down the stairs. They were dressed like the locals in caps and coats and would blend in now with the crowd of people running towards the car park.
Max only just avoided stepping in the dark, sticky pool of blood on the ground. They couldn’t help the abducted British agents who were already in the getaway car and on their way to Germany, but if they hung around they might hear a German voice speaking about the incident and letting something slip.
Frank kicked a stone and cursed, “Damn it, we’ve been played for idiots. We’ve lost them. It was a bloody trap, and we fell right into it.”
Chapter Sixteen
November 11th, 1939
Max and Frank were debriefed at MI6 headquarters upon their return to London from Holland. After the meeting they made their way to Whitehall for an emergency ministerial enquiry.
While waiting for their boss, Jonathan Heller, Max picked up a newspaper dated 10th of November and read the piece about the Emmen abduction.
ONE DUTCHMAN KILLED AND SEVERAL WOUNDED
Shooting Affray Follows Clash With German Officials
A man was shot dead, and a number of Dutchmen were kidnapped and taken across the border and into Germany after a violent incident at Emmen, on the Dutch-German frontier yesterday. This followed an armed clash between German Officials and Dutchmen...
Max scrolled down to the last paragraph ... A wild shooting affray followed, and one man, believed to be a Dutchman, was killed, the body being dragged back into Germany. Several other Dutchmen who were in the car were likewise kidnapped, and, with their car, hauled into German territory. The Dutch authorities have ordered an immediate Inquiry.
Heller walked into the office and closed the door behind him. He sat down at his desk and pointed to the newspaper. “Well, is it accurate?”
“More or less, though I wouldn’t have called it a wild shooting affray,” Max answered.
Frank agreed. “There were too many of them and too few of us to put up a fight. We heard four, five shots at most.”
“And there was no mention of the abducted men being British spies,” Max added.
Heller said, “That’s something in our favour, I suppose. I read your reports. You did the right thing by not getting involved. We’re in enough trouble without you two being compromised as well.”
“This has hit us hard, hasn’t it?” Frank said.
Heller nodded reluctantly. “It’s a disaster, not only because one of our kidnapped agents was carrying a list of European operatives in his damned pocket, but because my agent in Berlin is telling me that Hitler’s propaganda machine is having a field day with the story. We’re convinced that Himmler was involved in the kidnapping. No, involved is not the right word, we believe he controlled and managed the entire operation from start to finish.”
“Are all our European operatives in danger?” Frank asked.
“Yes, most of them outside Germany, if not all. The damage inflicted on our espionage network in Europe will be catastrophic. We might have to start again from scratch.”
“Christ,” Max sighed, “I suppose this means there will be no more trade-offs with German opposite numbers.”
Heller gritted his teeth, “If Winston Churchill gets into power, there will be no more support for any German group claiming to be plotting against Hitler. Churchill is furious. We’ve been made to look like bloody fools.”
Heller looked out of the window. He sighed, turned back to the room and said, “This war is not even close to being ramped up yet, and while we’re limping along with an excess of caution trying to get a peace deal on the table, Germany’s digging its talons into the ground across the Continent – and they still have the time and means to find and exploit our weak spots. Bloody marvellous.”
Frank remarked, “Apart from the human cost, this incident has exposed our government’s desire for a peace deal with Germany.”
“Meanwhile, Hitler will use this affray as an excuse to invade Holland by saying that it has violated its own neutrality,” Heller added.
Max, who’d been unusually quiet, finally said what was on everyone’s mind. “God help those two agents. The Germans will milk them dry for information on our spy rings. Germany showed their hand in Poland. I saw its forces and the devastation they left in their wake. They’re playing dirty, and I’m not sure how we can defend these islands if they invade?”
Heller responded with a shrug, which was anything but nonchalant. “If he comes at us tomorrow with the forces you described in your report from Poland, his army will overrun us from here to John o’ Groats within a couple of weeks. We’re vulnerable and unprepared for an invasion like the one you experienced, Max.” He looked at his watch. “We’d better get moving. This is going to be an important meeting. Change is coming – oh, that reminds me. Uniforms from now on – Major – Captain,” he nodded first to Max and then to Frank.
“Come for dinner,” Frank said to Max after they left Whitehall. “You’ve not seen Hannah for nearly two weeks, and I think we should both explain to her why we’re dressed as soldiers – she’s going to have a bloody fit.”
Max grinned. “You’ve not seen her for over a week either. I don’t think you need me around on your first night home, or to hold your hand when you tell her what you do for a living. Besides, I want an early night in my own bed. Unlike you, I didn’t sleep well on the floor of that house in Emmen.”
“No, do come. Please Max,” Frank pleaded. “You know how sensitive Hannah is. She’ll only worry and hit me with questions all night about
why you’ve not been in touch and did you know I was a lying git. You’ve been away for most of the last month. C’mon, I need you.”
Max knew Hannah, and what Frank said was true. She’d be angry and full of questions, but after she got over the shock of seeing Frank in uniform, she’d pester him all night for information on her brother’s frequent disappearances and whether he’d been lying to her as well. He might as well get it over with and use Frank as the punch bag.
“All right, I’ll come for an hour. I’ll run the gauntlet with you, but don’t blame me if I leave five minutes after I get there. I know how my sister gets when she has a bee in her bonnet.”
Frank gave Max the keys to his house, then headed for his car, shouting over his shoulder. “I’ll go pick Hannah up from your Aunt Cathy’s. Go straight home, light a fire. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
Max entered Frank and Hannah’s house, put his Major’s cap on the hall table, made himself a cup of tea and switched on the radio. He had some time to relax for once. His Aunt Cathy could talk for England and she would grill Frank about being in the army when he hadn’t even told them he was thinking of enlisting. Him already being a captain would trigger even more questions. He didn’t envy Frank because he was sure to be subjected to tales of Aunt Cathy’s son, George, and his escapades at basic training camp.
As he stared into the fire he’d just lit, he thought about how fortunate he was. He missed Paul every day and sensed that not all was well with him. He knew this because of a strange, inexplicable mental connection to his twin that had grown stronger with their forced separations. Max was still livid; he could hate his father if he put his mind to it. Forcing Paul to stay in Germany and join the Nazi Party had been one of Papa’s most selfish acts, and he’d committed many over the years. Thank God, I was here when war broke out, and my loyalty to Britain is not in question, Max thought.