He paused for a moment and rubbed his knee before stooping to pick up the briefcase that Heger had abandoned in his desperate efforts to flee. He again stood quietly for a moment, listening, but the street was silent and empty.
Moments later, on turning a corner, he bumped into an elderly civilian who, on recognising the uniform, gave an apologetic squeak and hurried away into the darkness.
A ten minute walk saw Schonewille reach the erstwhile banker’s apartment building. The Walther with its attachment was still in his overcoat pocket. Quietly he entered the main entrance and walked along the corridor. On reaching the front door of the Heger’s flat he paused.
He extracted the Walther and let the weapon hang by his side half-hidden by the folds of his overcoat. With his left hand he extracted a set of keys that he had taken from the banker’s briefcase. For a second he searched through the keyring until he came to one he thought would fit the front lock. Carefully, he inserted the key and turned the lock. It was the correct one. To his annoyance though, the bolt slid back with a loud click. He was inside the flat before Alice Heger appeared.
“Klaus, Oh I’m glad you are home, the air-raid sirens are …” she said, but the remainder of the sentence hung unfinished as she stared in horror at the dusty figure in black. She turned in a futile move to escape into the small lounge room. The Walther coughed, the bullet striking her in the small of her back, propelling her forward until a sofa arrested her movement. The second bullet ended her life.
Schonewille jammed the weapon back into his pocket and, stepping over the slumped body, went into the kitchen. He spent several fruitless minutes opening cupboards searching, until finally he found what he sought: a box of candles. Extracting one, he returned to the lounge, spied a candle holder and inserted the candle. Placing them on a small table, he went back into the kitchen and went to the stove. To his relief, when he tuned one of the handles there came the hissing sound of gas. The bombing had disrupted all essential services so one could never be certain when either the gas or electricity was on or off. He turned the handle full on and repeated the act with the other three.
He turned and hurriedly left the kitchen, closing the door behind him. Crossing to the candle, he extracted a match and then sniffed several times. The gas had not yet had time to reach the room so he lit the wick. Satisfied that all was prepared, he let himself out of the apartment.
He strode away down the street before stepping into the same doorway in which he had hidden so many months before. Five minutes later, he was still standing silent and expectant when a loud explosion rent the air. From his hiding place he caught the flash of light.
He stepped clear of the doorway. A few hundred metres away he could see that the ground floor of the apartment block was already well alight. Schonewille breathed a deep sigh and quickly unscrewed the silencer from the Walther. Placing both in their holsters, he hurried away into the night.
By the time he arrived home he was emotionally and physically spent. Wearily he eased himself onto the sofa and with much difficulty took off his boots. In doing so he noticed a jagged rent in his left trouser leg, so he undid his belt and dropped the garment to the floor.
The knee was swollen and already badly discoloured while the cut, though not too deep, was dirty and oozing blood. He found a half-empty bottle of methylated spirits and, pouring some onto a face cloth, began to clean the wound.
It was then that Sophia found him. Without a word, she took the cloth from his hands and gently cleaned the wound. Despite the pain, he uttered no sound. The silence continued until the wound was clean and bandaged. Only then did she meet his gaze before averting her eyes and noticed the state of his trousers and the dust on his overcoat that he had carelessly dropped over a chair.
“What happened, Friedrich?” she enquired in a low voice. “Did you get caught in the bombing?”
He shook his head and stifled a yawn. “No Liebling, it was a problem of a different kind. Do not worry though, it has been solved.”
There was no panic in her voice although her hand shook noticeably as she asked whether they were in danger. He shook his head as she asked another question. It was the first time she had directly made any reference to the future.
“Friedrich, what is going to happen? I read the newspapers and listen to the wireless and, despite what Goebbels says, I know Germany is finished. The Russians are not far away …” Her voice trailed away.
“Listen, Liebling, and listen carefully. Heger and that bitch of a wife of his knew about you, they were trying to blackmail me … no, no, no don’t worry,” he said quickly as a look of terror crossed her beautiful features. “The problem has been eradicated. They will not be able to tell a soul. At any rate, I am in the middle of a complicated plan that should see us escape from the Reich and if we are lucky, we will do so with enough money to start a new life.”
For a moment he hesitated, wondering whether it was prudent to reveal much more. Yet, with what he was planning, he realised it would be necessary to tell her a few more details. He spoke of his brother and their father and how they were all part of an elaborate escape plan. Finally, he warned her to be ready to move at a moment’s notice.
“From now on, you are to only use the documents belonging to Käthe Haushofer. Your others are to be destroyed immediately.”
Awkwardly he got to his feet, an incongruous sight in his shirt and socks. He went to a small wardrobe near the entrance, which was used to store coats and other wet weather gear. He extracted the woman’s SS uniform.
“Here, Liebling. From now on this will be your uniform. Have it sponged and pressed.” She took it without a word.
For Schonewille the night was almost sleepless. His brain, at times restless and at times conniving, refused to let him sleep. With the former he re-lived Heger’s death and with the latter, tried to work out a way of obtaining the information needed by Grauwitz. Sophia, laying by his side for a change, was equally restless until finally she snuggled up to his body and placed her left arm over his chest. Thus, they eventually found some peace and slumber.
In the morning he once again journeyed to Heger’s bank. The branch was not yet open for business but a clerk, on seeing the uniform, let him enter without hesitation. Schonewille summoned the branch’s number two and explained he had urgent business with Herr Heger, and where was the bank manager?
The man shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Herr Obersturmbannführer, he is usually here very early, but he has not turned up as yet. I have tried to ring his home, but it appears the lines are down for I cannot get through.” He shrugged his shoulders again.
Schonewille pretended annoyance. “No matter, we have some important business for the Reich to discuss, so I will wait in his office. See that I am not disturbed,” he snapped.
The chief clerk was obviously happy to leave Schonewille to his own devices who, once he was alone, wasted no time in searching through his late friend’s papers. There was a safe in the corner and extracting Heger’s keys from his briefcase Schonewille quickly chose the correct one. He carefully opened the safe and found it to be stacked with files.
Not knowing what he was looking for, and doubting he would find anything of use anyway, he nevertheless began to peruse their contents. To his utter astonishment the second file contained a treasure trove of information. It was marked Top Secret and in bold, indelible pencil was the heading ‘Foreign Currency/Bullion – Transfers’.
Inside were two documents. The first, dated two days previously, was from a Dr V Pfeiffer of the Munich branch of the Reichsbank. It referred to orders from the Reichsbank’s deputy president, Emil Puhl, and gave details of a train leaving Berlin for Munich at 0730 hours on 9 March.
The second document was four days old. It was signed by Puhl and countersigned by Reich Minister Hans-Heinrich Lammers. Its contents were invaluable. It ordered Heger to gather all the remaining foreign currency held in his branch and have it ready for transportation to Munich. It listed various
sums of foreign currency and requested Heger contact either Puhl or Dr Pfeiffer if his records showed these sums to be inaccurate.
Next to the list of foreign currency were a number of ticks. Somebody had obviously checked the sums and found them to be correct. He carefully copied the details of the documents and then replaced the file in the safe. Locking it, he extracted the safe’s key from its ring and hid it at the back of a drawer. He then opened the office door and called the chief clerk over.
“Do you know where Herr Heger keeps the key to that safe?” The man looked surprised and shook his head. “No matter, I do.” Schonewille opened the drawer and pretended to rummage around. On finding the key he turned to the man and handed it to him.
“I believe this could be the right one. I cannot wait any longer. Open the safe and you should find a file marked Foreign Currency, or something similar. It will be stamped Top Secret.”
The man did as he was bid and extracted the file. Handing it to Schonewille he asked whether it was the one. The SS officer nodded his head and asked the clerk whether he had seen it before. The other was emphatic he had never laid eyes on it. Good, thought Schonewille. He handed the file back to the man.
“When Herr Heger arrives ask him to find out why the money must go to Munich. If he does not come, find out yourself, but do not mention my name. Also, make sure the orders contained therein are followed. I will be back this afternoon.”
Schonewille returned shortly after five. Much had happened in his absence. The chief clerk was now the acting branch manager. He informed the SS colonel of some distressing news. Heger’s apartment had apparently been the victim of a stray bomb and had been burnt to the ground. It was presumed the banker and his wife had perished inside.
Of more importance, however, were the man’s next words. “I was not able to contact Dr Pfeiffer, but managed to speak to a friend of mine who has a reasonably senior position in the Munich branch. As to what you seek, all I can tell you is that several consignments of bullion and foreign currency from all over the Reich are being transported to Munich. My friend informed me there had been strict orders for all the consignments to be in Munich by the fifteenth.”
The man paused and asked whether this was the information Schonewille sought. The other nodded and asked why all the foreign currency and bullion had to be in Munich by the fifteenth.
“I am not sure, Herr Obersturmbannführer, but I was told the consignments would then leave for another destination, probably on the sixteenth or seventeenth.” The man again paused and then in a hesitant voice asked why Schonewille needed such information.
Schonewille tried not to appear too evasive and gave the man a vague concoction of half truths and lies. “Oh, I already have much of this information. As you can see I am attached to Amtsgruppe fünf and unfortunately I am trying to trace some documents relating to these shipments, which have been lost in the bombing. At any rate, there is no need for you to worry any further. You have done me a good service. When I speak to your superiors, I will see that your position becomes permanent.”
The acting manager smiled in appreciation. Schonewille’s explanation, though vague, was sufficient to ease any suspicions he might have had. Amtsgruppa fünf (or branch 5), was the auditing office of the Economic and Administrative Main Office of the SS. To the banker therefore, Schonewille’s seniority and credentials were impeccable, so there was no need to seek further explanation.
The SS officer took his leave and immediately went to his office where he attempted to contact Grauwitz. The Brigadeführer was not available, so he spoke to Bremer instead.
He passed on the information he had gleaned and although it was not complete he knew it would give the plotters some further information as to when the Reichsbank’s bullion and foreign currency would be moved south: some time after 16 March.
That evening he worked late to catch up on his own legitimate work. At the same time he prepared for his trip to Norway.
At his last meeting with Grauwitz, they had discussed the possible options for transferring the money from the train to an aircraft, which they both knew was the best way to escape from Germany. The general had still refused to reveal a destination, except to say that he had made arrangements to land in Spain, from where they would fly south to a destination somewhere in Africa.
What worried Schonewille was how the plans of his relations would fit in with those of Grauwitz. The more he ruminated, the more he realised that at some stage the stolen money would have to be separated from Grauwitz and Bremer. How, he was not sure. He desperately needed to talk to his brother again and luckily it was Grauwitz who provided the wherewithal.
In order to obtain the necessary troops to waylay the train Grauwitz explained how he would need some extra and powerful authority. “I need the Himmler letter back from your brother,” he had demanded.
In return, Schonewille asked him to provide the necessary orders to fly to Kragero to obtain the missive. At this suggestion Grauwitz become quite agitated and ordered that under no condition was he to leave Germany. At Schonewille’s questioning the reason, Grauwitz bristled with annoyance and snapped, “Just do as I order, verstanden?”
Perplexed, Schonewille shrugged his shoulders and acquiesced, though it was agreed he would have to travel to either Kiel or Hamburg and meet his brother there.
The subsequent trip north proved uneventful. For once there were no unnecessary delays and no re-routing to skirt damaged track.
He had no intention of staying in Germany. On leaving Grauwitz’s office, he immediately telegraphed his brother giving his approximate arrival in Norway. The mere fact that Grauwitz had wanted him to keep away from Peter Wenck made him suspicious. Therefore, he decided to disobey the SS general’s instructions. There was also another reason. He wanted to obtain further details on the plans being concocted by his father and brother and believed his appearance in Norway might help elicit extra information.
At Kiel he was able, without difficulty, to hitch a lift to Norway with a transport flight bound for Oslo. Although his papers only authorised him to travel to Kiel or Hamburg, nobody asked any awkward questions. After all, a lieutenant-colonel in the SS was not somebody who acted against the interests of the Reich.
From Oslo he took a bus all the way to Kragero where he phoned his brother who sent a car.
They had scarcely finished greeting one another when Erna Hennell knocked and entered the room. The smile on her face vanished abruptly when she saw the black uniform. Then she looked at Schonewille and the colour drained from her face.
In a flash the SS officer knew how Grauwitz was obtaining his information. The woman excused herself and attempted to leave, but Schonewille was too quick for her. He moved to block her exit, at the same time kicking the door shut with his right boot. Ignoring Wenck’s protests he grabbed Hennell’s arm and pulled her to a chair.
“Setzen Sie sich,” he said in a stentorian voice. The woman obeyed. Wenck again started to speak, but Schonewille cut him off. “Please, shut up for a moment, Peter!” Then, dragging a chair forward, he sat down in front of the woman and confronted her. He came directly to the point.
“Now, Untersturmführer … Hennell, is it not? Unless you are not using your correct name?” The woman nodded her head, her hands starting to tremble. Schonewille noted the nervousness with satisfaction. “Well, Untersturmführer. Who sent you here? Herr Brigadeführer Grauwitz?”
Again Erna Hennell nodded her head mutely. She stole a quick glance at the air force officer who was still standing dumbfounded at what was unfolding.
“Well?” snapped Schonewille.
The woman jerked her head back to meet his gaze. “Jawohl, Herr Obersturmbannführer. Das ist korrekt.”
“Gut, then how and when do you contact him?”
“I use the SS office at Skien if I need to get a message back to the Reich … I … I only do so if I have something important to say,” she stumbled under Schonewille’s penetrating gaze.
&nbs
p; “And what if you are to be contacted?”
“If it is an emergency I would be contacted by radio here, but if it is simple and not urgent it is sent to Skien and a courier will deliver it here to me personally.”
He questioned her further while Wenck looked on in silence. The pilot did not fully comprehend everything, but he understood enough. Hennell did not look at him at first, and when she finally did so there was genuine pain in her eyes.
She revealed how she had received only one message and had only sent two back to Grauwitz. One to say she had arrived and another to reveal details of the Junkers 290 and its state of preparedness.
Finally, Schonewille stood up and took his brother’s arm. He led him to an adjoining empty office.
“Well, Peter,” he said speaking in a low voice. “Do you understand?”
“I understand part of it Friedrich, but fill in the rest.”
“I know the woman, or rather I have seen her at my headquarters. She’s an Offizier im Gerichtsdienst, an officer in the legal branch,” he repeated. “She’s with Amtsgruppe drei, the same section as Grauwitz.” Wenck opened his eyes in understanding. “Quite simply, Peter, Erna Hennell was sent here to spy on you.”
The air force colonel went ashen. He nodded his head. “Well brother, what do we do?”
“The best option would be to kill her,” said Schonewille. “However, that could prove to be a problem if Grauwitz tries to contact her and, anyway, it might be difficult to arrange.”
Wenck was shocked at the simple brutality of the words. He shook his head and said vehemently, “There will be no killing, of Erna Hennell or anybody else. Do you understand? I will have her confined to these buildings, with strict instructions not to either receive, or send any messages from here.” Schonewille nodded. It was, he agreed, the wisest course. Wenck went on. “Just so we understand one another, Friedrich. Erna means something to me. She will not be harmed. If you try to do so, our relationship is finished. Understand?”
The Reichsbank Robbery Page 24