by Bill James
Assignments:
1937: France. Assessment of government morale. Paired for this project with Marcus Mount (see Mount dossier: he presently stationed Steglitz, Berlin, as Stanley Charles Naughton).
1937: Copenhagen. Possible involvement in execution/murder of Paul Farb, German Intelligence officer surveying Danish border defences. Unproven. No action taken against him. Believe Danish authorities obstructed proper investigation of Farb death.
1938: Security for Führer’s possible visit in spring 1939.
Miscellaneous:
Unmarried. Sexual taste not known.
Parents retired to Orpington, Kent, and Bolzano, Italy.
Observations:
Affects a light-hearted, sometimes subversive, undisciplined attitude, but can also be extremely focused and decisive (see Denmark reference, above).
The dossier photographs showed Fallows as square shouldered, fair-haired, pug-faced, composed-looking – composed to the point of arrogance, in Valk’s opinion. But you could say that much about the bulk of men who came from his sort of background and education. Most likely they were taught insolence at school, instead of woodwork.
Nicholas Baillie
Born August 15 1911, London. Father, Theodore Barry Baillie, retired stockbroker; career interrupted by war service (lieutenant commander, Royal Navy at demobilization). He and wife live Guildford, Surrey. NB educated at Lawrence-Cooper-Silver preparatory school, Sussex; Harrow School; Cambridge (Trinity). First class honours and various prizes, Modern Languages: French, German, Italian. Teacher at Rugby School 1931–36. Believed recruited to intelligence Service by a pupil’s father met at school sports day. (Probably AK North – deputy provost Section 2 of the Service. His sons, Toby and Hugh, both at Rugby during Baillie’s time there.)
Training:
Intake OV 11 at National Command Establishment, relocated to Norton, Gleadless, Sheffield, Yorkshire, November 1936–June 1937, accelerated to match exceptional ability in all parts of course. Awarded scroll and medal as top trainee of intake.
Assignments:
1937: Assistant Passport Control, Rome.
1937: Passport Control, Madrid.
1938: Investigation of alleged suborned King’s Courier. Courier’s death, January 1938, recorded as suicide (rope).
1938: Possible combined operation with Marcus Mount to recruit Berlin agent(s).
1938: Security for Führer’s possible visit in spring 1939.
Miscellaneous:
Unmarried. Hetero.
Observations:
Close interest in psychology and architecture. Probably marked for rapid promotion in Section.
In the dossier photograph, Baillie appeared of medium build and height, with dark or brown hair.
Of course, as Valk would have expected, these two had heard about Knecht’s wife at the Toledo – the screaming and cursing and ruination of the big mirror. As they drove slowly along the proposed route for the Führer’s visit, Baillie and Fallows pretended to feel sympathy for Knecht, as might most men confronted by a report on any hysterical woman, possibly made exceptionally hysterical by her husband’s wanderings. Really, though, Valk saw they considered it a splendid joke, especially Fallows. He said: ‘We received quite a good account of the episode, Major, but you would probably know it in much better detail.’
‘No,’ Valk said. ‘I’m not very interested in events of that sort.’
‘There’ve been others?’ Baillie said.
‘As we have it,’ Fallows said, ‘Charlotte, Knecht’s wife, age thirty-eight, the same as Knecht, wearing a three-quarter length, navy-blue woollen coat, matching scarf against the weather, flat heeled black or navy shoes, and black leather cloche-style hat, arrives at the club a little after midnight and stands for a moment just inside the door, surveying the crowd of customers and girls, obviously looking for someone – most probably her husband, Colonel Maximilian Knecht, who is not a regular at the Toledo, but drops in from time to time, seeking relaxation and so on. His is a demanding job and, most probably, he feels entitled to be, as it were, offered diversion and companionship now and then. Of course, Major, it is the nature of this diversion and companionship which perhaps invites some controversy. One has to try to imagine how the wife might regard things; oh, yes, that is only reasonable.
‘We understand that her husband was not, in fact, present. Possibly some wives would have retreated at this point, maybe to continue the search elsewhere. But not Charlotte, mother of two. As you’ll know, Major, she had security police training when younger, and the qualities instilled then have not faded: resolve, directness, audacity. Clearly, these are admirable characteristics for someone in the defence of the Reich game, but can also lead to difficulties if there is a lot of glass about.
‘Our account – accounts – of the events following are not wholly satisfactory. Yes, there is, indeed, more than one report and considerable variations in what they describe. That’s why Nicholas and I hoped you’d be able to help in confirming – or not – certain important features of her visit. One version says that, having carried out her unsuccessful eye-search, she stepped forward about ten metres into the club, reached a table where a man and one of the girls were seated with a bottle of champagne and glasses. In this account of the next few minutes, Charlotte swept the bottle and glasses off the table with the side of her hand – the kind of blow taught in unarmed combat as a neck breaker. Both people who had been at the table were drenched in champagne.
‘But a different tale insists that the distance covered by Charlotte was more like twenty metres, and the man, seeing the approaching danger from Charlotte, had time to lift the bottle, which was at least half full, and so saved it for use at another table subsequently. Perhaps this is not important. All narratives agree, though, that Charlotte then picked up the table, despite her being quite petite, and flung it over the bar, doing the famed damage. As the table struck, she screamed the names of two Toledo girls, Inge and Olga, along with some foul-mouthed descriptions of them and their careers. There may have been a reference to uncleanness. Then, it appears, Charlotte announced regretfully that she could not stay longer because she had left the children unattended and had to get home. Possibly one girl, Anna or Annette, received an injury from a flying shard, though this was not thought to be grave. So you see, Major, there are discrepancies, even contradictions, but is this roughly how you understand things went on?’
‘All kinds of gross rumours about,’ Valk said.
‘But the mirror did get destroyed,’ Baillie said.
‘No doubt of that, surely,’ Fallows said. ‘The glazier’s lorry outside the next morning at six a.m., remarkably prompt.’
Valk said: ‘Where do your reports come from?’
‘It sounds the kind of club that, when not under attack in this way, I think I’d like,’ Fallows replied. ‘Possibly this kind of incident is rare in the Toledo. On the whole, it seems a warm, welcoming place, with piano music for dancing, and we’re told some walls are decorated with genuine Spanish bullfighting posters, though bullfighting has been a bit off-and-on during the civil war. Yet, atmospheric.’
‘We wondered about repercussions,’ Baillie said.
‘In which regard?’ Valk said.
‘It could be good for you, couldn’t it, Major, if they kick Knecht out of the leadership? There might be a call for you to take over,’ Fallows said. ‘Surely there would be. I’ve heard that one thing Herr Hitler deplores above all is that kind of infection in his star people. You can see why this is. It undermines general policy. If Joe Goebbels is conscientiously making films about Jews breeding like rats, the case is badly weakened should people know some of Hitler’s main people are incubating crabs.’ English for a moment: ‘“First cast the what-you-call out of your own eye,” isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know anything about Colonel Knecht’s private life,’ Valk said.
‘Not so very private now,’ Fallows said.
And, yes, Valk realized Fa
llows might be right. There could be a leadership vacancy very soon.
‘We chose the big Daimler with the extra fold-down seats because we thought there’d be three of you,’ Fallows said. ‘Our information said a V Mair and BL Schiff accompanied you.’
‘My colleagues are looking into some more general issues to do with the visit,’ Valk said. ‘We have to divide our efforts. Our time is limited. I’d have liked to do this drive along the route much earlier in my programme.’
‘Which general issues would those be?’ Fallows said.
In fact, Valk had not seen or spoken to Mair and Schiff for at least twenty-four hours. They didn’t sleep at the embassy last night. Perhaps they’d discovered good material about Paterin’s extramarital carry-on and had decided to follow up some hints. It would be typical of that pair to take over command of their work. ‘For instance,’ Valk replied, ‘distances from all points in the procession to a hospital. This has already been examined by one of our medical teams, but we must also do our departmental checks. You have heard of German thoroughness, I expect – thoroughness to a possibly comical fault, but applied almost automatically just the same.’
‘Thoroughness is no fault,’ Baillie said. ‘Absolutely not. It is when this thoroughness becomes compulsive that matters might turn unhealthy: obsessive compulsive neurosis, as it’s known. Not the case here. The motive for making doubly sure of hospital access is clearly rational and even necessary – though, in another sense, we hope not necessary at all, because there will be no attack and therefore no injuries or worse. We know our king would be very distressed if Herr Hitler were shot while sitting next to him in a processional vehicle. The king is sensitive and has a strong feeling for decorum.’
Baillie drove, Valk alongside him in the front passenger seat. Fallows leaned forward from the back to do what he could in taking over the conversation with his mocking summary of the Toledo drama, etcetera.
‘This book depository,’ Valk said as they slowly approached.
‘Yes, one can see just from studying the ordnance survey it could be problematical,’ Baillie said.
‘And that green island there, almost a grassy knoll,’ Fallows said. ‘Liable to bring the pace of the procession down further yet.’
‘We told the depository owners we’d like to look at some of the upper rooms and windows today with our special German guest or guests,’ Baillie said. ‘They are entirely willing, but there were some formalities. That accounts for the delay in setting up this drive.’
But Valk wondered. He thought the delay might have been meant to unnerve and humiliate him. Why did the Führer and Knecht admire these devious British so much? Baillie and Fallows seemed the kind who would enjoy playing foolish, lordly jokes so as to annoy people. Perhaps Bilson had put them up to it – Bilson, who hadn’t even bothered to meet him, despite the Somme link.
At the book warehouse they took a lift to the sixth floor. A manager escorted them. Few staff seemed to work in these higher parts of the building. Valk, Fallows, Baillie and the manager walked a wide corridor with locked doors on each side. Naturally, the manager knew why Valk and the others were there, and he unlocked several doors to rooms on the left. These had a view of the processional route. They were storerooms stacked with new books on shelving that reached up to about six feet on all walls.
Valk went to a window and looked down. To him it seemed a superb position for a sniper. There was a wide arc of fire, and the open vehicle would be in the rifle sights for at least a minute, maybe even two. ‘These are books not in strong demand, so they are kept up here, away from the main flow of sales,’ the manager said.
Fallows picked out a novel called Howards End, by EM Forster. ‘Ah, only Knecht,’ he said.
‘What?’ Valk said.
‘The epigraph to this book: “Only connect,”’ Fallows said. ‘“Only connect: the prose and the passion.”’
‘Which passion?’ Valk said.
‘It concerns girls with a German surname, as a matter of fact,’ Fallows replied. ‘The Schlegels. One of them gets put up the duff by somebody unsuitable.’
‘The doors to all these rooms would be locked on the day, would they?’ Baillie asked.
‘They are almost always locked,’ the manager said.
‘But opened, should you have an order for one or more of these books?’ Valk said.
‘On a normal day that might be so,’ the manager said. ‘But if the procession takes place and passes here, it will hardly be a normal day. I don’t imagine many sales would go through. Staff will wish to watch and cheer the procession, like everyone else, myself included. It isn’t often we see a Führer and a king together. The storerooms would be out of play, I think.’
‘Excellent,’ Valk said. ‘This is the kind of public response we seek.’
‘Assured,’ the manager said.
‘But these locks,’ Valk said. ‘Of fairly standard make?’
‘They serve,’ the manager said. ‘However, we’re not the Bank of England.’
‘Anyone with a set of special keys could open the doors, I expect,’ Valk said.
‘Twirls,’ Fallows said.
‘I don’t understand,’ Valk said.
‘Twirls. Special keys,’ Fallows said. ‘Burglar’s lingo.’
‘We’ve never had such a break-in,’ the manager said.
‘Burglars probably don’t go for books,’ Fallows said. ‘Difficult to carry enough away to be worth the trouble. Imagine a set of burglars sitting down after the break-in to share out copies of Howards End.’
‘There has probably never been such an extraordinary day as this day will be,’ Valk said.
Fallows said: ‘Mr Manager, Major Valk is very thorough, in the style the Germans are so justifiably admired for. It’s why they’ve sent him in person to oversee arrangements. He can, and notably does, connect the prose of these precautions with the potential passion and joy of the processional day.’
‘We’re into cliché territory here,’ Baillie replied. ‘Perhaps that thoroughness is not so much special to Germans as to ex-army officers, who have had the detailed running of operations during the war, regardless of nationality. That becomes ingrained. This would clearly apply to Major Valk, and it is also true of our own chief.’
‘Whose name must not be mentioned, on pain of a flogging around the fleet,’ Fallows said.
‘He had those wartime burdens, too,’ Baillie said. ‘He retains that same thoroughness, although British. In fact, the thoroughness sometimes reaches a pitch with him when it becomes a mental state we were talking of earlier – obsessive compulsive neurosis. It’s probable that he, too, has identified this building as potentially a prime hazard. He was, after all, an ace sniper, before being commissioned in the field. I see it as very possible that on the day of the procession he would be obliged by some inner urge to come here and vigilantly patrol these upper floors himself. That is the kind of extreme, unrelenting commitment we speak of. As Major Valk has said, door locks of this calibre would not be a great obstacle to trained people. Our boss might feel absolutely obligated to ensure no danger originated from these rooms.’
‘Do you mean he would be free to move about here as he wished?’ Valk replied.
‘Not “as he wished”,’ Baillie said. ‘Rather, as he felt required to, as he felt forced to, because of the onus on him.’
‘Because of his overriding duty,’ Fallows said. ‘The making of history will be in his care.’
‘As it will be in yours, Major,’ Baillie said.
Valk still felt unsure of the tone of this conversation. Did they mean simply, factually, to describe Bilson’s personality? Nicholas Baillie had an interest in psychology, didn’t he? Or were they still teasing him, scaring him, with the thought of a neurotic Section chief in one of the rooms carrying a rifle, and brilliantly skilful in using it? Was this why Bilson wouldn’t meet him – because he felt ashamed of the duplicitous role he would play? It was not like the honest enmities of the bat
tlefield, but furtive, ignoble. ‘Couldn’t this building be closed down completely on the day?’ Valk said. ‘Perhaps the staff will be given a holiday, for the occasion.’
‘Difficult,’ the manager said. ‘They will probably want to come in because the procession passes here. And they’ll be getting paid to be spectators!’
TWELVE
Back at the embassy in Carlton House Terrace, after the alarming book depository visit and the rest of his Daimler trip, Valk wrote full notes on what he had seen. He would put these in front of Knecht immediately on return to Berlin. But then he realized that Knecht might not be in his current post any longer when this operation ended. The offensive British intelligence officer, Fallows, could be right, and Knecht would get displaced because of his sexual indiscretions, and his wife’s response to them. It had been a habit of mind in Valk to regard all his work as ultimately monitored by Knecht. It disturbed Valk to realize that this might not any longer be so. Perhaps someone else would be running the Department now. Perhaps, as Fallows had suggested, he, Valk, might be put in charge. Should he rid himself of this instinctive sense of subordination to Knecht? That unsettled him a little, but also thrilled him. Possibly, he would at last escape this middling rank and its fetch-and-carry obligations.
He completed his notes all the same. Even if he won his step up, he would still have responsibilities for the Führer’s life. And that life could be regarded as yet more precious to him, if it were the Führer’s personal order that Knecht should be chucked out and Major Andreas Valk substituted.
He was reading over the notes when he had a message asking him to see Claus Weigel in so-called Passport Control. Valk went at once. There might be further news about Knecht and matters to do with the Department. It had irritated him to hear Baillie talk of Bilson earning his commission in the field, as if that were better than entering the army already an officer cadet, as Valk had. And, although Baillie had not mentioned it, Bilson had come out with a higher rank than Valk’s. Well, perhaps he would himself get promoted in the field now: the peacetime, diplomatic field.