by Alex Gerlis
The whole time Franz Rauter was calm, promising Prince he’d be no trouble and had nothing to hide. His relief at being rescued from the Russians was obvious.
When they landed in England, Lance King was waiting for them at the steps of the plane, and an hour later Prince was with Hugh Harper in the lounge of a large and isolated Victorian country house somewhere in the south of England. Rauter had been taken away to be checked by a doctor.
‘There’s nothing wrong with him, sir.’
‘That may well be the case, Prince, but let me tell you, there’s been quite a flap at head office about this.’
‘A flap about what, sir?’
‘About bringing Rauter over here. I’m not blaming you, Prince, but you need to understand there are politics at play at the top of my organisation, and when one of my colleagues heard about this, he questioned the legality of what we’d done. Evidently it’s problematic because Rauter’s a non-combatant and as far as we’re aware hasn’t committed a crime against British subjects. In fact—’
‘Surely, sir it—’
‘Hang on, Prince, hang on… We’ve had the bloody lawyers all over this and their solution is for Rauter to sign a declaration saying he came over here of his own free will. We will acknowledge he’s here as a witness and not as a suspect and that he’ll be able to return to Germany once he’s helped us. The form’s being drawn up now and brought here by dispatch rider. The director general himself got involved and insisted Rauter had a medical, so I hope nothing untoward happened.’
‘The Soviets roughed him up a bit, but I’ve not laid a finger on him. Pardon my naïvety, sir, but I thought that in the world of espionage and counter-intelligence rules were somewhat more relaxed. Surely bringing a German spymaster over on a critical investigation is a matter of some urgency?’
‘I would agree with you, Prince, but no sooner has the war ended than some of my colleagues have reverted to their civil service mentality. Let’s just hope Rauter signs the bloody form. But do let’s look on the bright side: we had little other than circumstantial evidence against Edward Palmer, but now that Rauter’s confirmed he is indeed Agent Milton, we have a clear-cut case against him. You’ve done very well, Prince.’
‘I’ve only done well if we can find Milton – I presume there’s no news?’
‘No, there isn’t, I’m afraid, but I’m rather hoping Rauter can assist us with that. What’s he like, by the way?’
‘Fine – insists he’s a professional intelligence officer dealing with military matters and nothing to do with politics. Claims he’s not a Nazi, but then he’s hardly likely to go around quoting extracts from Mein Kampf, I suppose. Seems a rather agreeable chap if you want my opinion, sir, and I do think I have a reasonable instinct for knowing when someone’s pulling the wool over my eyes. I think we should take him at his word and treat him accordingly. He’ll be more cooperative if he realises he’s a witness rather than a suspect.’
‘Any idea why he’s being quite so agreeable, as you put it?’
‘To be blunt, because we’re not the Russians. From what I could gather over there, all the Germans are doing their best to avoid the Red Army.’
‘So I understand. I was at my club the other day and someone said the only reason Jodl agreed to an unconditional surrender was because Eisenhower told him that if he didn’t, he’d stop Germans approaching Allied lines to surrender. You look exhausted, Prince. Go and have a bath and a rest: the form ought to be here soon and we can’t start our chat with Rauter until then, can we?’
* * *
It felt more like a social occasion than an interrogation as they gathered in the dining room just after seven o’clock that Thursday evening. The two guards looking after Franz Rauter stayed in the background. Rauter had been given clean clothes to change into and appeared relaxed, helping himself to the buffet. Hugh Harper took Prince aside and told him the German had signed the form: they were free to go ahead with the interview.
They were joined by Lance King, Bartholomew and Audrey, and once they’d all eaten, they adjourned to another room where half a dozen armchairs had been arranged in a circle. Rauter said he was very grateful for how he’d been treated and had been very relieved to have it confirmed to him that he was here as a witness, nothing more than that. ‘So how can I help you?’ He leaned back in his armchair, crossed his legs and smiled.
Once more Prince recognised the tone: the charm and the attempt to take control of the situation. Ask the first question.
Hugh Harper was slightly thrown, and muttered something about the war being over but there was still a need to root out—
Prince interrupted. ‘Perhaps if I kick off, sir? Herr Rauter confirmed to me in Berlin that Agent Milton is the codename for Major Edward Palmer. We want to know as much as possible, Herr Rauter, about Milton and the other agents he’s connected with, most particularly agents Byron and Donne, who we believe still to be alive. If you could start at the beginning of your involvement in this case, that would be helpful.’
Harper nodded approvingly and Rauter helped himself to a glass of water from the small table in front of them. He remained silent for a while as he seemed to gather his thoughts, a hint of a smile on his face.
‘I have already made the point to your colleague here, who I had the pleasure of meeting in Berlin, that I was a police officer before joining the Abwehr, where my role was purely as a professional intelligence officer dealing with military matters. I was never involved in the regime’s political activities and nor was I a Nazi. Let me state at the outset that I didn’t recruit Agent Milton. As I understand it, he was first spotted by one of your countrymen in 1933, I think it was.’
‘What was the name of this man – the one who recruited Milton?’
‘His code name was Chiltern and I only became aware of him a few months ago. I discovered his name was Arthur Chapman-Collins.’
‘Why do you say “was”?’
Rauter leaned forward in his armchair and then back again before reaching for his glass of water. For a while he didn’t say anything, but then he shrugged his shoulders as if it didn’t matter. ‘I’m not sure what you’re getting at.’
‘You said “was”, Herr Rauter: that is the past tense. It implies Arthur Chapman-Collins is dead.’
‘You must understand my English is not very good. I didn’t mean to imply anything.’
‘You said you only became aware of Arthur Chapman-Collins a few months ago. Can you remember when this was?’
Rauter stared hard at Prince as if he realised he was being led into a trap. He swept his fingers through his hair and coughed, shrugging his shoulders again. ‘No, I’m afraid I can’t remember exactly.’
‘Let me help you, Herr Rauter: was it this year?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘Which month?’
‘I’m really not sure.’
‘You see, we too are aware of Arthur Chapman-Collins, and he was murdered in his apartment in London in February. You’ll understand why we might speculate whether there’s a connection between your becoming aware of him and his death.’
Rauter smiled and looked round the room. ‘There appears to be a misunderstanding. When I say I became aware of this man, I simply meant I was reading some notes in the file and came across his name: his last involvement with the Abwehr would have been back in 1933 or 1934. I know nothing about his death. What happened was that a colleague of mine called Helmut Krüger came to Cambridge in the summer of 1934 and actually recruited Palmer, though I understand it was a year or two before Palmer realised he was an Abwehr agent. I’m sure you’re all familiar with how that works. A series of subtle steps and by the time someone realises they are working for you as an agent, it’s too late for them to get out of it.’
‘Are you saying Palmer was an unwilling spy?’
‘A good question. I would say that by the time he understood what had happened, he decided he needed to be professional about it. There’s no doubt he was sy
mpathetic to Germany.’
‘May I ask a question, please?’ It was Audrey, checking her notes. ‘You say he was recruited by a Helmut Krüger: do you know where Krüger is?’
‘He died in 1939, which was when Milton was handed over to me by my boss, Otto Prager – who also died, in case you want to meet him too. And before you ask, both men died of natural causes. That did happen under the Nazis.’ Rauter continued: how once the war started, the idea had been for Milton to be allowed a few years to establish himself before being activated as a spy; how a series of agents had been sent over to work with him, all of whom died.
‘The first one of these was code-named… perhaps you’d be so good as to tell me the code name, Herr Rauter?’ Audrey spoke without looking up from her notebook.
Rauter leaned back and closed his eyes momentarily. ‘Keats.’
‘And did Keats ever make contact with Milton?’
‘No.’
‘And he was killed in a railway accident in… November 1943.’
Rauter said that was correct.
‘Can you please give me the code name of the agent who replaced poor Keats, and when.’
‘That was an agent code-named Shelley and he came over the following month.’
‘And he was found dead in December 1943.You didn’t wait long, did you? You sent over yet another agent, who died in January 1944, correct?’
‘I think you’ll find it was the March, actually.’
‘And his name? The name he was using here?’
‘Dabrowski, Jan Dabrowski.’
‘Code name?’
‘Dryden.’
‘Three agents,’ said Prince, ‘all dead within weeks if not days of arriving here. Rather a run of bad luck, wouldn’t you say?’
Rauter shrugged. ‘The first three agents, they weren’t recruited by me. But tell me, how do you know their code names?’
Prince leaned over towards him. ‘I think you’ll find that the way this works is we ask questions and you answer them, if that’s all right with you. So you’ve confirmed that Keats, Shelley and Dryden were your agents. We understand that last August or September, I think it was, you sent over yet another agent.’
Rauter half nodded, frowning at the same time.
‘And his code name, please.’
‘Donne. May I ask, is he still alive?’
Prince ignored the question. ‘You said you didn’t recruit the first three agents who came over. Presumably that means you did recruit Donne?’
Rauter said nothing.
‘What can you tell me about him?’
‘Tell me first – is he alive, and if so, is he in captivity?’
Prince looked at Hugh Harper, who nodded. ‘We believe he is still alive, and no, he isn’t in custody.’
‘Really? In that case, he’s done well to have survived so long. Agent Donne is a British prisoner of war called John Morton. There was a crazy scheme to recruit a British unit of the SS from among your prisoners of war. They called it the British Free Corps but never managed to recruit more than fifty men, and most of them were fairly pathetic cases. I visited them and thought Morton was a good prospect – the only one who was.’
‘Do you remember any details about him – rank, regiment?’
Rauter dropped his head back, deep in thought. ‘Had I known you’d be asking all these questions, I’d have stopped by my office in Tirpitzufer and collected his file!’ He laughed and looked round the room. ‘That was a joke: all my files will now no doubt be ashes. John Morton, let me see… I remember he was only a private and had been taken prisoner at Dunkirk in May 1940. As for his regiment, I did check it out, just to be sure he had indeed been at Dunkirk. The Middlesex Regiment – could that be correct?’
Lance King said there was such a regiment.
‘I presume you gave him another identity?’
‘Of course.’
‘And are you going to tell us that identity?’
Rauter hesitated and leaned back in the armchair.
‘You see, so far, Herr Rauter, you’ve not told us anything we don’t already know. You’ve served some purpose in confirming those facts, but for this to be helpful to us – within the terms of the agreement we’ve signed – then we need you to tell us more of what we don’t already know, if you catch my drift.’
‘You agreed that I’m a witness and here in a voluntary capacity.’
‘Indeed.’
‘And that I can return to Germany when I’m finished?’
‘We’ll determine when we’ve finished, Herr Rauter, and where in Germany we’re obliged to return you to is yet to be decided.’
‘Now look, I—’ Rauter looked furious.
‘Hang on,’ said Prince, shooting an angry glance at King. ‘I asked Herr Rauter for the identity Agent Donne is using, and I’m sure he’s about to give it to us.’
Rauter shook his head. ‘The identity we furnished him with is Jim Maslin.’ He leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs and his head bowed.
‘And do you know where he may be?’
‘No. The system we used was for the contact agent – Donne in this case – to be the go-between, linking Milton with the radio operator.’
‘Agent Byron?’
‘Correct. It was – is – Byron’s job to look after Donne. He would find him somewhere to stay and use him to pass our messages on to Milton, and vice versa. That way we could ensure Byron and Milton didn’t need to meet in person, thereby ensuring their safety.’
‘So Byron is the key man in all this?’
‘Indeed.’
‘And you’re now about to tell us his name, aren’t you, Herr Rauter?’
‘Before you start threatening me again, let me tell you this. I expect I don’t need to lecture you on how espionage works. You’ll know that even someone coordinating an espionage operation as I was in this case won’t be aware of every single detail about every person involved. Sometimes an agent is only ever known by their code name. After all, the more you know, the more security can be compromised. That was the case with Agent Byron. He’d been recruited some years before the war started and was already in place as a radio operator when I took Milton over, so I didn’t recruit him, I inherited him. I knew his code name and our radio operators knew how to contact him. I would write messages to him, which would be encoded and then transmitted, and likewise his messages to us. I’m afraid I can’t tell you his name. I realise it would be easier for me if I could. I just know he’s in London, and so is Donne.’
‘Any idea where in London?’
‘Who, Byron or Donne?’
‘Both of them.’
‘I’ve no idea where Donne will be; that would have been organised by Byron – I’ve already told you that.’
‘So do you know where Byron is?’
Rauter started to speak, then stopped himself and took his time to drink some water. ‘The one person who knew about Byron was my old boss, Otto Prager. Otto was an old-fashioned intelligence officer and certainly not a Nazi. He left the Abwehr very suddenly soon after the war started, around the middle of September ’39. He died a few days later, as I told you, from natural causes. He had a heart condition but I’ve no doubt he was under considerable stress. What you need to understand about the Nazis was that they didn’t need any excuse to kill someone. Had they wanted to kill Otto they’d have taken him to Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse and done the job in the basement there – they’d have been pleased to use it as an example for the rest of us in Tirpitzufer who they never quite trusted.
‘You suggested Otto Prager knew more about Byron.’
‘Yes, but how much I’m not sure. He knew Byron was British and had been in place for a while, and that he lived in a part of London called Chelsea. Or at least he did in 1939; whether he’s still there…’
‘You’ve no idea where in Chelsea?’
‘No. Whether Otto knew his identity, I’m not sure. There were handwritten notes in the file but nothing about Byron’s real nam
e. It’s interesting that all three men in the spy ring are British – Palmer, Morton and Byron. Just goes to show, eh? All those fools we sent over – the Dutchmen, Germans, Poles, whatever – they were all caught. But your local traitors have prospered!’
Glances were exchanged around the room. Lance King spoke first. ‘And that’s all you can tell us about Byron – that he’s British?’
Rauter nodded. ‘And where he lived – I’ve told you that.’
‘Milton has been missing for nearly three weeks now. You can’t tell us where he is?’
‘I have no idea, but maybe you should start with Agent Donne. He certainly met both Milton and Byron, and I’ve given you the name he’ll be using.’
‘Have you heard from any of them recently?’
Rauter laughed. ‘Seriously, do you have any idea what it’s been like in Berlin for the past month? We’ve had the Red Army to worry about: they rather interfered with running any kind of intelligence operation. If you want my opinion…’
He paused and looked up, his eyebrows raised, wondering whether the others did want his opinion. Harper muttered, ‘Go on.’
‘I think Edward Palmer is very smart and resourceful. He was an effective agent who managed to operate successfully in a very exposed position. Even maintaining his cover while he was a sleeper agent required skill and bravery. I think he suspected the game was up and disappeared. My opinion is that even if he didn’t suspect anything, he certainly knew the war was over. If he had any sense, he’d have had another identity waiting to be used: I know I did. I just didn’t get a chance to use mine.’
Hugh Harper said that was enough for the evening and they’d meet again in the morning. The guards took Rauter up to a secure room.
‘What do we make of that?’ Harper looked slightly deflated.
‘Not sure it was worth going to all that effort, to be honest, Hugh. I mean, jolly well done to Prince, of course, but what did Rauter tell us that we didn’t already know?’