“Before we get to her punishment, I must first report to you on the Lebensborn Project. Lebensborn is a state program sponsored by the SS with the goal to increase the birthrate of ‘Aryan’ children by coupling German women with Nazi soldiers.” With a grim look on his face, he turned immediately to the conclusion on the last page of his report and announced: “Generals of the SS Supreme Command, I have to report that the Lebensborn Project is a catastrophic failure.” They sat dumbstruck at his blunt statement. It was highly unusual to hear criticism of a project that had originated with Hitler himself. They considered the professor a courageous fool, almost suicidal.
“In my conversation yesterday with the Führer, Himmler told him that Lebensborn was a disaster,” he continued, vehemently explaining that the children in Lebensborn were found to have an inferiority complex, lacking in motivation for combat duty. “This is now unacceptable to the Führer. He stated that by now we should have created legions of young Nazi warriors to compensate for the losses in Russia. The Fuhrer declared as nonsense the idea of blond hair and blue eyes as essential features of Aryan eugenics.” The professor paused, looking around the table at the generals rolling their eyes. Hitler himself failed the test of Aryan genetics. Nobody dared to speak.
Enraged, he concluded. “The Fuhrer charged me to restart Lebensborn on a different footing. The new name for the project is ‘Lebensborn II.’ I presented my proposal of introducing Circassian genetics, whose ancestors originate from the land of the earliest Europeans. Our excavations in caves and gravesites have shown that they believed in the symbolism of the swastika. The progenitor of all Circassians is in the Book of the Nart Sagas. When I informed the Fuhrer of the god-woman Satanaya, he became quite excited. At this point, the Fuhrer stopped me and showed his knowledge about the German world of occultism, in which he emphatically believes. He introduced the famous Maria Orsitsch, head of the All German Society for Metaphysics. I informed him that she had been my student at Gottingen University, where she studied Ethics of Philosophy. I told the Fuhrer that I would make every attempt to locate a direct descendant from Satanaya to start the new Lebensborn Project. He was ecstatic at this prospect and instructed me to initiate Lebensborn II immediately in collaboration with Orsitsch, with her academic perspective on the Aryan without blue eyes and flaxen hair.”
Danya sat quietly listening to Professor Habers’ report. His revelations dumbfounded her. But then it started to become clear how Habers was playing his Circassian card, making a dangerous attempt to save her from execution.
He paused, closing his portfolio and turning to Danya. She was frightened to the bone.
“This brings me to Danya Mandraskit, caught with illegal pamphlets in Holland. It took raw courage to go on the road and distribute this literature, against the laws of the Nazi Regime. In some way, she committed a heroic deed, defying our policies. She is well-aware that she misdirected her efforts against the Nazi rule in Holland by distributing pamphlets hostile to our policies. However, she is a direct descendant of Satanaya, queen-progenitor. She is ideally suited to be at the pinnacle of the New Lebensborn Project. Her offspring will fill our ranks in the military with brave troops, ready to fight to the death in the spirit of their god-woman. They will lead us to heroic deeds, essential to building the ‘Thousand Year Reich.’“
Danya was in shock. In exchange for her freedom, she would have to agree to become the progenitor of the modern Aryan fighting machine. Danya shuddered at the thought of what was to come, sleeping with SS and Gestapo soldiers. She must show her courage and resist the proposition of becoming the matriarch of a new race. She wanted to offer more to the world than just her Circassian beauty.
Tauber rose and looked at Habers.
“At this moment remand Danya Mandraskit to your guardianship to initiate the Lebensborn II project.” Habers led her towards the elevator. Downstairs, his Mercedes was waiting to drive Danya to her destination. She had no clue where she was heading. After four hours, Danya could still not believe she was not in restraints.
She turned to Habers: “Who are you?” She finally mustered the courage to ask while she stole a quick glance to check how he reacted to her question. With a smile, he kept his eyes fixated on the road.
“What I am going to tell you must stay between us,” he told her after a short pause. “Some time ago, researching populations in the Northern Caucasus, Himmler took note of my study of the Circassians. When asked whether they should be on the list for extermination, I was adamant that they could play a vital role in our destiny as a race.” As they crossed into Holland, he told Danya about her father’s whereabouts. At the time King Leopold III was deported to Germany, Danya’s father had been picked up by the Gestapo and put in jail. He noticed the anguished look on Danya’s face.
“The Adyghe Network is hard at work collaborating with the Belgian Resistance. When the Knock Team is together, it will attack the prison to set your father free. It may take a little time to prepare the team.” Danya felt a ray of hope that she would see her father again soon.
“You must swear that you will not talk to anyone about my membership in the Adyghan Intelligence Network. If you violate the pledge, I will shoot you.”
Chapter 15
Murder in London
Arie knew if he didn’t act now and murder the mole at the Queen’s mansion in London, the Germans would find out he was a double agent.
The big lights on the wheel fenders of the British Westland-Lysander aircraft were of no use. Turning on the headlights would make it too easy for the Germans, alerting them to the drop. All the pilot could do was watch for the infrared signal in the cockpit. When the message fell silent with a “ping,” the pilot knew he had entered the right triangulated entry point. He would be flying at five hundred feet, in complete darkness, except for a circle of candlelit paper bags in the middle of a remote pasture. Barely visible from the air, these missions were always perilous, and too often, the Germans were waiting in ambush, looking at the same burning candles.
The hatch in the aircraft opened, excreting two Dutch Underground agents with black parachutes. Descending in the dark moonless night gave them the eerie feeling of falling into a bottomless hole. When their parachutes opened, they wafted down, collapsing on the wet grass. Some of the aviators ended up in trees. Three smaller parachutes also followed them in the landing zone, delivering automatic guns, pistols, bazookas, and grenades.
Suddenly, out of the pitch black night, Gestapo with pistols drawn rushed the parachutists as they struggled to disentangle from their lines. As an aviator pulled his handgun, the Gestapo immediately gunned him down. They forced the other downed parachutist into a radio communication vehicle, seating him in front of a transmission console. Holding a pistol to his temple, the soldier radioed under duress to London: “Mission accomplished.” The intelligence analysts on the other end were immediately suspicious; the missing security code told the decoders at Bletchley Park in London that there was a problem. To test their suspicion, the British decided to send another aircraft the next morning delivering two new Dutch agents and more ammunition and food. Immediately after the drop, Section-N of the Dutch Intelligence sent another message to confirm the second drop. They needed to hear the security cipher: SCUFVER267 in the message confirming the parachutists’ safe arrival. The missing cipher compromised the network in Holland. Had the Germans captured the downed parachutists and forced them to transmit a fake message?
Arie attended the briefings that morning at the Lants-Commandatur (headquarters of the German military) in Le Hague. The officer in charge reported the killing of two downed agents and the capture of a stock of ammunition and food supplies. He confirmed that one of the captured agents had refused to cooperate, and the German guard shot him in the head while operating the radio console.
Arie took it as a warning to heighten his vigilance when communicating with London. As a double agent, Arie used the
S-phone, an exclusive issue to Special Operations agents like Arie working behind enemy lines. The S-phone was preset to a secure channel for coded conversations between staff officers based in London and agents in the field.
A daring character, Arie prided himself on outwitting the Gestapo. He installed his radio transmitter in the same building as the Gestapo Office was housed. He found a little cubbyhole in the attic of the old structure, with a nest of storks in the chimney. He made sure the Gestapo’s mobile detection unit was away on patrol, allowing him to transmit for a few minutes every night. Of course, he risked the Gestapo patrols changing their surveillance schedule from night to daytime, but he was willing to take the gamble.
Tonight, his message was brief and concise. He never failed to follow protocol, routinely including the secret cipher. When London agents decoded and read Arie’s note: “Dutch communication network compromised. Cease all transmission,” their mood turned somber.
Moreover, Colonel Kuypers, head of Section-N in London, found something peculiar with the message. “Why had Arie failed to send a copy of this message to Klaus van der Zandt, first secretary to Queen Wilhelmina?” In 1941, shortly after the invasion of Holland, she and her family had fled to London. Kuypers continued: “You know how the queen is adamant about being in the loop, even on the most sensitive intelligence information.” Kuypers paused, wrinkling his pockmarked face that resembled a cauliflower. “This must mean that Arie does not trust Klaus, without so stating in his message. We must interpret this to mean that Klaus is leaking information from the Queen’s mansion to the Germans in Holland. For some time, I have had my suspicions about him. I will direct Section-N to install a listening device at the Queen’s residence,” Kuypers told his staff.
Within two hours of installing the counterintelligence device, they received proof that Klaus was a traitor. N-Section set Klaus on a bogus operation called “Plan Holland,” consisting of details about plans by the Allied to help the resistance. Klaus dialed the telephone number of the top German Commandant, Seys-Inquart, the renowned butcher of Holland, and informed him of the deception, thereby activating the counterintelligence listening device. Upon whom would fall the task of murdering the traitor?
In London, English and Dutch intelligence officers called a joint meeting in the presence of Prince Bernhard, head of the Dutch Military Forces. The decision was swift: Klaus van der Zandt was a traitor, responsible for the death of 40 Dutch resistance workers. The Prince sentenced him summarily to die for his heinous crimes. He demanded that the Dutch Army Intelligence Unit kill Klaus following the ritual for the death penalty for treason. The Ancient Rules of the House of Orange required that Klaus die with a white carnation in his left lapel. The prince also insisted that a Dutchman perform the execution.
“I will make immediate contact with Willem van Lansfoort in Holland, our liaison with the resistance.” He telephoned Willem and briefed him on the mission.
“We have two options: an outright killing or a staged automobile accident. Given the urgency, I favor the first option,” van Lansfoort opined, singling out Arie as best suited for the task. The prince agreed.
Arie was informed of the decision the next morning while visiting van Lansfoort in Holland. Van Lansfoort said, “First, we must transfer you to England without the Germans learning about your absence.” Then an idea lit up his mind: “In 1938, you made a deal with the Germans to store their mini-submarine in the port of Scheveningen. Is that submarine still there and operational?” Arie recalled the caper. It would now come in handy if he could find a way to steal the mini-submarine from under their noses for about twenty-four hours.
“Do you think you could use this asset without being noticed?” van Lansfoort asked, smiling. “It would allow you to slip into England overnight and return the next day.”
Arie was always eager to play the high-stakes game. However, he needed a technician to prepare the Biber submarine. He knew just the man. Two years ago, Arie had convinced the local commander of the Armed Forces to employ Dieter De Vries to maintain and safeguard their submarine. Dieter, a close friend of Arie, had received specialized training in marine engineering and Arie had recruited him into the resistance. That was not a problem as the Germans had killed his brother during a recent parachute drop, so Dieter was ripe for revenge.
Arie brought Dieter up to date with the details of “Project Kill Klaus.” He needed the Biber in top shape by the next day. Still angry about the killing of his brother, Dieter did not agree to let Arie perform the execution; he was adamant about completing the mission himself.
“I must avenge my brother,” Dieter said. Arie noticed his left eye twitching nervously and thought Dieter might go berserk at a missed opportunity to be the executioner. He put his arm on his shoulder to soothe his raw emotions.
“You are a major partner in the plot by preparing the submarine and helping me steal the submersible. Prince Bernhard gave me the specific order to kill Klaus. I have my good reason to get Klaus.” Dieter shook his head and backed off.
Dieter met with Arie late Saturday afternoon. They counted on the Gestapo to be celebrating at the local tavern all weekend. The moonless night was ideal for crossing the North Sea without being seen. In an inflatable, they rowed to the entrance of the hangar where the submarine was anchored. Arie beamed with excitement at the sight of the submersible, painted black without markings, it was ideal for his top-secret trip across the channel. Dieter opened the hatch, making sure not to trip the alarm. He slid through the opening into the seat facing the operating system. He showed Arie the navigation controls. Arie had no problem following Dieter’s directions. Once Dieter had finished, Arie took his seat.
Arie floated on a cloud of pride. He could never have imagined stealing an experimental submarine, hidden in a Dutch port under German control. He was already thinking about how the officers’ party in England would react to his arrival.
As he turned the key, the entire control panel illuminated in green, red, and purple lights. Arie threw the throttle in reverse and submerged just enough to slip under the guardrail. Dieter had set his compass with the coordinates for Folkstone Harbor, England.
He listened carefully to the gentle engine droning, keeping his eyes on the blinking lights on the panel; all was going well. At 6’3” tall, Arie cleared the hatch ceiling by an inch.
Arie never hesitated to take on perilous tasks with exceptional courage. He had to ingratiate himself with the German military at all times, and he had become good at it. In his disguise as a double agent, he had no choice but to excel in his duty as Gestapo. Now he was on his way to England in the uniform of the Gestapo.
For ten hours, he had been navigating without incident, and he was getting excited about heading for the free world.
At the mid-point of his voyage, a rogue wave thrust Arie against the hatch handle and for a moment, he blacked out. Alone in the tiny capsule of the submarine, Arie felt overcome by claustrophobia. He experienced flashbacks of his life as a double agent in Holland, the roundups of Jews, beatings, pushing people into the open trucks in the cold of the night. The earsplitting screaming of mothers and children resonated.
Then, the disturbing question. “How will the Dutch people treat me when the war is over, and I’m called to account for the persecution of Jews?” he asked himself on his way to London. One incident left an indelible imprint upon Arie’s conscience. He shook his head in remorse and idly groped for a thread of redeeming value in the atrocious act.
I should never have pursued the little girl through the backyard during a raid, he thought as he relived the scene. The raid on the music hall was already over, and I noticed a ten-year-old girl escaping through a side door. “Come here little mousy!” I called, grabbing her by the scruff of her neck while she kicked and screamed. I hit her on the head with my weapon, and she fell limp. I dragged her by the collar and threw her into the lorry beside her parents.
/> Oh, the horror, as I reminisce about what I have done. I deserve punishment for my actions. Perhaps, after I kill Klaus, the Dutch will understand that I did it as a double agent. If I execute Klaus, I will save the lives of numerous resistance workers and stop this traitor from carrying out his perfidious work. Oh Lord, help me through this agony.
Approaching the coast of England, Arie pushed his thoughts away and began to feel exhilarated at the thought of entering the world of Winston Churchill. In London, only a few intelligence officers knew of Arie’s arrival, but they did not know in what class of submersibles he would arrive. They had never laid eyes on a Biber.
Arie navigated the mini just below the water’s surface. When he peered through his periscope, he expected to see a beacon in the light tower, sweeping the harbor. However, all was dark. At night, England was under complete blackout, so as not to give away targets to the German bombers.
Once he approached the harbor, he flashed a tiny orange light, sending a brief message using his unique code, “SCUFVER 267.” Daylight was breaking, and he remained submerged until he came within one hundred yards of the light tower. In one of the lower windows, he noticed someone flash a quick response code. A small tugboat appeared out of nowhere, hooking a heavy cable to the bow of the vessel. Arie felt a sudden lurch as the cable became taut. Three navy officers stood at attention to salute Arie, dressed in an angler’s outfit, which they found odd. They had no idea of Arie’s real mission in England. The Biber submarine captured their attention. The mystery submersible, invented by the German Navy, was in English territory. They must examine it while it was here.
An unmarked jeep waited to transport Arie to the British intelligence headquarters at Bletchley Park. Colonel Kuypers, head of N-Section (Intelligence in the Netherlands), was behind the wheel, and he acknowledged Arie by pointing to the seat next to him. Arie noticed his beak-like nose and bushy mustache. Without speaking, they coursed through the coastal landscape at high speed.
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