Traitors' Gate

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘The Magyar nobility is brave, open handed and casually kind to those who are dependent upon it, but it is also proud, cynical and immoral. They despised the Austrian aristocracy because in most cases Austrian family trees do not go back, by several hundred years, as far as theirs. They regard Hitler and his Nazi Gauleiters as the scum of the gutters. Yet, for their own ends, they received the Austrians as equals and treat these jumped-up Germans with most considerate politeness. As for their morals, those of cats are better. The tittle-tattle of their servants on that aspect of their lives is so consistent that it cannot be doubted. Within their own small circle husbands, wives and even unmarried girls take and exchange paramours with a freedom which would be considered utterly shameful did they occupy a less exalted station.

  ‘You will appreciate, therefore, that they are concerned only to maintain their privileged position. But naturally they also have a heavy bias towards any policy which, while protecting their present sources of wealth, might lead to their getting back the estates which they lost in 1920 by the creation of Poland, Czechoslovakia and a greatly enlarged Rumania.’

  Levianski took a long pull at his lager, then went on. ‘You will now expect me to speak of the middle-classes. Well, there are none. At least not as there are in other countries. The noble Magyars would not soil their hands with commerce, or allow even their remotest relatives to do so. That is, until 1920. After the revolution some of the younger ones who had become impoverished through it became motor-salesmen, travel agents and so on; also the general spread of education qualified a few thousand of the younger peasants to move into the towns and replace the Austrians who had previously acted as our petty officials, but neither group is sufficiently numerous to form a class. It was the void between lord and peasant which attracted my people to Hungary. That was many centuries ago, of course, but the Jews gradually established themselves here and by their industry made themselves indispensable.

  ‘Today in Pest there are three hundred thousand of us—nearly a third of the population of the capital. Many of our families have grown rich on the proceeds of doing the things that the aristocracy was too proud or too lazy to do; but we have served Hungary well. We are the doctors, the lawyers, the industrialists, the importers of the things that Hungary must have and the exporters of the things she has to sell. Without us the country would fall into a state of chaos overnight. The Magyar lords have always recognised that; therefore they have not only given us their protection through the centuries, but treated us generously. Whether they would be strong enough to continue to do so with Europe at peace and Hitler its overlord is a very different question.

  ‘We watch with awful fear what is happening in the lands where Hitler has only to give an order for it to be obeyed. Himmler is, if possible, even more demented in his racial theories than his master. From the Germanic part of Poland he deported a million Jews, and to fill the void he has been dragging from all parts of Europe people, many of whom cannot even speak German, just because they are of German blood. For them it means loss of homes, properties, friends and occupation; but these Nazis are too fanatical to care even for the welfare of their own race.

  ‘For my people, of course, matters are infinitely worse. They are despoiled of everything except the clothes in which they stand up. Last winter thousands of the women, children and old folk who were despatched to East Prussia, packed into cattle trucks, did not survive the journey. They were frozen stiff hours before they reached their destination.

  ‘In Austria things are no better. Within a week of the Anschluss, at the order of Heydrich, Karl Adolf Eichmann set up in Vienna his “Office for Jewish Emigration”. A very few, like Mr. Louis de Rothschild who ransomed himself by signing away his steel rolling-mills, were allowed to emigrate; 180,000 others were not so fortunate. Most of them are dead; the rest tortured skeletons in huge concentration camps, like Dachau and Mauthausen.

  ‘Eichmann’s “Office” already has a branch in Budapest. It has been spending enormous sums in stirring up anti-Jewish feeling here. As the Government would find it almost impossible to carry on its war industries without us, we are still protected. But if Hitler and Himmler were freed from their war commitments…’

  ‘You would not have a hope,’ Gregory cut in. ‘They would send in their Germans to take over your businesses; and it could only be a matter of time before you suffered the same terrible fate as the Jews in Germany, Poland and Austria. Now, what about the peasants?’

  ‘The Germans and the Russians are both hereditary enemies of the Hungarian people,’ Levianski replied, ‘but they dislike the Germans more because for so long they were bullied by the German-speaking Austrian petty officials and tax gatherers. In their case, though, there is a more important factor than race prejudice; it is religion. Roman Catholicism still has a firm hold on Hungarians both rich and poor. The country people are devout and their village priests are looked up to by them. They are told from the pulpits that Stalin is anti-Christ and that they must think of the war against the godless hordes of Russia as a crusade. Therefore, much as they dislike the Germans, they are fighting beside them, for the most part, willingly.’

  ‘To sum up, then,’ said Gregory, ‘the nobility will continue to support Germany because they fear that a Russian victory would lead to their losing everything, and the peasants will fight on in defence of their religious beliefs; but your people would rather see the Russians win, as the lesser evil.’

  Levianski pulled a face. ‘It would be only a lesser evil. Things were bad enough during the Bela Khun revolution. The Sovietisation of Hungary would mean the loss of our businesses and private fortunes. But at least our lives would be spared; and that is more than we could hope for under a Nazi controlled government.’

  ‘I think you are right that the Russians would plunder Jewish and Christian capitalists alike, if Hungary fought on to the end and Germany is defeated. But it would be a very different state of affairs if she decided to make a separate peace now. I feel sure that, pressed as they are at the moment, the Russians would be only too glad to guarantee Hungary’s independence, and that the other allies would underwrite that guarantee.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Levianski sighed. ‘If only that could be brought about how happy we should all be. But I see no prospect of it. Besides, if Hungary deserted her allies, it is quite on the cards that the Nazis would march in, and we would then be at the mercy of their Gestapo murder squads.’

  ‘I don’t think that would happen. Hitler has his hands full in Russia. He couldn’t spare the divisions to open up another front; and that is what he would have to do if he were opposed by the Hungarian army.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right.’

  ‘I’m sure I am; and think what such a move could lead to. If Hungary made a separate peace and withdrew her troops from the Russian front, that might be the beginning of the end. Hitler is in a relatively strong position now, but he must know that he will have to face up to America next year. He might very well decide that he could get a better peace by opening negotiations in 1942 than if he continues the struggle in ‘43 or ‘44. As I have told you, my one desire is to see peace restored before Europe becomes a shambles. But I am convinced that neither Britain nor Germany will make a first move; so the only hope is that one of the smaller countries will do so and set the ball rolling. It was for that I came to Hungary; to find out if there was any chance of her Government entering into a secret understanding should it be approached by the British.’

  ‘I am in no position to say,’ Levianski spread out his hands, ‘but I should think it most unlikely.’

  ‘For the Jews of Hungary it could mean not only life, but future security and prosperity,’ said Gregory earnestly. ‘The fact that they control Hungary’s industry and commerce must give them considerable power. Surely there are ways in which they could exert their influence on the Government to consider a separate peace?’

  Levianski shook his head. ‘You do not understand. The Jews have been well treated
here because for hundreds of years they have performed many useful services. But never, never, have they sought to interfere in politics. To have done so would have been to invite an end to the tolerance with which they are regarded. It is true that we have come to think of ourselves as Hungarians, and that financially we run the country. But the fact remains that the Hungarians still look on us only as guests here. And the guest in a man’s house does not presume to tell him how to run it.’

  They talked on for another half-hour; but it was already clear to Gregory that the Jews of Pest were unlikely to contribute anything worth while towards the downfall of Hitler. Despite their numbers, and immense financial resources, the fatalism which was tied like a millstone round the neck of their race weighed them down so heavily that they were incapable of standing up in defence of their rights as human beings; or even of using such power as they had in an organised attempt to protect themselves from future massacre. The best that could be hoped from them was that in devious ways they would hamper the Hungarian war effort and, should a movement for an independent peace arise, give it their backing.

  Nevertheless, Leon Levianski showed himself personally to be a courageous man; for he said to Gregory before they parted: ‘These endeavours of yours to find a way to bring about peace are most praiseworthy; the more so as making them may easily bring you into danger. I am sure you would not willingly involve me in trouble with the police. But, if they get after you and you can evade them for a few hours, come to my apartment over the shop. I could hide you there for a time, until you could make a plan for getting safely out of the country.’

  Gregory thanked him for his generous offer. They then shook hands firmly and went their separate ways through the August dusk. As Gregory walked back to the Vadászkürt he decided rather glumly that there now seemed little hope of his being able to take a favourable report back to London. His talk with Levianski had reinforced his own opinion formed that morning, that the Hungarian people were as yet by no means war-weary, and also revealed the fact that even if they had been it would not have made much difference, as the issue of Hungary’s continuing in the war lay entirely with the aristocracy. Naturally, he intended to see and sound Sir Pellinore’s friends, but since the governing classes were not subject to pressure from the masses it seemed unlikely that they would be willing to abandon the pro-Nazi policy which they had evidently decided offered the best prospect of preserving their wealth and estates. And during the past fortnight the Russian situation, worry over which had been the origin of his mission, had been going from bad to worse.

  He could only console himself a little with the thought that, anyhow, a fortnight’s holiday in Budapest with good food and good cheer to be had for the asking would be a most pleasant change after the dreariness of London. As he entered the hall of the hotel, he was thinking that for dinner he would order that famous Hungarian dish, chicken stewed with rice and red peppers. He was not expecting any letters so would have walked straight through had not one of the porters called to him from behind the desk, ‘Excuse me, sir!’

  When he crossed to the desk the man handed him back his passport and with it a cheap looking envelope addressed to M. le Commandant Tavenier. Tearing the envelope open, he gave a swift glance at the single sheet of paper that it contained. It was a typed note from the French Consul General to the effect that information having been received from the police of M. le Commandant Tavenier’s arrival in Budapest, it was requested that within twenty-four hours he would attend at 17. Fö Utca in order that his stay in the Hungarian capital might be regularised.

  This was something for which Gregory had not bargained. No doubt it was only a routine matter; but all the same he had an uneasy feeling that having to make his number with the Vichy authorities might, sooner or later, land him in just the sort of tricky situation he was very anxious to avoid.

  6

  A Sinister Figure

  On the following morning Gregory took a cab across the river to 17. Fö Utca and handed the porter at the door the summons he had received. The porter was a Hungarian and after a glance at the letter announced its bearer in bad French over a house telephone to some invisible person. He then showed Gregory into a small sunless room. It was furnished with the sparse economy typical of French officialdom, and occupied only by a dark-haired middle-aged woman. With a cigarette dangling from her lower lip she was thumbing through some dog-eared papers on the narrow desk before her. As he came into the room she gestured towards a wooden bench against one wall, then took no further notice of him.

  After sitting there for ten minutes his patience began to wear thin, and he was just about to demand that she did something about him, when a door behind her opened and over her head a tall man gave him a swift scrutiny.

  Returning the glance, Gregory was far from favourably impressed by the man’s appearance. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a stiff white collar, out of which arose a scrawny neck, surmounted by a hollow-cheeked face, a long narrow nose, eyes with liverish pouches beneath them and an almost bald head, that together gave him some resemblance to a vulture. With a slight inclination of his bony skull, this sinister looking individual said:

  ‘Monsieur le Commandant, my name is Cochefert. I regret to have had to trouble you to come here, but there are just a few formalities.… Please to come in.’

  Gregory followed him into a somewhat larger but equally bleak room. Monsieur Cochefert gave him a hard chair and sat down in another behind a bare table piled high with bundles of documents. Drawing a printed form towards him and picking up an old fashioned steel-nibbed pen, he asked:

  ‘May I have the object of your visit to Budapest?’

  Had Gregory been less experienced in such matters he would have been tempted to reply, ‘We are not on French soil, so you have no authority here. My business has nothing to do with you, and you can go to the devil.’ But he was much too old a hand needlessly to antagonise any official; so, with pleasant memories of the charming and helpful Diana, he said quite amiably:

  ‘I own a truffle farm in Périgord and I have come here to investigate the possibility of supplying Hungarian foie-gras makers with truffles after the war.’

  ‘Indeed!’ Cochefert raised eyebrows having so few hairs in them that they were only just perceptible. ‘That sounds a good idea. The paté made here is excellent, but could be much improved by the introduction of truffles.’ As he made a note on the form, Gregory saw that it already had on it Tavenier’s home address and other particulars; so the Hungarian police must have given the French Consulate a sight of his passport. To give substance to his cover story he said:

  ‘As a matter of fact, even if I had not had the note asking me to call here I should have done so to ask if I could be supplied with a list of the names and addresses of the principal foie-gras manufacturers.’

  ‘Strictly speaking, that is a matter for our Commercial Attaché at the Embassy,’ the Frenchman replied, ‘but I will telephone him and ask for a list to be sent to you.’

  Gregory made a little bow. ‘Monsieur is most kind.’

  ‘It is a pleasure. May I ask how long you intend to stay in Budapest?’

  ‘For about a fortnight.’

  ‘Good. I see that you obtained your visa for Hungary in Switzerland; so I take it you broke your journey there?’

  ‘I have been living there for the past three months. Fortunately I am fairly well off and investments that I have there enable me to do so in reasonable comfort. I find it much more congenial than France, now that our poor country has fallen into such a sad state.’

  ‘That is very understandable. I, too, am glad to escape the annoyances and privations suffered by everyone in France these days, and I hope to retain my post here until the end of the war. Talking of the war, Monsieur le Commandant, at your age you must have been with your regiment in 1939. I would be interested to hear how you fared?’

  ‘My battalion formed part of General Blanchard’s Army of the North,’ replied Gregory promptl
y. ‘As you will know, it was trapped with the British in Belgium and the greater part of it was killed or captured. But several thousand troops of General de la Laurencie’s IIIrd Corps were taken off from Dunkirk, and I was lucky enough to be among them.’

  ‘I see, and you opted to return to France?’

  Gregory shook his head. ‘No; I was one of those who favoured fighting on. Later, like many others, I realised the futility of doing so. Most of them are still stuck in England, but I had the good fortune to get away. I was posted as an Interpreter to one of the Commando units that took part in the St. Nazaire raid last March. Soon after I got ashore I took advantage of the smoke and confusion to slip away and look for a good hiding place. I went to earth in a grain warehouse on the docks and I had brought sufficient iron rations in my haversack to last me several days. When the excitement had died down I took a chance with a dock-foreman. He brought me a suit of civilian clothes and I had enough francs for my railway fare; so four days after the raid I was back at Razac—the village in Périgord where I own the château.’

  Cochefert nodded his vulture-like head, and sighed. ‘Ah, Monsieur le Commandant, this war is not like other wars. It has set brother against brother; and often left gallant officers such as yourself no alternative but to adopt such means as you describe to save their honour—and the honour of France.’

  ‘Yes; the honour of France,’ Gregory repeated piously.