‘I fear you are right.’
‘Surely you have other recourses, or by secret cypher telegram to Germany could have them made available to you. I know that M.I.5 has succeeded in clearing the country of active German agents but among the enormous number of refugees who settled in Britain before the war, and kept on coming in right up to the time of Dunkirk, there must be a number of Nazi sympathisers who are listed and could be made use of at a pinch. If Sabine is to be got to Eire she will need places to lie hidden in for a few days until the hunt slackens off, then a small boat and a crew that will ask no questions to run her across from some little fishing village in Wales. If you cannot manage such requirements, I’ve no doubt Berlin could provide them for you.’
Kasdar waved the suggestion away. ‘You are wrong, my friend, and I will tell you why. The Germans have three separate secret services. First that of the Abwehr the original Military Intelligence Branch, run by Admiral Canaris, Second, and now far bigger, that built up by Heydrich as the ears and eyes of the Nazi Party, which operates as a Department of the Gestapo, under Himmler. Third, a quite small organisation run as a private intelligence service by Herr Ribbentrop, whose sources are confined to diplomatic channels. Not only are all three independent, but the jealousy of their Chiefs is such that none of them would lift a finger to help an agent of one of the others. It is possible that the Gestapo have the sort of facilities here that you suggest, but I doubt if the Abwehr have, and I am quite certain that Ribbentrop’s private system has nothing of the kind—and, of course, it is with this last that Sabine and myself are associated.’
The statement confirmed what Gregory had supposed to be the situation; so he said: ‘In that case we are thrown back on our own resources. I am in no position to hide Sabine with anybody even for a night, much less find a crew to take her across the Irish Channel. Could you not secure the help of some of the Moldavians who are living in the country? It should be possible to buy a boat and perhaps you could get hold of some Moldavian seamen to man it?’
After considering for a moment, the Colonel replied, ‘As you must be aware, we Moldavians are not a seafaring people. Most of the ships we owned were cargo vessels trading in the Mediterranean. Since the war they have been chartered to the Axis. A few, of course, were on the oceans, and those that have not been sunk are under charter to the Allies; but there are never more than a handful of Moldavian sailors in British ports. The only ones actually resident here, as far as I know, are the crews of our tugs.’
‘Tugs!’ repeated Gregory quickly. ‘How do you come to have tugs here?’
‘We had four on order in British shipyards when the war broke out. Normally, when completed they would have been sent round by the Black Sea to us for work on the Danube. Two were actually about to sail and the British made a move to commandeer them. But we resisted it, and a compromise was reached by which it was agreed that we should supply crews for them and they should fly the Moldavian flag, but be chartered by the Ministry of Shipping for the duration. They are powerful vessels so suitable for coastal work, and are employed in bringing strings of coal barges down from Newcastle to London. One has been sunk but three are still in service.’
Gregory leaned forward with sudden excitement. ‘I believe this might be the solution to our problem. The essence of success is to get Sabine away quickly. Once the hunt is on police all over Britain will be holding up cars to check the people in them. That’s why I don’t like the idea of taking her right across England. We would probably have to make two bites at the cherry; and we’d certainly not be able to get her away to sea the same night. On the other hand, a car could run her down to the Kent or Essex coast before her escape had been discovered, and if one of your tugs could pick her up she would be pretty well in the clear.’
‘You speak of my tugs. But they are charted by the British Government.’
‘I know; but you say they are manned by Moldavian crews. Therefore the real points at issue are:—could you induce whoever in the Moldavian Embassy is responsible for these tugs to order the Captain of one of them to take her across to the Continent and, on receiving such an order, would he and his crew obey it?’
‘It is I who am responsible. Apart from a few gunboats on the Danube, Moldavia has no navy; so her Military Attachés include in their duties such very occasional naval matters as arise. Since the tugs were built to the order of my Government and not to that of a private company, it was decided that it was more suitable that I should arrange about their charter, rather than our Commercial Attaché. As for obeying, yes, I think so. They are simple seamen, and in a matter like this there is some compensation to be gained from Moldavia’s being a rather backward country. Her lower orders are patriotic, so willing to take risks for her, and they are still accustomed to accept without question orders from highly placed men of their own nationality, such as myself.’
‘All this sounds almost too good to be true.’
‘One moment, please.’ The Colonel raised his hand. ‘I was about to add that living in Britain for so long will certainly have made many of them pro-Ally. Some of them, too, have married English girls, and perhaps intend to make their homes here for good. So although they are by nature patriotic and well disciplined, some of them would obey only with reluctance. And there is always the chance that, rather than leave England, one of them would betray our intentions.’
‘I appreciate that; but there is also the other side of the picture. For over three years all of them have been cut off from their homeland. Some of them must be cursing the war which keeps them in compulsory exile and looks as if it will never end. I have no doubt that there are quite a number who would give anything for a chance to get back to their wives and families. Couldn’t you sound the Captains? Find out which of them is eager to get home. Then set him to sound the men of all the crews. As soon as he had reported to you, you could order a reshuffling of crews, so that all the pro-home birds are concentrated in one tug. Get the idea?’
‘I do; and it is a good one. But to do as you suggest would take some time.’
‘True; but there is no immediate urgency. I think I can drag out Sabine’s interrogation until early November.’
‘In that case, yes; I think I could arrange things. There remains, though, the problem of detaching the chosen tug from its normal service.’
‘That should not be difficult. At the appropriate time, either on her run up to Newcastle or down to London, somewhere between Clacton and the Nore, she would develop engine trouble and would have to put in to one of the small yacht harbours—either Brightlingsea or Burnham-on-Crouch. While her string of barges lay safe at anchor, her engineer would be tinkering with her engine, perhaps for two or three days, until he got the O.K. from you. Then that evening she would put to sea, without her barges, for a trial, pick up Sabine in the early hours a few miles along the coast and, of course, never come back.’
‘A brilliant conception,’ murmured the Colonel, stroking his moustache. ‘Yes, a brilliant conception. I really believe this might be done. But let us talk now of another matter. May I take it that in exchange for my help you are ready to give me the date and the objective of this great operation that is now being mounted in your Northern Ports?’
His question was a facer. Gregory had known that it must arise ultimately, but he had no intention of going so far so soon; so he temporised, by saying ‘Then you know about that?’
‘Naturally. There are Moldavians living in every city in Britain. They are not spies, but the more responsible of them regard it as their duty to keep their eyes open and to pass on to their Embassy anything of interest they may see. It would be childish to expect no one to notice the hundreds of ships that are being concentrated in the Clyde and the masses of troops that are almost bursting out of the transit camps that have been constructed in that area.’
Gregory smiled. ‘Yes, even the best security measures could not conceal from anyone in your position that a big show is impending. But I can tell you neit
her its D-Day nor its objective. You see, I am not on the Joint Planning Staff; I only work in the Map Room.’
Kasdar’s face suddenly hardened. ‘I trust you have not been trifling with me. There are big risks attached to getting Sabine out of this country, and I am not prepared to take them unless you can give me something really worth while.’
‘I hope to. Security inside the Cabinet Offices is bound to loosen up as D-Day approaches. As soon as I can get anything definite I will pass it on to you.’
‘That is not good enough. Even in sounding these tug Captains I shall run some risk of betrayal. If the matter is to be proceeded with at all such preliminaries should be got on with right away. But I will not risk so much as an eyelash unless you are prepared to give me here and now some evidence of your good faith.’
‘Very well. At least I am certain of this much. It is to be an Anglo-American operation and the Commander-in-Chief is to be the American, General Eisenhower. The Task Force Commanders will be Generals Patton and Mark Clark and the G.O.C. British troops General Sir Kenneth Anderson.’
‘Good. What you tell me is of great interest. We heard a rumour that this General Eisenhower had been appointed C-in-C; yet we could not believe it, because until recently he was only a Major General, and can have had little experience of war.’
Gregory shrugged. ‘None of the Americans has; but he was their chief Planner, and is General Marshall’s blue-eyed boy.’
‘That explains the matter,’ Kasdar nodded, and went on briskly. ‘Now tell me about the Order of Battle of this expeditionary force.’
‘I don’t know it,’ Gregory spread out his hands. ‘But I may be able to get it for you in a few days’ time.’
‘That, and the date of D-Day and the objective. All these I must have if to do as you wish is to be worth my while.’
‘I will do my best; and I have already given you something for nothing. It is up to you now to investigate the situation and, if possible, to arrange for one of the tugs to be available on the Essex coast early in November. I suggest that you come here again at the same hour on Saturday next. That is, the 31st; by then both of us should be in a position to say whether we are able or unable to carry out our sides of the deal.’
The Moldavian agreed and left soon afterwards. When he had gone Gregory mixed himself another very stiff whisky and soda. In one way the interview had terminated far better than he had thought at all likely. They had actually agreed on a possible means of getting Sabine out of the country, and without the dangers and delays incumbent on transporting her to Eire. But he had had to pass on some of the secret information that he had extracted from Sir Pellinore the previous night. He could not think that the Germans were going to derive any important benefit from learning the names of the principal Commanders of the expedition; but, all the same, that had been graded ‘Most Secret’, and the knowledge that, owing to him, it would shortly be known in Berlin made him gulp the whisky down more quickly.
How he was to keep the ball rolling on Saturday was a matter that he did not yet care to think about. It was clear now that Kasdar was not prepared to go through with the business unless he received his pound of flesh; and to give it to him without one drop of good red blood seemed practically impossible. It could be done only by positively split-second timing. That meant, Gregory knew, that during the final preparations for Sabine’s rescue he would be walking on eggshells; and he knew too that if he went through them he would deserve to be shot.
It was not until Thursday that he saw Sabine again. In accordance with their arrangement, she had used the pills he had left with her to keep herself in a state of low fever for the past five days, but was now reported well again. With him he took to the Tower some warmer clothes for her, which included a black turtle-neck sweater, black slacks and a black coat, and three bottles of port wine.
He unpacked the suitcase in which he had brought these items in front of Mrs. Sutton, gave the wine into her charge and said, ‘I have had to pay for this myself, but I’m hoping that it may help to loosen up our prisoner’s tongue. What I want you to do is to give her a bottle each evening after she has had her meal and let her drink as much as she likes. At the end of the week I mean to pay her some evening visits, and if she has been knocking back the port for an hour or two before I put in an appearance I may get something really worth while out of her.’
‘Very good, sir.’ Mrs. Sutton accepted his instructions and remarked: ‘I bet the Nazis would find a less expensive way to make her talk.’ Then she added with a laugh, ‘A drop of anything good is so hard to come by these days, it almost makes me wish I were in her shoes.’
Gregory laughed too, and, taking the clothes, went in to see Sabine. He told her nothing about his talk with Kasdar and only, to keep her spirits up, that although he had as yet not been able to formulate any definite plan for getting her out, he had various ideas on the subject and was determined to make the attempt when he had decided which offered the best prospect of success.
First thing next morning he went to the M.I.5 office and made his report, disclosing some more of the information that he had received from Sabine on his first visit, and adding that he felt almost certain now that Nichoŭlic had been her contact at the Moldavian Embassy.
‘You are doing very well,’ said Colonel ‘Himmler’ briskly. ‘Stick to it. Try to get us confirmation about Nichoŭlic; so that we can ask the F.O. to require his removal. I have a lot to do. You must excuse me now. I’ll be seeing you.’
As Gregory was on afternoon duty in the War Room, he went straight down to the Tower, and he spent the best part of two hours with Sabine. He told her that in order to prolong the interrogation it was necessary to break new ground, and suggested that although she had refused to tell him about her visits to Berchtesgaden when they were in Budapest, she should do so now.
At first she showed reluctance, but Gregory told her that her only chance of freedom lay in providing him with material for feeding M.I.5; so that no arrangements to bring her to trial would be made for at least another week and that, as it would be checked up, should she tell a lot of lies the interrogation would be called off and her trial brought forward. He added that, since she was convinced that Hitler would win the war, nothing she could say about him and his entourage was really going to cut very much ice.
Persuaded by these arguments she gave him some most intriguing data about Hitler’s private life and those of the people round him. By twelve o’clock they were through, so Gregory was in time to catch Colonel ‘Himmler’ in St. James’s Street before he went out to lunch.
He reported that Sabine had now definitely admitted Nichoŭlic to be her contact, upon which the Colonel beamed through his bi-focals and said, ‘Well done, you’ve been a great help to us. Now I can tell the Provost-Marshal’s people to go ahead and arrange about her trial. You’ll be wanted as a witness, of course.’
‘I wonder if it wouldn’t be worth while to postpone her trial for a bit,’ Gregory suggested tentatively. ‘It is nothing to do with me, but this morning I got her talking about the top Nazis. As Ribbentrop’s mistress she knew them all personally, you know. I found the low-down she was giving me fascinating, and I’m sure I could get a lot more out of her. Still, perhaps that sort of thing isn’t of much value?’
It was a critical moment. If his proposal were rejected he would have to fall back on Sabine’s taking more of the temperature raising pills he had given her as a means of postponing her trial and, far worse, he might find it difficult to pay more than another one or two visits to her on the excuse of tying up loose ends. However, he felt on fairly safe ground and almost at once the Colonel gave the sort of answer he had expected.
‘That kind of material is of no value to me, but it would be of great interest to the branch of the firm that operates abroad. I’ll have a word with them and one of their people will get in touch with you at the Cabinet Offices.’
Greatly relieved, Gregory walked across the Park to lunch in the baseme
nt mess at the end of the corridor in which the War Room lay, then went on duty. That evening one of the Royal Marine orderlies came in to say that there was an officer outside who wished to see him. Out in the corridor he found a small grey-haired Major who introduced himself and said in a naturally low voice, ‘I’ve come to talk to you about the prisoner in the Tower.’
As there was no waiting-room Gregory took him down a side passage and into one of the emergency bedrooms always kept in readiness for members of the War Cabinet—it happened to be Mr. Attlee’s. It was furnished simply with an iron bed, washstand, small table for use as a desk, scrambler telephone and two hard chairs. They sat on the bed talking for a few minutes then the Major moved to the table and took notes of Sabine’s disclosures. When they had finished, he said:
‘This stuff may come in very handy some time or other. Please get from her all you can; particularly about any of the top Generals she happens to know, but even the names and peculiarities of Hitler’s servants might prove useful. The Chief of my branch is rather against people coming to our office; so I’ll come to see you here again, if you don’t mind. What times suit you best?’
‘My duty hours vary,’ Gregory replied. ‘But I am supplying her with drink, as I find that she is much more forthcoming when she has had a few; and to take the best advantage of that I mean to arrange my shifts for some days now so that I can see her after dinner in the evening. That means I’ll be here all day, most days; but it would be best if you ring me up just to make certain I am here.’
‘All right. I’ll do that. There is no point in my coming to see you every day. I’ll give you a ring on Monday, and come in to collect all the dope you have managed to get by then.’
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