DEATH ON WINTER'S EVE

by Doug Dollard

  Chapter 63

  HIDE IN PLAIN SIGHT

  Despite the hour I was ushered immediately into Whitley’s office. Seeing the commander I immediately noted he appeared worn out. His shoulders slumped and his face was drawn in a tight mask of accumulated worry and concern. He was seated at his desk, the loyal Willie stretched out on the floor near his feet. I took a seat in one of the chairs opposite the desk. Willie raised his head suspiciously as I entered the room but made no other movement. Perhaps he’d gotten use to me.

  “You have discovered something?” Whitley asked, a thin strain of urgently apparent in his voice.

  “I’ve learned this much,” I began, careful not to inspire any false expectations. “All intelligence gleaned from Enigma must pass through MI6 before it’s disseminated to the relevant commanders in the field. Every tactical use of Enigma must be accompanied by a plausible cover story so the Germans never suspect their operational communications have been compromised. Five SOE agents have been assigned to this task. This is the bottleneck through which all decoded German operational orders must pass.”

  “You think one of these men is the source of the leak?”

  “I don’t know enough yet to say. They are certainly ideally placed, but the leak could easily come from anyone in the chain of custody.”

  “And you don’t believe the leaks originate at Bletchley?” Whitley asked, referring to the code breakers at Bletchley Park.

  “No, I don’t. The information gathered at Bletchley Park is only collated at the command level. All the code breakers live on site. It would be nearly impossible for any of them to be the source of the leak.” Whitley appeared despondent, as if he had expected my unique perspective would lead me directly to the source of the leak.

  “You must have some idea who we are seeking?” He countered irritably.

  “The person we seek is likely to be highly educated. Someone who no longer believes in western style democracy and likely hasn’t for some time. Someone whose sympathies were turned to a more egalitarian form of society early on in life. He is most likely British. He will not see his actions as a betrayal of his country but rather as loyalty to a higher principle. When he is discovered he will turn out to be the very last person anyone would suspect. Someone who is acting from a set of beliefs antithetical to those of his countrymen.”

  Whitley look across at me in utter disbelief.

  “You can’t be serious!” He exclaimed indignantly.

  “You forget I have the benefit of my own peculiar brand of hindsight. Commander.”

  “You know who it is then?”

  “No, but I know the profile of the person we are looking for. You would be wise to prepare to deal with the backlash once he has been identified. Your countrymen are not going to respond favorably when one of their own is exposed as having betrayed all they hold sacred.”

  Whitley pondered what I had told him for the next several minutes without speaking.

  “I know you feel this has all already happened and your only interest in it is to make things right for Lieutenant Wellington. You feel responsible for her. But I assure you there is much at stake here you may not appreciate.” Whitley rose from behind his desk and without the use of his cane managed to make his way around to where he could stand directly in front of me. “Of the fifty-eight German divisions on the Western front Enigma has enabled us to identify all but two. We know where they are deployed, their composition of tanks and heavy equipment, the number of fighting men, even the names of their officers down to the NCO level.” Standing over me he spoke deliberately, intending his words have their maximum impact.

  “We have no cover story for the Russian’s use of Enigma. The Germans will soon realize Enigma has been compromised and they will change their ciphers. When that happens thousands of Allied soldiers, sailors and airmen will loose their lives needlessly. You claim this never happened. But have you considered it may never have happened because we prevent it?”

  The commander’s point wasn’t without merit. It was also something about which I had already given considerable thought. I could see Whitley was studying me speculatively and it was clear he realized he had made his point.

  “Alright commander. I’ll do everything in my power to identify your mole. But have you considered the Russians have lost millions fighting the Germans,” I countered in my most non-confrontational tone. “Perhaps we could make Enigma decryptions available to them in a way that didn’t jeopardize the fact we have cracked the German code?” Whitley eased himself down on the corner of his desk and sighed.

  “We’ve tried that. MI6 set up an office in Zurich a year ago. We let it be known there was a network of spies feeding information into Zurich which in turn informed the Russians of German operational plans.”

  “And?” I asked pointedly.

  “And it did not work,” Whitley replied sourly. “The Russians didn’t trust the information generated from Zurich and instead continued to rely on the Enigma traffic they received from their source in England.”

  “But wasn’t it the same information?”

  “Not quite. We made slight alterations to accommodate the pretense it came from a credible source in Germany. It made no material difference in its value but the Russians didn’t trust it.”

  “So we still have the leak and the Russians still use the Enigma information at a tactical level?”

  “Exactly. And today, or tomorrow, or next week the Germans are going to figure out we’ve cracked their code.” Whitley was staring down at me as if he were expecting some revelation that would resolve his dilemma.

  “I don’t know who it is commander,” I said pointedly. Whitely continued to stare at me as if he were expecting to discern the truth in my expression. Finally he pushed himself back to his feet and returned to the relative comfort of this chair.

  “What can you tell me about Ellingham and the others?” I asked, changing the subject. Whitley leaned back in his chair and place the palm of his hand against his forehead.

  “Ellingham may very likely head MI6 one day. He is intelligent, insightful, charismatic and well respected both among his peers and among those who count at Whitehall. Churchill himself appointed Ellingham to his current position as liaison between Bletchley Park and Downing Street. He has proven himself to be adroit politically and immensely capable as a MI6 operative.”

  “And the others?”

  “They pale by comparison but Harold Liston is by far the most brilliant of the group. His intellect has brought him to his current position, but I doubt he will rise much higher as he is fatally introspective and completely unschooled in the nuanced interpersonal skills needed for higher position.” I had to admit to being impressed with the commander’s eidetic memory. His knowledge of the members of the group led me to believe there was more to his memorization of their biographies than he was presently willing to share.

  “Wilfred Carrington is neither brilliant nor personable but his family comes from a long line of British nobility and his father is a peer of the realm. Outside of Ellingham, George Harrington is the most personable of the group. He is smart though his intellect is not on par with Liston’s. He’s capable and hard working. His father is an industrialist who has made a fortune from the war. Unfortunately money is all he has for there is no noble blood in his lineage. His hard work will likely see him rise in the agency though he will never be in a position of senior leadership.

  Freddy Barton owes whatever success he enjoys to Ellingham’s patronage. Don’t misunderstand,” Whitley cautioned. “Freddy is quite capable though he completely lacks even a modicum of self-confidence. He relies completely on Ellingham for direction. His father is a member of parliament and of noble blood. Freddy will likely do well but he will forever be cast in Ellingham’s shadow.”

  “That’s it?” I asked when Whitley had finished.

  “Not quite. All five attended Cambridge though in different years. Ellingham is the eldest. While at Trinity he was a promin
ent member of the Apostles Society, an organization dedicated to intellectual discourse. All five were in fact, members of the Apostles.”

  “Is that meaningful?”

  “I do not know.” Whitley looked disconsolate. It was clear he was worn down physically and the mental and emotional strain on him had taken its toll.

  “What is your next step?” Whitley inquired.

  “I’m attending a meeting with the group tomorrow morning,” I answered casually.

  Whitely raised an eyebrow but did not comment. It was rare an outsider and most especially an American would be invited to attend such a closed and tightly knit group meeting. Riley must have made quite an impression on Ellingham.

  “Find this villain,” Whitley commanded resolutely. “If it isn’t one of these five then find out who it is. We’re running out of time.”

  “I’ll do my best commander,” I promised. But in truth I had little confidence I could uncover the culprit in time to stave off German suspicions their code had been compromised.

  I wished the commander good evening and headed back to my quarters at Camp Griffiss, wondering how I had managed to slip so easily into a time and place so foreign to my experience.

  Chapter 64

  THE CAMBRIDGE FIVE

  I arrived early the next morning at the Baker Street Headquarters of MI6, eager to learn more of the functioning of this curious group of SOE operatives. Ellingham greeted me warmly and ushered me into a small office at the end of the hallway on the fourth floor that served as a conference room. Inside there was a long table surrounded by tall, leather backed chairs. At one end of the table was a tea service on which sat a large pot of tea, a half dozen cups and a plate of biscuits or cookies as Americans would have it.

  All five members of the group were in attendance by the time I arrived. They seemed surprised by my presence but Ellingham quickly allied their fears by introducing me as his personal liaison to America’s Office of Strategic Services. With his endorsement the group accepted my presence albeit uneasily. The meeting got quickly down to the business of identifying significant changes in German troop deployment identified in Enigma decryptions. There had been no new developments overnight so the meeting moved on to crafting cover stories to protect the release of Enigma decrypts to field commanders.

  Despite the British propensity for indecision the process was not unlike that of the strategy meetings I had attended at the Central Intelligence Agency. As each member of the group had his opportunity to speak I took careful note, comparing my assessments with those Commander Whitley had proposed last evening.

  Most of them were as Whitley described with the single exception of Ellingham. I found the others not only admired and respected him but they also feared him. It was subtle but palpable. Whatever the reason I had the odd sensation Ellingham reveled in that most singular fact.

  It was then I decided to mirror Ellingham’s movements. I had no particular rational for such a decision, more a gut instinct than anything. I liked Ellingham, even admired him. But that didn’t deter me from suspecting he might be our mole.

  As the meeting broke up Ellingham invited me to have lunch with him the following afternoon at a local pub named the Dog and Pony. I accepted and we agreed to meet the following day at noon.

  I could sense the other members of the group felt a degree of envy for all the personal attention Ellingham had lavished upon me. This seemed to affect most especially Freddy Barton who could barely disguise his feelings of abandonment and insecurity. I almost felt sorry for him.

  Whitley cautioned me from moving too quickly on any of the members of the group as this sudden scrutiny might spook them into inactivity. But I disagreed. People who do bad things will do these things even when they suspect they are being observed. In Ellingham’s case his ego compelled him to walk on the edge of the precipice. And that was exactly what I was counting on.

  I had marked Ellingham’s car and I was parked across the street where I could keep his vehicle in sight. I had to wait until nearly eight PM before I caught sight of him exiting the building. When he pulled away I followed him at a distance, keeping him at the furthest point where I might loose sight of him.

  Ellingham made numerous random turns, even reversing his direction a few times. When he appeared satisfied no one was following him he struck out due north from the city, headed into a residential neighborhood of brownstones and walkups.

  We drove on for nearly an hour as I continued to hang back, not wanting to risk spooking him. Finally he pulled into the gated driveway of a large brownstone and disappeared behind the gates. I pulled up and parked two blocks away and got out to walk the rest of the way. Whatever Ellingham was up to he didn’t want company.

  All the while I was tracking Ellingham I had a strange feeling someone was following me. I was careful to check my rear view mirror every so often but I never caught sight of anyone suspicious. Most of my attention was on keeping Ellingham in sight so it was possible I wasn’t as careful as I might otherwise have been.

  When I reached the brownstone I took a quick look around to make certain no one was watching before climbing over the spiked metal fence. Jumping down on the other side of the fence I crashed through the tendrils of a hedge that surrounded the grounds. I got scratched up pretty good but was otherwise uninjured.

  The brownstone was completely dark or at least I couldn’t see any lights from outside. Rather than fumbling around in the dark trying to enter through the cellar or back door I headed straight for the front door. I figured that’s the way Ellingham would have entered and the most likely door to be unlocked.

  There were four cement steps leading up to a landing and I cleared them in a heartbeat. I tried the door and found it unlocked. I hadn’t figured out what I’d do when I confronted Ellingham. I wasn’t armed and if Ellingham was the mole and he was meeting with his Russian handlers I’d be at a severe disadvantage.

  Just inside the entryway on the right there was a small sitting room that I ducked into when I heard a loud noise like the sound of breaking glass. The house was completely dark inside and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. I waited there several minutes just listening for any sound that might indicate where Ellingham had gone but the house was deathly quiet.

  I was beginning to think I had been mistaken about which house I had seen Ellingham enter when I heard shouting and a single shot from a large caliber pistol toward the back of the house. I moved quickly down the hallway in the direction from which I had heard the gunshot, not thinking what I might do if I encountered the man with the gun.

  Just as I reached the end of the hallway the lights came on and another gunshot exploded in a room just off to my left. I pushed cautiously through the door to see Ellingham standing with his back to me. Stretched out on the floor in front of him lay the bodies of two men, both apparently quite dead.

  Ellingham must have heard me approach for he wheeled around, a smoking revolver gripped in his left hand. A look of surprise crossed his face.

  “Michael!” he said in a surprisingly friendly manner considering the situation. Ellingham must have flipped the light switch after he’d shot the two men lying on the floor. We were in what appeared to be another, larger sitting room with two couches, three tall backed chairs and a glowing gas fire. I recognized the two dead men. One was Major Chandler who lay face up near Ellingham’s feet, his distinctive red hair in disarray. The other was poor Freddy Barton who lay face down, his face toward Ellingham, his eyes open and sightless.

  “You shot them?” I asked, not knowing quite what to say.

  Ellingham looked back over his shoulder at the dead men and then returned his gaze to me.

  “No, I shot the big man after he killed poor Freddy.” So Chandler had killed Freddy Barton. But why? Ellingham could see the puzzled look on my face and that made him smile.

  “I think old boy, our large friend here thought Freddy was you. At least he shouted your name when he shot Freddy in the back. Not concl
usive evidence, but damning all the same.” I notice Ellingham had not lowered the pistol that he kept pointed directly at my chest.

  “Do you know him?” Ellingham asked.

  “Would you mind pointing that gun in another direction,” I insisted.

  “Sorry old boy, I don’t think I can do that. I suspect you’ve already figured out what’s going on here and I can’t allow you to tell others of your suspicions.”

  “You think I suspect you?” I said, grasping at anything that would diffuse the situation. Ellingham’s face was steeped in sarcasm.

  “It’s much to late for that Michael. You’ve been on a mole hunt since the day we were introduced.” I considered that for a moment and it dawned on me what had transpired here.

  “You were going to give me Freddy!” I said, surprised at my own revelation. Ellingham’s expression soured.

  “Sacrifices must be made,” he intoned reverentially.

  “Did he know?” I asked, curious to learn the extent of Ellingham’s perfidy.

  “Oh yes, Freddy knew I was providing Enigma decryptions to the Russians as did you Michael.”

  “I only suspected Bertie. I didn’t know for certain. I was hoping I was wrong.” Ellingham’s expression softened and a brief but genuine look of regret passed over his face.

  “I’m truly sorry about that old boy.” It was odd, but I actually believed him. “Freddy was to be sacrificed as the mole you were so insistently hunting. I knew you wouldn’t stop until you found him and killing you wouldn’t solve anything. So poor Freddy had to be the one. But I’m curious,” he continued, the pistol still trained on me. “Was Major Chandler also on a mole hunt, or was his interest solely in you?” I was surprised Ellingham knew about Chandler. But then Ellingham knew about most things.

  “You knew Chandler was after me?” I asked.

  “I knew he was interested in you. I didn’t know why. Perhaps you care to tell me?” I shrugged. The explanation was far beyond the scope of our current dilemma.