The Swiss Spy

by Alex Gerlis

  It was ten o’clock that evening when Porter and Edgar went up to the office on the top floor. Porter pulled back the blackout blinds and turned off his desk lamp, allowing the light from the full moon to fill the room. For a while they sat in silence, picking at the plate of stale sandwiches on the desk between them.

  ‘And what happens now?’

  ‘Number Ten will be informed first thing in the morning,’ said Porter. ‘I’m told the Prime Minister and Eden discussed the matter this morning once they knew the directive had arrived. They agreed that if this meeting concluded the directive is genuine we’d not waste any time. We’d get a copy of it over to Moscow as soon as possible and Cripps himself will take it to the Kremlin. So, well done Edgar – you’ve done an excellent job. The Soviets can hardly ignore Directive 21 now, can they? It corroborates the copy Hunter showed Viktor.’

  The two men left the office together and walked as far as Pall Mall.

  ‘You look exhausted Edgar.’

  ‘I’ve booked two weeks leave sir.’

  ‘Splendid. I expect your family will be pleased to see you. Heading down to Dorset are you?’

  Edgar carried on walking in silence, apparently oblivious to what Porter had been saying. They had now reached Waterloo Place, from where each would be going in different directions.

  ‘Probably not sir: as far as my family are concerned, I’m in the Far East: it’s easier that way. I shall probably sleep for a week then go walking on my own in Scotland.’

  Porter slapped Edgar on the back. ‘Understood: Five have an interesting case on at the moment and have been asking for your help, but first have a good rest. Remember, I don’t want to see you for a fortnight, that’s an order.’

  ***

  Edgar had gone straight to his small apartment in a mansion block behind Victoria Street and slept most of the next day and a good deal of the day after that. By the Thursday, he felt rested and even slightly bored. He visited the dentist, had his hair cut and began to suspect that two weeks off may be a week too long. He decided to wait until after the weekend before deciding whether to go to Scotland, stay in London or even go back to work. The decision was made for him by a ring on his doorbell early on the Monday morning. It was a driver he recognised from the offices in St James.

  Very sorry to bother you sir: Mr Porter would like to see you sir. Now sir, if you don’t mind coming with me. There’s a car waiting outside sir.

  Christopher Porter was pacing up and down his office, managing to look both angry and embarrassed. He told Edgar to shut the door and sit down.

  ‘I thought I was under orders not to see you for a fortnight?’

  ‘You were Edgar, but those were my orders and I consider I’m allowed to break them. I’m not going to beat about the bush: there’s been a change of heart. It’s all Winston’s fault – and the bloody Foreign Office. Wouldn’t be surprised if Five haven’t tried to queer our pitch too.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m following you sir.’

  ‘Let me lay the cards on the table then. As you know, we agreed the copy of the Operation Barbarossa directive Hunter brought back from Berlin is genuine. It was sent in code to Moscow and Stafford Cripps took it to the Kremlin and handed it to Molotov personally on Thursday. Cripps said that Molotov appeared to be angry, but he couldn’t tell whether he was angry with him or the Germans, or more likely it was just his usual demeanour. Then last night I was summoned to Downing Street. Apparently they’ve been having second thoughts.’

  ‘Second thoughts about what?’

  ‘About what we should be telling the Soviets after all. Their thinking – and one has to acknowledge it does have a certain logic to it – is that the whole business could rebound on us. As things stand at the moment, Hitler’s priority is still to invade Great Britain, even though we seem to be doing a rather decent job of defending ourselves. If this Operation Barbarossa turns out to be true, it’ll take an enormous pressure off us. Hitler will be diluting his forces by fighting on two fronts and it makes the chances of even an attempted German invasion of these shores – let alone a successful one – very remote indeed. I can hear the tinkle of teacups approaching Edgar; shall we pause for a moment?’

  Five minutes later, fortified by surprisingly strong cups of tea, Porter resumed. ‘If the Soviets finally choose to believe the Barbarossa Directive and other intelligence, and accept the Germans do have hostile intentions towards them, they’ll stop trusting the Germans, shore up their defences and reinforce the border. That would make a German invasion of the Soviet Union significantly less likely. The question that Number Ten have been asking themselves is this: would such an outcome be in our best interests?’

  Edgar leant back in his chair and removed a cigarette from his silver case. He was halfway through smoking it when he replied. ‘So you’re saying there’s now a feeling it’s actually in our interests for Germany and the Soviet Union to go to war?’

  ‘Absolutely: if they go to war with each other then the chances of an invasion of Britain significantly diminish and at the same time Germany risks a dangerous war in the east that they could well lose.’

  ‘So when you say that there’s been a change of heart…’

  ‘What I mean by that is they now want us to play down the fact Germany has plans to invade the Soviet Union. They think we should switch from doing the decent thing and telling the Soviets about the German plans to actually misleading them, telling them quite the opposite.’

  ‘Bit bloody late for that isn’t it, for Christ’s sake! I’m sorry sir, but it’s been one of the intelligence coups of the war thus far to get hold of that directive and make sure the Soviets see it, and now you’re saying it’s all been a bloody waste of time. Jesus!’

  ‘Don’t shout Edgar, please. Remember I’m only the messenger. I…’

  ‘… And you said something about them now wanting “us” to play down reports of German intentions and even mislead them. How on earth are we going to do that?’

  ‘I’m afraid it means we now need to provide the Soviets with another report courtesy of your man Hunter, one which reflects serious German concerns about Operation Barbarossa and talks of its postponement at least, possibly even its cancellation. I have to say it’s not entirely unfeasible: you yourself said Hugo’s General admitted there were serious concerns in the army high command about invading the Soviet Union. This report would simply reflect those.’

  ‘And how do “we” get hold of such a document?’

  ‘Please don’t be so sarcastic. Naval Intelligence are apparently rather good at this kind of thing. This morning I’ve asked our people to talk to their people and see what they can come up with. I’ve told them I want it to be ready by the end of the week.’

  ‘And how do we then get it to the Russians?’

  Porter heaped another spoonful of sugar into his tea, sipped it then stood up and walked over to the window, looking out of it as he spoke.

  ‘You said that Dona Maria do Rosario has to leave Berlin on 24th March, which is a week on Monday – correct? This report needs to be taken to Lisbon, where Telmo is to get it into the diplomatic bag to Berlin. In her final act of service for us in Berlin, Dona Maria will pass the report on to Hugo. Hunter can then go back to Berlin to collect it so he can let the Soviets see it when he returns to Switzerland – as before. I grant you it’s a complicated route by which to get it to the Soviets, but hopefully it’s one they regard as plausible.’

  ‘By the sounds of it Porter, the Hon Anthony Davis is about to return to Lisbon.’

  ‘Correct, Edgar: and thereafter to Switzerland.’

  ***

  Late on the afternoon of Sunday 16th March, Edgar was back in Christopher Porter’s office. Edgar noticed Porter was looking uncharacteristically confident. He had a broad grin on his face. On the desk between them was a black, leather-bound book, with an ornate cross on the padded front cover.

  ‘Contemplating the priesthood are you sir?’

  ‘Now
, now Edgar. You may remember that when we met last Monday I said we’d need to concoct a report purporting to show the Germans were now having second thoughts about invading the Soviet Union?’

  Edgar nodded. ‘And you want this report to fall into Soviet hands?’

  Porter rubbed his hands and tenderly picked up the leather-bound book. He passed it over to Edgar. The words ‘A Bíblia Sagrada’ were etched onto the cover in gold leaf. Edgar gently picked it up and turned it round in his hands.

  ‘Careful, Edgar. The team that put this together want us to know how much trouble they went to to get hold of a bible in Portuguese. They’ve done a pretty impressive job though. Here, pass it to me.’ Porter took the bible and opened it at the inside back cover. The thick paper was loose and Porter carefully peeled it away to reveal a gap, folded into which was a document that he carefully removed and opened: three pages on brown paper, typed in German with some scrawled handwritten notes.

  ‘This is the Rostock Report: it’s a note on a meeting supposedly held a couple of weeks ago in Rostock, on the 3rd and 4th March. If you look here, it lists the various participants…’ Porter turned the page. ‘And on this page it describes the purpose of the meeting: “To review plans for proposed campaign against the Soviet Union (Operation Barbarossa).” The next section is essentially a summary of what was in Directive Number 21.’

  Porter was checking the document against a typed sheet in English. ‘It makes the case for the invasion of the Soviet Union and repeats pretty much what was in Directive 21. Then we have a rather clever link from the Hitler directive to the fake report. We already know that at the end of the first one, Hitler said “I await submission of the plans of Commanders-in-Chief on the basis of this directive. The preparations made by all branches of the armed forces, together with timetables, are to be reported to me through the High Command of the Armed Forces.” What follows is in effect the Commanders-in-Chief doing just that.’

  Again Porter was consulting his typed sheet, the English translation. ‘There’s a rather long section detailing the submissions of all the different services, I don’t propose to go into detail. But then there’s a paragraph concluding thus: “It is the unanimous view of the OKW, OKH, OKL, OKM” – those being the High Commands of the Armed Forces, the Army, the Air Force and the Navy – “that for the reasons summarised below, Operation Barbarossa should be postponed until the spring of 1942 at the earliest.” It then goes on to give those reasons: are you happy for me to read them out to you?’

  Edgar nodded. He was leaning back in his chair, his eyes half shut as if to fully absorb what was being read to him.

  ‘“Number One – we are of the opinion that our intelligence services may have seriously underestimated both the size and the strength of the Soviet forces. The ability of Stalin to motivate the Red Army is significant.

  ‘“Number Two – we consider that our own planners may have overestimated our ability to supply our forces adequately if the advance through Soviet territory is as rapid as it will need to be. There is a serious danger that our forces could be dangerously exposed by shortages of ammunition, fuel and food.

  ‘“Number Three – Operation Barbarossa depends on the co-operation of Finnish and Romanian forces. We are of the opinion this co-operation cannot be taken for granted and could leave the northern and southern sections of our front vulnerable.

  ‘“Number Four – the Russian winter presents a very severe risk to our forces. To achieve our objective of capturing Moscow before the onset of the winter, we would recommend that Operation Barbarossa is launched by early May. At present, factors such as the Yugoslavia campaign mean that this is highly unlikely. The risk of maintaining an offensive during the winter is unacceptable.

  ‘“Number Five – Great Britain is proving to be far more resolute that we had expected. We had been of the opinion either they would have surrendered by now or would have been weakened to the extent that an invasion could be launched. That is not the case and therefore we have to take into account the fact that we would be fighting on two fronts.”

  ‘There’s a bit more about future meetings and such like, but that’s the gist of it. What do you think?’

  Edgar said nothing but asked to look at the report. As he read through it he nodded approvingly, once or twice allowing a knowing smile to cross his face.

  ‘It’s good enough to make the Soviets pause at least. Depends on what mood Stalin is in: that line about his ability to motivate the Red Army is a clever touch – does no harm to appeal to the man’s ego. My feeling is that at the very least it’ll confuse the Soviets.’

  ‘And at the very best?’

  Edgar glanced again at the report and turned it round in his hands, as if checking its weight. ‘At the very best, they’ll believe it: it’s good.’

  ‘Provided we can make sure they see the damn thing,’ said Porter. ‘The plan is we seal the report in the bible – I’ve even been supplied with special glue for that purpose – and you take it to Lisbon: you have a seat on tomorrow’s flight from Bristol. Telmo will have to get the bible in the diplomatic bag to Dona Maria and she’ll pass it on to Hugo. All being well, that’ll happen on Thursday or Friday. Meanwhile, Basil Remington-Barber has been told to make sure we get Hunter out to Berlin for a week on Monday, where he’ll collect the report and bring it back to Zürich. Naturally we’re counting on him showing the report to Viktor first.’

  Edgar nodded approvingly. Porter picked up some other papers on the desk.

  ‘These are for Sandy to show to Telmo. They’re the carrot we’re dangling in front of him and Dona Maria. This photograph here…’ he handed over a picture of a pretty thatched cottage, with a broad expanse of wisteria across its front. ‘This is the place we can tell Telmo we’ve rented for him and Dona Maria to live in once they get here. And this is a statement from Barclays Bank in the Strand confirming that accounts have been opened in each of their names to the tune of five hundred pounds each. Then there are various other bits and pieces, all amounting to what we hope is a demonstration of our positive intent towards them.’

  ***

  Chapter 22: Portugal, Switzerland & Berlin, March 1941

  ‘And what if Telmo refuses? He’s so nervous at the moment, he’s hardly communicating with me at the moment. To persuade him to send this on to Berlin is going to be extremly difficult, Edgar.’

  It was late in the afternoon on Monday 17th March and Sandy Morgan was far from his convivial self. In front of him was the black, leather-bound bible.

  ‘Tell him it’s an order.’

  ‘Yes, yes – I understand that Edgar: you don’t need to keep repeating it. All I can say is we’re pushing our luck. Remember, he’s under no obligation to obey our orders.’

  ‘Look, Sandy, you have to make him realise this is in his best interests. Show him the picture of the cottage the Service has sorted out for him and show him the bank statements and all the rest of it. In short, promise him the earth, anything to make sure he sends the bible over to Dona Maria and gets her to hand it over to Hugo. If he says he wants to play cricket for England at Lord’s, tell him it’s no problem. If he wants tea with the King and Queen at Buckingham bloody Palace, ask him how many sugars he takes. Promise him the minute Dona Maria arrives back in Lisbon, you’ll spirit both of them into a safe house – tell him that Sandy, he needs to hear it.’

  ‘And what if he’s still difficult?’

  ‘Tell him that unless he co-operates you’ll go straight to the Rua Victor Cordon and tell the PVDE all about him and Dona Maria. And make sure he knows we mean it.’

  ***

  On the Wednesday morning the telephone rang twice in the space of five minutes in the apartment Henry shared with his mother just off Quai du Mont Blanc. On the first occasion his mother answered and after a minute said ‘pas de problème’ in a somewhat resentful manner, as if her being disturbed was indeed a problem. Wrong number.

  When the phone rang a few minutes later, Henry answe
red. A lady spoke very quickly in French.

  ‘Monsieur Hesse, this is Madame Ladnier at Credit Suisse. I need to see you urgently here at the bank: two o’clock this afternoon. Now, please respond to this call as if I have called the wrong number again. Two o’clock.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ replied Henry, aware he was sounding rather aggressive. ‘You have the wrong number. Please don’t disturb us again.’

  At two o’clock he was ushered from the reception in the Quai des Bergues branch of Credit Suisse by Madame Ladnier, taken through a warren of corridors at the back of the bank and up a staircase to the first floor. She unlocked the door to a small office then opened an interconnecting door. Lounging on a leather sofa on the other side of the room was Basil Remington-Barber.

  ‘When you’ve finished, ring me on this telephone. I’m on extension 18,’ said Madame Ladnier.

  ‘Henry, Henry – how nice to see you. Do come in, sit down. Sorry I can’t offer you a drink but it seems Swiss banks aren’t very good on that score. Apologies, too, for all the subterfuge: I needed to contact you urgently and had to rather prevail upon Madame Ladnier to make the calls. All’s well that ends well, eh?’

  Henry sat down on a more formal chair opposite Remington-Barber.

  ‘Look, Henry – little bit awkward this: I know we promised you a nice long rest but something urgent has cropped up.’ Remington-Barber stood up and paced around the room, at one stage slapping Henry jovially on the shoulders.

  ‘Rather annoying really, but I’m afraid we need to send you back to Berlin somewhat sooner than we’d envisaged. We thought there was an outside chance of that but we didn’t imagine it’d be quite so soon.’