The Game of Treachery

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘A terrible year. If there is anything I can do to help …’

  ‘Yes. That is why I am here. As I said, I need money.’

  ‘Of course, mademoiselle. How much money?’

  ‘I need ten thousand francs to begin with.’

  ‘You wish it placed in your bank account?’

  ‘I cannot touch my bank account, Henri. The Germans are certainly keeping an eye on it, and they would know I have been in Paris. It must be in cash.’

  ‘I will arrange it. Will tomorrow be soon enough?’

  ‘Tomorrow will be fine. I will then need another ten thousand, perhaps in a month’s time, perhaps in a fortnight. I will let you know. These drawings will continue for the foreseeable future.’

  Brissard scratched his head. ‘It will be difficult.’

  ‘You said the business is doing well.’

  ‘It is. But such amounts will have to be accounted for.’

  ‘Are you not the manager?’

  ‘I am the Paris manager, mademoiselle. The director is Monsieur Bouterre. I can manage to lose ten thousand francs. But ten thousand francs a month, or a fortnight, well, questions will be asked. Eventually.’

  ‘Isn’t Bouterre trustworthy?’

  ‘His appointment had to be approved by the local commander, a Colonel Hoeppner. I do not know what passed between Monsieur Bouterre and Colonel Hoeppner, what pressures Colonel Hoeppner may be able to bring to bear.’

  ‘I see.’ Liane wished she had been more interested in her father’s business when she had had the opportunity. ‘How often are the books audited?’

  ‘Every six months.’

  ‘And when last was it done?’

  ‘Actually, only a few weeks ago. It was done when your parents were sent away and Bouterre took over. That was in October. Then it was done again in April.’

  ‘So it will not be done again until October. That is four months away.’

  ‘But it will be done. And then I will be sacked, if I am not imprisoned for embezzlement.’

  Liane squeezed his hand. ‘By then I will have sorted it out. I give you my word. Now you make the first withdrawal, and I will see you tomorrow.’

  *

  The man leaned on the bar counter. ‘Laurent sent me.’

  Liane drew beer. ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘He said it is for France.’

  Liane looked over the bar. It was half past five, about the slackest part of the day; there were only two customers, drinking at a table in the corner, and they were regulars. ‘Your name?’

  ‘Andre Voix.’

  ‘And you are prepared to work for France?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘To risk all for France?’

  ‘I am prepared to risk all for you, Mademoiselle Liane.’

  ‘My name is Sandrine Bouchard. Remember this. Do you have special skills?’

  ‘I work for the post office. I repair telephone lines.’

  ‘I think that may be very valuable, in time. What I wish you to do first, Andre, is meet the Brussels train on Monday. Two of your cousins will be on it, coming to Paris to look for work. They do not speak French, but I will give you their descriptions.’

  ‘They will have papers?’

  ‘I am told so. In any event, Laurent will have fresh papers waiting for them here.’

  ‘I am to take them to Laurent?’

  ‘No. You are to take them to Madame Constance.’ Andre Voix rolled his eyes. ‘She will be expecting you,’ Liane said. ‘If any questions are asked before they get into the house, you are taking them there to seek work as gardeners. Once they are inside, you have no more interest in them. You merely go back to work. But come into the bar once a week and see me. Can you do these things for me?’

  ‘I can do anything for you, mademoiselle.’

  Liane squeezed his hand. ‘That makes me very happy.’

  *

  ‘Pound,’ said the brigadier.

  ‘Pound Two,’ Rachel acknowledged.

  ‘Put James on.’

  Rachel held up the phone, mouthing, ‘The boss.’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘James, at dawn this morning the German army crossed the Russian frontier.’

  ‘My God! But that is tremendous news!’

  ‘There are only sketchy reports at the moment, but it does appear as though the invasion is on a massive scale, and that it has achieved total surprise. It seems that Stalin has been caught entirely on the hop. Well, we did try to warn him. From our point of view, it means that Jonsson has justified our trust. The PM would like to meet her.’

  ‘I’m afraid she’s not in the country, sir.’

  ‘You haven’t sent her off again? I gave instructions that she was to be kept here.’

  ‘I know, sir. But she is very difficult to control, with her family background, and her contacts, and the fact that she is not English, and was never actually inducted into the SIS.’

  ‘What? What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, sir, you may remember that she absconded from our training school because she didn’t like the discipline. Then she disappeared for several months, before returning last year with the news of Hitler’s intentions. Then she went off again, and returned, briefly, a month ago, to confirm that information. Then she left again.’

  ‘To go where?’

  ‘Officially, to visit her father in Stockholm. I don’t expect her to stay there. She’s probably back in Berlin by now.’

  ‘That is quite unacceptable. We cannot have a loose cannon like that wandering about the place with her head stuffed full of our secrets.’

  ‘With respect, sir, she knows none of our secrets, other than our password. And she did turn up that vital piece of information, even if Marshal Stalin chose to ignore it. I’m inclined to let her go for the moment. Her heart is with us, and she does seem to have a very potent source in Berlin.’

  ‘Hm. I take your point, but I still don’t like it. However, she is your baby, and you will have to carry the can for her.’

  ‘So what’s new,’ Rachel muttered.

  ‘Now what about the route?’ the brigadier asked.

  ‘That has been successfully established. I am informed that the first two evaders have passed through Paris into Vichy and thence Spain. I have not had confirmation, but they should be in Portugal by now and so will be home in another week.’

  ‘Now that is excellent news. Are you in touch with the people operating it?’

  ‘From time to time, sir.’

  ‘Well, do congratulate them for me. They will be fully recognized when this show is over.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Am I allowed to ask if there have been any developments in the Hess business?’

  ‘There have been no developments, James. Nor are there likely to be any. The Germans are claiming he’s gone off his head, as they would, but we are coming to the conclusion that they may be right. He seems to have been under the impression that because he once met the Duke of Hamilton, if he could get together with him he could sort out the differences between Britain and Germany and end the war. You have to give him credit for being an excellent pilot and navigator. To fly a Messerschmitt single-handed from Germany to Scotland and actually crash it on Hamilton’s estate was quite a feat.’

  ‘What will happen to him?’

  ‘He’s been locked up, and he will stay locked up, at least until the end of the war. Good day to you, James. And for God’s sake, keep an eye on that termagant of yours.’

  Rachel replaced the phone.

  ‘What exactly does the word “termagant” mean?’ James asked.

  ‘Ah … a savage, violent, boisterous, overwhelming woman. I’d say that sums Joanna up, wouldn’t you?’ James blew her a raspberry.

  *

  ‘Heil Hitler!’ said the small, dark man standing in the office doorway. He wore a neat suit and tie, but had a military bearing.

  Franz Hoeppner leaned back in the swivel chair behind the desk and surveyed his visitor. In his early thirties, Colonel H
oeppner was a handsome man, with crisp fair hair, cut very short, and blue eyes. He was normally good-humoured, but this morning he was not. The official communiqué lay on his desk. It seemed that everyone who was anyone was now in Russia. Even his oldest friend, Freddie von Helsingen, was commanding a regiment in the invasion forces. But no one, not even Freddie or Hoeppner’s own uncle, the panzer general, had bothered to inform him the war with Russia was going to start. He had been abandoned, stuck in the backwater that was Bordeaux, which was as far away from any fighting as it was possible to get, left to chase smugglers and nursemaid elderly innocents who had found themselves at odds with the Gestapo. He fully intended to correct the situation. He had in fact been in the midst of drafting a letter requesting a transfer to a fighting unit when he had been interrupted.

  And now the Gestapo was in his office, which could only be to do with the de Gruchys. It was not a business he understood at all. His sympathies were largely with the family. Brought up as a Nazi, like his friend Helsingen, he firmly believed that Hitler was the only man in the country capable of restoring Germany to her past greatness. That such a course would involve at some stage a confrontation with the democracies who had been so triumphalist in 1918 he had accepted as necessary and even exhilarating. The great victories of the past year had confirmed his faith in both the Führer’s ability and his willpower. But he remained very glad that he did not have to exercise such a will, which apparently required the coercion or imprisonment of anyone who opposed the regime. The older Gruchys had not done so; their children had. That Albert and Barbara de Gruchy had had to suffer for the crimes of their offspring he found depressing. But why they should suddenly have been released was totally bewildering. He had no doubt that this loathsome little rat standing before him had had something to do with it: the Gestapo was fond of playing cat and mouse games with their intended victims. ‘Heil Hitler,’ he acknowledged. ‘Every time I see you, Roess, I feel ten years older. I suppose you have come to arrest the de Gruchys again.’

  ‘By no means, Herr Colonel. The charges against them have been dropped. Did you not know that?’

  ‘I was informed. Am I to believe that you think they have been punished enough?’

  ‘They have not been punished at all, Herr Colonel. They were merely locked up. I trust they are well?’

  ‘If I thought you were trying to be funny, Roess, I would kick you down those stairs. They have been humiliated, half starved, and Albert de Gruchy has been publicly flogged. One of the richest men in France, publicly flogged.’

  ‘Well, he must have broken one of the rules. These prisons have to be run on strict lines. And, Herr Colonel, you must remember that we are national socialists. The power of wealth can no longer protect criminals.’

  ‘There are criminals, and criminals,’ Hoeppner observed. ‘All of whom, hopefully, will one day have to answer for their crimes. I would still like to know why the charges against them have been dropped.’

  ‘I am not fully informed of the facts,’ Roess said, stiffly. ‘I am here on a different, more important matter. I am acting under the instructions of Colonel Weber of the Sicherheitsdienst. And, I may say, it is a most secret matter as well.’ Despite himself, Hoeppner was interested. If the Gestapo, as the state police, were a law unto themselves, and the SS, as the Führer’s own creation, obeyed no laws at all, he knew that the SD, which were personally commanded by Heydrich, were beyond the grasp of even those two terrifying organizations. ‘Colonel Weber sent you to me?’

  ‘He sent me to the commandant of the Bordeaux district. But it turns out that you may have a personal interest in this matter. You will remember that it is top secret.’ Hoeppner nodded. ‘Then I have someone I would like you to meet.’

  ‘Very well.’

  Roess went to the door. ‘Bring in the prisoner.’ There was some shuffling outside, and a woman was thrust through the doorway. ‘Thank you, Kramer,’ Roess said. ‘You may close the door.’

  ‘In the name of God …’ Hoeppner stared at the prisoner. Her wrists were handcuffed behind her back, her dress was torn, her shoulder-length black hair disordered. But the face was very fine, the features close to flawless. ‘Christine? But …’

  ‘Hello, Franz,’ the woman said. ‘It’s been too long.’

  ‘My dear girl!’ He was on his feet and rounding the desk. ‘What the devil are you playing at, Roess? Get these things off Fräulein von Ulstein’s wrists.’

  ‘I would actually like that,’ Christine von Ulstein said. ‘Just for a moment.’ Roess unlocked the cuffs, and she rubbed her wrists, and then sat before the desk.

  ‘Will someone tell me what is going on?’ Hoeppner demanded.

  ‘I am on an undercover mission,’ Christine von Ulstein explained. ‘I am to infiltrate the guerilla group which we know is hiding in the Massif Central, and which we know was responsible for the train outrage last year. You are involved because your command is nearest to the Vichy border, and besides, the people we are looking for come from this area.’

  Hoeppner sat down again. ‘You are an undercover agent? For the Gestapo?’

  ‘For the SD. I have worked for Oskar for several years now.’

  ‘But when —’

  ‘All those evenings we danced together, and smooched together? Yes, I was working for Oskar then. But those were my nights off.’

  Hoeppner looked at Roess, who smiled benevolently. ‘And now you think you can infiltrate a bunch of desperadoes? Those people are killers.’

  ‘That is why I have to be absolutely genuine. I speak French fluently, and English like a native; I spent four years at Oxford University. I have a carefully planned background, which I have memorized. My name is Monica Round.’

  ‘And you think these people will accept you, just like that, for no reason other than you are pretending to be English?’

  ‘They will accept me because, like so many of them, I am on the run from the Gestapo.’ She glanced at Roess.

  ‘It is all arranged, Herr Colonel. Fräulein Round was arrested just north of here. The reason for her arrest is information received that she is a British agent, which is what she will represent herself as to the guerillas. Her arrest was carried out in a most public manner, and she was brought here, as you see, handcuffed and generally dishevelled. I have told my men to speak of it in the town, make it known that she is to be interrogated here and then taken away for execution. She will leave Bordeaux in a car with three of my men. On a lonely stretch of road, close to the Vichy border, the car will have an accident, and she will make her escape. There will of course be a hue and cry, but you will make sure that she is not caught. Once across the border —’

  ‘It is up to me,’ Christine said.

  ‘It is absolute madness,’ Hoeppner declared. ‘These people will see through you in a moment, and cut your throat. Look at you. Even when you appear to have been roughed up by the Gestapo you are clearly a lady.’

  ‘I am told that Liane de Gruchy is also a lady, or was before the war.’

  ‘Liane de Gruchy is a cold-blooded killer.’

  ‘Well, I also am trained to kill.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘You should try me sometime, Franz.’

  ‘And you are going after de Gruchy.’

  ‘I am going after all of them. But she is top of the list, yes.’

  ‘I still think you are committing suicide.’

  ‘Because I look like a lady? But even ladies can be British agents. And even ladies can be … interrogated by the Gestapo, and escape from them too.’

  ‘Do you think anyone will believe that you have been interrogated by the Gestapo? There is not a mark on your body.’

  Christine’s mouth twisted. ‘There are going to be several marks on my body. I am told Captain Roess is an expert.’

  Hoeppner looked at Roess. ‘Just a flogging, Herr Colonel. But you understand, her body must be marked, sufficiently to last some days, in case it takes her that long to find these people.’


  ‘You intend to flog Fräulein von Ulstein? I absolutely forbid it.’

  ‘Oh, Franz,’ Christine remarked. ‘You are so old-fashionedly upright. I shall not mind, even if I scream a bit. You can come and watch, if you wish.’

  ‘In fact, Herr Colonel,’ Roess said. ‘Your presence as a witness is required by Colonel Weber.’

  Part Two

  The Trap

  To beguile the time,

  Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,

  Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower

  But be the serpent under ’t.

  William Shakespeare

  Four - The Agent

  ‘Isn’t it a lovely day for a drive in the country,’ Rachel said. ‘Makes one glad to be alive. Do you realize, sir, that this is the first time we have been out of the office together, in the year we have been in operation?’

  ‘It’s not quite a year,’ James pointed out.

  ‘Sometimes you can be very pedantic,’ she remarked. ‘But I suppose it goes with the job. All those Ts to cross and Is to dot.’ The ATS private driving the car was obviously listening to the conversation with great relish. But she could only see their heads in her rear-view mirror, and James allowed his hand to drift on to Rachel’s knee, slip under her skirt — they were both wearing uniform — and give it a gentle squeeze. She rippled, like a cat, and then pointed. ‘The sea!’

  They descended the gentle slope from the downs, bypassed Chichester, and as they came up to the little seaport of Bosham were halted by a roadblock. Passes were produced and studied. ‘We’re actually looking for Commander Lewis,’ James explained.

  ‘Yes, sir. The end house, just before the harbour.’