Gabčík was otherwise occupied. He had his own role – the gathering of intelligence and the close surveillance of Heydrich while the general was in the confines of the city. He collected and analysed Šafařík’s reports, which now came directly from Zelenka; a less risky proposition than the repeated use of an opened window on a busy side street as a letterbox. Sometimes Zelenka himself related the details during regular meetings with them both at Aunt Marie’s house.
‘You asked for a more detailed breakdown on the movements of members of the illegal government, starting with Heydrich. Šafařík has done a good job. It’s all here. Where he goes and who he sees, with what frequency and for how long.’
‘And how does he get this information?’ asked Gabčík.
‘Straight from the man’s diary in most instances. His appointments book is widely seen, as the household must react to his itinerary, but he does have an infuriating habit of changing his appointments at the last moment. Other more informal arrangements Šafařík has worked out from gossip circulating in the castle. He is particularly illuminating when it comes to Heydrich’s mistresses.’
‘Really? Go on,’ urged Kubiš.
Zelenka consulted a page of notes Šafařík had provided, giving the two men a précis of its highlights.
‘He is rumoured to spend time with a local girl but we don’t know who or where. The only concrete reports we have, concerning Heydrich’s current consorts, are the repeat visits to a theatrical actress and the regular appearance of the wife of an SS Colonel who is currently stationed in the east. The former he apparently meets in a hotel, the latter visits him quite blatantly in a room at the castle.’
‘The cheek of the man,’ said Gabčík.
‘Her husband is probably being shelled in some frozen foxhole on the eastern front while she is busy with Heydrich,’ agreed Kubiš.
Zelenka continued. ‘Apart from his regular appointments with one or other of these mistresses, Heydrich’s day seems to consist of a series of meetings with senior Nazis or treacherous Czech statesmen. These are almost always held in fortified buildings. The more mundane administrative tasks are carried out at his desk amid the tight security of Hradčany.’
They all knew any assault on the castle would fail ludicrously before an assassin had gone beyond the first sentry. No one saw the value in a heroic but ultimately suicidal gesture.
‘At night, Heydrich either returns to his estate or embarks on an evening’s carousing with other German officers. These are usually impromptu affairs, held in a variety of locations, and are impossible to predict. Is any of this helping at all?’
Zelenka looked up from the paper, his face sporting a look of feigned indifference but he was unable to hide his curiosity as to how the surveillance report might fit in with their mission.
‘Yes, it is most useful,’ Kubiš reassured him without elaborating further. ‘Please commend Šafařík on his work; if he can get us more reports on other senior men that would be equally helpful and I do have some questions I would like you to take back to him.’
When Zelenka finally left them alone Kubiš said, ‘The only realistic chance we have of killing Heydrich is on the journey between his home and Hradčany. It has to be done on the open road, when he travels in that Mercedes with just one bodyguard. At all other times he is too heavily guarded.’
‘I agree and if we wait a while, till the Prague spring weather begins to show, then he might even oblige us by travelling with the top down.’
They were confronted with an unavoidable truth. The mission would require a great deal more planning than either of them had anticipated. Naively they had promised Moravec an attack within ten days of their arrival. Still, it was better to strike late and be prepared than botch the job in haste and see Heydrich survive, thereafter to travel with a truckload of armed escorts. That would serve no purpose at all, except to ruin the chances of a second attempt from any team that followed them.
They agreed henceforth to move slowly, assembling as much information on Heydrich and his routine as possible, amassing clues patiently like a detective tracking a criminal, waiting for the right moment to close in. It was in this manner that days became weeks and winter turned to spring, and still they were no nearer their target.
Heydrich was on his way to meet the double agent he had just unmasked. The man he had long suspected of providing German military secrets to the Czech government in exile was currently under lock and key at the Petschek Palace, being interrogated at length by Schellenberg.
The first breakthrough had come weeks ago, with the arrest of the resistance man carrying information that could only have come from a senior figure. For Heydrich, the sole organisation not entirely above suspicion was the Abwehr, Germany’s military intelligence organisation, whose loyalty to Hitler under its leader Admiral Canaris was always open to question. Paul Thümmel, a high ranking Abwehr officer, immediately became his chief suspect.
‘How long have I known you, Walter?’ Thümmel was pleading as Heydrich made his entrance. ‘Come on, this is preposterous.’
The fear of the Abwehr man was visible even in the semi-darkness of the interrogation cell. His eyes were darting and desperate, the sweat clung to his face like raindrops but he was still trying to play the innocent.
‘I take it he has not confessed to you, Schellenberg?’
‘No, he has not. He denies everything, in fact.’
‘Mmm perhaps we should fetch the pliers or possibly a branding iron. What do you think?’
‘I think this is an outrage!’ interrupted Thümmel, ‘and when my friends in Berlin hear of it they will have your rank and your career, Heydrich!’ The words were expressed forcefully but they all knew this was the last desperate plea of a doomed man.
‘Yes, you do have those influential friends, Thümmel. You’re a party member of long standing after all; a gold badge holder, one of the first one hundred thousand to join.’
‘That’s right, Heydrich, and you’d be wise to remember it.’
‘Oh I did remember and it is why you have yet to experience our less subtle methods of interrogation. You are hardly going to confess without them though, which has turned my investigation of your activities into a painstaking affair. It involved the cross-referencing of dozens of pieces of information in a search for some positive proof of your treachery.’
‘What treachery?’ asked Thümmel, his voice cracking.
‘I had your movements analysed. I went back years in fact and it became apparent you were always in the vicinity when a leak was spotted or a breach of security suspected. You did not realise it at the time, Thümmel, but whenever you met your foreign paymasters you left footprints, which, years later, I was able to follow. Of course the evidence is circumstantial….’
Thümmel snorted. ‘I’ll bet it is.’
‘But damning nonetheless. No one wants a fuss, least of all a trial, so there won’t be one.’
‘The Führer will never stand for this.’
Then came the truly chilling words for Paul Thümmel. ‘Actually, the Führer is in complete agreement with me. It’s very sad, Thümmel, you were once one of the most important men in military intelligence and now look at you. Tonight you will swap the uniform of a senior German officer for the harsh cotton garb of a prisoner. I will then have you installed as a resident of Theresienstadt. You will be held in solitary confinement under a fictitious name. Have no doubt whatsoever that your stay there will be permanent.’
‘Go to hell, Heydrich,’ but his voice broke when he said that.
‘No, Thümmel, it is you who is going to hell and no one can help you now. Come on, Schellenberg, this is a waste of our time. Let’s leave him to contemplate his future, shall we?’
‘Better be careful, Walter.’ There was no fire left in Thümmel for he knew the game was lost. ‘You’ll be next, of that I’m certain. I hope you’ll remember me when th
ey come to get you.’
‘Goodbye, Thümmel,’ answered Schellenberg without emotion as the cell door closed on his former comrade.
Heydrich was in buoyant mood for the rest of the day. Thümmel had been one of Admiral Canaris’ most senior military intelligence men and a particularly close friend of Bormann, which made this victory all the sweeter. Now Heydrich could surely convince the Führer the only trustworthy organisation in the Reich was the SS.
Back in London meanwhile, Agent 54 disappeared off the radar forever.
21
‘This man was the hidden pivot around which the Nazi regime revolved.
The development of a whole nation was guided indirectly by his forceful character’
Walter Schellenberg on Heydrich, from his memoirs
Gabčík wanted to be sure Liběna was on her own in the house. Every Saturday morning her parents wandered from stall to stall in the market place fruitlessly searching for produce, so this seemed the ideal time to approach her.
He has rehearsed the words several times in his head but now to his genuine bemusement realises he is still nervous as he approaches Liběna, while she bakes bread in the kitchen. Josef’s throat is dry and he has become a coward, afraid of the rejection he is convinced is about to come his way. He curses himself for caring that a girl a good ten years younger than him might not think he is good enough – yet he cannot deny that lately he has begun to yearn for her.
‘Liběna, good morning, I was wondering, when you have finished your baking, if you have no other chores to do that is, whether you would like to walk out with me this afternoon.’
Lord, that has to be the longest sentence he has ever uttered. You idiot, you did not even give her the chance to answer your ‘good morning’ before blundering on like a wounded bear through the forest. What must she think of you now? You’ve ruined everything and will have to avoid her out of sheer shame. She is looking at you like you are a mad man.
Liběna smiled before answering with an enviable calm. ‘Yes, Josef, thank you. That would be lovely.’
With that she returned to her baking, leaving Gabčík standing silently behind her for a moment.
‘Good,’ was all he could manage, before making a less than dignified exit, wondering why it is that women were so much better at this sort of thing than men? It was some minutes before he had composed himself sufficiently to look back and enjoy the moment when she said ‘Yes’.
That first afternoon together Josef took her for coffee and sweet pancakes. It had gone well and their conversation was easy, with a lightness and assurance from Liběna he had not anticipated. He now had the distinct impression she had been expecting his invitation – that he might have been a little late proffering it even, in her mind at any rate.
Luck was still holding out for the newly promoted Captain Alfréd Bartoš. Agent 54 had been arrested on a day when he was not scheduled to meet with his new controller and there was no way of describing Bartoš’ relief at avoiding his own capture. With Paul Thümmel now in permanent retirement, Bartoš began to devote his energies to the gathering of intelligence in conjunction with his new contacts in the Jindra resistance network. He established strong links with the resistance and used them to travel around Prague amassing facts that could be sent back to London – information he strongly believed would hasten the eventual capitulation of the enemy. He favoured this diligent, methodical approach over the spectacular gesture, the sabotage of a railway line, the guided night bombing of a factory, which like as not only served to enrage the Gestapo into ever more draconian acts against the population.
In this aspect he found an ally in Ladislav Vaněk, the head of the Jindra network. The army officer’s military rank and natural authority ensured him a place of equality alongside Vaněk. Subsequently when the Home Army controller received his regular reports from Zelenka, on the movements of Gabčík and Kubiš, Bartoš was invariably at his side. The Captain would then win further acclaim from London with regular reports that the Anthropoid team was alive and well and seemingly proceeding with its operation as planned – a mission about which, to his undisguised exasperation, Bartoš was permitted to know absolutely nothing. His frustration reached a peak during the latest briefing from Zelenka. As usual there was much speculation as to the intentions of the two men sent by London. Vaněk listened to the latest reports of their movements and finally asked.
‘This surveillance on Hradčany… you don’t think they are planning an assassination?’
Bartoš was disbelieving. ‘Do you?’
‘Well, I don’t think they are planning to break in and steal the crown jewels.’
Bartoš was quiet for a moment then he continued thoughtfully. ‘There were rumours back in England, nothing more than that, of plans to assassinate collaborators – high profile people who openly cooperate with the Nazis. Some of the men talked of being linked to such missions.’
Vaněk was interested now. ‘Who was discussed?’
‘No one specific; as I said, they were only rumours but I would assume government figures; Hácha perhaps or maybe Emanuel Moravec. I don’t suppose an Education Minister has too much protection do you? They could get at him, in theory.’
‘I hope Beneš has more brains than that! We are barely surviving out here as it is. Can you imagine how the Germans will react if they kill a member of the government? They would hunt us all down like dogs for sure. Now is not the right moment for such gestures.’
He looked to Zelenka for agreement but the former schoolteacher remained silent. Vaněk pressed him.
‘What is it, Zelenka? Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?’
‘No reason.’
‘If you know something then it is your duty to tell us. What is it?’
Reluctantly, Zelenka answered his controller. ‘It’s not for sure but I may have an idea what Gabčík and Kubiš are doing here in Prague.’
‘Really?’ asked Bartoš.
‘Yes, I can’t be certain, but I think they are here to kill Reinhard Heydrich.’
‘That would be crazy! I don’t believe they could contemplate such a thing!’ Vaněk became wild eyed at the prospect. ‘Captain Bartoš, you must speak to them. You must promise me you will do everything in your power to prevent this. Assure me of that,’ he pleaded.
‘Don’t worry, Jaroslav, I won’t allow what we have here, what you have built here to be destroyed because of the rash acts of two men,’ he shook his head for emphasis. ‘It would be catastrophic.’
‘How will you prevent it?’ asked Zelenka.
‘I’ll order them to stop! Both men are still in the army and I am a captain in that army. They must do as I tell them and stand down. Put simply, if they persist with this ridiculous plan I will simply forbid it!’
22
‘I therefore invite you to a meeting’
Memo from SS Obersturmbannführer Adolf Eichmann,
Central Office for Jewish Emigration, on the Wannsee Conference, 20 January 1942
The white stone building backed onto the shores of a lake. A more peaceful location it would be hard to find in all of Germany, thought Heydrich.
The Reichsprotektor sat at a large conference table, waiting for the other delegates to settle themselves. The fourteen men fussily removed an array of pens, pencils and official documents from their monogrammed attaché cases. They had flown in that morning from all corners of the Reich’s European Empire, before being driven in separate cars to the grand house in Berlin that was only ever used for the most important of meetings. Their arrival represented the culmination of weeks of tireless effort on Heydrich’s part. If the day proved a success he would be able to look back on the travails of early winter with the satisfaction of one who has placed his troubles entirely behind him.
Since that fearful day at the Wolf’s Lair, Heydrich had set himself a new task. He now realised the need
for some powerful allies and had begun to win over as many senior figures in the Reich as possible. First, Albert Speer was invited to tour Prague. Hitler’s architect was seduced by the irresistible lure of unfettered access to its pretty little streets. The man became positively euphoric at the thought of levelling half the city to create enormous museums, grandiose state palaces, and concert halls of an elaborate vulgarity. Between them, promised Heydrich, they would create a new imperial city worthy of its place as a second capital of the Thousand-Year Reich.
Next, Joseph Goebbels was lured back to the city to view the type of propaganda display for which he himself was rightly feted. Witnessing the carefully ordered spectacle of Czech labourers working diligently to produce German armaments convinced Goebbels the regime was a model one, whose practices should be swiftly adopted throughout the occupied territories. Both men would report their positive findings directly back to the Führer and there would be nothing Bormann could do about it.
The German war effort, by contrast, had not gone as smoothly. The campaign in the east became hopelessly bogged down in the winter snow and the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor meant Germany was now at war with the United States. The latter incident had annoyed Heydrich immensely. As a result, he had been forced to postpone this most vital of meetings.
Fortunately, Heydrich could rely on the loyalty and tenacity of the man charged with coordinating his Wannsee Conference. Lieutenant Colonel Adolf Eichmann was an implacable type who first came to attention with his diligent work in the general’s Central Office for Jewish Emigration. Heydrich liked Eichmann’s solid approach to the task and was amused by his physical appearance – without his uniform he would look more like a Jew than most Jews thought Heydrich, with his large ears and nose and thin bloodless lips. His studies of Hebrew and Yiddish were detailed enough to attract some suspicions but Eichmann’s Nazi credentials were impeccable. Heydrich understood. He merely liked to know his enemy. Eichmann was the genius who devised a plan to tax rich Jews to pay for the deportation of the poor ones. He had even attended the same school as Adolf Hitler. What a pity he chose to marry a Czech girl – a move that would surely limit him from going to the very top, even with the Reichsprotektor as a patron.
Hunting the Hangman Page 13