by S C Brown
‘Fat Men,’ shouted Brunswick, still looking at the map. ‘it’s time for the Fat Men!’
Steinseck knew that already. Having left his desk, he was hovering in the doorway jangling a set of car keys. ‘Fat Men are ready and just getting their coats on,’ he said with a grin.
‘Is the car ready?’ demanded Brunswick, avoiding the statement with a question of his own.
‘Yes, all set.’
‘Good. Get in, shut up and get ready to drive.’
Shaking his head knowingly, Steinseck took a couple of quick paces forward to peek over Brunswick’s shoulder and study the map. ‘Getting there won’t take long. I will get the engine running.’
* * *
He’d completed the first part of the transmission. Xavier changed the crystal cassette in the side of the radio set to alter the frequency. Then he returned to his steady, solid, rhythmic tapping out of the letters in Morse. Saxon watched the minute and second hands of his watch slowly tick by.
* * *
Brunswick was climbing into the passenger seat when a voice came out of the radio detection van.
‘Wait! He’s stopped.’
Brunswick paused. A pensive silence froze the air.
‘Was that the end of his message? It was a short one if it was.’
‘No, I think he will start again in a ... there he is again! It’s the same set … got the frequency … it’s the same man tapping, it’s the same rhythm … the same bearing and strength. You’d better go.’
Brunswick leapt into the car.
‘You did know he would be there, didn’t you?’ asked Steinseck quietly. ‘You must have done, you predicted his location perfectly.’
Brunswick looked ahead. ‘You forget that I was a detective before the war. I’m good at this stuff. Now drive.’
The car lurched forward, throwing Brunswick’s door shut. Dust swept through the air. The car disappeared through the gate. A sentry – none the wiser - watched them rocket by with a more than quizzical look in his eye.
Steinseck could feel his boss’s impatience and drove as hard as he could. Every sharp bend and stamp on the brakes was greeted with increasingly loud moans from the back seat – the radio detection sets they wore around their waist were getting more and more uncomfortable. And hot.
Eventually, Brunswick suppressed a shout and said quietly, ‘Turn left here and get ready to stop.’
Steinseck took his foot off the accelerator, switched off the ignition and let car glide. The bonnet of the car bobbed as they came to a silent halt. Without prompting, the three men in the back clumsily clambered out, failing to maintain the desired dignity and ordinariness. The radio sets under their coats were just too cumbersome. Brunswick stayed where he was, staring owl-like into the black, unlit street.
Brunswick knew the Gürtelpeiler radio detection set didn’t just make his men look uncomfortable, it made them unusual. Bulky, curved metal slabs hung from a rigid copper tube around their necks giving the men an awkward, lumbering posture, standing abnormally upright but with a fat waistline straining their overcoat buttons. The men were comic to look at; how the locals did not spot such men like this on the streets was beyond Brunswick. As the detectors got gradually warmer, the ‘fat men’ began to puff and perspire, despite it being the thick of winter.
Awkwardly, the three men split up and walked off stiffly, two going ahead, one going in the opposite direction. Brunswick watched them, his foot tapping nervously. The two men that had gone ahead took it in turns to pull their hands free of their coat sleeves and check what looked like a watch but was instead a gauge, telling them the strength of the radio signal the Gürtelpeiler was picking up. The men walked on, disappearing into the gloom. After a moment, Brunswick heard their footsteps stop, seem to hesitate and then come back.
‘What is it?’ Brunswick hissed when the men were close enough.
‘He’s gone quiet again.’
Brunswick ran his fingers through his hair, staring hard ahead.
The men continued to stare at their wrists. Nothing. Seconds ticked by.
* * *
Saxon gripped his tongue between his lips as he counted down the last remaining seconds of the specially agreed second pause in transmitting, designed to throw any listening Germans off their scent. Xavier stared impassively. Finally, Saxon whispered, ‘Last and final burst please, Xavier.’
* * *
A little over one hundred yards away from Saxon, a German looking at his wrist lifted his head. ‘Ah! There he is: he’s signaling again! Let’s go.’ Teeth flashed briefly in the moonlight as he grinned.
‘Stay here, Steinseck,’ ordered Brunswick, getting out of the car to follow the two men at a slight distance.
Brunswick followed behind the fat men, watched them slow down, speed up, slow to a halt and then set off once more. Judging by the pace the men now walked at, Brunswick knew they had the information they had come for. The men simply strolled off, trying to look as casual as fat men after curfew could. Brunswick walked quietly back to the car and waited. Brunswick gave nothing away, he simply stared ahead, waiting for the fat men to return. One by one they clambered into the rear seat. When the car was full again, Steinseck quietly pulled away to repeat the exercise near some other houses chosen randomly off the map.
Lost in his thoughts, Brunswick hadn’t checked behind when they left the first street. Neither Brunswick, Steinseck nor the ‘fat men’ had noticed another German hiding in the shadows, watching them from across the street. He’d seen everything - and made a correct conclusion.
* * *
Xavier packed away the transmitter with as much ritual as ever. Saxon burned the sheet of paper with his message on it and clambered downstairs. With the lights out, he stared out of the windows to study the road outside before pulling the curtains back shut. There was no one outside, so he slipped out of the back door and into the night.
* * *
‘You look whacked. Have you been burning the candle at both ends?’ Lotti raised a mischievous eyebrow.
‘If only that were true, Lotti,’ said Eve unbuttoning her coat. ‘You’re right though, I haven’t slept well these last few nights.’
Lotti pushed the door shut and strode with her usual self-assurance down the hallway, her slippers clicking against the wooden floor. ‘Come through and take a seat. I will pour us something.’
Within a few moments, Eve was snug on a settee with her bare feet tucked beneath her, clasping a large, crisp, glass of Cognac. It smelt strong and she savoured a mouthful. Throwing her head forward in relief, Eve slumped. Lotti watched, intrigued.
‘You’ve had a busy time then?’
Eve opened her eyes with a struggle. ‘Yes, you could say that.’
‘I had no idea that working in the rag trade could be so … demanding.’ Lotti smirked, making fun of Eve’s cover story.
‘You have no idea.’ Eve reached down to rub a foot. She continued slowly: ‘I was glad we met and I was wondering if I could come and stay here for a while. I feel safer here.’
Lotti looked uncomfortable. ‘That could have consequences for me, Eve…’
Eve said nothing. Eve, like Lotti, knew only too well the penalty exacted upon those caught harbouring agents. Eve could not let on that Berner knew she was here, so Eve played along and let Lotti consider just how much of a friend to Eve she wanted to be. She need not have worried. In a heartbeat, thrilled with the excitement of it all, Lotti agreed to give her secret agent friend a home.
‘It would help if you stopped calling me that, you know. Who knows when you might inadvertently--’
‘Don’t you worry, Eve, it’s our little secret. Will you want me to do secret agent things too? It all sounds very exhilarating. I am so impressed by what you’re doing, really I am. It’s good to see someone standing up against the Nazis in the way you are. More so than many of the men around here.’
‘It could be like old times.’
‘Except, Eve, I don’t rememb
er you nipping out to spy on people when we were last together. You are playing it safe, aren’t you?’
Eve allowed herself a little smirk at that one.
‘I get it: there are things you can’t tell me. Well, you still look knackered, old thing, so why don’t I run you a bath and get your room ready?’
‘Let me finish my drink first.’
‘As you please.’ Lotti stood up to find another bottle. Before she had returned, Eve was fast asleep.
* * *
After breakfast, Eve waved cheerio to Lotti with a spring in her step and strode out onto the streets of Paris. Keeping rigidly to her old regime of maintaining security, she took three trains when normally just the one would do. It was a crisp, clear morning and Eve felt alive. She walked back to her flat in the Agard’s house at an untroubled pace, randomly changing direction every now and then.
Mrs Agard stood in her doorway and stared, mouth wide open. Her hand fell from the door handle to hang lose by her side.
‘If you believe in ghosts, I am sorry to disappoint you,’ said Eve warmly but was met with mesmerised silence. ‘Mrs Agard?’
‘I – I thought you were …’
‘Dead? Arrested? Both?’
Mrs Agard raised her hand to her mouth, disbelieving.
‘Well, yes my dear, I …’
‘Don’t’ worry, I have been quite alright. I went to stay with an old friend. I wanted to make some fresh contacts and some fresh leads, successfully as it turns out. I had no idea this kind of work could be such fun!’
Helene Agard stepped forward to embrace Eve. ‘I am so glad you are here. I’ve seen so many people like you go out gaily one day and never come back. I couldn’t bear the thought of you in a German camp or worse. You know what they’re like.’ Eve felt Helene’s chest heave with a little sob.
Looking over Helene’s hunched shoulder, Eve smiled. ‘I try not to think about what they’re like.’ Eve pulled back slightly. ‘It’s all right, really, it is. I am quite safe, look at me.’
Like a small child, Helene’s glassy eyes looked tenderly into Eve’s. Stumbling footsteps could be heard from behind. ‘Edouard?’ called Helene, softly.
‘What is it?’
‘There’s someone to see us. Come and see.’ Helene managed a smile. Edouard came around the corner, annoyed by the interruption. He stopped still, blinked heavily twice and walked forward slowly. ‘Eve?’
‘Safely back. Sorry that I didn’t let you know that I was going away for a few days, I thought it best to keep things to myself.’
Edouard didn’t look impressed. ‘What were you up to?’
Eve looked back at Helen, ‘I was just saying: breaking the routine, making contacts and new leads. It worked.’
‘Not arrested then?’ The suspicion in Edouard’s tone was unmistakable but understandable in the circumstances, thought Eve.
‘No. I stayed with an old friend. Someone you probably wouldn’t approve of but needs must.’
Edouard’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well your apartment is untouched. Consider yourself lucky, we nearly had someone new move in. When people like you disappear, it’s usually permanent.’
‘Yes.’ Eve pursed her lips tight and gently released Helene from her embrace. ‘Is it OK for me to keep using the place?’
‘Oh yes, yes,’ said Helene enthusiastically, ‘I will be glad of some polite company.’ Edouard sniffed, taking that as the slight that it was meant to be. ‘Go ahead and make yourself at home once again and if you want, come by this evening and join us for dinner.’
Glad of the chance to rehearse her alibi on the Agards before Oberon or Franck arrived, Eve gladly accepted. ‘I will be busy at eight, so perhaps I should come just after that?’
Helene smiled, knowing only too well what Eve would be doing at eight this evening.
It didn’t take long for Oberon and then Franck to appear at the apartment. Once Eve had explained her short period of absence, she explained her new plan. Eve thought she had had the effect she desired: both Oberon and Franck stated quite clearly they wouldn’t have anything to do with it, or her for that matter any longer. Oberon practically sprinted towards the door but Eve was able to intercept him.
‘Just one thing before you go. What do you know about the Panzer Lehr Division?’
‘The what?’ Oberon couldn’t have looked more flummoxed by this if he tried.
‘Panzer Lehr, it’s a German tank division.’
‘I know what it is. It’s reputed to be heading this way from Potsdam in the near future. What has that got to do with you?’
Eve thought it through for a moment. ‘I just heard about it, someone was talking a bit loosely I think. But you’re right - what’s that got to do with me?’
With that she opened the door and both Oberon and Franck were out of her life like a flash.
Completely satisfied, Eve went to her room and packed her things, killing time until 8pm. As usual, Eve unraveled the antennae, selected the correct frequency and waited patiently but contentedly up by the loft hatch. At eight on the dot, she tapped out the message Berner had given her the day before, knowing both London and Berner would be listening.
ALL IS WELL. HAVE MADE CONTACT WITH OBERON AND MADE NEW FRIENDS. FRIENDS WHO SHOULD GAIN ME ACCESS TO TARGET. WATCHING TARGET HAS YIELDED NO RESULT. NOW WORKING ALONE.
THERE IS TALK OF A NEW PANZER DIVISION BEING FORMED FROM TRAINING STAFF AND BASED IN OR NEAR POTSDAM BEFORE COMING TO NORTHERN FRANCE. NOT YET SURE IF THIS WILL BE A TRAINING DIVISION OR A TANK DIVISION. IT IS AMAZING WHAT PEOPLE SAY IN CAFES. E.
And with that, she finished her packing, had dinner with Helene and a somewhat sullen Edouard before collecting her bags and leaving. Although Eve never said as much, she had no intention of coming back.
* * *
‘That’s not good either is it, Sir?’ asked Billy Earle quietly from the corner in his dingy little office.
‘No.’ Smithens clearly was not in the mood for saying much. ‘No it isn’t. This needs to stay our little secret, please Billy. Let me know if anything else comes in.’ Smithens, despite his bad back, swiveled around to make sure no one else was listening.
‘You can count on me, Sir.’
‘I know, Billy, I know.’ After a short pause, Smithens continued: ‘Is everyone else behaving themselves?’
‘It looks that way, Colonel. Some little errors here and there but nothing special, nothing as clear-cut as this.’
‘That’s something, I suppose.’
Smithens hesitated.
‘Off for another chat with the Chief I take it?’
‘He is waiting, yes.’ Smithens squared his shoulders, ready to face the music.
‘Well, tell him he still owes Billy a pint. He knows why.’
‘I doubt that will cheer him up much, do you?’
‘Fair point, but it might take his mind off this for a moment.’
‘I don’t share your optimism, Billy.’
Two somber-looking men limped off in opposite directions, Billy Earle back to his wireless operators, Smithens towards the office of the Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service.
* * *
In his office, Walter Berner of the Abwehr read the two most recent messages. The first was a transcript of Eve’s and it was perfect. Eve had transmitted on time, at an unhurried pace and so should not have aroused suspicion. She had posted everything Berner had told her to send.
The second message was not so welcome, announcing the murder of another Abwehr Major, this time in The Hague. Another British assassination. Berner stared out of the window. Life was getting distinctly more dangerous for people like him.
What genuinely puzzled Berner was the fact that the British hadn’t tried to kill him. Eve’s appearance meant the British knew only too well Berner was in Paris and yet she had not made one aggressive move. Was she a honey trap? She was certainly the most alluring agent he had seen for a long time. Even the amateurish Frenchmen Eve had worked with only watched Berne
r, despite having had two opportunities to kill him.
They were either inept or brilliant, Berner had to admit. If they were as good as Berner feared, then there was a distinct possibility he was about to be played by London. Eve had been easy to catch. Too easy? Eve was now in a position to watch and follow Berner closely but with some degree of safety. It was the sort of thing the British could dream up.
Berner slowly poured himself a drink and smiled into his glass. He could feel a schoolboy tingle of excitement flush down his spine at the prospect of being the subject of one of those rare British flashes of brilliance. If the British were trying to play him, then Berner would have a battle of wits on his hand, the sort that had brought him away from the universities and into intelligence work in the first place.
Berner hoped dearly that the alternative was not true: that the British were being as inept as they had been in Holland, as that offered Berner no fun at all.
* * *
Ushered straight in, Smithens waited patiently to be asked to sit down. The wall clock ticked the seconds along slowly. The Chief of MI6, known as ‘C’, looked on edge. ‘Well?’
Smithens was bringing more bad news and he didn’t like it. Smithens always produced the goods - that was what the MBE had been for.
Smithens placed a copy of Eve’s message on C’s desk, glad to be rid of it. C inspected at it as if he wanted to ask it a question.
It was Smithens who broke the long silence. ‘She’s been had. The message is perfect and what I mean is that--’
‘Her tell isn’t there, is it? You’re sure it’s Eve who sent it?’ C was talking quickly.