Initiation

by S C Brown

  And with that, quite unexpectedly, Sauer shot to his feet, tucked his notebook into a pocket and put on his hat, which looked too small for him. Von Kettler and Berner exchanged glances, not quite comprehending before slowly getting up.

  ‘General: you are confined to your HQ until further notice,’ said Sauer. ‘You are not under arrest but we need you to be where we can get to you for further questioning should it be required.

  ‘Berner: you too are confined to the Hotel Majestic. I trust there are rooms here where I can question you and carry out my investigations? Good.’ Sauer stepped close to Berner, ‘And you had better tell me the truth or you’re dead.’ He turned and walked to the door, turning to bark, ‘Heil Hitler.’

  The two men raised their arms half-heartedly.

  Then, with Sauer on the other side of the door and out of earshot, the General’s head slumped in defeat. ‘Are we all Nazis now?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ asked Berner.

  ‘I wondered if we we’re all Nazis now, or soon will be.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I thought you said.’

  Both men knew Berner had not answered the question.

  Chapter Nine

  Angelika’s head shot up from the pillow. The knocking on the door was heavy and hostile. Clasping a sheet to her bosom, Brunswick watched her walk to the door and open it. Men in uniform - men Brunswick did not recognise - loomed at the door.

  ‘We are here to collect Colonel Brunswick. He is needed urgently at the Rouen SD Office. We want to speak to him now.’

  Brunswick was on his feet in a split second, pulling a shirt over his head. He pushed a flustered Angelika out of the way and greeted the men, hiding most of his body behind the door. He recognised then now: they were Ritter’s men.

  ‘Good morning, gentlemen. You say you would like me to come into the office? Can I ask what the matter is? Has something happened? Don’t tell me they’ve hit the railway again!’

  Brunswick was cool and charming on the outside but distinctly unsettled underneath.

  The men continued talking to Brunswick whilst attempting to peer round the corner at Angelika. ‘This is not a request. You are ordered to come immediately and we are to escort you. Now, get dressed.’

  ‘Gentlemen, aren’t you forgetting something? The least you can do is address me as Herr Oberst. I take it you will not share the nature of the problem with me here?’ Brunswick observed their impassive faces. ‘I thought not. I will need a moment to dress. Kindly wait here.’ Brunswick was about to shut the door but stopped himself. ‘Would you like some coffee while you wait?’

  From their glares, Brunswick assumed the men at the door were not thirsty.

  About half an hour later, Brunswick was back in Ritter’s office.

  ‘Hauptsturmführer Ritter, good morning.’ Brunswick breezed into Ritter’s office. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Please take a seat.’

  ‘Please take a seat, Colonel’.

  Ritter quirked an eyebrow. ‘I’m not so certain about that. I checked. I have found no trace of a Colonel Brunswick. A Sergeant Brunswick yes, but no Colonels. Mysterious, don’t you think?’

  ‘A quick call to Paris or Berlin would sort that out.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I know you’re Abwehr. I just cannot verify your rank which is why I haven’t arrested you. Yet. I’ve had you followed, you know. Maybe I’m not so stupid after all, eh?’ Ritter’s’ eyes glistened happily as the information sank into Brunswick’s brain. ‘I am informing you that as of earlier this morning, the Abwehr is no more. The Abwehr is to come under the command and jurisdiction of the RHSA. The SS are to take the Abwehr under our wing, so to speak. So, if you are to continue to operate in this part of France, then it will be with my permission and under my personal supervision.’

  Brunswick thought rapidly. He reckoned he would find a way of shimmying out of this. After all, he usually did. Considering his options, he felt his best chance of wriggling would come from owning up as being a member of the Abwehr. After all, spies were better at wriggling than soldiers - it was what spies did.

  Brunswick emphasised the exasperation in his voice/ ‘We, the Abwehr and SD, operate in parallel, helping each other where we can, sharing information and contacts where appropriate. There’s nothing new--’

  ‘Everything is new.’

  It suddenly looked to Brunswick as if Ritter held all the cards. His coolness was unusual and unsettling.

  ‘As I said, the Abwehr is no more. As of this morning, the Abwehr was suspended pending disbandment.’ Ritter radiated pride and power. ‘All security operations are passed to the SS. Gone are the days of the Abwehr doing its own thing. Gone, quite frankly, are the days of the Abwehr. Now the SS will run security, totally.’

  ‘I don’t understand you, Max, I –’

  ‘STOP CALLING ME MAX!’ screamed Ritter, slamming his fists on the table. ‘Your sorry collection is ridden with spies and you’re being disbanded. It’s over!’ He spat out last word of the sentence disrespectfully. ‘And on the question of loyalty,’ continued Ritter smugly, ‘what were you up to last night?’

  ‘You know full well – your men came to get me from there. I was having a great time, if it’s all the same to you.’

  ‘Before that? Before your little liaison with a secretary of the Ministry of Supply?’

  That took Brunswick by surprise. ‘Nothing much,’ was the best answer he could give.

  ‘Nothing much. This is the reason – this is why the Abwehr has to be stopped. This – you – are the reason the Abwehr must be put under proper control. You were out locating a terrorist radio transmission station, last night. Don’t raise your hands in protest.’

  Brunswick knew better than to say anything.

  Ritter looked at Brunswick and Brunswick felt the threat coming. ‘You were tracing a terrorist radio operator last night and I can prove it. You are running an independent operation and frankly getting in the way of my own men.’

  ‘I think we’d all do a lot better against the Resistance if your men were looking out for French terrorists rather than watching what I’m up to.’

  Ritter ignored him and pressed his point. ‘So I will ask you again: what exactly were you doing last night?’

  Brunswick played his final card – the only one he had. ‘Forgive me, Ritter, how do I know what you’re telling me is true about the Abwehr? What if you’re trying to take over my work, Abwehr work, and get credit for it as if it were your own? Seems to me that there might be a lot of that going on today.’

  Ritter sounded suddenly bored, almost as if he was expecting this response. ‘Written orders confirming all this will arrive later today. At that point, in normal circumstances you would then hand everything over to me.’ Ritter stood a little taller. ‘Then I will be in charge and you will answer my questions, understand?’

  Brunswick knew he needed to get out of here before then. ‘So, until such orders arrive, I am still under Abwehr and Wehrmacht control. Let me know if these orders turn up. I will bid you good day.’

  With that, Brunswick stood up to leave.

  Ritter was losing and he knew it.

  ‘Not so fast, Brunswick.’

  ‘Colonel Brunswick.’

  Something in Ritter snapped.

  ‘I DON’T BELIEVE THAT ONE BIT!’

  Brunswick felt his collar stick to his neck.

  ‘To Hell with it, what-ever-rank-you-are Brunswick. I am arresting you for unauthorised counter-espionage activity and impersonating a senior officer. You’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘You are exceeding your authority, Ritter, don’t give me that--’

  Ritter raised his voice. ‘You can come in now.’

  The door open and in came Ritter’s men - thugs every one of them. In minutes, Brunswick was locked in a cell, nursing a black eye.

  * * *

  ‘A call for you, Oberstleutnant.’


  Berner spun round. ‘Who from?’

  ‘The caller did not say, Sir, just that the call was for you personally. It’s on a secure line.’

  ‘In which case, Captain, where can I take the call?

  ‘You can take it here in your office, if you would like?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Berner sat and waited for the phone to ring, rubbing his palms against his trousers nervously. Was this Sauer?

  The phone rang loudly and Berner snatched the receiver. ‘Hallo?’

  ‘Hello. Oberstleutnant Berner?’

  It wasn’t Sauer, it was a woman’s voice. A young woman by the sounds of it and she sounded shaky.

  ‘You don’t know me but I work for the Ministry of Supply.’

  ‘Go on.’

  The voice on the other end was hushed. ‘Colonel Brunswick has been arrested.’

  Berner rocked on his heels. Blinking hard twice, he restored his composure. After all, the SS were probably listening. ‘I see,’ he replied. ‘I’m very sorry, I have to go now but I will look into the matter.’

  There was a knock at the door. Berner put down the receiver, ‘Not now,’ he shouted towards the door.

  The door opened and a Staff Captain popped his head through.

  Berner was losing his temper. ‘I said not now.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ insisted the Captain, ‘but a Herr Sauer has just arrived in the building and he’s on his way to see you. I thought you would want to know straight away.’

  People in the building were clearly starting to work out who Berner was and what Carl Sauer meant to anyone in the Abwehr in Paris today.

  ‘OK, show him in when he’s here. Straight away.’

  The captain disappeared.

  Eventually, Sauer stepped in, grinning menacingly and flanked by two heavies in leather overcoats.

  Berner had been waiting for this moment. He had never been on the receiving end of this kind of treatment – he was usually the interrogator, not the interrogated. The anticipation of questioning was a ploy Berner had used many times before to win a psychological edge on his captives, and now it was being done to him. And even though Berner knew what Sauer had been doing by keeping him waiting, the prospect of interrogation loomed ever larger. Berner knew that he looked like he hadn’t slept. He wiped the palms of his cold and clammy hands on the front of his jacket.

  Berner had the cover story all set. He knew with absolute certainty he could outwit Sauer. But like any spy, Berner’s weakness was being confronted with what he didn’t already know. In this instance, and this was the thing that shot cold fear racing up his spine, Berner didn’t know what pain he could endure. If Sauer tortured him, just how long could Berner hold out? No man knows how much pain he can or cannot take until the time comes. Berner’s time might have come through the door with Sauer. Sauer. Fat, incompetent and not too bright. Berner was disgusted to think that his own demise would be at the hands of such an unworthy opponent as Sauer.

  Berner tugged at his jacket to make himself as smart as he could for the moment to come.

  ‘Oberstleutnant Berner, I have concluded my investigations.’

  Sauer reached into the little attaché case he had under his arm. He pulled out three sheet of typewritten paper. Walking around the desk, he placed them in front of Berner.

  Sauer snapped his fingers. ‘Pen.’

  One of the heavies reached into a pocket and gave Sauer his pen. Throughout all of this Berner was merely a spectator, with no clue as to what was coming next. He almost wanted to laugh at just how ridiculous the situation was that he found himself.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Berner. ‘My confession?’

  Sauer looked surprised. ‘No, this is your application for membership of the National Socialist German Workers' Party. Sign here, here and here.’

  Berner scanned the documents, checking both sides for carbon paper to make sure there wasn’t a confession document hidden underneath. It all checked out: name, date of birth, hometown…

  ‘Sign,’ demanded Sauer.

  Berner picked up the pen. ‘I’m sorry, but I still don’t quite understand.’

  This was, Berner was to admit later over a very large cognac, a considerable understatement. He was braced for physical interrogation – a means to satisfy Sauer’s desire to bully and hurt those who he considered his undeserving, non-Nazi superiors.

  ‘You cannot be a member of the SS unless you are first a party member. Listen to me, Berner, sign this form, it’s good for you!’

  The heavies both took a pace towards Berner. Berner got the hint and signed quickly.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Sauer exasperated. ‘Now, you two must sign.’ Sauer gestured each of the men in overcoats to witness the document. One of them even asked Berner for the correct date.

  Berner struggled to answer coherently. The ink was drying but Berner was still too stunned to function. If Sauer’s intention was to unsettle Berner, he had most certainly succeeded. Berner never thought he would be beaten so quickly and so … easily. He felt his face growing warm, showing the shame he felt.

  ‘Congratulations!’ beamed Sauer, reaching for Berner’s hand. ‘You are now, like us, members of the Nazi Party!’

  Sauer shook Berner’s hand for too long in Berner’s estimation. He struggled to match Sauer’s enthusiasm. In a daze, Berner allowed the two heavies to shake his hand too.

  ‘How good it is to see the Nazi party attracting so many talented people like yourself, Walter.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Come on, man, what’s wrong with you? I have completed my investigations and concluded that you should be one of the lucky few to come across to the SS! That’s good, yes?’

  ‘So I will still be alive when the sun comes up tomorrow morning?’

  Sauer smiled, admiringly. ‘Yes, of course! Come now, surely you understand that’s how we work? Fear, Walter! Fear is a wonderful thing.’ Sauer picked up two of the sheets of paper on the desk and returned them to his case, folding it under his arm happily. ‘That is your copy.’

  Berner looked down, still in a state of some shock. ‘It says I am an ex-Army officer, Herr Sauer.’

  ‘That is correct. You are volunteering to leave the Army to join the Sicherheitsdienst. Welcome aboard! Of course,’ said Sauer as he moved around the desk, ‘that means that you and I will not be working together closely. I am GeheimeStaatspolizei as you know but I dare say our paths will cross. I go to Avenue Foch regularly. We will show you how to run agents properly; after all, we don’t want the SS shouldered with the sort of failures that happened in Holland, do we?’

  Sauer was like an old uncle suddenly, all warmth and pride. He was winning and he knew it.

  ‘Oh, I nearly forgot this,’ said Sauer, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a Nazi party badge and pinned it to Berner’s left lapel. Sauer gave it a little pat once it was in place.

  Berner was horrified and trying not to show it.

  ‘You’re finding this all very confusing, I can see, but don’t you worry, you’ll soon get the hang of it. You will get your orders from RHSA shortly, no doubt. I am pleased to say that you will be allowed to continue to work from here in the Majestic but will need to keep Herr Kruger informed, as he runs all SD operations in France. I am told he is very pleased to have you working for him.’

  Hans Josef Kruger was Thug-in-Chief as far as Berner was concerned and it was more likely than not that Brunswick had been arrested on Kruger’s orders. Kruger knew how to apply pressure when he wanted to.

  ‘Your old friend Brunswick,’ Sauer continued, ‘might not be so lucky, but he’s not working for you any longer anyway. He’s having a little spell in jail right now. Let’s see what comes of that.’

  Berner felt sick. ‘What about General von Kettler?’

  ‘What about him? He’s clean and starting to realise who’s boss around here. You watch, he’ll be a member of the Nazi party any time soon too.’ Sauer looked at his watch. ‘Why don’t we
celebrate? Let’s go to the bar for a drink. It’s nearly four o’clock - that’s fine around here, isn’t it?’

  He couldn’t refuse. An hour later, Berner was sat back at his desk, staring at his Nazi Party application form and wondering what the hell to do next. The Nazi party badge pinned at an angle by Sauer, seemed to hang heavy on his chest.

  Sauer seemed genuine enough in declaring the investigation of Berner over. Berner had survived to live another day but for how long? With Kruger potentially after him, nothing was certain. Berner looked around his office and a wave of relief ran over him. He breathed out heavily, leaning forward to focus his eyes on his desk as he allowed his brain the time to process what had probably been the most terrifying, confusing and surreal experience of his life.

  Sauer was right in what he had said to the General – the Nazis could teach them all a thing or two. Yet Berner cautioned himself to not give the likes of Sauer too much credit. What kind of investigation had Sauer really conducted? Either it seemed a total sham or Berner was better at covering his own tracks than he thought he was. Knowing that the truth would probably evade him forever, Berner resolved himself to act as if Sauer was setting a trap for Berner to walk into, as that could be the only explanation for such an inadequate bit of detective work. Unless Berner had over-estimated Sauer: perhaps Sauer was more incompetent than Berner believed possible.

  After a while, Berner got up to walk slowly down the winding corridors of the Hotel Majestic basement, avoiding the bar on his way down. Through the harshly- lit subterranean maze he strolled, with his hands in his pockets and his head down, occasionally humming a tune to himself. Without realising it, he found himself at the door of the room in which he had interrogated Eve. He switched on the lights and stepped in, taking a moment to reacquaint himself with the room, the desk, the chair where he had sat, the chair where Eve had been sitting … He recalled what Eve had looked like that night – frightened, stoic but still somehow under control. He knew how it felt to be frightened and stoic but now he was losing control of the world around him.