by S C Brown
Berner slumped into what had been his chair and began to think. Then he stood up, moved to the other side of the desk and sat in what had been Eve’s chair. Somehow he felt more comfortable.
Brunswick was under arrest in Rouen, almost certainly in the hands of the madman Ritter. Berner, meanwhile, was still running Eve but he was in the SD now. The SD would have to find out about Eve sooner or later and at that point, he would lose control of her. Eve’s survival was in jeopardy.
Berner knew Eve’s signals to London had included no ‘tell’: she was signalling to London that she had been captured. London had in all certainty drawn the conclusion, rightly, that it was Berner who had Eve under arrest. What they probably wouldn’t understand, he thought, was why he had told Eve to start sending information to London that was true.
Confident in his ability to play this game against the British, he needed to lure London into knowing Walter Berner was in play, to see if the British would start making the same old mistakes. So far, all was panning out just as it had done in Holland, and there was no reason Berner could not soon expect to start succeeding at the same old rate. But now he was fighting the SS as well – he was playing twice the game he was used to. This was his problem: if he succeeded, the success would belong to the SD, the Nazis. They certainly didn’t deserve this kind of success, not after Sauer’s little farce. His credit. The credit - until about ninety minutes ago - of the non-Nazi Walter Berner.
Berner reached down to touch the chair that had only recently been Eve’s. He remembered how, despite the lack of sleep and everything he had put her through, she had remained loyal and still was.
Eve had been so certain of her loyalty. She had been trained and prepared for capture well, but did she have the character to mean it? This was Berner’s other problem: had Eve been so well prepared because it was her job to be captured? Had London sent Eve to trail her coat for Berner to catch?
And what of that sham of an investigation by Sauer? It was just incredible to think that Berner’s recent past had been gone through in detail and had not aroused suspicion in any way. Berner was a spy – everything he did should arouse suspicion somehow. He knew the SD lacked nuance and refinement but something was wrong. Surely they couldn’t be that incompetent? Germany was certainly in trouble if they were.
This had - just had - to be a trap. Berner’s trouble was that he didn’t know what the trap looked like and what, or who, was the bait. Sauer’s boss, Kruger, was an old hand at this game and Berner was going to have to work particularly hard to beat him.
If he handed Eve over, Eve was likely to be shot and having kept a British agent secret, he was likely to share the same fate, especially if the SS read the messages he had had her send. Brunswick would die too.
Berner thought about this for a bit longer and realised Kruger wouldn’t be coming for him for a little while yet – not while he had Brunswick. Kruger could destroy Brunswick if he wanted. Brunswick, then Eve, then Berner. That was the house of cards Walter Berner perched on.
It was a question of control, and Berner wasn’t sure who was controlling who any longer. He didn’t like it and decided it was time he took what control he could back again. The question was how.
Berner stood up, walked around the desk again and sat in his old chair. He ruminated and eventually formed in his head the question: who was the enemy here? He then returned to Eve’s chair and surprised himself with the answer he settled on. Unexpected though his conclusion was, it put a smile on his face. Berner stood up and returned to his office.
Chapter Ten
That evening, Saxon watched Xavier interpret the dots and dashes coming through his headphones into groups of numbers and letters. Xavier sipped appreciatively at a coffee as Saxon decoded the groups of letters and numbers into the message London had sent him. The raid was on. London had approved Saxon’s plan to launch another large raid on the railways. Clement would be pleased, thought Saxon to himself. Saxon thanked Xavier, burned the message, and left.
* * *
The man tasked by Ritter to keep an eye on Xavier’s house watched a person leave, close the garden gate and stalk off in the direction of Rouen. Keeping his distance and walking silently in rubber soled shoes, Ritter’s man followed.
Saxon, hidden in a bush, watched this German follow Xavier’s son on a wild goose chase to Rouen and back before the curfew started. HE waited for a few moments before setting off.
* * *
‘That’s him,’ whispered Steinseck to himself as Saxon walked off and disappeared into the gloom. Diligently and silently, he followed him all the way to Clement’s house.
* * *
‘I came as quickly as I could, what’s the matter?’ asked Eve as she sat down at the pre-arranged café. She had seen the two chalk stripes on a certain headstone in the Passy Cemetery, left for her by Berner. It was the emergency signal.
‘Thank you for reacting so quickly. You look better,’ said Berner genuinely.
Eve smiled. ‘I hope you brought me here to tell me a little more than that?’
Returning her smile, Berner drained his coffee cup and picked up his newspaper. ‘Of course. Time is short, shall we go for a little walk?’
Eve knew that meant only one thing: whatever it was they were about to discuss, no one was to overhear, and as ever the best way to have a private conversation, as Colonel Smithens always used to say, was right out in the open.
They strolled down the street, looking as casual and every-day as they could, but there was something different about Berner. He seemed … nervous.
No one else, not even the many German soldiers and airmen walking about so much as cast a glance in their direction. Once in a quieter road, Eve could sense that Berner had picked his moment.
‘Time is short, Eve, so here goes, okay?’
‘Okay,’ she replied. This was going to be big, thought Eve.
‘The Abwehr has essentially been taken over and disbanded by the SS. Schneider, my boss, has been arrested as a suspected traitor.’
Eve could feel herself slowing down. Berner allowed her pace to dwindle but he kept talking. ‘Anyone close to Schneider, which includes me, is therefore a suspect.’
Eve heard herself groan but Berner persisted. ‘The Gestapo have investigated me and it seems I’m in the clear, for now. But – and this is the bit you may not like - I am to work for the SD from now on. That means you’re working for the SD from now on too.’
Eve stopped in her tracks, her spine instantly cold. ‘When you say you’ve been investigated, what exactly do you mean?’
‘I wasn’t interrogated, if that’s what you mean. They asked a few people a few questions and did some paperwork checks. That’s it by the looks of it. I have to say the man running the investigation was hardly the best the SD have got, so either they’re focused on other people, or they’re just going through the motions, or they’re watching what I do next. Crucially, Eve, they don’t know about you yet and I intend to keep it that way. I have covered my tracks well, it seems.’
Berner’s attempt at being reassuring hadn’t worked. ‘They accuse Schneider of treason,’ asked Eve, ‘and arrest him but carry out only a cursory check on one of his most able lieutenants?’
The scepticism in Eve’s voice was all too obvious. Eve’s trust in Berner as evaporating but he didn’t seem surprised. He then blurted with uncharacteristic honesty, ‘I don’t exactly know what the SD is up to right now. Maybe they’re good at what they do, maybe they’re incompetent. My money’s on incompetence but I will think twice before doing anything from now on. You should do the same.’
Eve felt the colour drain from her face. She started to walk again, leading Berner along. Eve knew that to stand around in the middle of the pavement would attract attention. She wanted to get moving to look normal and forgettable again. Eve’s mind was racing and so, she could feel it, was her pulse. Was the SD watching them now? Knowing the SD could well be after her next struck a deep, cold terror.
Then Berner’s next statement took her breath away. ‘When you next signal London, I want you to start using your tell again. I want you to let London know you are on their side again.’
As Eve wavered, Berner put out an arm to steady her and keep her walking. Eve felt her fear subside, to be replaced with a rush of anger. She clenched her teeth and wondered how the hell Berner knew she had been betraying him to London. Spotting a bench up ahead, she said nothing until they were sat down.
‘Eve,’ started Berner, clearly aware that what he had just said would have shocked her, ‘what do you expect? Don’t forget, you are the fiftieth agent to have played back to London for me. I know all your tricks. I need to start putting your tell back in your messages to protect you from the SD. And me.’
‘You’re not making sense, Walter.’
‘It’s simple: omitting the tell lets London you’re no longer under German control.’
‘That’s exactly my point, Walter, and forgive me but that’s why you’re not making any sense to me. You say that by missing out my tell, I would be letting London know I was no longer under German control. But I am. I’m under your control. You are still German, right?’ Eve hurried on before Berner could react. ‘You want me to fall for some cock-and-bull story about the SD taking over the Abwehr, to convince me to start fooling London? No way.’
Eve caught her breath, wondered what was going to happen next. She had left Berner with no option but to force her to comply. It dawned on Eve that she was now very, very vulnerable. All Eve had wanted was to keep track of Berner to see what she could learn of his methods. Who he worked for wasn’t that important to Eve - but it was certainly important to Berner by the look of it.
Berner took a deep breath and then said, ‘I want… I want London to believe what you’re saying because I need you to signal how things have changed. It should also put a bit of separation between me and you, should anything happen to me.’
‘You might as well hand me over to your new pals in the SD, then. There’s no way I’m doing anything that confuses London.’ Eve was back to her old, belligerent self.
Berner’s mouth twitched with amusement. ‘Eve, I am absolutely serious. I want you to let London know you are acting under your own auspices. No longer being run as a double-agent.’
‘That’s impossible. All the time I’m sending what you tell me, I am a double-agent.’
‘Eve, I need you to become a British agent again.’ Berner reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a newspaper. ‘Here, page five. It’s all in the crossword as usual, starting from three down.’
Eve opened the newspaper, turned to the correct page and started reading. Berner watched her read it. Her eyebrows dropped. She read it again. Slowly she folded the newspaper and placed it on her lap and laid both her hands neatly on top of it, composing herself.
‘It’s important and it needs to go as soon as possible.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, Walter, I can see that.’ Eve was chortling. ‘But you’ve got one hell of a problem now haven’t you? You see, Walter, I know what Operation Ratweek is.’
He clearly hadn’t been expecting that.
Eve glanced around her, no one could hear what she was saying. ‘You want MI6 to bump someone off, Walter, don’t you?’ she asked.
Berner realised the time for playing a game was over. He needed Eve’s help and the only way to get the help of a woman like this was to be honest, genuinely honest. ‘I do, yes, Eve. Someone’s interfering in my work and he’s got to go.’
‘But not just anyone, Walter. You want MI6 to kill a SD officer.’
‘Yes.’
Eve sighed. ‘How do you know about Op Ratweek?’
‘Simple. No one else seems to have noticed it yet but every time a German counter-intelligence officer is killed, the related radio traffic in the days leading up to an attack always includes the word Ratweek.’
‘Walter, if you’re as clever as you’re made out to be, why aren’t you making any sense? First you tell me you’re now some sort of SD agent, you want to protect me but want my help in bumping off a few of your new-found colleagues?’
‘Not a few, Eve, one. Just one. Trust me, the world will not miss this man.’
‘I don’t care. You’re killing Germans now, Walter. Just whose side are you on?’
Berner stopped himself from saying something. Eve studied his face in the same way she had in the interrogation room. But instead of being the matter-of-fact, cool spy-catcher, what Eve saw before her was something much more frail, something more … vulnerable.
Smiling, Berner put his hands out and forward slightly, palms towards Eve, like someone greeting an old friend at a reunion.
Eve watched incredulously. ‘Oh my God,’ she gasped. She grabbed him by the arm, pulled him up and off the bench and started walking smartly to the next bar. Even if Berner didn’t, Eve needed a drink.
* * *
‘Never.’ Exclaimed Smithens, clutching the signal message. He looked up at Billy for confirmation.
‘It’s all there, tell, salutation, the lot. Eve’s gone legit again.’
‘And look at what’s she’s asking for.’
‘You’d know more about that than I would, Colonel, if you don’t mind me saying.’ For obvious reasons, Billy Earle didn’t know what Op Ratweek was.
‘It’s unbelievable, if I’m honest, Billy. I don’t know what to make of it.’
‘Well, Sir, can I suggest you have at least a couple of ideas up your sleeve by the time you get to the Chief’s office? Fred here tells me the boss is expecting you.’ Billy beamed facetiously. Grimacing, Smithens turned and left.
A few moments later, Smithens was ushered into C’s office. Accompanied by his Chief of Staff, C was sitting with fingers steepled in front of his face and a copy of Eve’s message laid out flat on his desk. The Registry hadn’t even had time to put it into a file.
Smithens faced his boss, unsure what to say next.
‘You’re right, Smithens, we don’t know what to make of it either.’ C chuckled to himself before lighting his pipe and gesturing Smithens to an armchair. ‘What’s your take on this?’
Smithens didn’t so much as give a reply but instead blurted out his own confused thoughts in no particular order. ‘She’s either free of Berner, or she’s been rumbled by him. She’s trying to tell us something but I’m not sure what. She’s got something against this SD man Ritter clearly, but why? He’s in Rouen, not Paris. I can’t make the connection.’
‘Perhaps Eve has learned something of the SD’s actions in Rouen via some contact of hers and asking to have the man killed?’ asked the Chief-of-Staff.
‘That’s possible, but is it plausible? Eve knows the protocols on Op Ratweek. It’s supposed to be a self-defence mechanism, not for bumping off Jerry whenever she feels like it.’
‘There is another explanation,’ said C coyly. He always acted like this when he knew something Smithens didn’t. Just in time, Smithens stopped himself sighing with frustration.
‘What you may not know is that the Abwehr ceased to exist either yesterday or this morning.’
‘Right,’ said Smithens, his voice in neutral, his brain racing.
C continued: ‘After all this time, Old Himmler has pulled it off and taken over the last remaining independent intelligence agency outside the SS. It’s a shame; I had a bit of time for Schneider, but they’ve arrested him and that’s the end of his war.’
Smithens hesitated. ‘What’s that got to do with Eve?’
‘Fair point.’ C tapped his pipe on the desk. ‘Assuming Berner’s still alive, he’s probably being measured for an SS uniform as we speak – SD, in all probability. It’s no secret that there’s no love lost between the Abwehr and the SD, so maybe Berner’s not adjusting to his new circumstances very well.’
‘So?’ pleaded Smithens.
‘Well, what are the options here, Smithens? Think about it. Either Berner wants to see how we run Op Ratweek and is wil
ling to put a well-known SD officer up as a target, or Berner is trying to save his own skin because the SD want Berner dead, or …’
Smithens’ eyebrows shot up, imploring. This was agonising.
‘Berner’s not for joining the Nazi party,’ said C eventually, ‘and he’s jumped ship,’.
As Smithens leaned back, his head hit the back of the chair with an audible slap.
* * *
In a different café the next day, Berner sat quietly, apprehensively spinning a saucer with his finger as he waited for Eve’s arrival. Outside, the sun shone beautifully.
The doorbell tinkled and in breezed Eve, clearly full of interesting news. As Berner stood to greet her, a few heads turned to give Berner a jealous glare.
‘Good morning,’ she said with an impish grin on her face.
‘Good morning. At least I hope it is.’ Berner glanced towards the waiter. ‘Another coffee please?’ Berner let Eve settle herself in her chair before asking, ‘Well?’
‘Aren’t you listening in on me any longer?’
‘My listeners are … in transit and were unable to monitor your last broadcast.’
‘Well, London said: “Many thanks, acknowledged”. I think London believes you.’
‘We won’t know for certain until Ritter is dead.’
‘Quite.’
‘Ritter has my Sergeant under arrest. That’s why I want him dead and as soon as possible.’
Eve took a moment to respond. ‘Is this how it’s going to be from now on, is it, Walter? Every time we meet, you’ve got a new and nasty surprise for me?’