by Dick Hardman
After a refreshing bath and a change of clothes, there was still time to take breakfast. It gave him opportunity to review the mission.
***
Deployment of the beacon system was scheduled for the beginning of March 1944, because there were still many technical issues with the fuel and guidance of the V-1.
The original plan was to established the team in the area and reinforce their cover. That was still necessary, but after all the jarring to the beacons, Peter needed to set up field trials, immediately.
Meanwhile his team would report back on the activity at the factory and other locations. He was not prepared to risk the team being discovered, so any acts of sabotage would have to be done by others. Planting of the beacons was of paramount importance.
***
However, Peter was prepared to risk the mission for his own pressing needs.
With those needs in mind, his first task of the day was to locate a suitable car. It had to be a fast family saloon, with a reasonably full petrol tank, and available on that night. He found several candidates, and with a quick lift on the rear wheel arch, he listened to the slosh of fuel. A light splashy sound and it was low, but a slow and prolonged deeper sound meant it was nearer full. He checked the full tank by crawling under the car and tapping the petrol tank with a coin, to judge the change in tone at the level of the petrol. There was no point in stealing a car with no petrol, he had no spare coupons to buy more.
Next, he wrote three similar coded messages, one for each of his team. The actual decoded message read, will collect you outside digs at 7.00pm tonight. Boiler suit, balaclava, gloves, torch, pistol, silencer and knife. Putting each in a sealed, addressed envelope, he hand delivered to the digs.
Finally, Peter took a taxi across the city to the exclusive shopping area of Hatton Garden, walking around the sights and making mental notes as he went.
This was going to be an interesting night out, he thought, not the sort of thing Berlin would condone, but exciting, nonetheless!
Compromised! 20th December 1943
John Caplin picked up the jangling phone, irritated at the untimely interruption of his report to Sir Philip Stern. It set out the failure of Davis to capture Strom and his team.
“Good morning, John Caplin here, can I help you?” His calm, polite voice was only temporary, until he knew who was calling.
“Richard Wallis here John, over at GCHQ. I have something that might be of interest.”
“Wallis? Ah! The man who solved the dots puzzle, good of you to call, got something tasty to cheer me up?” His cheerful attitude belied his belief that it would be a waste of his time.
“I hope so, but it’s all based on a hunch actually. There may be nothing to it, but I thought you ought to know.”
Caplin sensed the man had considered it was good intelligence when he dialled his number, but his confidence was rapidly being eroded by doubt. It was probably rubbish. On the other hand, this was a man of high intellect, frequently following hunches to solve the most baffling code and intelligence mysteries, but probably still rubbish.
“Owing to family issues, I am staying at a guest house over at Gant’s Hill. A new guest came in late yesterday, a young Polish man called Andrzej Trocki. His story was that he had recently arrived from Poland and his permanent papers had just been finalised. All innocent enough, but he has hardly any accent, and speaks phrasebook English.
“At dinner last night, he was very selective about the questions he answered, as if he didn’t understand them. That reinforced my belief he spoke like a phrase book, simple and direct short sentences. The sort of thing a hastily trained agent might have to resort to, in the unlikely event he was engaged in conversation. Also he was very guarded about the work he did, a cleaner I gather. I accept that his reason might be ‘loose lips sink ships’, but it just does not sit right.”
“You suspect him as being a foreign agent, because of his poor English, is that right?”
“No, he has no accent that is what’s so strange. Who ever heard of a Pole without an accent?”
“Thanks for your call Richard, but I suggest you pass this onto someone else. Why not try immigration or, if you feel really strongly about it, Steve Davis over at MI5 could look into it. Suggest to him that this man entered the country round about the same time as Karl Strom and his team of three. He will be all over it I am sure.
“Thanks again for the tip, and I hope your family issues are soon sorted out.” John Caplin replaced the receiver, focussed once more on the report he was writing and thought no more about the call.
Richard Wallis felt that his suspicions were so flimsy, a call to this man Davis would be foolish. For most of the day he vacillated over the matter.
***
That afternoon, Sir Philip Stern called Caplin.
“Good afternoon John, I received your report about the Strom fiasco headed up by Steve Davis. Have you dug up any new leads?”
“Actually, I am reviewing the case again now. I received a possible lead earlier today, and I passed it onto Davis. I will ring him now and see where it takes us. May I call you about it tomorrow, we need time to interrogate the suspect.”
“You’re a damn good sort John. That’s what I like about you. You don’t let the grass grow under your feet.
“Bring me good news John, only good news!” As was customary, the line went dead.
Caplin hastily dialled Davis’s number, forcefully dragging back the slowly whirring dial with each digit, to speed up the connection. He was suddenly flushed with anxiety; something told him he had snubbed his guardian angel by not handling the lead with Davis, personally.
***
There was no doubt that others saw John Caplin as a brilliant operative, he always seemed to come up with the answers, which could explain his rapid advancement within the department. Caplin knew he was not the man the others saw. He was not bright, just astonishingly lucky; not the ‘I won the raffle’ type of luck, but the lifetime of lucky breaks.
He remembered his interview with Sir Philip, when he joined the department. The man was awesomely astute; his manner was warm and friendly, a bit of a toff, actually, bordering on the hooray-henry, but his eyes seemed to prise free every secret from within Caplin’s brain, analyse it and store it for future use, as a weapon or driver.
At the time Stern had said to him “you know John, I don’t want clever generals I want lucky ones.”
Caplin took it as Sir Philip’s way of saying, “I know you are a fraud, and dim as a Toc-H lamp and you got this far by luck not brains, but the results are all that matter to me!”
***
This last phone call was as if Caplin’s guardian angel had warned Sir Philip of his neglect of this fluke of a lead, and he was prompting Caplin to keep on track.
“Hello Richard, you called me this morning about your suspicions regarding a Polish man. Did you tell Steve Davis as I instructed?”
“Good afternoon John. I must have misunderstood you, I thought you said I should try Immigration or Steve Davis in MI5. Sorry, I did neither.”
“Please phone Davis immediately, and tell him about your concern. I will give you five minutes and then call him myself, to see what he plans to do about it.”
Caplin’s tone left Richard in no doubt that any blame for mishandling the intelligence would be dumped on him.
***
He dialled Davis’s number, cursing the slow whirling of the dial as it wound back for the next digit.
“Good afternoon, Steve Davis’s phone, he is out at the moment, can I help you?”
“Richard Wallis here, GCHQ. When will he be back, the matter is most urgent.” The young lad at the other end could hear the tremor of panic in Wallis’s voice. Wallis felt the whole world was now conspiring against him, he should have been the hero, but instead he had ended up as the fool.
“I cannot say, he went out a few minutes ago to see Sir Philip Stern.”
“Please call him there immediately;
I must speak to him before he sees Sir Philip.”
“Sounds like a matter of life and death Mr Wallis!”
“It is! My head will roll, if I don’t get him in time.”
“I will call immediately sir.” The lad hung up and quickly made the call.
***
Andrzej felt very tired as he cleaned the conference room at the factory. Last night would be remembered as outstanding and he was confident there would be many more. Once the girls had tasted his goods, and they had literally done that, they would be back for more.
Women were such strange and complicated creatures, impossible to fathom. May and June were insatiable, not only with him, but also with each other. At the dining table, they were so prim and respectable, but when alone with him, they were like animals. If he had been dating one girl and the other had then made a play, there would have been a cat fight. No way would they have shared. No doubt they would be all ladylike at dinner tonight, with not the slightest hint of debauchery on their sweet, innocent faces.
Andrzej longed to get back to the guest house for a good night’s rest, or whatever the calendar-girls had to offer; he was easy, either way.
***
The moment he walked in, Sir Philip’s secretary offered Davis the phone.
“I understand you need to make a call to Richard Wallis on this number, before you see Sir Philip. A matter of life and death, by all accounts!”
She smiled as she spoke, but Davis was in no mood for foolishness. It was never a good sign to be summoned to Sir Philip’s office, he felt sure it was about the report he had received from Caplin. No doubt it had been phrased to blame him entirely for the failure to capture Strom and his team.
He took the phone. “Steve Davis here, is that Richard Wallis?” There was no attempt to keep the sharpness from his voice.
“Ah yes, Mr Davis! Thank you so much for calling. I was told by John Caplin to pass this lead to you, he felt it was relevant to your enquiries.” Wallis’s voice sounded so relieved, like the hangman had just removed the noose.
“What do you have to tell me? I am about to see Sir Philip Stern, so be quick and to the point.” Davis had the tone of a man on his way to the gallows. Could Wallis be his pardon?”
Wallis told Davis what he had said to Caplin. The timing suggested he could be a member of Strom’s team. He had since found out that Andrzej Trocki works at Gant’s Hill. Obviously, it was not Strom himself, because he had seen the sketch and subsequent photo from Peenemünde.
“Thank you for telling me, shame it wasn’t sooner. I could have been better prepared for my meeting with Sir Philip.” Davis stopped blurting, he realised he had said too much. He had confided his innermost fears to this stranger.
“I will call you back Richard, things are rather dicey, just now.” Wallis was relieved to have offloaded his burden and heaved a sigh of relief.
***
A door opened and Sir Philip loomed large. Davis glanced up and he knew the man had just probed his mind. The meeting was now a mere formality.
“You had better have good news for me, old chap? Step lively, I can hardly wait to hear it.” Stern was annoyed at having been kept waiting and this was no time for ifs, buts and bad news. Davis started speaking as he followed Sir Philip in.
“I might have one of Strom’s team in my sights. It looks like the team have split up and this man is now working at the aircraft factory, over at Gant’s Hill. I plan to raid the guest house where he is staying, tonight.”
“Don’t you think you would be better off watching the man to see if he contacts the others?”
“Actually I don’t. If they have split up, whatever they are up to, I would expect them to get on with it individually, without delay. Most likely, they will be targeting the aircraft factory. Why else would this man get a job there?
“The others might also be there, planning to strike in several places at once, and then vanish. The fact that a team was brought in, rather than use established agents, suggests to me that this is a specialised attack. Something which requires special training and equipment to do the job. We know they brought secret devices with them, when they came in by sea.
“That is another puzzle. Why not parachute in, like they usually do. The sea approach was by far the most risky. It hints at the nature of the devices, but I cannot imagine what that would be.
“Raven, our agent on Alderney, reported the large box that Strom brought in was labelled nitro-glycerine, for the Oberst. That makes no sense of course. Probably just a ruse to prevent anyone looking in the crate.
“To sum up, I don’t think we can afford to wait and see who he contacts. We can review all the new staff at Gant’s Hill anyway; we know when they would have arrived.
“We can get this man to give up the others and tell us what the plan is, then close in on them. We have no other sound option.”
Sir Philip could see the man was looking him square in the eye, but judging by his expression, Davis was unseeing, like a blind man. He was absolutely focussed on his thoughts.
“Go to it Steve. Apprehend this nest of slippery, viperous spies and hang them high. No more double agents. Kill them all and be done with them!”
The meeting was over. Now Steve had to convert this wisp of a hunch on Wallis’s part, into four swinging corpses at the end of the hangman’s rope.
***
Back in his office, Steve Davis phoned another department leader and discussed the matter of the new staff at Gant’s Hill. Between them they devised a trap to expose the remainder of Strom’s spies, perhaps even Strom himself, if in fact they were working at the factory. The outcome of this simple but devious plan, would change the history of the war.
MI5 make an arrest.
When each member of the team arrived at their digs, they opened and read their coded message from Peter, with mixed feelings. The boredom was lifted, but they were at great risk again. Andrzej was particularly dismayed, no chance of a quiet evening in bed tonight.
Henryk and Anna prepared their own meals, then washed and changed, as directed. Andrzej cleaned up and sat down to dinner, joining in with talk of the day as best he could. Richard Wallis was particularly quiet and that troubled Andrzej, it was out of character for this inquisitive man.
At 6.45pm, when Andrzej was about to put on his dark blue boiler suit, he heard a firm and urgent knock at the front door. The moment the landlady opened it, there was the din of running feet, up the stairs and along the landing. Several men burst in on Andrzej before he could recover his automatic pistol. It was just as well, Davis’s men were armed and would have shot Andrzej, given the slightest provocation. They knew their boss, Steve Davis, was protected against recriminations under these circumstances. Who was there to complain about shooting the suspect, certainly not the corpse?
Davis squeezed past his six men, who had pinned Andrzej face down on the floor. They had forced a piece of wood between his teeth, and were checking him for suicide pill and weapons, before making a detailed search of the room.
“Andrzej Trocki, I am arresting you and taking you for interrogation. You are under suspicion of being a German spy.
”Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Davis made his speech on automatic pilot, he was more interested in looking around the room than anything Trocki said. Noting the boiler suit, balaclava and gloves lying on the bed, he knew he had caught one of the team.
“What have we here, doing a bit of night shift work are you Andrzej? No, wait, your cleaner’s overalls are hung up over there, so that can’t be it. Tell me, what are you about to do?”
Andrzej just scowled, his mission had come to an abrupt end and very soon, he would be dangling from a rope. Nothing he could do about that, but what about Peter, Henryk and Anna? They would be here any moment and walk right into the trap. Perhaps they had already been captured?
Davis watched his men tearing into everything in the room, searching for some evidence to support their assumption that the prisoner was a
spy. Following Peter’s advice, all incriminating items had been hidden in places to which others also had access. In this case, behind the panel of the shared bath. By claiming they were not his, it would frustrate any conclusion to an investigation, and allow precious time for the others to clear his lockup.
“Take him to the car,” Davis commanded, as he walked out of the room and down the stairs.
***
Peter had picked up Henryk at 7.00pm precisely and was on route to Anna, just a few minutes away. A couple of jeering prostitutes were throwing insults in Anna’s direction, when Peter pulled up in a dark green saloon. Their faces dropped; they had been hanging around in the cold since 5.00pm, in their tart wear, and so far no one was interested in them. This bitch in a boiler suit had picked up two good looking male punters, the moment she appeared.
The saloon drove on, and was approaching Andrzej’s guest house. There were two badly parked cars outside, with nine people about to get into them, including one in handcuffs, Andrzej.
Peter pulled up, just in front of the lead car, giving the impression of careless parking.
“Henryk take over the driving. Anna, we will walk back to the cars, like we are lovers; I’ll take the lead car, you take the other. Shoot through the windows, kill them all. I will try to rescue Andrzej.
“Pick off anyone who gets in our way, Henryk. Anyone!”
Peter and Anna got out, embraced for a moment, and then strolled arm in arm along the road towards the two cars. With horns blaring and engines racing impatiently, the drivers tried to manoeuvre away.
Anna leapt forward, and pumped silenced shots at every seated person packed tightly in the second car.
Peter took out the driver of the lead vehicle, and Davis, in the front passenger seat. He then paused for a moment to be certain he would not injure Andrzej, seated between two men in the back who began firing at him.
He ducked below the car window and fired through the thin metal of the rear door, aiming for the belly of the nearest man. The other man opened the door on the pavement side, and made to run around the car and shoot Peter. A single shot from Henryk smacked through the man’s skull and he dropped soundlessly to the ground.