"The first is thee case." Goering lit a cigarette and drew heavily upon it. " Russia remains unchanged in all essentials. They are a lazy, shiftless lot and are always saying, 'Nichevo- nichevo!' never do to day what you can put off till tomorrow just as they used to say in the past. Apart from a few people in the Polit Bureau, the Organizational Bureau and the Secretariat there is hardly a Russian that can't be bought. Their Air Force is big very big. That is why if the Soviet had tied up with the Democracies it might have done considerable damage in Berlin during the first few weeks of the war. Numbers cannot possibly be ignored in such matters and the Soviet pilots are brave men, as they proved in Spain. But aircraft types get out of date more quickly than any other arm. The Soviet Air Force reached its peak as a weapon three years ago and plane for plane the Russians wouldn't stand a dog's chance against any of the more modern types that we or the Western Powers now have."
Gregory nodded. "I thought as much. How about the army?"
"There are two armies in Russia. The Army proper is very big in numbers but is composed mainly of conscripts who are ill armed, ill officered and ill fed. They're not even up to the standard of the reserve battalions of Moujiks which the Tsar sent against us in 1915. None of these units is equipped with the most modern weapons apart from tanks because the Kremlin has always been afraid of an Army Putsch. Stalin has deliberately starved the Army proper of equipment, to ensure his own political battalions having at least a great superiority of weapon power over the ordinary troops if it ever came to a show down with the Generals.
"Those political battalions form an army in themselves but a much smaller one, numbering some 300,000 men. Every man in them is a Communist Party member admitted only after the severest tests in the same way as our S.S. men here. They have the best of everything food, quarters, women and would fight tooth and nail to protect the Government that ensures them these privileges. They are commanded by Budenny, who is
Voroshilov's most trusted man, and both are completely loyal the Kremlin."
Gregory swallowed another couple of mouthfuls of the iced champagne. "I take it, then, that the Kremlin would not risk sending its political battalions against the Finns but would use the main army which you say is in such poor condition?"
"Naturally. They will rely on sheer weight of numbers to smash the Mannerheim Line because it doesn't matter how any of their conscripts they kill; whereas large losses among their crack political troops would leave the Kremlin Government exposed to the danger of an internal revolution."
"Do you think such mass attacks by inferior troops will be efficient to overcome the Finnish resistance within say a, month?"
"I doubt it; because it is not only the troops that are of such poor quality; they will be worse led than any other army in Europe."
"Do you mean because Stalin has bumped off so many of is best officers in these constant purges since the Tukachevsky conspiracy of 1937?"
Goering nodded. "It's been infinitely worse than most people suppose. There's no doubt that Stalin nipped the 'Tukachevsky conspiracy only just in time. Nearly every officer importance was involved in it and the Ogpu have been tracing them up ever since. During the last two years he has liquidated 75 out of 8o members of the Supreme War Council, 13 out of 19 Army commanders and 195 Divisional commanders. Altogether they have murdered 350 odd generals, but even that not the worst of it. Over 30,000 officers of all ranks have been slaughtered."
"Thirty thousand " Gregory exclaimed.
"Yes. That means that hardly an officer above the rank of Major has been spared and practically all their qualified staff officers have been eliminated. Men who were captains last year re now commanding divisions and sergeants have become company commanders overnight. The Navy and the Air Force have suffered equally in proportion. The result is bound to be absolute chaos when the Soviet forces are called on to under take a full scale campaign."
"You have, of course, irrefutable proof of this in your Secret service files?" Gregory asked.
"Certainly. We have far too many agents operating in Russia for them all to be mistaken."
"How much of this do you think the Finns know?"
"A little, perhaps; but not very much compared with ourselves. Finland is a small country and her resources are limited. For every agent the Finns have working in Russia we probably have a hundred."
"Good. Now, what you've told me more than confirms my own suspicions, and this is the plan I had in mind. Get the facts from Berlin and sit up all night compiling a full report upon the Soviet Army and Air Force, backed by all the available evidence."
A quick smile lit Goering's eyes. "I see the ideal You're suggesting that I should tip off the Finnish Government that the main Red Army is only cardboard."
"Exactly. There can be no doubt that Marshal Mannerheim would rather fight than give in and from what we know of the Finnish War of Independence I'm certain that most of the Finns are with him. But the Government is the snag. Politicians are not soldiers; the thought of their cities lying in ruins and their women and children being bombed to Hell makes them prepared to go to almost any lengths rather than go to war. If only you can convince the Finnish Cabinet that their country will not be overrun immediately and that in spite of Russia's numerical superiority there's a good chance of their being able to hold out until other countries and the February snows come to their assistance, you'll have done the trick you'll have saved Finland as a possible base for future German operations when the present war is over."
Goering shook his head. "I believe it could be done; but one thing makes such a course impossible. To convince them that the reports are genuine I should have to send a personal emissary with full authority to let the Finns know that, whatever Germany ’s ostensible attitude may be, I am behind them. That would mean going behind the Führer’s back. Himmler's agents are everywhere, even in the highest offices of the Government. There are very few people indeed that even I can absolutely trust, and those few are marked men. If one of them disappeared Himmler would send out a general call through his Foreign Department, U.A. 1. Every Gestapo agent outside Germany would be turned on to hunt for my man; his presence in Helsinki would be discovered and reported, and that alone would be sufficient to give away the fact that I had been trying to double cross von Ribbentrop. I'm not frightened of him I can take care of myself and I'm a much bigger man than he is but there would be hell to pay, and I'm not ready for a showdown with him yet."
"I feared the problem of a suitable emissary would prove a knotty one," Gregory nodded; "because anyone you send on such a mission must be a man of some standing, otherwise the Finns might become suspicious and get it into their heads that he was not sent by you at all. But surely you can find some aristocrat an Army man for preference who is outside politics someone important enough to impress the Finns and at the same time a man whom you could completely trust someone, for example, like our late friend, Colonel Baron von Lutz?" '
In spite of its size the room was now blue with the smoke of innumerable cigarettes, yet Goering lit another and puffed upon it. "Yes, someone like that," he murmured. "Von Lutz would have been just the man, but he's dead; and unfortunately,, where a month ago I could have found a dozen like him who would have done equally well, they were all either killed or have gone into hiding as a result of the Army Putsch."
Gregory smiled. "Then it seems there's nothing else for it.
If you're to pull this job off and you must, for the sake of your own future and that of Germany you'll just have to send me."
"You?" Goering exclaimed.
"Yes; why not?" Gregory grinned now that he had whipped the cover from the life boat which he had been secretly fashioning for himself during the last few moments, and hurried on: "Nobody knows that the Baron is dead. He might have been burnt in that cottage last night or he might have escaped. Even if the S.S. men find his body in the woods the news of his death will never get as far as Finland because he wasn't important enough for it to be reported to the
Gestapo agents there. I'm wearing his clothes at the moment and although our faces weren't alike our build was much the same. I am a born impostor, and as I spent the best part of three weeks in hiding with the Baron I know all about his family and his whole history. All you have to do is to furnish me with a passport in the Baron's name and an aeroplane. Haven't you realized yet that I can be darned useful to you alive whereas I'll be no good to anybody once I'm dead?"
Goering began to pace rapidly up and down. "That's all very well, but how do I know that I can trust you? You're an Englishman. Why should you offer to work for Germany? To save your life, you may say; but I should not believe that. You are not the kind of man who betrays his country."
"To do as I suggest would not be betraying my country," said Gregory swiftly. "In this instance the interests of Britain and Germany are identical. Britain has always championed the small nations so she would naturally be anxious that the Finns should retain their independence. Further: if Russia's demands are resisted, and she is compelled to fight for what she wants, that will give her an even better excuse than any she has at present for delaying in sending supplies to Germany. That is the price a very small one, in my opinion which you must pay if you are to save Finland as a possible base for future operations. But I'm concerned with this war, not the next; and by providing Russia with a spot of bother, so that she is less able to help you, I'm assisting my own country. As far as the future is concerned, I don't see why the Western Powers should object to Germany ’s compensating herself for her lack of colonies by absorbing Southern Russia and making Asiatic Russia a German protectorate."
"Ha And what about the right of self determination that you English talk so much about. You would say we were enslaving the Russians or some such nonsense."
"The population of Central and North Eastern Asia is no more Russian than that of India is English or that of Senegal French. I don't think that question would arise, providing you allowed the true Russians to retain self government in their own original Muscovite territories. What really matters is that the German race would no longer menace future peace if it had sufficient room in which to spread. Given Russia ’s vast Asiatic lands in addition to the Reich, Germany could afford to give up Czechoslovakia and Poland as she would still have about one fifth of the world's land surface more than enough room for her surplus population. With such an area to administer and develop she need never again come into collision with the Western Powers over the colonial question and there might at last be some real hope of peace in our time. I would not dream of undertaking this mission if I were not convinced that in serving you I should also be serving Britain."
"Yes, Yes. If we had the Ukraine, the Caucasus and all Asiatic Russia our problem would be solved for good. But if you wouldn't double cross me with your own people you might with the Gestapo. How am I to know that you'd not take any papers I gave you straight to Himmler?"
"I should have thought you had a perfect guarantee against that."
"Guarantee? What D’you mean?"
Gregory shrugged. "What am I doing here? Why did I put my neck in a noose by coming to see you? Only because I was desperately anxious to find out what had happened to Erika."
"Of course of course."
"And now you've told me that she's in Finland, isn't her presence there the best guarantee you could possibly have that the one thing I'm anxious to do is to get to Finland myself so that I can join her?"
"That's true. Yes, I believe you're honest. But it's a hellish risk." Goering's voice still held doubt as he began to pace swiftly up and down again. "Say you slip up and are caught by Himmler's agents, with those papers on you?"
Gregory's pulses were racing. He knew that he was on the very verge of victory. If he could storm the last redoubt of Goering's resistance by yet one more reasoned argument his case would be won; he and Charlton would walk out of Karinhall free men and with facilities for escaping out of Germany. Nerving himself for a final effort he swilled down the last of his champagne, and said earnestly:
"Listen. What have you to fear? In serving you I serve my country. I have the strongest possible personal motive for wanting to go to Finland, because it is only by doing so that I can rejoin the woman I love. If I do slip up, that will be tough luck on me, but there'll be no come back whatsoever so far as you're concerned. There would be if I were really Colonel Baron von Lutz or any other German that you might choose to send. But I'm not a German; I'm a British secret agent, and any rigorous examination would prove that. I'm the one and only man you can send with complete safety, because if I'm caught you could deny all knowledge of me swear I'd stolen the papers and everybody would believe you."
"By God, you're right” Goering swung round. "Very well I'll send you to Finland."
Even the masterly control with which Gregory was usually able to hide his true feelings was not proof against the glint of triumph which leapt into his eyes. To conceal it he bent forward and helped himself to another of the fat cigarettes. As he lit it, with his eyes cast down towards its tip, he could feel his heart thumping a rhythm in his chest. "I've won I've won
I've won " But all he said as he flicked out the match was: "Good. How soon can I start?"
Goering had suddenly become a different man. All trace of the indecision so foreign to his nature had left him. With his dark eyes fixed on Gregory he said rapidly: "Now that the crisis is on every hour is of importance. You will leave the moment we have the papers ready. I shall send you in one of my private planes. I can trust my own pilots and one of them will not be missed while away on a twenty four hour trip."
"He'll have to observe the usual formalities when we land at the Helsinki air port, though," Gregory remarked, "and he might easily be recognized. I should think it's a hundred to one that Himmler has planted one of his spies among the personnel there."
"That's true," Goering frowned.
"Don't worry about that. You let me have the plane and I'll provide the pilot."
` Ah! You mean the fellow downstairs? I'd forgotten all about him. Is he a good man competent to fly a Messerschmitt and would he also be willing to go to Finland?"
"He's one of the best pilots in the R.A.F, and he'll fly anything anywhere rather than be interned in Germany for the duration of the war."
"He won't bring my plane back, though."
"No. You can hardly expect him to do that. But what the hell does one plane matter on a job like this?"
"Nothing at all. But no comment would be aroused among the Finns if a German pilot in a German plane just flew in and out to drop you there; whereas a British pilot arriving with a German officer in a German plane would cause every tongue to wag."
"I agree. But in any case I couldn't go in uniform. You'll have to let me have a suit of civilian clothes and you could easily provide me with a double set of papers; one faked British passport in my own name for me to show on landing at the air port and one passport in the name of Colonel Baron von Lutz for presentation to the people at the Finnish Foreign Office. I should then be a British subject arriving with a British pilot."
"But what about the plane?"
"Don't let's use a Messerschmitt. You must have some foreign make in your private fleet that might quite as naturally be flown by a British instead of a German pilot. All we'd have to do then is to paint out the German markings and substitute the British circles for the German crosses."
Suddenly Goering began to laugh uproariously, his fat body shaking like a jelly.
"What's bitten you?" Gregory inquired.
"I was just thinking," the Marshal wheezed, "what a grand Joke it would be if I gave you the little plane with which Voroshilov presented me when I made my trip to Russia."
Gregory laughed too, but shook his head. "Russian makes are rare, if non existent, in Britain. An Italian or a Dutch make would be much better."
Goering nodded. "I have a four Beater Belgian Sabina which would do admirably. It is their fastest type and fitted with de icing apparatus. I'll let
you have that. And now to work."
Although it was well after midnight, within a few moments the big apartment became a hive of activity. Half a dozen officers, forming Goering's confidential secretariat, were summoned and to each the Marshal gave brief, clear instructions.
Three were dispatched to Berlin; one to the Foreign Office to arrange about the passports, and the other two to collect files from the Air Ministry and the War Office respectively. A fourth was ordered to find Gregory a complete change of clothes. A fifth was told to give immediate instructions for the alterations of the markings on the Belgian plane, then to collect Charlton and work out with him, from the latest weather reports and maps of the Baltic, the navigation details of a flight to Finland; while the sixth was sent running to bring all the available reports on Russia from Goering's private files.
The man who was going to the Foreign Office fetched a camera and photographed Gregory, both in uniform and in a borrowed civilian overcoat, for the two passports. Then two clerks brought in a typewriter on a wheeled desk. Immediately the reports arrived Goering flung off his coat and sitting down, in his shirt sleeves, at his big table he began to dictate.
As Gregory stood behind him, reading snatches of the reports over the Marshal's shoulder, he was filled with amazement and admiration at the spectacle of the man who had created the new Germany exercising his extraordinary brain. Every now and again Goering mopped the perspiration from his broad forehead as he sweated out the alcohol that he had drunk and was still drinking, for the deaf mute barman had appeared again and had opened another magnum of champagne. With pauses of only a moment the Marshal was absorbing whole pages of typescript with a sponge like rapidity and condensing them into brief paragraphs. He missed nothing of importance and his words poured out in a swift, unhesitating flow. The typist's fingers positively flew over the keys as he took the dictation, and the other man who had come in with him constantly prepared fresh foolscap paper and carbons so that there should be the least possible delay in changing sheets at the end of each page.
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