by Andrew Wood
Department VIII did not actually exist. It was the nickname given by the other seven services within the Avenue Foch community to a small sub-group within the RHSA who were tasked with investigation of the German military itself. This elite group had been formed in early 1943 following the confirmation of serious and credible assassination attempts on Hitler by traitors within the German forces. Since then, the group had grown and now had personnel stationed wherever the Reich military empire had a large presence. Their remit was to investigate any potential security risks from within. Boris continued, “I was told that I was not under arrest but it was made clear that we were going, no objections and no choice, to Odewald’s office immediately. When we got there the place was pandemonium, but that’s another thing. In the office there was Odewald, Kreutzer who runs VIII, plus some senior hawk from Kriegsmarine and another individual in a civilian suit that I’ve never seen before. Odewald was really pissed about Kreutzer running a show in his own office against his own people, but could do not much since Kreutzer carries the full SD-Leiter rank and reports directly to Muller in Berlin.”
Boris went on to explain that he had been questioned at length by Kreutzer regarding what he knew about Marner’s investigation and activities. “I simply told him that we had shared the trip to Toulouse and our notes on Carlingue characters that were known to us and maybe implicated in the murders in Toulouse and Paris, but that is all. Then, after I was dismissed, that lackey of Odewald – what’s his name? Ah yes, Tripp! – he comes racing down to my office with a message from Odewald that you are in some kind of jam and that if I know where you are, I should warn you.”
Marner’s mind was too full of other questions and confusion to be surprised at Odewald’s uncharacteristic concern for his welfare. “Did Kreutzer give you any idea of what I’ve done to warrant one of his snatch squads coming after me?”
“Nothing at all. I got the impression that the civilian in the suit was someone big because Kreutzer kept looking at him; very deferential. Kreutzer just asked me if I knew what you were working on; in particular he kept asking about submarines and cargoes. I denied any knowledge about that. But get this: the reason that the office is in pandemonium is that Graf was busted out of the cells in the night!” Before Marner could transform his shock into words, Boris continued, “Yes! And not only did he escape, but he actually had the nerve to then go to Kriegsmarine headquarters. He shot a radio operator there and disappeared again.”
Marner sat for several moments trying to work out what this chain of events might signify, but could not. “Do they suspect me of helping him escape? That’s absurd! Why would I hand him over into custody and then go and break him out hours later?”
“I don’t think so. If they really thought that then I doubt that Odewald would have tipped me off to warn you. Apparently, a detail showed up in the early hours of the morning at Foch with orders to transfer Graf to custody at Sevres. They had realistic uniforms and papers; maybe the papers are even genuine, they’re still being examined. So Foch let him go in the company of these guys and ‘poof’ – disappeared into thin air. Well, with the exception of his appearance at Kriegsmarine, that is. There’s a full bulletin out on Graf to all police, militia and military. But there is nothing public on you. Apart from Kreutzer and his squad that he sent over to your hotel, plus a few of them still hanging around the office, whatever you are involved in is being kept quiet.”
“I am utterly confused. What on earth could I have done? I gave a full report to Odewald yesterday evening. He seemed completely satisfied with how the case had been resolved.” They sat for a while longer, drinking their coffee, then Marner asked, “What went on over at Kriegsmarine?”
“I don’t really know. We know that Graf went there at around four o’clock this morning and waltzed in through the front entrance, them not having been informed of his arrest. The guard on the main desk confirms that he left again about ten minutes later. It was only when the radio operator was found dead that our office was alerted and the fact that Graf had been there came to light. It takes some audacity to go to his own office whilst on the run.”
“But why go there, why take the risk?” asked Lemele.
“He undoubtedly needed something from his office, or maybe there was something vital there that he wanted to hide or destroy,” proposed Marner.
“Or kill!” added Boris.
Marner stood up abruptly and picked up his bag.
“Where are you going?” demanded Boris.
“To Kriegsmarine headquarters,” he stated patiently, as if to imbeciles.
“What?!” cried Lemele and Boris in unison. “Are you insane? You’ve got Department VIII hunting for you and you are really going to a German military installation? Dieter that is just plain stupid! You need to go to ground and look after yourself.”
“I don’t agree. And what options do I have anyway? Whatever mess I’m in, it has to be linked to Graf and the only way to resolve it is to find him. I have no lead on him so I can only hope to find something in his office. If there is nothing there of use, nothing that points us to where he may be going, then we have nothing else.” Marner flopped back into his seat, as if already weary. “Look, Graf knows that what he revealed means that the submarines will be stripped and the crews held as soon as they reach port. It is highly unlikely that he will go to Bordeaux or any of the other Kriegsmarine bases, because there of all places he is known and will be arrested on sight. So I really need to find out if there is anywhere else that he might go to ground.”
After further discussion it was agreed that Boris would go back to Foch and find out what he could there. Lemele was to waste the day as best she could. “Go shopping and replace your clothes,” suggested Marner, thrusting a handful of notes into her hand. They agreed to meet for lunch in a bar near l’Opéra.
Marner changed into his uniform in the tiny café toilet and when he emerged the others had already departed. The café owner was shocked to find him transformed from dishevelled civilian into a Nazi officer. He thrust a good sum of money into her hand in guise of a tip and spoke to her briskly in German, whilst waving his identity card in her face. Even he was not quite sure whether it was intended to convey a warning or to establish his authenticity, but he hoped that one or the other would suffice as an incentive not to repeat what she had seen.
Chapter Twenty Six
On the walk to Kriegsmarine he ditched his bag containing the ruined clothes. Even if they were not beyond use or repair, it would seem strange for him to be carrying it on official business and he had nowhere convenient to store it.
Circling around to the north of Place de la Concorde from a block away enabled him to approach the Ministère from the rear via Rue Saint-Florentin. He skirted around the entire building, along the east side and then turned the corner and walked briskly toward and up the steps and into the entrance. Several SD bureau cars were parked in front and he kept his face averted, hoping that his uniform would not draw the attention of the troops watching the street.
At the reception desk he encountered a Kriegsmarine officer who seemed to be trying to sort order from the chaos of milling people, separating those who had genuine Kriegsmarine business away from those who were there to deal with the night’s drama. He spotted Marner’s uniform and moved quickly over. “Good morning Herr Lieutenant. You will be wanting to go up to the, ah, ‘incident’ room I think?”
Marner nodded, wanting to get away from the group of people here as quickly possible, any of whom might be from his own office and recognise him. This major domo clapped his hands and an aide appeared and Marner was told to follow her. They set off along a corridor that ran along the front of the building, then turned and passed through a large hall with a wide marble staircase decorated with gilded mirrors and old paintings of naval battle scenes.
What he really wanted was to ditch this guide and be able to get to Graf’s office. For the moment, however, he was obliged to follow her, at least until they reached
whatever destination he was to be delivered to. They arrived at a caged lift guarded by two armed soldiers. They ascended in silence to the top floor and when they doors opened they were immediately faced by two more armed Kriegsmarine troopers, who insisted on carefully inspecting his identity card. He was ready to break and run, but his name proved to be of no interest to them, which was just as well because there was nowhere to run to.
The aide stayed in the elevator car and bid Marner a good day as the doors closed. He considered simply waiting for it to come back up and then leaving again immediately, but that would seem rather bizarre to these guards. One of them saw his hesitation and waved him towards a corridor and so he was left with no option but to follow it, accepting that he would have to spend a few minutes playing through a charade of being here on genuine business before he could leave and go to Graf’s office.
He passed on down the corridor, clacking telegraphs audible behind doors, and arrived at a door blocked by a Kriegsmarine officer who turned to greet him. The officer saluted and introduced himself as Ecklund from BIII section security. “Schmitt from Kripo,” replied Marner, not trusting that Ecklund had not heard of his real name.
“You guys certainly screwed up letting that lunatic Graf escape from your custody, eh?” grumbled Ecklund, offering Marner a cigarette.
He declined. “Nothing to do with me, I’m simply here to investigate the murder. Has anyone else been to look at the crime scene?”
“A couple of your colleagues were here earlier, but they left when the body was taken away. We are still waiting for the Signals Group staff to find someone who can verify if any of the code books are missing or tampered with. So the room stays untouched for the moment.”
Marner peered into the room. It was small, five metres square with a large desk and some radio equipment ranged along one wall. He recognised the Enigma encoder in the centre of the desk; it was unmistakable with its raised key pad, cog wheel slots on top for the encoding drums and the plug board with trailing wires and sockets on the front panel. This example was also fitted with a ticker-tape printer but no tape was visible. Shelves above the desk held a number of folders that he presumed were equipment manuals or code books.
The desk and the Enigma unit were a mess of blood and gore; Marner could see one chunk of tissue with hair on it, some other matter that looked like brain. “Nasty. What happened?”
“As best we can tell, the radio operator was shot in the back of the head whilst sitting at the desk. That’s it for the moment.”
Since he was being refused access to room, it gave him the ideal excuse to suggest that he leave and return later when he would be permitted to enter. Despite this opportunity to return to his primary objective, professional curiosity got the better of him. “May I take a look?” he pleaded, adding that he would touch nothing at all when he saw the look of uncertainty on Ecklund’s face. He stepped into the room and approached the desk. There was an open ring binder on the desk splattered with blood, as was almost everything on the desk surface. The binder could only be a code book judging by the seemingly random nonsensical jumble of lines and digits on the part of the page that was visible under the purple crust that had dried on it. He looked around the room, examining the desk once more. There was nothing obvious here.
As he turned to leave, switching his attention to the difficulty of how to reach to Graf’s office by the least populated route, a thought occurred to him. Graf’s office was on another level and on the other side of the building. This room would not have been on his route from reception to his office, not even if he had wanted to take a detour to avoid meeting other people. So why had he been here?
Marner turned back towards the desk, radios and shelves, looking for any clue about what might have been in here that would have been of interest to Graf. Possibly it was the code books, but he did not want to linger waiting for someone to perform an inventory on the room. He started with the desk, which the operator had been sitting at. Instinct was telling him that something was not right, but he could not put his finger on it. The desk held pencils, a blank writing pad, the code book, Enigma, nothing else. Wait! The pad; the page was blank. Yellow. It should be covered in blood as was everything around it, but it sat there like a bright window in a sea of gore, only stained at the edges where the purple puddle on the desk lapped up against it. Which meant that someone had removed the top sheet, the blood stained one. Why? It could have been done to remove the last message encoded or un-encoded on it. But who would do that? Maybe Graf had forced the operator to send or receive a message, shot him, and then removed and destroyed the page. Could it be? He looked closer at the ticker-tape printer on the Enigma machine and confirmed that it was empty. The last message had been torn off and disposed of.
He turned to Ecklund, voice full of outraged authority, “Someone has tampered with this desk! I thought that you assured me that the scene had not been touched.” Shouting over Ecklund’s blustered attempt to reply, Marner ordered him, “Find whoever discovered the body, now! We need to talk to them immediately.”
Ecklund fished for a reply, failed to find one that was sufficient and so stomped away down the corridor calling a name. Taking advantage of Ecklund’s absence, Marner tore off the top sheet from the pad and held it up to the ceiling light. He could see the imprint of whatever had been written on the sheet that had been above it. Just as he was pushing it inside his tunic, taking care not to crease or crumple it, Ecklund returned with another officer. This latter informed them that the person who had found the body had been allowed to go home due to being in a state of shock, but that someone would be sent immediately to collect him. In response to Ecklund’s question regarding what Marner considered to be wrong, he explained his theory about the blank top sheet on the pad, omitting to mention that the blank sheet that was now showing was not the same one that had been there just a minute earlier. Stating that he would have to go and report to his section head on this problem, he strode off down the corridor to the elevator without waiting to listen to what Ecklund was trying to say.
To risk going on to Graf’s office would be foolish. If Ecklund also made calls, the false name that he had used would come unravelled and he could be trapped inside the building. Against the slim possibility that he would find anything of importance left behind by Graf in his office, it did not seem to be worth the risk. Also, perhaps Graf’s only purpose in coming here had been to go the radio room; he may well not have gone to his office at all. So Marner decided to quit whilst he was ahead, with a possibility of finding something of use on the sheet of paper.
At reception he encountered a noisy group of Kriegsmarine officers descending the stairs, talking animatedly. To stall for time he made an enquiry at the reception desk about an officer named von Blumell, non-existent he hoped. The objective was to keep his face averted from the others in the reception area, letting him burn a crucial sixty seconds of time whilst this large group completed their descent and arrived at the main door to depart.
Turning away from the puzzled receptionist who was still scouring the staff list, he moved quickly to fall in close up and behind the group. To his relief they turned right and descended the steps, away from the SD cars and troops outside, Marner hugging the wall to keep the group between him and the SD. A couple of the navy officers looked at him quizzically but he just smiled and stared ahead.
At the corner of the building the group crossed the road and continued straight on, towards whichever establishment had been nominated for lunch. Marner turned sharply right again, around the corner of the building and then picked up speed and strode away to melt into the busy Paris streets.
----
Arriving too early for the meeting at the defined restaurant, he decided to go into the apartment building on the opposite corner of the junction to wait, facing the direction that he assumed that Boris would approach from. After an hour of standing and fidgeting on the stone stairway he was tired and worried because Boris was now late. He had alre
ady seen Lemele approach from the other end of the street, the voyeur in him enjoying watching her move fluidly in and out of the lunchtime pedestrians. There was no one tailing her and he had returned to scanning the street for Boris. After another half an hour he decided to go and check in with Lemele. In particular, he did not want her to panic and move on; the realisation had dawned on him that they had no other agreed meeting place, no fall back rendezvous to recover each other at in the event of losing contact. He recognised that as a flaw in their current existence.
On entering, he was stunned to see Boris there with Lemele, finishing their lunch and having a pleasant time too. “Where have you been?” asked Boris. “We were starting to wonder if you’d got lost or even been picked up.”
“Your concern about my well-being has not inhibited your appetite!” exclaimed Marner, waving to indicate their near-empty plates on the table. Relief then overtook his irritation and he slumped down at the table and picked up the menu. The sight of them finishing their food suddenly reminded him of how hungry he was after having missed breakfast. The waitress came quickly and he ordered, Boris adding on an extra order of his own for more bread and another beer.
Marner enquired how long Boris had been there, explaining that he had been watching the street for over an hour for him. “Ah, ever the paranoid man, aren’t you Dieter? Although in your case my friend, I have to concede that it is entirely justified, eh!” laughed Boris, and this time his playing to Lemele was working; in fact she seemed quite contented and happy in his company and with his humour.
Boris explained that he was aware that he was being watched. In order to give them the slip he had gone to his girlfriend’s apartment at lunchtime. On passing into the entrance foyer of the building he had simply continued straight on and out of the back door, his watcher docilely stopping and settling to wait outside in front. Boris had then made his way across town to the agreed meeting place. Adopting the general paranoid attitude of this entire operation, he had made his way around the block and come into the café via the backyard and through the kitchens, just in case the front was being watched. Boris was enjoying his opportunity to use the word ‘paranoid’ as many times as possible; Marner chose to ignore this in favour of disagreeing with Boris’s use of the word ‘operation’ to describe what was actually a rolling series of events under no apparent control or pattern.