Bright Dart

by Suninfo

  Once Kastner accepted this hypothesis, it was extremely difficult to invent a story which, in establishing his innocence, did not conflict with the presumed facts. Throughout the night, he had drafted one statement after another and even now he was far from satisfied. The final version read: Herr Obergruppenführer,

  I can remember very little of what actually happened on the night of Monday the 9th of October, 1944. I do know that I was extremely upset and emotionally disturbed when some time that afternoon, I established beyond doubt that my wife had been killed in the air raid during the night 7/8 October. I recall that, after driving around in an aimless fashion, I visited a bar in the Schoneberg District which I believe is known as Werner’s. I must have stayed there for some hours drinking heavily, until eventually, in an intoxicated state, 153

  I was picked up by a woman. We left the bar together and went to her flat, which was only a short distance away, where she said I could stay until I sobered up. It soon became clear to me that she was a common prostitute and I immediately left. I think I gave her ten marks as a small present because I naturally wished to avoid any unpleasantness.

  I felt sick and unwell and I completely forgot about the car which I’d left in Wielandweg. After walking around a bit, I discovered that I had missed the last train on both the S and U

  Bahns, and I remember being distinctly annoyed. From that point on, my mind was and still is a complete blank until I awoke the following morning to find that I had passed an uncomfortable night in the cellar of a derelict building on Becke Strasse. Despite the compassionate circumstances which I feel accounted for my unusual behaviour, I realised that my conduct was likely to bring discredit on the SS. I made no mention of the incident to you because I had hoped that it would have passed unnoticed, but obviously this is not the case.

  I, of course, immediately collected the car and since there was no longer any reason for me to stay on in Berlin, I came to Münster to take charge of the security arrangements in accordance with your previous instructions.

  I await your further orders,

  Heil Hitler!

  Reading it through again, it still seemed more like a confession than an explanation, and he wondered if Kaltenbrunner would accept it as such. To be indicted for the murder of a common prostitute would be a travesty of justice for a man with a record like his. No one, he thought savagely, had done more to protect the Reich. He had played a significant part in destroying the White Rose Movement among the university students in 1942, and he believed, with some justification, that he had been outstandingly successful in exposing the conspirators who had been involved in the July Bomb Plot. For the good of the Fatherland, it was essential that he should be allowed to continue his work in this field, and surely even Kaltenbrunner could see that.

  He rose stiffly from the chair and, walking to the window, drew back the curtains. In turning about, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the washbasin and was shocked at his appearance. His eyes looked puffy and beneath the thick stubble, his skin seemed almost yellow.

  There was a knock on the door and, obeying his answering grunt, Wollweber strode into the room. In uniform, despite the 154

  limitations imposed by a corpulent figure and poor eyesight, he tried to cultivate a proud military bearing. His jacket, and breeches were immaculate and the leather belt, pistol holster and jackboots reflected hours of hard work on the part of his HIWI orderly. The hat, crushed out of shape, was modelled on the style favoured by Himmler. His hand wavered and the Party greeting died in his mouth when he saw the change in Kastner. The man seemed to have aged ten years overnight.

  Kastner said, ‘Did you want something?’

  Wollweber stared at him open-mouthed. ‘The Special Guard Company …” he said lamely.

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘You said you wished to meet them at the station when they arrived; they’re due in forty minutes.’

  It was obvious to Wollweber that he’d forgotten all about them, but Kastner recovered quickly.

  ‘Is everything arranged?’ he said. ‘Transport to meet them and take them to the barracks?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve checked the details personally with the Transportation Officer at the Wehrkreiskommando. Everything is in order.’

  Kastner nodded. ‘I still have one or two matters to attend to, so I won’t be able to come with you. You’d better tell the Hauptsturmführer in command that I’ll meet him in the Gauleiter’s office after his company has settled in at Aegidii Barracks.’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘Let’s say at eleven thirty, that should give him plenty of time.’

  ‘Very well, Herr Oberführer.’ Wollweber hesitated briefly and then said, ‘There are two other points which I should mention.’

  He unbuttoned his tunic pocket and took out a small notebook.

  ‘Herr Lammers had a telephone call from Fraulein Margerete Axmann of the Linz Foundation at eight o’clock last night. She’s decided regretfully to decline his invitation to spend the weekend in Münster.’

  ‘Any reason?’

  ‘Her exact words were, “I’ve had a letter from Rudi and in view of what he said, I feel I would be imposing on your hospitality unnecessarily.” She sounded very angry; do you suppose it is of any significance?’

  He had more than enough evidence to satisfy even Kaltenbrunner that Bormann and Rudi were one and the same man, but it no longer seemed important. There could be any number of reasons why Axmann had changed her mind about coming to Münster, but perhaps the most simple explanation was that Bormann had grown tired of her. In any event, that too was no longer important.

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  In a tired voice, Kastner said, ‘I wouldn’t attach any significance to it, Wollweber. Is there anything else I should know?’

  ‘The recording engineers will arrive this evening and will be staying at the Kaiserhof, and finally, Herr Lammers is giving a dinner party tonight at his house. I understand you are invited.’

  ‘Who are the other guests?’

  ‘The Bürgermeister, the President of the Reichsbank and their wives, Lieutenant-General Graf von Macher from the Wehrkreiskommando on the Hindenburg Platz and Colonel Vietinghoff who commands the Replacement Centre at Handorf, plus the Gauleiters who are attending the conference tomorrow.

  Will you be going, Herr Oberführer?’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  He turned his back on Wollweber in a gesture of dismissal and gazed out of the window. The sun was beginning to break through the overcast and it looked as though they would have a fine, crisp autumn day. Unlike yesterday, the waters of the lake were calm and placid but Kastner derived little pleasure from the view from his room for the smell of death and total defeat were all around him now.

  The chauffeur-driven Citroën entered the forecourt of the Gare de Cornavin and stopped outside the main entrance. The driver alighted, opened the nearside rear door for Baron Pierre Damon and then, having collected his suitcase from the boot, handed it to a waiting porter. Damon was starting out on a journey which could well be the most important undertaking of his life and one which could well have a profound effect on the course of history.

  He had been told that he was an officially accredited representative of His Britannic Majesty’s Government empowered to enter into negotiations with the leaders of a German Peace Movement, and he saw nothing incongruous in the fact that a provincial Swiss banker, with no diplomatic skill or previous experience to draw upon, should have been entrusted with such a delicate mission. Instead, he saw himself as a latter-day Metternich redrawing the map of Europe.

  Officially, as far as the German Embassy was concerned, Damon had received permission to visit Hamm, which was a mere thirty kilometres from Münster, for purely business reasons, and although he fully understood the need for secrecy, he felt a little deflated that no one was there to see him off. In this he was wrong, because the Abwehr had him under surveillance and British Intelligence would have been very disappointed had they fa
iled to be so obliging. It had been Ashby’s intention from the very outset to use Damon as a tantalising piece of window dressing.

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  The barn was an integral part of the farmhouse and although they ate with Jost in the kitchen, their living quarters were in the loft above the cattle stalls. They slept on straw-filled mattresses in double-tiered bunks which stood on either side of a small window. Apart from this rudimentary item of furniture, there was a wash-hand-basin and a metal jug which had to be filled from a tap outside in the yard, and to complete their discomfort, a strong smell of dung was always present even when Ottaway was smoking one of his cheap German cigars. Although the single electric light bulb, suspended from a beam high up in the roof, cast a dim pool of light around the loft steps, most of the room was in darkness.

  They had spent a long, hard day in the fields lifting the potato crop but there was to be no let-up for them yet. They sat in a semi-circle just outside the sphere of light and stared at the map spread out on the floor.

  Ashby glanced at the ring of expectant faces and said, ‘Until the day before yesterday, this map was lodged in the government offices on the Dom Platz. The Gauleiter, whose name is Julius Lammers, sent it to Colonel Jochem Vietinghoff, the commanding officer of the Replacement Centre at Handorf, and it reached us through Gerhardt who passed it to me during the lunch break today. I mention this to show once more that we do have allies among the Germans who are prepared to help us, because I know some of you felt that this operation was almost certain to be a disaster and that we would be extremely lucky if we even reached Münster in one piece.’

  ‘I don’t want to seem a pessimist, Colonel,’ Cowper said stiffly,

  ‘but I’m afraid it will take more than a map to convince me that we have a reasonable chance of success.’

  ‘Would it make you feel any happier if I told you that, in the morning, we shall know exactly what security arrangements have been made by the Gestapo?’

  Quilter said, ‘Have we got an informer, sir?’

  ‘Yes indeed, it’s our friend Lammers. He’s arranged a special dinner party for tonight and among the invited guests will be Colonel Vietinghoff.’

  Ottaway leaned forward to get a closer look at the map. ‘It looks like a spider’s web,’ he said. ‘Do those superimposed hairlines represent the water mains or the sewerage?’

  ‘The sewage system.’

  ‘I thought we were going in through the front door?’

  ‘That is the general idea but we might need an alternative way out if it gets rough.’ Ashby’s finger stabbed at the Rathaus. ‘You see that dot in the Gruetgasse behind the council chambers?

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  That’s an access point to a feeder channel which runs into the main sewer under Klemensstrasse. We don’t have to wade through the muck because there is a raised walk running all the way to the Dortmund Canal on the outskirts of town. If they try to intercept us, we’ll dodge through the feeders running north into Salzstrasse or south-east towards Windthorststrasse.’

  ‘We could get ourselves lost down there in the darkness.’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  Quilter cleared his throat nervously. ‘Colonel, wouldn’t it be easier to ambush Bormann when he’s driving from the airfield to the Rathaus?’

  ‘It’s too open and unless we mined the road, which would be difficult, we could miss him. Besides, he’ll probably have a strong escort and we wouldn’t get a crack at the Party Gauleiters, and finally, we want everyone to think that the Gestapo engineered this assassination.’ Ashby rolled up the map. ‘When are we scheduled to go on the air?’

  Quilter peered at the luminous face of his wristwatch. ‘We have about ten minutes in hand.’

  ‘All right, you’d better get ready. Is there anything you want to send to your people, Jack?’

  Ottaway shook his head. ‘I guess not,’ he said.

  Their call went out at 2335 hours and was picked up by Station 53B at Aylesbury. Getting an acknowledgment from the Home Station, Quilter rapped out the message on the morse key. It was brief and to the point and, in a way, inspiring, or so the girl at Aylesbury thought. It said: WE ARE READY.

  Other messages were abroad that night. One beamed from Moscow was intended for the ‘Choro’ Group of the Rote Kapelle or Red Orchestra network operating in Berlin. It was captured and decoded by Station III of the wireless intercept service, who in turn passed it to the Headquarters of Signal Security in the Matthaikirchplatz. It gave warning of an intended assassination but since it was couched in deliberately vague terms, it avoided mentioning Bormann by name, although it did warn all Soviet agents to remain dormant until further orders.

  Abwehr Signals Security were more than a little puzzled for the simple reason that, between 22nd December, 1942, and 5th August, 1943, all thirteen members of the ‘Choro’ Group had been tried and executed. As a matter of routine, the message was referred to the Gestapo Headquarters on nearby Prinz Albrechtstrasse. It was not, however, given a priority precedence.

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  19

  THE TRUCK, AN Opel ‘Blitz’, swung into the yard and, on Ashby’s signal, drove straight into the barn and stopped just short of the far wall. Before the engine died, Cowper and Ottaway had closed both doors so that the vehicle was completely hidden from view.

  Gerhardt climbed down with a confident smile on his face.’

  Well,’ he said, ‘what do you think?’

  Ashby pointed to the formation signs on the mud-wings. ‘Apart from these, which will have to be changed, it’s just what we want.’

  ‘There’s no need to change the signs.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because the special guard company from the Waffen SS Training School at Brunswick arrived here without any vehicles and the Wehrkreiskommando had to order local units to provide them with a pool of transport. In the circumstances, divisional signs are irrelevant.’

  ‘Where did you learn all this?’

  ‘From Vietinghoff. Lammers gave him some interesting news about the security arrangements for the conference.’

  ‘Good or bad?’

  ‘A little of both.’

  Quilter, Stack, Frick and the rest gathered in a tight circle around them and he could see by the set expression on their faces that they were keyed up and anxious to hear what Gerhardt had to say. He was tempted to let them stay on if only to satisfy their curiosity, but apart from this, their presence would serve no useful purpose until he was ready to brief them in full.

  Ashby turned to Ottaway. ‘All right, Jack,’ he said firmly, ‘briefing will be at twelve. In the meantime, let’s act as if we’ve nothing to hide—that means all of you outside.’

  ‘You want us working in the fields, Colonel?’

  A low, disgruntled voice said, ‘Christ, potato-picking again.’

  Ashby glanced in Cowper’s direction. ‘At a time like this we’ll get on each other’s nerves if we just hang about waiting for something to happen.’

  There was a moment’s hesitation before they turned away and slowly filed out of the barn.

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  Ashby waited until they were alone and then said, ‘All right, now you can tell me the bad news.’

  Gerhardt cleared his throat. ‘I think Kaltenbrunner is trying to sit on the fence. He’s sent one of his top men from Berlin to take charge of the security arrangements.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Oberführer Kastner. I personally don’t know him but I’ve heard that he has quite a reputation.’ His forehead creased in a frown.

  ‘Although, oddly enough, I understand Lammers isn’t very impressed with him; he said that Kastner is hesitant and indecisive.’

  ‘Maybe that’s just a pose?’

  ‘I don’t think so, he made very few changes to the outline plan, most of which came from Lammers.’

  Ashby unfolded the street plan and laid it out on the bonnet of the truck. ‘Suppose you tell me about it?’

  Gerhardt lit a ciga
rette. ‘Well, as you would expect, Bormann will have a strong escort to meet him at the airfield—one platoon—

  say forty men in two trucks—one in front, the other close behind his car, plus four outriders on motor-cycles. A guard of honour of about the same strength will be drawn up outside the Rathaus, but all that is for outward show because, once he’s inside the council chambers, they will return to Aegidii Barracks leaving only fifty men in the immediate area, and it’s these people we have to worry about. Pedestrians won’t be allowed on the east side of the Prinzipalmarkt, which will be closed to vehicular traffic from St Lamberti Church to the junction of Rothenburg, Ludgeristrasse and Klemensstrasse. There will be a standing patrol of six men stationed behind the council chambers and four sentries inside the building.’

  ‘I presume they’re using road blocks to close off the street?’

  ‘Yes, and the west side of the road will also be lined with troops spaced at five-metre intervals to keep the crowd in check.’

  ‘We’re expecting crowds, are we?’

  ‘Bormann’s visit hasn’t been publicised but people are bound to collect when they see the road blocks established.’

  ‘I’m counting on you to get us through the check points.’

  ‘Do you think they are going to argue with a Major-General of the SS and his aide?’

  ‘Not if you play your cards right.’

  ‘You don’t have to worry on that score. They’ll take one look at the Mercedes and its occupants and the battle will be half won.’

  ‘The car is definitely fixed, is it?’

  ‘It will call for me at Lammers’ house; Vietinghoff is also providing me with a reliable driver.’

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  ‘His house is how far from here? Two kilometres?’

  ‘Less than that across the fields.’

  ‘And in broad daylight you propose to walk there in uniform?’

  ‘Why not? Who’s likely to see us?’

  ‘Anyone could, the countryside is flat and open.’