PART I: The Mission
Secret operations are essential in war; upon them the army relies to make its every move.
- Sun Tzu, The Art of War
02 January 1944
London
Ruth Evershed looked around her inquisitively. She was sat in a small, bare room with her fellow female trainees, and they'd been left here by the instructor for over thirty minutes now. They had been separated from their male colleagues this morning and brought to this drab, non-descript building with the explanation that they would receive a tour of the place where they would start their careers as spies, and she was somewhat disappointed. The building was down-at-heel and neglected, and she had thus far not seen anything to indicate that this was the hub of the espionage activities, the place where the war could be lost or won.
She so wanted to be a spy, to make a difference in the war, but she had to pay her dues at Bletchley Park first. Now she was twenty-five, with dreams of danger and excitement, and a burning desire to prove her worth to her instructors. She knew that she had excelled at most of the aspects of the training, with the notable exception of the physical stuff. She was not much good at hand-to-hand combat or fire-arms; these were things her considerable intellect could not help her with, and she was aware that some of the other girls snickered at her clumsiness behind her back. But surely there was also a place for people like her, with her language skills, her aptitude with codes and her ability to memorise and later recall large volumes of information.
The door opened and the instructor came back in, followed by an older woman with a sharp nose and sharper eyes. Her gaze swept over the occupants of the room, stopping at each for a few seconds, and Ruth had the feeling that she had been thoroughly weighed and found inadequate.
"Which one?" the woman asked of the instructor, and to Ruth's alarm he nodded in her direction. Her heart sank; she immediately assumed that the time had come when they would tell her she could not be a spy. The woman seemed surprised somehow, but quickly recovered and turned to the instructor.
"All right, you can take the rest of them on the tour now. Ruth, is it?" she unexpectedly said, and Ruth started. She nodded miserably. "Would you stay behind?" the woman continued, and Ruth hunched in her seat and kept her head down. She did not want to see the gleeful expressions of the others over her failure.
Nothing more was said until the door had closed. The woman moved over to one of the chairs and settled down, and for the first time Ruth noticed the file in her hand. She opened it and began to leisurely read through it, and the silence dragged on. Ruth wished to God that she would get it over with; sitting there waiting for the sword to fall was excruciating and humiliating. The door opened again and a man entered – tall, blond and rather attractive.
"Hello," he said, his tone friendly, as the blue eyes looked her over in a frank and calculating manner.
She mumbled a return greeting and stared at her shoes.
The woman started talking to him as though Ruth wasn't even in the room. "Fluent in French and German, and a number of other languages that is not our immediate concern. Top of the class in codes, and did brilliantly in the memory tests." The sharp eyes lifted from the file and focussed on Ruth once again speculatively. "Pity she's so dowdy."
Ruth's head jerked up as her cheeks burned with humiliation. She looked between them, taking refuge in anger. "There is no need to be cruel," she said, her voice shaking. "Just let me go and be done with it." She gathered strength as she continued. "But you are making a mistake. I can make an important contribution. Physical ability is not everything."
The man watched her reaction with interest and she focussed on him. He seemed warmer, more approachable than the woman. He smiled at her, confirming her impression of his character further.
"She has bottle," he remarked to the woman, "I think she'll be perfect."
The woman remained dubious, apparently, for she shrugged and said, "It's your operation."
He took a step closer to her and held out his hand. "My name is Adam Carter, and that's Juliet Shaw." Then he added, "We're not letting you go."
0o0
"What I'm about to tell you must be treated with the utmost secrecy," Juliet began. They had moved to another room, deeper in the bowels of the building, and were gathered around a table on which six files were stacked. The mood had shifted, had become more serious, and Ruth got the feeling that her life was about to change forever. "It is probably our biggest secret, and could mean the difference between victory and defeat."
Ruth's eyes widened as Adam continued, "We have an agent in the upper echelons of the Nazis' Schutzstaffel, better known as the SS. Have you heard of it?"
"Yes," she said, "it's the party's security and intelligence organisation, created by Hitler personally." She looked between them, astounded. "Its members are said to be fanatically loyal to the Führer; how did you manage to get an agent in there?"
He was impressed by her knowledge of the enemy. "We didn't. He came to us."
Ruth absorbed that. She hesitated – she had no right to question these people; surely they knew what they were doing?
Adam watched her with a small smile, seemingly knowing what she was thinking. "Ask what you want to ask," he invited, and she took him up on it.
"Are you sure it's not a plant? That the Germans are using this agent to feed us false information?"
He grinned and looked at Juliet, ever more convinced that she was the right woman for the job. "That's what we thought at first." He picked up the first file. "But, he has been delivering first grade intelligence since 1940; intelligence confirmed by other trusted sources. I think he's for real," he concluded and handed her the file. "However, I would like you to make up your own mind about it. This file contains all his reports, and our corroborating evidence."
She nodded, confident in her own analytical ability, but he wasn't finished.
"Because you need to be convinced of the value of this man to do what I'm about to ask of you."
Something in his voice made her apprehensive. "What would that be?"
"To go to Paris and be the contact between us and him. By pretending to be his lover."
She must have misheard. "I'm sorry?"
Adam's eyes twinkled at her. "We want you to go to Paris and pretend to be our asset's French mistress, and handle communications between him and Head Office here."
Ruth was dumbstruck. "But…" she began feebly. Should she tell them that she wasn't all that experienced in the physical aspects of love? That she had no real idea how one went about seducing a man? On the other hand, would raising any objections scupper this chance for her to make a real contribution?
Juliet spoke again, and this time her voice wasn't quite so harsh. "You only have to pretend, Ruth. There need not be any real sex involved, if that's what you're worried about."
"No… Erm, I was wondering why this is necessary now, that's all," she hedged. "He seems to have communicated with you just fine by other means?"
"True," Adam responded. "He's been in Berlin until last month, and used a number of different dead-drops to send his reports. However, he has now been transferred to Paris, and we can no longer use the dead-drop system. It also takes too long to get the reports to London. The war is moving towards its pivotal point, and we need a way to get his reports here as quickly as possible. We decided to make use of a radio. He cannot keep the set with him – much too risky. So he suggested this solution – apparently all the German officers stationed in Paris are indulging in the local fare; he thinks it will be the perfect cover."
There was a long silence as Ruth mulled things over. She knew all too well what he meant by the pivotal point of the war – the Allies' planned invasion of France. She knew it could not be far off, and having a man in Paris with access to the Germans' plans would be invaluable.
"Who is your agent?" she asked curiously; she at least needed to know who she was supposed to have this affair with before she agreed.
Adam and Juliet shared a glance, and then Adam said to her great surprise, "…We don't know."
0o0
She was alone in the room now, just her and the files. The whole business was simply incredible, and she needed time to sort it out in her mind. She stared at them, trying to figure out where to start to try and make sense of it all. Six files. One thick file containing the reports and corroborating evidence of Agent Teuton. And five discouragingly thin files of high ranking SS officers. The five possibles that could be their agent. She drew the Teuton file to her and began to read.
The first report was delivered to the embassy in The Hague in February 1940. Or more accurately, a note was delivered to indicate that an intelligence report on the leadership structures of the Nazi Party had been left at a dead drop in Berlin. The report was eventually collected three weeks later and contained high grade information, as well as instructions for additional dead-drops. The agent simply informed them to check these dead-drops on a regular basis, and they would contain further reports at irregular intervals. Despite staking out the dead-drops, no-one ever spotted the agent depositing his material. Ruth read through Teuton's reports carefully. The information ranged from information on the Nazi leadership to battle plans, as well as design information on the V1 and V2 rockets developed by the Germans. There was also information about German U-boats and battleships, and progress reports on the war on the Eastern Front. He had predicted, long before it became evident, that the German army would falter. "We have greatly underestimated the Russian capacity for suffering," the report concluded, "and it will be our downfall." There was also a report, dated July 1941, detailing in stark and horrific facts the Nazis' Final Solution plan against the Jewish population in the areas it occupied.
She sat back, deep in thought. It was an impressive portfolio, and after reading all the reports she shared Adam's evaluation that the agent was genuine. But what else could these reports tell her? She drew a pen and paper to her and began to make a list.
1. Visited The Hague in Feb '40
2. Access to highest levels of German political and army structures
3. Writes English exceptionally well
4. Sometimes uses archaic words – some form of classic education?
5. Reports clear and precise – points to high intellect and good analytical mind
6. Shows good understanding of global political situation
7. Shows good, even brilliant, analysis of flaws in military strategies
After a moment she added,
8. Demanded no payment, so what is motivation for betrayal?
She read through her list a few times, but could not think of anything to add. "Right," she said aloud, "Let's see if this leads me to any of these five."
Adam had earlier handed her the files, stating that these five men were the only confirmed senior SS officers who had recently been transferred to Paris. "We don't have photos, and the biographic information is sketchy at best, I'm afraid," he'd said apologetically.
"But how will I know which man to approach?" she had asked helplessly, and he had smiled.
"You don't need to – he will approach you," he explained. "He has instructed that you be employed at a specific café on the Champs-Elysees that is frequented by German officers. You must start during the third week of January, and he will make contact with you there once he is sure that it is safe. He will ask the owner of the café to make his favourite dessert, bienenstich, within your earshot, and you must reply that you have never had it before. Then he'll know you're the contact we sent."
She spread the files on the table in front of her. Wouter Stegen, Helmut Voss, Herman Peters, Hans Prinz and Jurgen Setzer. The names were stencilled on the covers in bold black letters. Not for the first time she wished that she had photos – one could tell so much about a person by looking into their eyes. With a shrug she opened Wouter Stegen's file first. He had the rank of Sturmbannführer and had joined the SS in 1938. He was in the Intelligence section, and had done a stint at the Auschwitz concentration camp. A note stated that he was known to be cruel and fanatical. She shuddered, for the first time realising the full implications should she accept this assignment - she might be required to sleep with a man that repulsed her on every level. Would she be able to do that? And what would the repercussions be if she failed?
Helmut Voss was one rank higher, an Obersturmbannführer. He was trusted by the Head of the SS, Heinrich Himmler, and often used by him for personal errands. As Himmler was responsible for implementing the plan to get rid of the Jews, Voss was also closely involved in the organisation of the concentration camps.
Herman Peters joined the SS in 1937 and had the rank of Standartenführer. He was second-in-command to Walter Schellenberg, the SS Head of Foreign Intelligence, and had reportedly been involved in the Venlo incident, where two British Secret Service officers were captured by Schellenberg at Venlo in the Netherlands in November 1939. It was rumoured that he initially won Schellenberg's respect by gunning down two Jewish children that had pick-pocketed the senior officer.
Hans Prinz also joined in 1937 and had the rank of Obersturmbannführer. He was close friends with Helmut Voss and had reportedly assisted him with his duties of organising the concentration camps. He was urbane and well-educated, which caused some of his fellow SS officers to resent him.
Jurgen Setzer was a Hauptsturmführer and the most junior of the five men. He was also part of Schellenberg's entourage and known to be quite ambitious.
She closed the last file in frustration. The information was too sparse to give her a clear feel for these men, and she still had no idea which of them was the most likely to be Teuton. All she had learnt was that she liked none of them particularly much – they all seemed thoroughly odious people. But then, Teuton was betraying his own country, his own people, and did that not reflect a flawed character in itself?
The door opened and Adam came back in. He observed her glum face and took a seat opposite her. "Talk to me," he invited, and she managed a glimmer of a smile.
"I just… They're all so horrible," she confessed, and he looked thoughtful.
"People who betray their country usually are," he responded. "But let's start from the beginning. Do you think Teuton is for real? Or is it a trick by the Germans?"
She lifted her eyes to him in surprise – she had not expected him to be interested in her opinion. It felt good. "I think he's for real," she said without hesitation.
"But?" he asked shrewdly, sensing her reticence.
She let out a breath. "But… he's smart. Brilliant, even. A strategic thinker, someone who sees the bigger picture. I didn't get the sense that any of these five fit that description."
"We must be careful not to underestimate the enemy," he responded immediately. "We read about the concentration camps and the atrocities and we think intelligent human beings could not do this." His gaze held her as he continued, "The Nazis identified a problem – the control the Jews had over the financial institutions and the economy – and they devised a strategy to eliminate that problem." He paused, then added more gently, "It is possible to be brilliant and cruel, Ruth. You only have to look at our own history to see that."
On some level she knew he was right, that the one did not necessarily exclude the other. Perhaps the problem was that she hoped it wasn't one of these men, and that this was clouding her judgement. She gave a small nod.
Adam watched her closely. "And if this man is as smart as you say he is, it is imperative that we send someone equally smart to liaise with him. Someone with the ability to evaluate his reports on the spot, and to alert us if something is wrong – if this is a set-up after all." He smiled. "And I am becoming more convinced by the hour that that person is you. So, will you do it?"
She took a long time before she responded, but when she eventually did her voice was strong and clear.
"Yes."
tbc
