Faked Passports (31 page)

“Yes; you certainly saved our lives,” Gregory agreed. “But what is to happen now? You know as well as I do the reason why we raided the place. Through the raid you were enabled to secure those documents which are so vital to Finland and which will be of inestimable value to her if she decides to defend herself. Surely you don't propose to abandon us after we have rendered your country such a signal service?”

“First I must know if you are, in fact, Colonel-Baron von
Lutz or Mr. Gregory Sallust, and an inquiry is in process which I trust will reveal your true identity. When I have that information I shall know how to act.”

‘Here are these damnably awkward suspicions cropping up again,' thought Gregory uneasily. ‘Perhaps if I test out the fellow's reactions to the possibility that I might be one of the British he appears to hate so much, we'll learn a little more where we stand.' So he shrugged and said: “Just supposing that on some trumped-up evidence you did decide that I was an Englishman, what difference would that make? It was I who got Marshal Goering's report to Finland for you, and that's the only thing that really matters.”

“Not at all!” Wuolijoki gestured violently. “Whether you're a German or an Englishman makes a great deal of difference. If you are a German you have acted with me in good faith and there can be no reason to doubt that those documents are genuine. In that case I shall feel a definite obligation to get you out of this trouble. I cannot alter the Finnish law but I could arrange for the Finnish police to connive at your escape.”

“Thank you; that is no less than what I expected,” Gregory said quietly, but the half-German Finn ignored his interruption and hurried on:

“If, on the other hand, you are an Englishman you have lied to me for some reason best known to yourself. It may be that you are an
agent provocateur
and that all those documents which you brought to Finland were forged with the object of inducing Finland to go to war as a pawn in the game that the Western Powers are playing—caring nothing for her, but just so that Russia should be distracted from sending supplies to Germany for a few weeks. If they are forgeries the details in them can no longer be facts culled from an authoritative source. If we act upon them, and they are incorrect, thousands of Finnish soldiers may lose their lives in consequence of alterations in our strategy. In such a case you will have acted as the betrayer of my country, instead of as its friend, and I shall not lift one finger to avert such consequences as may come to you as a result of the affair last night.”

Before Gregory could speak again Wuolijoki bowed to Erika and, turning sharply on his heel, left the room.

“Are you an Englishman?” von Kobenthal suddenly asked from his bed.

“Yes,” Gregory replied frankly. “I'm sorry I had to deceive you about that; but the whole situation was so damnably
complicated and my one anxiety was that Wuolijoki should have no reason to question the authenticity of the report; otherwise he would never have supplied us with bombs last night—and without bombs we should have been powerless to pull the job off.”

“The report we risked our lives for was faked, then,” said von Kobenthal bitterly. “You swine!”

“Good God, no!” Gregory took no notice of the abusive epithet. “I give you my word of honour that every one of those documents is absolutely genuine. We flew direct to Helsinki with them from Karinhall.”

Freddie nodded. “That's so. I'll give you my word on that as well.”

Von Kobenthal frowned. “You expect me to believe that Goering would trust an Englishman with such a mission?”

“You don't understand, Oscar,” Erika hurried into the breach. “Mr. Sallust is an English agent but he has proved himself our friend. It was he who made possible the Army
Putsch
of November the 8th, and Uncle Jocheim decorated him with the Iron Cross for his services. Goering knew that he was an Englishman but also knew that he could be trusted.”

“I see,” said von Kobenthal slowly. “Well, I suppose if von Pleisen decorated him he
must
be one of us. It seems a strange business, though, that we should be hand-in-glove with an Englishman when our two countries are at war.”

“No stranger than that you should have consented to go in with Charlton, here, last night.” Gregory pointed out.

“No; but the whole thing was arranged so swiftly that there wasn't much time to think about it then.”

“Our interests were entirely indentical; you
must
agree about that.”

“Yes, that's true; but since you
are
an Englishman, what's going to happen if Wuolijoki finds that out? The whole report will be discredited as a fake and we'll have landed ourselves in a pretty mess for nothing.”

Gregory smiled. “Oh, no. If the report had been faked they would have discovered that before now. You can bet that the Finnish Secret Service were working on it all last night and all today. They must have quite a bit of information about Russia themselves. The report will check with that and amplify it; whereas if there are lots of discrepancies and improbabilities in it the Finns would know that it was a fake—even if Goering had
handed it to them himself. No. We've done our job, all right, and the report will do its work.”

“In that case we haven't much to worry about,” said Freddie optimistically. “Directly Wuolijoki is convinced that the report is genuine he'll become friendly again and get us all out of here.”

“That's the spirit, Freddie, my boy!” Gregory patted him on the back. He was by no means certain that Charlton's reasoning was logical, as it failed to take into account Wuolijoki's extremely anti-British bias, which Gregory now considered to be their gravest danger; but he welcomed the cheery confidence of the airman, whose whole personality seemed to have changed since the day before when he had so unexpectedly found his Angela. All through their time in Germany he had been suspicious, difficult and pessimistic, whereas for the last twenty-four hours he had been willing, easy and amazingly cheerful; so the last thing Gregory wished to do was to damp his newfound optimism. For the morale of the whole party, too, it was much better that they should no longer dwell upon Wuolijoki's change of attitude—at least, until they had some more definite reason to fear that it might bring serious consequences on themselves. He therefore loudly declared that Freddie was right, and proceeded to change the conversation.

Dinner-time came at last and, shortly afterwards, the doctor appeared to have another look at his patients. With him he brought a pair of crutches for Suki and the news that the United States had offered to arbitrate in the Russo-Finnish dispute.

The day had been one of great strain in the Finnish capital, so the doctor told them. Everywhere the whole population had been working frantically on last-minute preparations to face the onslaught of their giant antagonist; evacuating children, sandbagging buildings, preparing yet more and more beds in the buildings that had been taken over as temporary hospitals. All the younger men of the nation had been mobilised for weeks and were already at their war stations on the Mannerheim Line and along the chain of lakes and canals which form the Russo-Finnish frontier north of Lake Ladoga; but in the last few days many more classes had been called up. The streets were full of middle-aged reservists going off to join their units while men of any age up to seventy—and older—were drilling in the fire-fighting and ambulance squads against the possibility of devastating air-attack.

That was the great danger. The Finnish Air Force was
absolutely negligible compared to the thousands of planes which the Russians could put into the air. Unlike London at the beginning of the war, Helsinki had no balloon-barrage and very few anti-aircraft guns for its defence, yet, according to the doctor, the people were wonderfully calm in spite of the great danger which threatened them and which they could do so very little to avert if it were once launched for their destruction. The women were proving as brave as the men and doing men's work; filling the sand-bags, digging air-raid trenches and taking over a thousand and one jobs so that their men-folk could don their uniforms and go to the front. Nevertheless, that Wednesday had been one of terrible tension and the news of the American offer of mediation had been received with inexpressible relief.

America, the doctor went on, had always had especially friendly feelings towards his country because Finland was the only European nation which had honoured its debt and paid up in full the American loan made in the last Great War. True, the loan was not a very large one, but the thought that a small country that was by no means rich should have managed to meet its obligation, when other much wealthier and more powerful countries had failed, had appealed to American sentiment. The American people were passionate believers in democracy, too, so it was certain that they would not let Finland down. If the United States mediated, Finland might have to accommodate Russia on certain points—such as demilitarizing some of her island fortresses, giving trade concessions and allowing the Russians access to her ice-free port of Petsamo in the far North—but the great American people would see to it that Finnish independence was preserved.

“I wouldn't count too much on that,” Gregory advised him. “I'm sure that the American statesmen would like to help you, and also many of the more cultured Americans, but unfortunately the fate of Europe means very little to the millions who live in the Middle West. In spite of papers and radio the bulk of them are still much more remote from world affairs than most of us are apt to imagine. They've known one war in their lifetimes and they can't see any earthly reason why they should be dragged into another, just because what they regard as a lot of lunatics five thousand miles away from them have started to slit one another's throats; and no political party dare go against them, for fear of losing votes at the next election.”

“That I do not believe,” said the doctor; “and if Russia refuses the just settlement which President Roosevelt will
propose, the Americans will be so indignant that they will make our cause their cause and send us arms and supplies.”

“I trust you're right,” replied Gregory slowly. He felt that now the United States had made this offer of mediation it indirectly involved them to the extent that the Finns would be even more ready to fight, believing that they had America behind them, should the Russians refuse a settlement of arbitration; and anything which even partially relieved him of the awful responsibility of inducing this little nation to resist its giant neighbour by force of arms came as a great comfort at the moment.

When the doctor had hurried away to assist in the preparations against air-attack which were still going forward, it was decided that in order that all of them could get some sleep that night Erika, Gregory and Freddie should take watches of three hours each, in case their two wounded companions needed anything, while the others slept. Erika took the first watch, from ten o'clock until one, Gregory took the second, from one till four, and Freddie the third, from four till seven.

Soon after seven o'clock the orderlies arrived and escorted the unwounded members of the party, together with Suki on his crutches, to the steam-baths; and on her return Erika set about washing von Kobenthal. Breakfast was brought up for them at eight, and a few moments later, while one orderly was still setting it out on the table, the other, who had temporarily left the room, suddenly came dashing back into it.

He spoke rapidly to his companion in Finnish, who thereupon turned to the prisoners and said in German: “It has come. We are at war. At eight o'clock the Russians launched a full-scale attack on the Mannerheim Line.”

“But I thought America was going to mediate,” Gregory exclaimed.

The man shook his head. “That was last night. Before our Government even had time to accept the offer the Russians broke off diplomatic relations as a result of the strong Note which we sent earlier in the day.” Picking up his tray the man hurried from the room.

“It looks as though Goering's report did the trick after all, then,” Freddie remarked cheerfully.

Gregory nodded. “Yes. It must have been that which caused the Finns to send the strong Note that the orderly spoke, of. The Government was definitely for giving in after the Russian air-demonstration here on Tuesday. The report must have
changed their views and—and been the means of making them dig their toes in.”

For once in his life Gregory seemed stupefied and sat gloomily silent, thinking of the weight of woe which he had been responsible for bringing on that small and gallant people; but Erika guessed what was in his thoughts and, taking his hand, said gently:

“
Liebchen
, which would you rather do if you were a Finn? Go out and die for what you believe is right—as they are going to do—or, if we had been able to get married, see our property confiscated and us separated, with you working as a slave in the Russian mines of the Urals or the Don Basin, and me being sweated in some factory where in my off-time I was the plaything of the Russian overseers?”

He shrugged. “You needn't ask, darling; you know the answer.”

“Well, cheer up, then! However much misery may come to Finland as a result of this war, you have done right; not only just acted in what you considered to be the best interests of your own country but right as a man in giving the Finns the opportunity to do what you would do yourself.”

Breakfast was a depressing meal, as although with their knowledge of the contents of Goering's report they had all felt confident the night before that Finland could hold the Mannerheim Line until help reached her, they now began to have uncomfortable doubts about it. Was the Finnish Army really as good—small though it was—as people had been led to believe? And were the Russian masses really so ill-trained and ill-equipped apart from their great fleets of unwieldy tanks? Were the forts of the Mannerheim Line really of the strength that had been claimed for them? Or had that just been bluff on the Finns' part and were they in fact, like the Czech “Maginot Line”, just concrete emplacements, many of which had no guns in them? What effect would the terrific Russian air-armada have on the campaign? Would it play the same part as the German Air Force had played in Poland—harrying communications, blasting bridges, railways and crossroads—so that the Finnish rear became utterly disorganised and neither supplies nor reserves could be got up? Then, even if the Soviet Army was of poor quality it would come pouring through the Mannerheim Line because the Finns no longer had the ammunition to drive it back?