The Best of Our Spies (22 page)

‘What matters is not what the Abwehr thinks, but what the Führer thinks. That stubborn bastard made up his mind months ago that the Allies would invade through the Pas de Calais. All that we have done is tell him what he wants to hear. He still believes that he is the great military strategist.’

As long as the Führer remains convinced about the Pas de Calais, then the sooner this damned war might be over, he thought.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival in the room of Martin Bormann. Canaris groaned inwardly, while outwardly greeting him. Hitler’s Private Secretary was always rude. He never treated him with respect. A few minutes somewhere near a trench thirty years ago and these clerks now think they are important enough to be running Germany.

‘Just you, Canaris?’

‘Just me, Bormann.’

‘Uhm. I thought you would have others with you. Are you sure no one will be joining you?’

‘I am sure.’

‘Very well, follow me.’

Canaris followed Bormann, with the SS-Obersturmführer following him. Through an internal door, down a short, narrow corridor, past two sentries and into an inner office. What struck him most whenever he came in here was the sheer height of the room. The magnificent brown marble walls were the height of a house, leading up to a splendid panelled ceiling. Having spent so long in submarines, Canaris felt lost in a room like this.

The three of them walked in single file across the long carpet. Four chairs were arranged around a large, low desk.

Bormann sat in one of the chairs and gestured for Canaris to sit in another.

‘He wants me to assess your intelligence reports, Canaris. Everyone’s telling him different things. He doesn’t
like
you, but he respects the Abwehr.’

‘And you Bormann?’

‘I neither like you nor respect the Abwehr, Canaris. But I am here to do what the Führer says. Essentially, he is looking for good news. He doesn’t get much of that these days. Russia, North Africa – it’s all terrible. His obsession this week is with the Second Front. That is all he’s talking about. Come over here.’

Canaris followed Bormann to a large table covered in maps and charts. A large map was spread out on top of the table showing the northern coast of France and the southern coast of England.

‘He is obsessed with the Allies attempting to land again in northern Europe. He thinks he knows best, don’t forget that. He certainly doesn’t trust his generals. Look what happened when they tried to land in Dieppe. And now they will have to land a whole army, not just six thousand men. The outcome of the war will depend on whether the Allied invasion of northern Europe succeeds or not, Canaris.

‘If they fail, then they will not be able to try again for years – and by then we will have re-equipped the army, the Luftwaffe will have new and better aircraft and the navy will be stronger. And while we do that, we will be able to move enough divisions away from western Europe to sort out the Russians in the east. But it all depends on making sure that their invasion fails. And the best way of doing that is by ensuring that we are ready for them when they land. What the Führer wants to know is where do you think they will land?’

‘I believe it will be in this area.’ Canaris was pointing to the Pas de Calais, south of Boulogne.

‘And tell me why?’

‘Because it puts them nearer to Germany, because there are more places to land, because the sea crossing is shorter, because the terrain is easier and because they will have more air cover. According to Goering, the RAF have been mounting more raids over the past few weeks over the Pas de Calais than over any other part of northern France. Von Rundstedt and Rommel are trying to defend the whole of the northern coast, spreading our forces out too thinly. I believe we should concentrate our defence on the Pas de Calais. At least von Rundstedt has kept the Fifteenth Army in the Pas de Calais and most of the Panzer Group is there.’

‘And what makes you so certain?’

‘Our intelligence. As you know, we have at least two agents operating inside Britain – the Pole and the Spaniard. Both are extremely reliable and the message we are getting back from them is a consistent one: the Allies will invade in the Pas de Calais. They are operating quite independently of each other, of course, but they both report that General Patton’s First US Army is based here in Kent, ideally placed for the short sea crossing. The landing craft are all in Dover and Folkestone. And I am pleased to report another important development which you can convey to the Führer.’

Bormann raised his eyebrows and stepped back half a pace from the table.

‘I am pleased to report that we have another very well placed agent. Her code name is Magpie. She has been in England since 1940 but has only really been active since 1942, when she entered into a relationship with a Royal Navy intelligence officer. In the past few months, the quality of material we have been getting from her has been quite outstanding – and it all points to the invasion being in the Pas de Calais. It is intelligence of the very highest quality which corroborates all our other intelligence. And today I can report a very significant development.’

Bormann’s full attention was now focussed on Canaris. He nodded towards him.
Carry on
.

‘At the end of last year the British Special Operations Executive recruited Magpie. Because of her training with them, we have heard very little from her in recent months. The contact has been very intermittent. But we did know that they were training her to work with the French resistance in the area where the invasion would take place. Her role would be to ensure that the resistance group was prepared for the invasion. She has now completed her training. She will be flying to France soon.’

‘And do you know where?’

‘No,’ he said, dismissively, allowing a pause for Bormann to reflect on his question. ‘Of course, they are not to going to tell her where she is going. We will only find out when she arrives. But I anticipate here.’

He pointed at the map.

‘Somewhere round ... here. In the Pas de Calais. Just south of Boulogne.’

Bormann nodded approvingly.

‘So,’ he said, gathering his papers and picking up his gloves, signalling the briefing was over, ‘I shall be able to tell the Führer want he wants to hear. He’ll appreciate that.’

Canaris smiled and bowed towards Bormann, gesturing for him to leave the room first.

Bormann stopped in the doorway and stepped close to Canaris.

‘You had better be right, Canaris. Remember, I don’t like you and I don’t trust you.’

As he left the Chancellery, Canaris felt that on balance, he was pleased he had resisted the temptation to describe the feeling as mutual.

ooo000ooo

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

England
20 April 1944

The door of the dark brown Humber slammed shut and even before she had a chance to turn round and wave goodbye and blow a kiss as she knew would be expected of her, the car had accelerated down the road. Nathalie’s last view of her husband was of a blurred but forlorn figure, stepping from the kerb into the road to keep the car in view even as its tail-lights disappeared into the night.

Quinn stepped back onto the pavement and Captain Archibald walked over to him from where he had been standing in the entrance of the pretty wisteria-covered safe house in Holland Park where Nathalie had stayed for almost three months. Sensitive to the mood, the older man said nothing for a while, bouncing slowly on his heels.

‘Chin up, Quinn. Expect you’ll see her soon enough. Could be just a few weeks the way things are going.’

Quinn walked ahead of Archibald, not wanting him to see the tears that despite himself now filled his eyes and were beginning to roll down his cheeks. He intended to say something suitable in reply to show that he agreed, but could not find any words. Archibald clearly sensed the situation.

‘Tell you what, Quinn. Why don’t you take yourself for a walk round the block? Clear your head. You can stay here tonight and take the day off tomorrow. That will give you a long weekend. As long as you’re out of the house by nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Need to get the place ready for when we hand it back to the owners.’

So Quinn went for a long walk, circumnavigating Holland Park. He hadn’t known the area before Nathalie was moved here when she had returned from her training at the end of January.

‘Best steer clear of Alderney Street,’ they had said. ‘Don’t want anyone asking awkward questions. This place is safer. She’ll stay here until it’s time to move on.’

They had no idea how long she would be in the safe house, it could a few days, a few weeks, a few months. In the end, it had been three long months.

She was allowed out on her own during the day and he was permitted to visit her and even stay over some nights, though there was always someone else in the house which he found awkward. Whenever he awoke during the night, which was often, he would invariably catch her with her eyes open and staring into the matching darkness.

There were so many things that needed to be said, but their relationship had slipped into a kind of silence. If anything, that made things somewhat easier: Nathalie had always seemed to prefer the quiet and didn’t feel the need to fill the void with conversation as Owen did. Although she was evidently nervous she also seemed more relaxed with Owen, more prone to physical contact than before. Now, she would frequently hold his hand, or stroke his face, cupping her hand under his chin as she did so and holding it there for a while. If he ever tried to broach the subject of her going away, she would remind him that she could not discuss it.
You ought to know better, Owen.

For a while he had allowed himself to imagine that Nathalie might not be sent away after all. Maybe they had changed their minds, perhaps she had not performed as well as they had hoped when she had gone away for training, possibly they were having second thoughts about her. She was certainly spending far longer than he had expected in the safe house. From the little he could gather, she spent most of her time in the house learning her cover story and practising her radio skills but in recent weeks there seemed to be less of that and much more waiting around.

But deep down, he knew it was a forlorn hope and by the second week of April Nathalie’s movements became far more restricted. She was no longer allowed out of the house on her own and Owen was no longer allowed to stay the night. It was clear that her departure was imminent.

Owen was still allowed to visit her after work, but he could not stay for more than an hour. He would find that by the time he arrived Nathalie had already eaten and was sitting in the small lounge and he would join her on the sofa where they would talk awkwardly. Neither of them could talk about work and there was precious little else that they could discuss within the earshot of one of Nathalie’s minders who would inevitably be hovering in the kitchen. If they ever dropped their voices, the minder would come closer.

It wouldn’t be long before he would be told that the car was ready to take him back to Pimlico and he would leave, not quite sure when he would see her again.

On the third Monday of April Owen arrived at the safe house in Holland Park just after six thirty to find Nathalie waiting for him in the small entrance hall, wearing a light raincoat and clutching her handbag. Captain Archibald emerged from the lounge.

‘Thought you two deserved a night out. It’s a lovely evening so I suggest you stroll up to Notting Hill and find somewhere to eat there. Back by eight thirty please, at the latest.’

So they strolled up to Notting Hill. Owen kept glancing behind him as they set out.

‘You won’t spot them, Owen.’

‘Spot who?’

‘Who you’re looking for. Of course, they’re following us. You don’t think they’d let us out all on our own, do you? They watch me like a hawk now.’

Owen put his arm round his wife’s waist and pulled her closer to him. She responded by placing an arm across his shoulders and slightly inclining her head towards his.

‘They’ll be four of them. North, south, east and west. And we won’t have the faintest idea of who they are.’

‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ said Owen.

She shrugged, as if she had never really thought about it like that.

‘It will be any day now, you know that, don’t you, Owen?’

He nodded. ‘I know I shouldn’t ask you this, but I don’t suppose you have any idea at all of where you’re going, do you? Do you know what you are meant to be doing when you get there?’

She pulled sharply away from him, their arms disentangling as she did so.

‘Owen! You know that you can’t ask me that.’

They were in Notting Hill Gate now and at the end of a little alley by the side of a cinema, next door to a sweet shop, they found a pretty fish and chip restaurant called Geales, where they were shown to a table on the first floor in an area where there were just three other tables, two of which were occupied.

Despite her disdain for English food, Nathalie attacked a large piece of cod as if she hadn’t eaten for a week. Owen could not remember the last time he had eaten such a large and tasty haddock.

By the time she had finished eating, Nathalie appeared slightly more relaxed. A smartly dressed couple in their sixties had taken the table next to them, so they spoke quietly, struggling to hear each other’s voices.

Nathalie was holding a chip in her hand, toying with it as she spoke.

‘You have to learn to accept things, you know, Owen.’ She still pronounced his name as if it were two words.

‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

‘Like the people following us, whom we don’t see. The two people who’ve just sat down at the next table. They’re watching us. Nothing is what it seems. It’s the war. People do things in war ... because of the war ... that they wouldn’t do otherwise. That is what you have to accept. That war changes everything and when it ends, only then can you judge things properly.’

Owen was not altogether sure what she meant, but she had put the chip down now and was holding his hand, her fingers interlinked with his as she leaned over the table and kissed him on the lips. It was just gone eight o’clock and they knew that they couldn’t be late, so they paid the bill and made their way back to Holland Park.