Traitor's Gate (45 page)

If he succeeded, his action would certainly make its mark in the history books. But his name wouldn’t be associated with it: a mysterious Lieutenant Eiche would take the credit. Conrad didn’t mind; he wasn’t looking for a place in history. There was only one person whom he wanted to know what he had done: his father. He hoped Warren had found a way of safely delivering his letter.

For a pacifist, Conrad had killed a lot of people. There was one of the Republican soldiers whom he and David Griffiths had caught raping the nuns in Spain. There were others in Spain too; he hadn’t counted how many he had shot in his eight months there. A dozen perhaps? Twenty? Then there were Klaus, Dressel and Sophie. He had really killed Sophie.

‘I’m sorry about Sophie, Theo.’

Theo didn’t answer at first. He just stared at the small potted fern on the windowsill of the kitchen. ‘I was a fool. An arrogant fool.’

Conrad didn’t say anything. He agreed with Theo and Theo knew it.

‘She was absolutely right that I took her for granted, Conrad. I thought I knew her so well, I thought she was so shallow, but I didn’t understand her at all. I never would have suspected she was a
Nazisse
. I never suspected she was anything much.’

Still Conrad didn’t answer.

‘You know, when I said I loved her, at the end, I only said that to make her feel better.’

‘I know.’

‘But in the end she died for me. For us. For what we are doing.’

They sat in silence for a minute.

‘Got another cigarette?’ Conrad asked. Theo handed him one and he lit it. ‘Did you hear what Klaus said about Anneliese?’

 ‘About how he had whisked her away to another camp?’

‘Yes. Do you believe it?’

‘Honestly?’

‘Yes, honestly.’

‘No,’ said Theo. ‘Klaus would have said anything to get Sophie to give him the names on that list. What about you?’

Conrad pulled angrily at his cigarette. ‘No.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Theo. ‘Sophie. Anneliese. Both...’

‘Killed by the Nazis.’

‘Yes,’ said Theo.

‘That might happen to us,’ said Conrad. ‘In an hour or two.’

‘Yes,’ said Theo. ‘But at least we will die fighting the swine.’

Heydrich listened to Huber’s report of the investigation into Klaus’s murder. Death rarely upset Heydrich, but this one did. He realized he had liked his shambling assistant. He would miss his cunning insights, and his company at the Salon Kitty.

Huber had already made progress. Footprints of two men had been found at the scene of the crime: soldiers, or at least men wearing army-issued boots. The girl had been identified as Sophie Pohlmann, who was the girlfriend of Lieutenant Theo von Hertenberg, who worked at the War Ministry. As far as Huber was aware, Klaus was working on an investigation of Wilfrid Israel, the owner of the department store. And Huber had found an interesting scrap of paper crunched into a ball a few metres from the bodies.

He handed it to Heydrich.

It was a list. Of animals. Beside each animal was the name of a leading Nazi figure.

‘What do you think this is?’ asked Heydrich.

‘I don’t know,’ said Huber. ‘The writing isn’t Schalke’s. Per­haps it’s an assassination list? That’s just a guess.’

‘And an interesting one,’ said Heydrich.

‘Do you have anything you can add, Herr Gruppenführer?’ Huber asked. ‘I know that Schalke often did special work for you directly.’

‘Possibly,’ said Heydrich. ‘Theo von Hertenberg is an officer in the Abwehr. I’m sure Schalke will have had a file on him. And Schalke had heard a rumour about a coup, although he had no hard evidence. You know how many rumours there are, Huber?’

‘Certainly.’

‘And you are correct, Schalke was doing some special work for me. Work that I would like to remain confidential.’

‘Was that related to the search of the Englishman de Lancey’s apartment?’ Huber remembered the other scrap of paper he had found there, which he had passed on to Klaus unread. Now he wished he had looked at it more closely. Although there were some things it was better not to know.

‘Yes, it was.’

‘Do you think the killing might be related?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Heydrich. ‘Perhaps. Hertenberg and de Lancey are old friends. Let me call Admiral Canaris. I want to see if he knows anything about this. Wait outside.’

‘Yes, Herr Gruppenführer!’

Heydrich mulled over the possibilities in his mind. He knew Schalke had been obsessed with that Jewish girl, and as a result was obsessed with de Lancey. On the other hand, he had also been looking for hard evidence of a coup and the names on the list did look like targets. Canaris would know. He picked up the telephone.

Admiral Canaris had cleared his desk. He was waiting, ready to react to whatever the day’s events might bring. It really did look as if this would be the last day of the Thousand Year Reich.

His telephone rang. ‘Gruppenführer Heydrich for you, excellency.’

‘Thank you.’ In the moments while his secretary connected the head of the Gestapo, all Canaris’s senses sharpened.

‘Admiral, I would like your opinion on something.’

‘Of course, Reinhard, what is it?’ Canaris kept his voice level, friendly.

‘Two of my officers were murdered last night in the Tier­garten, together with a woman. The woman’s name is Sophie Pohlmann, and the officers were Schalke and Dressel. Pohl­mann is the girlfriend of one of your officers, Lieutenant von Hertenberg. Do you know anything about this?’

‘No, I don’t,’ said Canaris, inwardly cursing Theo for not keeping him informed. This was dangerous.

‘A list was found at the scene of the crime.’

‘A list? Who was on it?’

‘Senior party officials. Göring, Goebbels, myself. Not you.’

At least that wasn’t a genuine list of members of the con­spiracy then, thought Canaris with relief. ‘Is the Führer’s name on the list?’ he asked, not caring what the answer was. He wanted time to think.

‘No.’

He didn’t need much time. Canaris was a quick thinker and a master of deception. Heydrich needed an answer immediately, an answer that would put the Gestapo off the scent.

‘Was Conrad de Lancey involved?’ Canaris asked, groping his way towards that answer.

‘We don’t know,’ Heydrich replied. ‘I do know Schalke was actively investigating him.’

Canaris remembered that Conrad had claimed when under arrest by the Gestapo that he was an Abwehr agent investigating British attempts to use Göring as a spy. This claim had been discredited when the Gestapo alleged that de Lancey had been spying on their senior officers in Halle, an allegation that de Lancey denied. Canaris knew Heydrich’s file by heart. He was from Halle. And there were rumours that his ancestry was Jewish. An idea flashed into the spy chief’s mind.

‘Ignore the list,’ Canaris said. ‘It’s a figment of de Lancey’s imagination. You were right; he is a British spy. But the assassina­tion list is just a cover.’

‘A cover? For what?’

‘For some investigations he was making into your background, Reinhard. Something to do with your ancestry. We found some documents he had copied.’

There was a pause. ‘What have you done with them?’

Canaris laughed. ‘Why, destroyed them of course. I didn’t believe a word of them. And don’t worry, only myself and Hertenberg have seen them. And of course your man Schalke. De Lancey must have killed him.’

‘And where is de Lancey now?’ Heydrich asked.

‘Somewhere he won’t cause you any more trouble,’ Canaris answered as ambiguously as possible. ‘If you can keep this quiet at your end, I assure you we can here.’

There was silence on the telephone as Heydrich thought this offer over. ‘Thank you, Admiral.’

‘It was no trouble,’ said Canaris. He smiled as he put down the receiver, pleased that he could still think quickly under pressure. That should buy them a few more hours.

And that was all they needed.

Lord Perth, the British Ambassador in Rome, rushed to the Palazzo Chigi, where he spoke to Count Ciano, the Italian Foreign Minister, pleading for Mussolini to take up the role of mediator. Ciano hurried to see the Duce, who was enthusiastic about his proposed role as European peacemaker, much more enthusiastic than he was at the idea of being sucked into a war with France and Britain over Czechoslovakia. Mussolini picked up the telephone and called Count Attolico, the Italian Ambassador to Germany, telling him to see Hitler immediately and suggest that he delay hostilities for twenty-four hours while Mussolini convened a conference to discuss the situation.

In Berlin, Sir Nevile Henderson was having much more difficulty getting his message through to Hitler. The Reich Chancellery was chaos. The corridors were full of ministers, generals, Party officials and foreign diplomats, each with his entourage of hangers-on, each craving an audience with Hitler. The Führer himself was in a state of great excitement, moving from room to room, haranguing whoever would listen on the subject of the evil Czechs and listening to no one. The members of the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler, Hitler’s personal bodyguard, had lost control; they too were caught up in the excitement.

Henderson could not get near Hitler, despite having made an appointment, but the French Ambassador, André François-Poncet, somehow managed to force himself in front of the German Chancellor, armed with a map of Europe, large sections of which had been coloured red to signify German control. ‘Why should you take the risk of war when your essential demands could be met without it?’ he asked in fluent German. For the first time that morning, Hitler seemed to be listening.

Count Attolico arrived breathless in the Red Room, the ante­chamber outside the Chancellor’s office, neatly bypassing the waiting Henderson. He accosted the SS adjutant at the door. ‘I have a personal message for the Führer from the Duce and I must see him quick, quick, quick,’ he said in excitable English; Attolico spoke no German. The adjutant interrupted François-Poncet to give Hitler the message, and Hitler, together with his interpreter, left François-Poncet to speak to the Italian Ambassador in the corridor.

Chamberlain had been persuaded to call an emergency session of Parliament to debate Czechoslovakia. The House of Commons was packed, with MPs listening closely to the Prime Minister’s every word as he gave a detailed account of the events of the crisis. Ambassadors, bishops and even Queen Mary were crammed into the visitors’ galleries, watching the last few hours of peace dribble away.

Then Lord Halifax, in the Peers’ Gallery, was handed a note by Alec Cadogan. He scanned it, and hurried down behind the Speaker’s Chair, where he sent it on to Lord Dunglass, the Prime Minister’s Parliamentary Private Secretary. Dunglass passed it to Sir John Simon, who did his best to attract the attention of the Prime Minister, who was still on his feet.

Eventually Chamberlain noticed Simon’s frantic signals. He stopped speaking and read the note slowly, betraying no emotion on his face. The House watched in silence. The seconds ticked by. He glanced at his Chancellor of the Exchequer.

‘Shall I tell them now?’ he asked in a whisper that could be heard throughout the chamber.

Simon nodded.

Chamberlain looked up. ‘I have something further to say to the House. I have now been informed by Herr Hitler that he invites me to meet him in Munich tomorrow morning. He has also invited Signor Mussolini and Monsieur Daladier. I need not say what my answer will be.’

The House erupted in cheering.

Chamberlain waited for quiet and then continued. ‘We are all patriots and there can be no honourable member of this House who does not feel his heart leap that the crisis has been postponed to give us once more the opportunity to try what reason and good will and discussion will do to settle a problem which is already within sight of settlement.’

This time there was no stopping the cheering. Almost to a man, and a woman, the House stood to applaud their prime minister. Almost. Winston Churchill remained firmly in his seat, his head sunk in his shoulders, his expression a mixture of anger and despair.

General von Brauchitsch was caught up in the chaos at the Chancellery. Before he had fought his way to the front of the queue to speak to Hitler, it was clear that something momentous had occurred.

He never telephoned von Witzleben.

Oster heard it from Erich Kordt, the civil servant in the Foreign Ministry who had promised to unlock the double doors in the Chancellery, and whose brother, Theo Kordt, was in the German Embassy in London.

‘Hans, the invasion is on hold.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘Mussolini has offered to host a Five-Power Conference at Munich and Hitler has accepted. It means he will almost certainly get the Sudetenland without a war.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Oster.

‘Does this mean our plans are cancelled?’

Oster took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. Talk to some people.’

He put down the phone and hurried to General von Witzleben’s head­quarters only a few minutes’ walk away.

‘Have you heard?’ The question was unnecessary; he could see from the general’s face that he had.

‘I can’t believe it. So close!’

‘Can we go ahead anyway?’

‘Von Brauchitsch will never order a coup now. Neither will Halder, for that matter. He has always insisted that the country needs to be on the brink of war before we move.’

‘But what about you, Herr General? You said you would act if von Brauchitsch and Halder faltered.’

The general shook his head. ‘Don’t you see?’ he said. ‘To this poor foolish nation, Hitler is once again our dearly beloved führer: unique, sent by God. And we are nothing more than a little pile of reactionary officers and politicians who dare to put pebbles in the way of the greatest statesman of all times at the moment of his greatest triumph.’ The general smiled wryly. ‘If we try to do something now, history, and not just German history, will have nothing more to say about us than that we refused to serve the greatest German when he was at his greatest.’

‘So it’s over?’

Von Witzleben nodded. ‘It’s over.’

As Oster walked back to his own office on the Tirpitzufer, the anger boiled up inside him. How could Chamberlain have been so stupid? After the Sudetenland, Hitler would take the rest of Czechoslovakia. And then the Danzig Corridor, and probably the whole of Poland. This was the best chance the British had to stop him! How many times had they been told that the German army would remove Hitler if he launched an invasion of Czechoslovakia? Yet they hadn’t listened.