Agent in Berlin, page 29
The documents provided a valuable insight into both German thinking and their plans, and also Japanese plans. Ōshima was a clever man: he knew when to throw a bit more information to the Germans in the hope they’d respond likewise.
And the material Kimura gathered was of extraordinary value. It gave an insight into Japan’s growing anger with the Americans and frustration at their economic sanctions. As 1941 progressed, so the relationship between Japan and the United States deteriorated – and Japan’s hostile intents became evident. At one of his first meetings back in Berlin, Ōshima told von Ribbentrop that Japan would be prepared to join Germany in an attack on the British Empire and the United States. Ōshima’s priority seemed to be to persuade the German government that in the event of Japan declaring war on the United States – which was increasingly feeling like a matter of when rather than if – they should join them in a war against the United States.
And Ōshima was also privy to top-secret Japanese military intentions. These documents were so sensitive that Kimura rarely saw them, certainly not in any detail. The ambassador kept them in his own personal safe, but sometimes he’d take them out when Kimura was in the room. He’d pick half a sentence here, a name or a location there. It was difficult to get more than an inkling at first of what Japan’s plans were, but gradually a picture emerged.
What he discovered shocked him to the core.
What Tadashi Kimura passed on to the British was dictated by circumstances: the reports tended to be lengthy and photographing them with the tiny Minox Riga camera Jack had given him was a fraught and time-consuming business. He had to choose a time when he was certain he wouldn’t be disturbed – hence his willingness to work late at night. He wanted to be sure they were relevant and some he declined to photograph because he felt that somehow doing so represented a greater treason. These tended to include any reference to the emperor.
He usually waited until he had three completed strips of film, one hundred and fifty frames. He’d wrap the film in tissue paper before carefully placing it inside lengths of cardboard, wrapping them in tape and placing it in an envelope.
And then he’d visit the bar on Hohenzollerndamm.
* * *
No one was sure if the bar had a name. It was known as Günter’s after a long-dead proprietor and its fascia had faded into illegibility. But despite this it had a reputation for being a smart place, located at the northern end of Hohenzollerndamm and somewhere people who wanted to be left on their own could have a quiet drink without being bothered. The toilets were at the rear, across a small, walled yard. In the middle cubicle Tadashi carefully taped the cardboard strip containing the film to the rear of cistern. The gap between it and the wall was so narrow it was impossible to spot.
The following day Jack would visit Günter’s and visit the same cubicle where he’d dislodge the cardboard with a metal comb he’d fashioned specifically for that purpose.
The next morning he’d slip it to Reinhard at the kiosk on Budapester Strasse. As he walked away, he was confident it had begun its journey to Switzerland and from there to London. He often wondered what was on the film and determined to ask Tadashi about it one day.
Chapter 30
London
March 1941
Barney Allen had been an MI6 officer for over six years. He had few regrets about joining the Service, even though there were certainly times when he missed the excitement of the racecourse and being out of doors. He rarely strayed from the view that horses made more agreeable companions than his colleagues in Broadway, and human beings in general.
But the knowledge of how effective he was as an intelligence officer more than compensated. ‘Your pack of wolves, eh, Barney… jolly good, I hear?’ colleagues would remark in hushed tones when they passed in the narrow corridors. In spite of themselves, they found it hard to disguise a sense of admiration, alongside the inevitable envy, which so permeated the building.
But one aspect of the job that Barney Allen disliked was the meetings. They tended to go on for too long and to little purpose, more often about office politics and personal advancement than serving the cause of intelligence.
The meetings inside the Service were one thing, but meetings elsewhere were marked by pointless displays of rivalry and arguments over who controlled what: ‘spheres of influence’ was how it was termed. This was the case with MI5 and Special Branch and with the different Whitehall departments, especially the War Office and the Foreign Office.
But meetings with the intelligence agencies of other countries tended to be laced with a particularly potent degree of tension and a good deal of mistrust. At first Barney Allen was mystified by this and it took him a couple of years to fully appreciate that if one’s job was to be suspicious of enemies, it was hardly surprising when allies were viewed in the same light.
This was especially true with the Americans and it was another reason why Barney Allen wasn’t looking forward to the meeting that had been arranged with them at the Foreign Office.
‘What was it Oscar Wilde is supposed to have said about the Americans, Piers?’
‘I wasn’t aware he’d said anything about them, Barney.’
‘Something to do with us having everything in common with them except language?’
Piers Devereux laughed and said that was jolly good and he must remember that though perhaps not in this morning’s meeting.
‘We’re on the same side, after all, Barney.’
‘Doesn’t always feel like it.’
‘No, but I suspect that is as much down to personalities as anything else.’
‘Will he be at the meeting?’
‘Jenkins? Of course. But there’s a chap over from Washington who’ll be leading for them – and he’s the reason for this meeting. I’m told he’ll introduce himself as Austin and that is as much as we’ll know about him. He’s terribly important, apparently, right at the top of the Office of Strategic Services so in MI6 terms senior to me. He outranks Jenkins by some margin so I assume that objectionable man will be on his best behaviour.’
* * *
Joseph Jenkins was indeed on his best behaviour. He was one of the most senior OSS men in their London station but had a notoriously difficult relationship with his British counterparts. He was an overweight Southerner, prickly and easily offended, especially if he was called Joe rather than Joseph: he had a fear of being confused with Stalin.
But he was indeed on his best behaviour in front of the tall, painfully thin man with the demeanour of an academic who introduced himself as Austin. He and Jenkins were flanked by air and naval attachés from their embassy. Devereux and Allen were joined by Air Vice-Marshal Frank Hamilton from the RAF Intelligence Branch and a rear admiral from the Naval Intelligence Division.
On the walk over from St James’s, Piers Devereux had rehearsed his opening remarks – Delighted you could join us… welcome the opportunity to share intelligence… only right to warn you of the significant information that has come our way pertaining to the United States… Barney here will brief you…
But before he could speak Austin cleared his throat and thanked everyone for joining him. ‘May I say how much the United States appreciates the intelligence you have passed on to us.’ He spoke in a manner that was not for interrupting.
‘We fully appreciate the significance of this information. We have no doubt your source’ – he looked directly at Barney – ‘is very well placed and although I wouldn’t embarrass you by asking their identity, we’re confident we can narrow them down to a handful of people within the Japanese embassy in Berlin.’
‘I say, Austin, that is not the purpose of this meeting, surely. We are uncomfortable with this turning into a game of “hunt the agent”. Any discussion along those lines is improper and could result in our source being compromised.’
‘That is the last thing I intend to do, Mr Devereux.’ Piers bristled as the American pronounced the ‘x’ in his surname. ‘Let me put this another way. When I said how much we appreciate your help, I do mean it. We value it enormously. The parts of the reports that you passed on to us certainly corroborate our own intelligence that Japan does have hostile intentions towards the United States of America.
‘But I wish to make an important point: the United States remains a neutral country. We are not at war with anyone and as a neutral country we need to be extremely cautious in how we handle such intelligence and how we react to it. Were we to overact we could precipitate a conflict and in so doing be seen as the aggressors.
‘You will have noticed I said that the intelligence received from your source corroborates our own intelligence. This is the purpose of my visit to the United Kingdom. The United States would find it helpful if the distribution of intelligence from your source was restricted even more than it is.’
‘We hardly give it prominence though, Austin.’ It was the first time Barney Allen had spoken. ‘It’s not as if we publish it in The Times!’
‘But it has a wider distribution than we would regard as helpful: my government feels it’s being pushed into hasty action, the timing of which may not be of our choosing.’
‘I’m still struggling to—’
Austin held up his hand for Piers Devereux to stop. He leaned forward. The other seven around the table did likewise.
‘What I will share with you now is top secret and not a word of it leaves this room. Since early 1939 – before the start of the war – the Japanese Foreign Office has been using an encryption device called a Type B Cipher Machine which they believe is impregnable. However, since last September we have been able to decode messages passed through that machine, which we have codenamed Purple.
‘Since he returned to the embassy earlier this year, Ambassador Ōshima has been a prolific user of Purple. The reason we have been able to narrow your source down to a handful of people within the embassy is that sections of your reports are frequently identical to the material we’re intercepting through Purple from Ōshima.
‘Don’t get me wrong: this is extremely useful to us and it’s what I mean in saying it corroborates Ōshima’s messages – verifying them, if you like. But the last thing we want is to alert the Japanese to what we know. That is why we’re asking you to be more… circumspect with your source. We don’t want to frighten the horses, do we, Mr Allen?’
Barney Allen was about to respond. He wondered whether the equine reference was intended to show how much Austin knew about him.
‘We know what Admiral Yamamoto is up to. We know they have their eyes on our Pacific Fleet. We know Ōshima’s trying to persuade Berlin to join in any war against the United States.’ He made a gesture, which could only be interpreted as ‘leave this to us’.
Piers Devereux said he quite understood and indeed he very much appreciated Austin being so frank with them and of course the very last thing the British government would wish to do would be to… scare the horses… and there was nervous laughter around the room and everyone stood up to leave.
Piers Devereux asked the rear admiral if he’d be so good as to show their guest out because he and Mr Allen had others matters to discuss with the Air Vice-Marshal.
* * *
‘What do you make of that, Frank?’
Air Vice-Marshal Frank Hamilton shrugged. ‘Americans making a lot of noise, as is their want. I think the best course of action is to nod in agreement but carry on as before. We can’t have them telling us how to run our agents, can we, Barney?’
‘Indeed not. Seems to me they want to have their cake and eat it. They’re not in the war, are they? This country is pretty much on its own and it’s rather bloody annoying having them on the side-lines trying to call the shots but declining to get their hands dirty. What’s your view, Piers?’
‘Well… in the normal course of events I’d agree with you both, none of their business et cetera, and in fact, as annoying as that was, in a sense it’s rather encouraging, is it not? Shows what Kimura is giving us is spot on, that we’re absolutely on the right track. Part of me agrees with Frank, that we should make the right noises to the Americans but carry on as before.’
‘And the other part of you, Piers?’
Piers Devereux paused, selecting a cigarette from his packet and then putting it back. ‘Roly Pearson had a word with me the other day – Winston’s intelligence adviser. He said Winston’s well aware of what Barney’s getting from Berlin and he considers it to be terribly helpful. Downing Street’s view – Winston and Roly, that is – is that having our own line of intelligence on what the Japanese are thinking is absolutely essential, because as Austin has just said, they have their own source and we can’t be seen to be at a disadvantage. But – and this was the point he wanted to get across – he wants us to be careful how we handle the intelligence. Evidently Winston and President Roosevelt are working hand in glove on this, much closer than we’d realised. Roly said too much noise could blow them off the course they’re plotting, that was the phrase he used.’
‘So, what do we do with my source, Piers?’
‘Tell him to be even more careful, especially as the Americans have confirmed we’re on the right track. Perhaps we’ll be even more selective about its distribution. Get Jack to tell him to be even more selective about what he sends us: quality rather than quantity. Don’t want to push our luck, do we? While we’re here, Frank, do you want to update us on where we are with the German plane?’
‘We’re still receiving reports from Barney’s source in Berlin on the Focke-Wulf 190. Suffice it to say we remain concerned. I think now is the time to see if we can get more on-the-ground intelligence about the Focke-Wulf factories in Bremen and Oschersleben. Are your wolves ready to prowl round there, Barney?’
‘They’re waiting for the right moon as I understand it, Frank.’
Chapter 31
Germany
April 1941
‘You mean to say you’ve never been to Bremen, Herr Miller?’
‘I’m afraid not, Reichssportführer, but with Werder Bremen doing so well in the Gauliga Niedersachsen I decided I really must go up there and when I noticed they’re playing Eintracht Braunschweig at the Weserstadion next week I thought this would be an ideal opportunity, given the two teams are such close rivals.’
Hans von Tschammer und Osten nodded. Jack Miller had noticed how his chest swelled when Jack called him Reichssportführer.
‘And you say the Propaganda Ministry refuse to grant you a travel permit.’
‘Apparently Bremen is a particularly sensitive area. I’m only interested in football, you know that.’
‘There was the incident in Hamburg when I was required to—’
‘That was a misunderstanding, Reichssportführer. I got lost.’
‘As you told me, yes. I’m not sure why Bremen should be any more sensitive than Berlin. Leave it with me, but, Herr Miller…’
‘Yes, Reichssportführer?’
‘Do me a favour and don’t get lost in Bremen, eh?’
* * *
‘Do you think it’s a good idea, Karl-Heinrich?’
‘Is what a good idea, my dear?’
‘What I was just telling you.’
‘I’m sorry, it was a long journey from Poland. Please start again.’
Sophia held up a copy of Frauen-Warte, the magazine of the Frauenschaft, the Nazi women’s organisation. ‘I was reading this article about how desperate they are for more volunteers and I thought perhaps I should do more. It seems that children’s homes are in particular need of volunteers. The ones in Berlin have all the help they need, but there’s one near Magdeburg…’
‘It will take you half a day to drive there.’
‘I hope you don’t mind, Karl-Heinrich, but I’ve already spoken with the matron. I could drive down on a Tuesday morning, stay overnight – they need women to stay there at night – and drive back to Berlin on the Wednesday afternoon. I would feel I’m doing my bit for the war effort and if it works out I could visit more often.’
She’d moved closer to her husband and placed her hand on his thigh. He smiled and placed his hand on top of hers.
‘You’re a very good woman, Sophia.’ Her brushed his hand across her hair and tucked a strand behind her ear. ‘You are unable to have children yet are willing to work with them. Surely that is what the Führer means when he says he expects every citizen to make sacrifices. Of course you should do this. It is your duty.’
* * *
They’d had to abandon using Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church on Auguste-Viktoria-Platz for Oberstleutnant Ernst Scholz to leave documents for Jack Miller to collect.
It had worked well until the young man in the storeroom was conscripted. Scholz and Miller had decided to use the Luftwaffe officer’s storage cage in the basement of his apartment block on Düsseldorfer Strasse. It wasn’t ideal, but then Jack Miller was struggling to think of places that were.
Scholz left a package every four or five weeks. After he’d collected the report, Jack walked up to Kurfürstendamm and wandered around the shops, so by the time he returned to his own apartment on Sächsische Strasse he could be sure he hadn’t been followed. He’d wait until it was dark and draw the curtains before he locked and bolted the front door and spread the pages of the report on his table. It could take over an hour to photograph it on his Minox Riga – making sure the light was right, turning the pages over, checking the film was moving properly between exposures. He’d place the strips of film in a cardboard sleeve and then destroy the document, tearing it into shreds and burning them in the bath. The following morning he’d send the film on the next stage of the journey when he slipped the envelope to Reinhard at the kiosk on Budapester Strasse.
