Agent in Berlin, page 6
‘Do you know who did it?’
‘A man who said he didn’t like the idea of Jews living in the same apartment block as him.’
Esther was silent for a while, looking straight at Sophia in an almost accusing manner.
‘It was Karl-Heinrich, Sophia. The man who beat up my brother and father was your husband.’
Sophia felt the room sway around her and her throat tighten. She tried to speak but no words came out so she mouthed the word ‘sorry’ and then felt tears stream down her face and through them saw Esther shrug in a matter-of-fact manner, as if a dreadful event like this was only to be expected.
This was one of those events that shaped her life that didn’t fade in her memory. She clearly remembered how she told Esther she’d do what she could to help and Esther said they had little food because they were terrified to leave their apartment and Sophia went into the larder and filled two large shopping bags with food.
Sophia felt dreadful after that. She realised that her own problems were nothing compared to those of Esther and her family and felt guilty for having talked about herself so much. And then she realised her best course of action was to follow her friend’s advice: to bide her time and wait for the time to come when she could escape or even wreak her revenge.
Chapter 7
Berlin
July and August 1936
‘Without meaning to sound impolite in any way, Allen, I’d just like to know what the hell you’re doing here?’
It was the first time Barney Allen had actually met – as in spoken with – Timothy Summers but he was aware of him through friends and acquaintances. He’d known Timothy’s elder brother at Oxford – and had heard of his spikey reputation. ‘Always looking to pick a fight,’ Piers Devereux had said. Barney Allen certainly knew Summers’ type: he was some six or seven years younger than Barney – mid-thirties – so too young to have fought in the Great War and despite having been marked out as a high flyer in the Diplomatic Service nonetheless had a bit of a chip on his shoulder and an ensuing tendency towards rudeness. It perhaps explained why he was the first secretary at the British embassy in Berlin when by now he really ought to have been doing a bit better than that – perhaps minister grade or even an ambassador at somewhere less consequential than Germany.
‘I understand Piers Devereux spoke with Sir Eric Phipps in London a fortnight ago and he was perfectly happy.’
Timothy Summers bristled at the mention of his ambassador’s name, as if he felt Barney Allen was using it against him. ‘It was, as I understand it, a brief conversation at a reception and Devereux mentioned in passing to Sir Eric he was sending you over and asked if that was all right and Sir Eric said it was as long as you didn’t queer our pitch and cause any trouble. He also asked that as soon as you turned up you were to come and see me so I could run through the school rules, hence this jolly get together. My brother says you were last heard of doing something with horses?’
‘I was working for the Jockey Club: I started working with Piers earlier this year. How is your brother, by the way?’
Summers shrugged. ‘Very rich: gave up the idea of the Church soon after Oxford and now makes money doing something frightfully tedious in the City. So, tell me why you’re here.’
Barney Allen hesitated and looked around. The British embassy on Wilhelmstrasse had a distinctly English country house feel to it and, but for the side view of the Adlon Hotel next door to Summer’s oak-panelled office, could well have been the library.
‘Piers has asked me to come over while everyone’s got their eyes on the Olympics and see what I can pick up.’
‘Pick up?’
‘You know… gossip, information, how things are going, who’s who… that sort of thing.’
‘That’s what we do, Allen.’
‘Of course… of course… and we’re certainly not looking to tread on your toes, absolutely not, but he thought a fresh pair of eyes, a different perspective…’
‘I’d have thought we do that perfectly adequately. Are you sure you’re not recruiting?’
‘No, no… not my job, Summers, I’m more of a – how can I put it? – more of a writing papers type of chap. Probably papers no one will read, but there we are.’
‘You’re not running any agents over here, are you?’
Barney Allen shook his head, not so vigorously as to look offended by the thought but more puzzled, as if the very idea of him running an agent was something that had never occurred to him.
‘So Piers has sent you over on a bit of a jolly, eh? Come over to watch the Olympics, get pally with a few locals, write it all up and it gets filed under “let’s be beastly to the Germans”?’
Allen didn’t react. The more he looked at Summers the more familiar his thin face and pointed nose was. He thought he may have seen him at a hunt. It was a pity he wasn’t the prey.
‘Let me tell you something, Allen, and before I do let me assure you I speak with the authority and approval of the ambassador – in fact Sir Eric and I discussed the matter only this morning. It is important you understand that Germany is no longer the enemy of the United Kingdom. We are well aware that there is a school of thought in London to the contrary, one that is determined to see Germany as our perpetual enemy. That, however, is not the case. The Great War finished eighteen years ago and—’
‘I do know, Summers, I fought in it.’
Summers’ face reddened as he continued. ‘The Great War finished eighteen years ago and we signed a peace treaty with them the year after the war ended—’
‘Which they’re flouting, Summers, they’re breaking the treaty left, right and centre as they go about re-arming their forces and—’
‘If I may continue, please, Allen? You persist in using confrontational language. One would expect that seventeen years after the signing of the Treaty of Versailles some of its clauses are less relevant now than they were in 1919. But we see many positive aspects of what is going on in Germany at the present time. Certainly there are some policies of the Nazi government with which we do not see eye to eye and often Herr Hitler’s tone is not one we altogether approve of, but then he is talking to a domestic audience, is he not? It is a principle of British foreign policy that we do not interfere with the domestic politics of another country. At the same time we are very aware and indeed grateful that the German government is proving to be a resolute bulwark against the Bolshevik threat which is rampant in Europe. Their policy and approach in that regard is very much in the United Kingdom’s interests, Allen. The Germans are in effect a barrier between the United Kingdom and the Bolsheviks in Europe.’
‘Out of interest, Summers… this Bolshevik threat… excuse me if I sound naive or perhaps I’m possibly missing something, but really, how serious is this threat to the United Kingdom? I mean, since the Russian Revolution they’ve hardly swept through Europe.’
‘The Comintern are everywhere, Allen!’
‘Possibly, but they seem to spend most of their time fighting each other. While one is naturally alert to Bolshevism in the United Kingdom one also has to say it doesn’t feel too imminent a threat.’
‘What are you trying to say, Allen?’
‘That one shouldn’t ignore the threat posed by Nazi Germany just because they don’t like Bolsheviks.’ Barney Allen stopped, worried he’d gone too far. He remembered Piers Devereux’s warnings just before he left London.
Try not to be confrontational with the embassy, Barney, don’t rile them… they look at things very differently, but remember it is the view that holds sway, even within this building… I thought it best to let them know you’re there rather than them spotting you… hopefully that way they won’t suspect anything.
‘I trust you’ll leave your MI6 colleagues on Tiergartenstrasse well alone? We wouldn’t want you alerting the Germans by having anything to do with them.’
‘I wasn’t planning to go there, no. Foley doesn’t have diplomatic cover, does he?’
‘None of them do, Allen, it’s Foreign Office policy. The Passport Control Office is a perfectly adequate enough cover for them, gives them an opportunity to pick up some decent intelligence. We don’t seem to view espionage in the same way as you do.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning we don’t think many of the methods employed by those in espionage are entirely… fair. And we are concerned that if any such activities are exposed then it could compromise the United Kingdom, which is why they have no diplomatic cover. That way we can deny any link with your station here if things go wrong. What is your cover, by the way?’
‘I represent a college in London, Holborn College.’
‘Never heard of it.’
‘You wouldn’t have, Summers. It’s fairly new. We helped fund it so we could use it as a front.’
‘And what is your role here?’
‘Somewhat vague… looking for partner colleges and the like.’
‘Not using your real name, I take it?’
‘No, I’m Edward Campion.’
‘Sounds rather Catholic but then I suppose half this country is. We’ve been very strict with MI6 about what cover you chaps use.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘We don’t want people posing as journalists or businessmen.’
‘Of course not.’
‘Or causing trouble.’
‘Absolutely not.’
* * *
Piers Devereux hadn’t explained how he managed it but Barney Allen had tickets to the Olympiastadion as a member of the British Olympic Committee, though very much on its periphery – not front row, which suited him fine; he wanted to be in a privileged position certainly, but he didn’t want to be too prominent. His pass allowed him freedom of movement around the environs of the Olympiastadion, access to all the Games venues and travel on special buses between the venues and around the city.
He was at the stadium – along with 100,000 others – for the Opening Ceremony, an event that made him deeply uncomfortable with its strident Nazi overtones. He watched the crowd transfixed as Hitler declared the Games open. He returned to the stadium the following day and for the rest of that week to watch the athletics, the highlight being Jesse Owens winning gold for the United States in the Men’s 100- and 200-metre sprints.
But the main attraction of the Games was what went on away from the events. At the Olympiastadion there was a reception area for members of the national committees and there were similar facilities at the other venues. He soon realised this was the ideal place to meet German officials, who seemed to be there in large numbers, standing around and waiting to meet foreign visitors and then do their best to persuade them what a modern and sophisticated and cultured country they were visiting: especially the culture.
Tickets for a concert, perhaps, or maybe the opera? That is no problem. Please, let me arrange it for you. Do you have any questions about Germany – there are so many misconceptions I’d be happy to address!
One of these encounters took place at the Olympiastadion on the first Tuesday when he was there to watch the heats for the 1500 metres. He’d gone into the vast reception area for a drink and noticed a small group of uniformed Germans close to him. Within moments one of them had approached him, peering at his name badge.
‘Edward Campion from the United Kingdom – welcome!’ The man clicked his heels and briefly came to attention. ‘And may I ask, Herr Campion, what is your position with the…’ He peered again at the badge. ‘British Olympic Committee – have I pronounced it correctly?’
The man’s English wasn’t very good and he looked relieved when Barney Allen – the man he believed to be Edward Campion – replied in fluent German, explaining how he was a very senior representative of a very important academic institution and how very important sport was to our younger generation and how very pleased he was to be in Berlin for the Olympics because it gave him an opportunity to see how well everything was run.
He apologised for his German but his companion said not at all, it was truly excellent and it put him to shame, although he didn’t appear to be too ashamed. He was a tall man, perhaps in his mid-thirties and wearing the black uniform Barney had come to recognise as that of an SS officer, with the runic symbols on each lapel.
‘Obersturmbannführer Karl-Heinrich von Naundorf.’ A sharp nod of the head and another click of the heels as he again came to attention and then they shook hands slightly awkwardly and Barney Allen asked him what did he say his rank was and the man said it was Obersturmbannführer, which was the equivalent of a lieutenant colonel in the British Army.
‘Did you ever serve in your army, Herr Campion?’
‘Too young. I’m not really a military man, I’m afraid: sport and education are more my things.’
Karl-Heinrich said this was no problem and explained that he’d only joined the SS two years previously, before then he’d been a lawyer and Edward Campion quickly invented a brother who was a lawyer so they had something in common and the German slapped him on the shoulder and said yes, fancy that.
‘You’ve been promoted very quickly then, Karl-Heinrich – becoming a lieutenant colonel in two years?’
‘Indeed, and I am very honoured. My last promotion was just a matter of weeks ago. To be honest, Herr Campion…’
Barney Allen said please, call me Edward.
‘Of course. To be honest, Edward, I think my education and background as a lawyer has been a distinct advantage.’ Edvard.
They talked a little longer – about horses, how marvellous the organisation of the Games was, and then Karl-Heinrich said there were so many misunderstandings about Germany and Barney said he was sure that was true and in any case, he wasn’t terribly interested in politics.
Barney Allen was back in the reception area later that afternoon when the SS officer appeared next to him.
‘It was a pleasure to meet you earlier today, Edward.’ Edvard.
‘Likewise.’
‘May I have the honour of introducing you to my wife, Frau Sophia von Naundorf?’
He’d not spotted the woman until then when a slim and noticeably younger woman appeared from behind her husband and gently shook the hand of the man introduced to her as Edward Campion. Barney was struck by the contrast: Sophia von Naundorf was quite beautiful, with large dark eyes that demanded attention and an air of refinement and even sophistication about her, quite unlike her husband. Her pale skin was framed and accentuated by the cloche hat she wore. She said in English what a great pleasure it was to meet Mr Campion…
‘…Edward, please!’
‘Edward: the Obersturmbannführer mentioned you earlier and I’m so pleased to meet you.’
It struck Barney Allen as odd that she referred to her husband by his military rank but he’d puffed his chest out with pride as she did so. Maybe he expected it of her. She’d seemed to shrink slightly when her husband spoke.
‘We are having a small dinner party at our home on Thursday, Edward, and we’d be most honoured if you could join us.’
* * *
Barney Allen had been annoyed that Werner Lustenberger wasn’t in Berlin when he arrived in the city. Despite giving him plenty of notice of when he’d be there and promising to meet him on the Friday before the Games began to give him his tickets, the German hadn’t turn up to the rendezvous point, a bar on the Unter den Linden.
Werner finally answered the telephone at his apartment on the Wednesday evening, soon after Barney returned to his hotel after watching Jesse Owens break the world record to win the 200 metres. The German crowd had been unamused at the sight of a black man winning another medal in such style. Barney Allen was similarly unimpressed with Werner.
‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘I had some family business in Aachen, Barnaby, and then my cousin in Paris asked to see me and one thing led to another, but don’t worry, now I’m back. What can I do for you?’
Barney Allen did his best not to lose his temper. The last thing he needed at the moment was to get on the wrong side of Werner, especially given what he was about to tell him.
‘Let’s meet on Friday night, Werner, we need to talk. You find one of those decent Berlin restaurants you were telling me about and I’ll give you some tickets for the Olympics. What about the equestrian events? They begin next week.’
Werner replied that he wasn’t interested.
‘I thought you like horses?’
‘I like to see them running, Barnaby, not dancing.’
Werner told him to meet at six at a place called the Saxon on Regensburger Strasse.
* * *
Dinner at the home of Obersturmbannführer Karl-Heinrich von Naundorf and his wife, Sophia, had been an awkward occasion.
Barney Allen was determined that Edward Campion would come across as a somewhat bemused Englishman, one whose job would be of little interest to anyone, which along with his mild demeanour would mean few people would take notice of him. He was there to observe, to listen, to pick up ideas and who knows whom he may meet?
But from the outset it hadn’t felt right. Two of the other guests were fellow SS officers, both accompanied by silent wives. There was a man from the German Olympic Committee and an Austrian journalist who spent most of the evening staring at Barney but saying very little. They’d only just sat down at the dining table in the elegant apartment and were still being served their hors d’oeuvre – cold meats and a potato salad – when the first question was fired at him.
Why are people in England so hostile to the leadership of Adolf Hitler?
He composed himself, allowing himself a moment or two to construct an answer that would seem thoughtful without being confrontational. He didn’t have time to answer.
Are you not impressed with the achievements of the Third Reich?
You have Jews in England, Mr Campion – are they not a problem for you too?
The problem with democracy is that it leads to failure and rewards weakness, can you not see that?
