well-known savage temper. The Abwehr man had seen Christa Lundt going inside her but – had seen Gruber glance in that direction – and had guessed who was probably the Gestapo man's first target.
It was in the nature of a man like Gruber to bully all those he considered his inferiors, especially women. As Hartmann had hoped, the Gestapo officer had gone straight to Christa Lundt's but in a wild rage detonated by Hartmann's final remark. Things had gone further than the Abwehr man anticipated – owing to a pure chance coincidence that Christa was about to take a shower. Now, for the time being, he had Gruber in an arm-lock.
But more important, he had attracted Christa's sympathy and cooperation. Things could not have worked out better from his point of view.
'Is the coffee right for you?' Christa asked a few minutes later.
'Excellent! I think I shall apply for your transfer to my office in Berlin. Your job? Coffee-maker!'
To show her confidence in him she had sat down on the sofa beside him. He took out his pencil and a notebook. They were the tools of her profession so they were hardly likely to inhibit her.
'Very efficient, Major!' she said mischievously.
'First question? Ready?' He paused and smiled, then lit up his pipe after obtaining her permission. His gentle eyes watched her closely as he threw his shaft.
'What is your impression of this Wing Commander Lindsay who says he flew to the Berghof solely to meet the Fuhrer?'
It was not the reply she gave he noted; it was the wary look which came into her hitherto friendly eyes.
'Jodl, the situation here ever since the Fuhrer returned from Smolensk has become intolerable! Intolerable! Did you hear me?'
Field Marshal Keitel was striding round his colleague's office, unable to keep still. The foxy-faced Jodl had observed something was wrong from the moment, unannounced, Keitel had stormed into his quarters.
For one thing the Field Marshal's face was flushed with annoyance. For another he kept revolving his baton in his hands and now he threw his cap on a table with a violent gesture.
Jodl, of a calmer temperament, watching his visitor closely, chose his words with care. You always assumed that every word you spoke, even in confidence, would be repeated by Keitel to the Fuhrer if it suited his book.
'Have you isolated the cause?' he enquired.
'Isn't it obvious! We have two obnoxious outsiders poking their noses into everything that is going on..
'You are referring to Hartmann of the Abwehr and Gruber of the Gestapo?'
Always ask questions. Never make statements. Never express an opinion. It was a lesson Jodl had learned long ago.
'Who else?' Keitel blazed. 'I have just had that supercilious bastard, Hartmann, subjecting me to a cross- examination. Me! Chief of the Oberkommando!'
Supercilious? Jodl suppressed a smile. Hartmann – he had already sensed – was by far the cleverer, the more dangerous of the two interrogators. Clearly he had employed the tactic of exploiting Keitel's weakest point – his vanity and consciousness of his rank.
'You protested?' asked Jodl, still cautious. You could never tell with Keitel. He sometimes suspected the Field Marshal of simulating a posture of arrogance and limited intelligence.
'How could I protest?' Keitel raged. 'His authority derives direct from the Fuhrer himself. I suppose Gruber will turn up next. A fat slug!'
'It is not often that these men get the chance to grill those way above them in rank,' Jodl remarked shrewdly. 'They will make the most of it, submit their reports, and go away. We shall not hear from them again..'
'All this nonsense about a Soviet spy inside the Wolf's Lair
'The Fuhrer carries a great burden…
'I never mentioned the Fuhrer.
Keitel retrieved his cap, gripped his baton more firmly, glared at Jodl and walked out, slamming the door. Jodl's face had remained expressionless at the reference to a Soviet spy. Now he sat slowly tapping the fingers of his right hand like a man tapping out a Morse signal.
What Keitel said was true. The atmosphere within the claustrophobic confines of the Wolf's Lair was tense. It was bad enough to live in this unhealthy climate – there were marshes as well as lakes nearby in the dense enshrouding pine forests. The God-awful, insidious, creeping mist slipping between the trees depressed you. And now they had spy fever!
Jodl had noticed the change in personal relationships since the arrival of Hartmann and Gruber. Mistrust was in the air like the drifting grey mist. Conversations were forced and tentative. Jodl was convinced that Hartmann – the clever one – was deliberately creating this mood to put the spy under intolerable pressure…'
Intolerable? How odd that word had popped into his head. It was the same word Keitel had used twice when he had arrived, ranting at the Hartmann grilling. Jodl checked his watch. Time for the midday conference.
He stood up, put on his cap, straightened his jacket, checked his appearance in a wall mirror. The cap was at the normal jaunty angle. Always present the same impression – the Fuhrer disliked departures in others. And today, Jodl suspected, would see a new disposition of the troops on the Eastern front.
It was the evening of the day when Keitel had visited Jodl. In the depths of the pine forest amid the swirling mist a figure was crouched over the 'hide'.
The logs concealing the entrance had been removed, revealing the high-powered transceiver. With the aid of a masked torch – night had fallen and there was no moon – the expert fingers completed tapping out the signal which had been preceded by the word 'Wagner'. This indicated that the signal concerned Army dispositions. 'Olga' would have indicated a signal concerning Luftwaffe movements.
The crouched figure, seen as little more than a ghost in the mist-bound night, checked the dial of an illuminated wristwatch and waited. There was rarely a signal in the opposite direction – originating in Switzerland and beamed to East Prussia. But if there should be one, it would be transmitted from Lucerne in the next two minutes. One hundred and twenty seconds passed – an endless-seeming pause. A hand reached out to switch off. The machine began to talk…
RAHS. The call-sign from Lucy. A message was coming tonight. The torch was tucked under an arm, a notebook and pencil held at the ready for the series of dots and dashes in code. The signal was brief.
The operator switched off the machine, replaced the logs, stood up, grasped a branch and shook snow down to cover all traces of disturbance.
Walking some distance along a track, his feet crackling ice, the operator stopped again by a large tree trunk, reached inside a hole and withdrew a code book protected by a waterproof sachet. Crouching down, the operator used the torch to decode the signal, replaced the code book inside its hiding-place and was lost in the mist. The signal was a death warrant.
Liquidate the Englishman…
In his apartment in faraway Lucerne, Rudolf Roessler blinked as he sat in front of the cupboard concealing his transceiver. He had the impression it was misty. He closed the flap, sealing off the machine and turned in his chair as he heard someone behind him.,
'Oh, it is you, Anna..'
'And who else would it be?' the tall brisk woman asked with a reassuring smile. 'Here is some coffee. And your glasses are steamed up. Give them to me..'
'He stood up, closed the door of the cupboard, holding a piece of paper in his hand as he followed her into the living room. Still in a daze, he sat down at a baize-covered table and sipped his coffee while Anna vigorously cleaned the spectacles.
'I still marvel at the information Woodpecker sends. Who can he be?' he wondered.
'Far better that we never know his identity – and fortunately we never will know. Here are your glasses – and why are you all sweaty? The night is cold.'
'Moscow sent me a message for Woodpecker. I transmitted it to him after receiving his latest data on the movement of the German Army – which I later re-transmitted to Cossack. The signal for Woodpecker from Cossack is in an unknown code – so I have no idea what I was sending..'
Anna frowned. This new development worried her but she must try not to show it. 'This is the first time we have had a signal from Moscow. We thought all the transmissions would be in the opposite direction from Woodpecker to Moscow..'
'Provision was made for it when we were in Berlin,' Roessler reminded her. 'Call-signs were agreed and so
