The Company of Strangers. Robert Thomas Wilson

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СКАЧАТЬ slap, a punishing slap. She wanted to be hit hard. She drove her face at him. The words came out slicing the air, lacerating, stabbing, each one honed to cut deep to the bone. They grappled and wrestled each other to the floor. She sunk her nails into his neck. He wrenched himself free and found his fist cocked back to his shoulder. He swayed, dizzy at what this had come to. Her face was suddenly soft, her eyes dreamy. This was what she wanted. He stood up, straightened his clothes. All lust gone. Her face hardened. He gave her his hand, she took it and he pulled her to her feet. She spat in his face. He pulled her to the door, grabbing her coat and handbag on the way, and threw her out of the apartment.

      He made discreet inquiries. She was an informer, a collaborator. She delivered her countrymen, neatly trussed, to the Gestapo. The SD man Voss spoke to tapped the side of his head, shook it.

      He saw her once more before he left Paris, walking in a snow-covered street on the arm of a huge, black-coated SS sergeant. Voss hid in a doorway as they went past. She was holding snow to the side of her face.

      

      In mid January 1944 Voss was called to a meeting at the Hotel Lutecia. It was at night and the room in which the meeting was being held was dark. Only a small lamp lit one corner. The man he was meeting sat in front of the light, he had no face, only the silhouette of hair combed back, maybe grey or white. His voice was old. A voice that spoke as if under pressure, as if the chest was tight with phlegm.

      ‘There are going to be some changes,’ he said. ‘It seems our friend Kaltenbrunner at the Reich’s Main Security Office is going to get his way and bring the Abwehr under the direct control of the SD. God knows, they’ve been trying long enough. It is something we are going to have to live with. We want to be sure that you are in position with the right information for negotiation with the Allies before it happens. I understand you have been following the activities of a French communist intellectual, Olivier Mesnel, here in Paris.’

      ‘We are in the process of disentangling his network. We haven’t found out yet how his information is reaching Moscow or how his orders come in.’

      ‘He has now applied for a visa to go to Spain.’

      ‘He is ultimately heading for Lisbon,’ said Voss. ‘We were lucky enough to intercept the courier sent by the Portuguese communists asking him to go there.’

      ‘Do you have any idea why he is required in Lisbon?’

      ‘No, and I don’t think Mesnel does either.’

      ‘You will take this opportunity to follow him to Lisbon and to install yourself as the military attaché and security officer in the German Legation. When these changes come through, which could be next month, you will find yourself directly answerable to SS Colonel Reinhardt Wolters. He is not one of us, needless to say, but you must make him your friend. Sutherland and Rose are running the Lisbon station of the British Secret Intelligence Service, you will be talking to them directly, procedure is in the brief. There are some documents here which you should look at and memorize before you go and a letter which contains important information on microdot. You will use this information to open negotiations with the British. You must show them that we can be trusted, that our intentions are honourable and that the reverse is true of the Russians.’

      ‘I’m not sure how the latter will be possible. I understand there is no Soviet legation in Lisbon.’

      ‘That’s true. Salazar won’t allow them in. No atheists on Catholic Portuguese soil – which reminds me, we must make sure the Portuguese don’t deny him a visa.’

      The man seemed to laugh for no particular reason, or perhaps it was a wheeze that became a cough. He lit a cigarette.

      ‘It is possible that Olivier Mesnel will lead you somewhere. He must be going to Lisbon for a purpose which I don’t think, given his political beliefs, will be to take a ship to the United States.’

      ‘At the Casablanca Conference it was decided that our surrender would have to be unconditional. We will have to offer something extraordinary for the British and the Americans to even consider breaking with the Russians.’

      A long silence. Smoke rising from the chair drifted towards the lamp behind.

      ‘Believe me, the Americans will be looking for any reason they can to cut themselves away from Stalin at the first opportunity, especially after the Russians have invaded Europe. At the Teheran Conference Stalin said that up to a hundred thousand German officers would have to be executed and he would need four million German slaves – that was his word – to rebuild Russia. This kind of talk is unacceptable to men of humanity such as Churchill and Roosevelt. If we can provide a catalyst…’ he paused, struggled in his chair as if suddenly cramped, ‘…the Führer’s death, I think, would be sufficient.’

      Voss shivered even though it was warm in the room. The water he was easing himself into now felt deep and cold.

      ‘Is that a planned action?’

      ‘One of many,’ said the man, as tired as if he’d planned them all. Voss wanted to get away from contemplating the enormity of the statement.

      ‘I’ve lost track of the development of our atomic programme. That could be important to the Allies. They’ve seen that we have the potential…can we put their minds at rest?’

      ‘It’s all in the documents.’

      ‘How much time have we got?’

      ‘We hope to make progress…like all things, in the spring, but by the end of the summer at the latest we must have results. The Russians have retaken Zhitomir and have crossed the Polish border – they’re no more than a thousand kilometres from Berlin. We are being bombed to rubble by the Allies. The city is a ruin, the arms and munitions factories working at barely fifty per cent. The air force can’t reach the new Russian arms factories on the other side of the Urals. The bear gets stronger and the eagle weaker and more short-sighted.’

      There didn’t seem to be any need of more questions after that and Voss was gestured towards the table where three fat files awaited him. He sat down and reached for the lamp. A hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed it in the same way that his father’s used to – reassuring, giving strength.

      ‘You are very important to us,’ said the voice. ‘You understand what is written in these files better than anybody, but we have chosen you for other reasons too. I can only ask you, please, when you are in Lisbon, do not make the same mistake you made with Mademoiselle Larache. This is too important. This is about the survival of a nation.’

      The hand released him. The man and his pressurized voice left the room. Voss worked until 6.00 a.m. going through the files on the atomic programme and the V1 and V2 rocket programmes.

      

      On 20th January 1944 Olivier Mesnel was issued with an exit visa to travel to Spain. On the 22nd January Voss boarded the same night train as Mesnel, which left the Gare de Lyon heading south to Lyon and Perpignan, crossing the border at Port Bou and then on to Barcelona and Madrid. Mesnel rarely left his compartment. In Madrid the Frenchman stayed in a cheap pension for two nights and then took another train to Lisbon on the night of 25th January.

      They arrived in Santa Apolónia station in Lisbon late the following afternoon. It was raining and Mesnel in his oversized coat and hat walked at funereal pace from the station to the massive square of the Terreiro do Paço, which Voss was surprised to see sandbagged and guarded in a neutral country. He followed the Frenchman СКАЧАТЬ