Fighting to Lose (18 page)

For some time previously, Owens had said that DR. RANTZAU had been after him to find and cultivate someone who could replace him in Britain, and who could be brought to Germany for the appropriate training. This presented a tempting prospect to MI5, and Owens was encouraged to find some low-life type who might go for it. Thus it was arranged for McCarthy to happen upon Owens in his pub, posing as a petty criminal willing to do anything for money. Owens was fooled, and over his pints bragged that he was a double agent for the Germans working for MI5. He asked McCarthy if he would like to do so too. The money was very good.

McCarthy promptly reported this to Captain Robertson and it caused a huge flutter. Robertson had to tell his bosses, Liddell and Harker, that Owens appeared to be a double-crosser. There was anxious debate as to whether the rendezvous should be kept. There was talk about sending out an armed trawler or submarine to try to capture DR. RANTZAU, “as was done at Venlo.”

In the end, it was decided to ride out the situation and for McCarthy to go along with Owens and keep the meeting with DR. RANTZAU. On the train up to Grimsby with McCarthy on May 19, Owens expanded upon how “rotten” MI5 was, on his contempt for Robertson, and on the advantages of working for the very nice Germans, who by this time were making world headlines by crushing Holland and breaking deep into Belgium and France. He took notes of what they could see from the train. When they arrived, McCarthy slipped away and relayed all this to Robertson by telephone. He was told to stick with it, and the trawler sailed the next morning with the complacent Owens and the now very hostile, probably frightened, McCarthy on board. That night, when an aircraft circled them with a signal light blinking, McCarthy could stand it no longer. He told the captain to darken ship and return to Grimsby, and had Owens locked in a cabin. When Owens was searched he was found to have MI5 secret papers on him along with the authorized RAF documents.

Robertson raced to Grimsby, arriving the following day. Owens squirmed under his close questioning, claiming that he said all those nasty things about him and MI5 because he was testing McCarthy. As for the secret papers — MI5’s “IP Club List” — he said he got them from William Rolph, the former MI5 officer who was his partner in a dummy company MI5 had set up for him as cover. He said Rolph had hoped to get £2,000 for them.4

This should have been proof enough of Owens’s treachery. Two thousand pounds was a great deal of money, and no matter what Rolph might have told him, he ought to have reported the matter to Robertson. The fact that he did not should have been the end of things, then and there; but, no, there was a much deeper problem: Rolph was no ordinary traitor.

In 1916, at the height of the First World War, labour unrest had swept Britain as it had the rest of Europe. It was the inevitable response to the Industrial Revolution and the rise of capitalism, but it was accelerated enormously by the mindless killing of millions of young men in the mud of France and Flanders. The leadership classes — those who led by right of birth or money — had lost enormous credibility among the masses, and in Russia in 1917 this translated into the Bolshevik Revolution and the establishment of the first communist state. Similar unrest stalked the streets and factories of Western Europe, including Britain, where the political and social establishment trembled more in fear of shop stewards than the kaiser. On February 19, 1916, a special counter-subversion group was formed with a nucleus of MI5 officers called the Ministry of Munitions Labour Intelligence (MMLI) department. Its ostensible assignment was to combat enemy-inspired sabotage in the munitions industries, but its actual task was to ferret out and destroy the seeds of revolution.

The MMLI became Britain’s first dirty tricks agency of the twentieth century. Its spies and informers spread out among the factories, but instead of seeking German influences they sought to undermine the labour movement by fomenting unrest, promoting violence, and even counselling treason to obtain victims for arrest. When reports of these activities began leaking to the public, MMLI changed its name, becoming the innocuous Parliamentary Military Section 2 (PMS2), but it did not change its tactics. After being caught sponsoring a labour plot to murder the then prime minister, Lloyd George, the ensuing uproar in the House of Commons and in the press resulted in it being dismantled in 1917, with some of its officers being reabsorbed by MI5. Rolph had been a senior member of PMS2.5

But PMS2 did not go away. It had begun as an off-shoot of MI5 under Kell’s direction, and still had the quiet support of high government officials and many persons of wealth and influence. Its dedicated, decidedly right-wing, and unscrupulous agents were still around, in civilian occupations mostly, and it is certain that Kell used them covertly against the communists in the 1920s and ’30s. The IP Club list — the IP likely standing for “Important Persons” — must have been their names, and if it had got to the Nazis, they would have found kindred spirits on it, some of them still in positions of power.6

Shortly after being confronted with Owens’s accusation, Rolph is said to have been found dead in his flat with his head in the gas stove — a popular method of both suicide and murder in those days. It was just as well. Prosecuting Rolph would have been delicate; the court naturally would have wanted to see what it was he was trying to sell.7

It was May 22. What was left of the British army had just been rescued at Dunkirk and the French were on the run. It was decided not to prosecute Owens, even though there was evidence enough to hang him. According to another of Robertson’s many notes to file, he was placed under “strict supervision” and warned that if he tried any more tricks, he could go the same way as Rolph.8

The immediate problem was what to tell DR. RANTZAU if he had tried to keep the meeting. And he had. The airplane flashing the recognition light did have Major Ritter on board, and after flying around and getting nothing from the black sea below, the German pilot turned for home. When Ritter got back to Hamburg, a wireless message [in English] from A-3504 awaited him. “Sorry. Impossible to leave English coast which [is] under strict watch.” A few days later, A-3504 proposed that he and his companion of the failed North Sea rendezvous meet Ritter in Portugal. On May 31, he sent the following message:

“Getting worried. When is south african coming to help? Safer my man meet you Portugal and bring papers. He will replace me when in Canada…. Shall I try Portugal bringing all dope?”9

Owens was first to come, alone, arriving in Lisbon on June 14. Major Ritter awaited him.10 It had been a long trip for the German. As the fighting was still going on in France, he had had to fly by way of Switzerland, Italy, and Spain to get to Portugal. It gave him lots of time to think.

Ritter decided he could not believe that Owens could have obtained an exit permit and a visa for Portugal on his own, on short notice, just when catastrophe was overtaking France and with Britain likely to be next. He challenged the little Welshman, and Owens broke down. He admitted he had been cornered into telling British intelligence he had been spying for the Germans. Rather than arrest him, they were trying to play him back. But his heart, he insisted, was really with Germany. If Major Ritter wanted, he would be glad to continue to work for him. As proof of his loyalty, he declared he had found someone, a former airman, who was short of money and willing to talk to the Germans.

Owens said he met the man in a pub, morose and loath to talk. When he thawed, he told him how he had been unjustly fired from his technical position with the Air Ministry. He had found a factory job but the pay was not enough. He had a wife and a mistress with a young child. It was the factory job that intrigued Ritter. “Mr. Brown” — Owens dropped his voice as he said the words — had obtained a position in MI5.11 It took a few seconds for Ritter to digest this. British intelligence! Every spymaster’s dream was to land an agent in the enemy’s secret service.

After his earlier show of anger and disappointment, Ritter calmed down. He said he was prepared to take Owens at his word. They then parted, back to Hamburg and London respectively. Ritter, however — “with heavy heart” — had decided he would have to strike Owens from his list of reliable agents, even though he would continue to deal with him. He would also have a look at this “Mr. Brown” if Owens ever got him to Portugal.

On June 22, Ast Hamburg sent a new series of spy reports to Berlin, most of them to do with the RAF’s order of battle and elements of Britain’s air defences. The information, said to have been collected verbally from E-186, an agent of Hamburg’s Abt IIIf (counter-espionage section), appeared of great value. It included among other things that the Air Ministry had moved some of its departments out of London into the hotels of Harrogate, a northern spa town, and described in detail the barrage-balloon defences in London. Most precious of all were those messages that gave the headquarters locations for Fighter and Bomber Command:

To: Abw I Luft/E Berlin

Source: E-186 V-mann Ast.Hbg. IIIF

[Translation]

In the Stanmore area, northeast of Harrow and 200 to 300 meters northwest of the station at the end of the suburban railway line there are a number of barracks of the RAF. This is the location of Southern Bomber Command. All bomber operations outside the country originating in southern England are directed from here. The King is often seen in Stanmore….

[Translation]

Fighter Command, previously in Uxbridge, apparently has been moved to near High Wycombe in Buckinghamshire.…

Back to Abt I Luft Ast.Hbg B.Nr. 1522-23/4012

The reports had the locations correct, but switched, although it would have hardly mattered to the Germans. Both would have been recognized by Luftwaffe analysts as prime targets.13

The five-day interval between when Owens and Ritter finished their meeting and when the E-186 reports were sent suggests Ritter prepared them himself on his return to Hamburg. The “E” in E-186 stood for
Eingebauter
— literally “built-in” — signifying a spy inside the enemy’s intelligence services. This fits with Owens telling Ritter that he had a disaffected former RAF officer working in MI5 who was prepared to turn traitor. It would seem that the E-186 messages were samples Owens had provided of the kind of intelligence he could procure.

Reaction from Berlin was enthusiastic and swift. While the message Ritter would have subsequently sent Owens has not been found, one can get a good impression of what he was asked for by Owens’s reply, sent to Berlin in English the next day. As Owens was once again under MI5 control, the words are MI5’s:

To OKW Abw I Luft E

By hand to Major Brasser

Message 142 from A-3504 sent 23.6.40 received 24.06 — 00.02

Secret documents safe. Cannot recommend anyone. Can you wait until MacCarthy better? Visa for self week to ten days — probably more.

Back to Abt I Luft Ast.Hbg B.Nr. 1542/4014

And later, somewhat plaintively:

3504 meldet an 26.6.40

[Translation]

Details you require scattered over country. Do my best to locate same. Difficult due to new military area and regulations,

Back to Abt I Luft Ast.Hbg B.Nr. 1560/40

Abw I Luft/E was the Abwehr air espionage section for England at headquarters in Berlin, and Major Brasser was the cover name for its new head, Major Friedrich Busch.

Owens apparently was none too keen to return to Portugal with the documents McCarthy was to bring — presumably the RAF order of battle Owens had promised Ritter at the beginning of May. Or perhaps MI5 did not want to chance sending him alone to Lisbon again. He might not come back. On July 24, the long-suffering, ever-doubtful, but presumably mollified Sam McCarthy — code-named FRANK — arrived in Lisbon. He carried with him a second batch of E-186 intelligence reports and some from Owens.15

MI5 was counting on massive German gullibility yet again. Hitler had stunned the world by conquering France in scarcely more than a month, yet in the week prior to McCarthy taking the flying boat from Poole to Lisbon, a defiant British government publicly and contemptuously dismissed Hitler’s “final” offer of a negotiated peace. The war would go on, and the invasion preparations that Hitler had already started along France’s northern coast would continue. In such circumstances, it should have been impossible for any ordinary person to fly to Portugal on short notice.

Hitler made the peace offer on July 19 in a speech in Berlin that was broadcast around the world. Churchill’s reaction was classic: “I do not propose to say anything in reply to Herr Hitler’s speech, not being on speaking terms with him.” The Foreign Secretary, Lord Halifax, replied for the government.16

On his return, McCarthy told a familiar story. The Germans instantly accepted that he was a traitor and were keen to start up sabotage operations in Britain. If he and SNOW could find a suitable spot, the explosives and detonators could by dropped by parachute. A South African agent was waiting in Belgium to come over to help them. The quality of SNOW’s information had fallen off of late and DR. RANTZAU hoped he would try harder. McCarthy was given the replacement transmitter SNOW had long demanded, and another questionnaire. He was entered in Hamburg’s spy register as agent A-3554.17

The transmitter was one of the Abwehr’s suitcase models, and MI5 was unfazed by the fact the Germans appeared to have complete confidence he could get it through British Customs.18 McCarthy also saw no gold tooth in DR. RANTZAU’s smile, a defining attribute of Owens’s original description of him. Indeed, he gave quite a different picture. According to Robertson: