The Bergamese Sect (30 page)

‘
No,’ Koestler went on, ‘the strangest thing was the source of this communiqué. It came from a man called John McIntyre, a minor official in the OSS.’

‘
OSS? What’s that?’

‘
The Office of Strategic Services. It performed intelligence analysis, ran special operations in Europe and Asia, co-ordinated clandestine intelligence gathering, that sort of thing. The forerunner of the CIA.’

‘
What could they want with Schlessinger?’

‘
It could be any number of things, I suppose. Schlessinger
did
have some history in the German intelligence corps, but he was by no means a crucial target for extraction. It did strike me as odd that the OSS would be interested in him. Anyway, as far as I can tell, McIntyre was working in the counterintelligence section of the OSS, the so-called X-2 branch. He was a field agent stationed in Bern during the final few months of the war. Prior to this, he’d been a cryptology analyst in the US Army’s Signal Intelligence Service. This communiqué was signed only by McIntyre and gave no explanation as to why Schlessinger was wanted. Most military men would have tossed the request out the window; a sole OSS agent in Switzerland had no authority to make such a request. Besides, there was already a history of non-cooperation between the OSS and the armed services. You’d probably conclude that the request was ignored but another document I received said otherwise. It was a secure telex from the general staff of Allied Command in northern Austria, dated 13th June 1945. All it said was ‘Schlessinger apprehended; arriving Washington 29th instant, military transport GF 827’. It was directed to McIntyre, now back in Washington. A confirmation that Schlessinger was on his way to the US.’

‘
Someone must have taken McIntyre seriously.’

‘
It seems so.’

Castro was frowning again. He felt like he was blundering blindly into a mystery he had no part of; that had no connection with him.

‘
What the hell did the US want with him?’ he said.

Koestler screwed his mouth up. ‘A better question is what did McIntyre want with him? I don’t think it was the OSS after Schlessinger at all. It was McIntyre.’

‘
Why do you say that?’

‘
Well, there’s no documentation anywhere about why that order was sent to Allied Command. Neither the OSS nor the CIA have any other documents relating to Schlessinger, or his apprehension.’

‘
You mean they say they don’t?’

‘
No, I really think that’s the case. You see, I looked a bit more closely at McIntyre, tried to find out something about him, why he might want Schlessinger. And it turns out this man is a bit of an enigma. He was obviously working on something his superiors in the OSS were unaware of. Something that gave him special privileges.’

‘
Special privileges? You mean he was a mole?’

‘
Not exactly. First of all, I couldn’t find any record of his recruitment into the OSS from the Army. I checked very carefully. But then, through a contact at the Pentagon, I managed to get a copy of a letter written to Major General William Donovan in February 1945. Donovan was the director of the OSS during the war. The letter ordered Donovan to give McIntyre full powers for European operations. It basically said ‘give this boy anything he wants’.’

Castro was nodding. ‘Someone was pulling some strings,’ he said. ‘Who was it?’

‘
The letter came from the Office of the President.’

‘
Shit! Roosevelt? Was he involved?’

‘
Well, no. At least I don’t think so. The letter was signed by a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff – a prominent General. A very powerful and influential man. That person was using the OSS as a vehicle to get McIntyre into Europe.’

‘
In order to extract Schlessinger.’

‘
Exactly. But there’s another reason I think McIntyre was acting independently of the OSS. One of the words in the original communiqué from Schlessinger had been translated incorrectly. The translator was obviously confused by the word. He must have assumed it was German because he decoded the groups as ‘Tagestee’. That’s not a word that actually exists in German, but an inexperienced translator might translate it as ‘daily tea’. The transcript of the ULTRA intercept began ‘friends of the daily tea’; a completely meaningless phrase, as the translator had noted in his report. The British had assumed this was just a
nom-de-guerre
or something, perhaps referring to undercover agents. But they were unaware that the translation was actually wrong. It was only when I went back to London and looked at the original ULTRA intercept, in German, that I found the connection. The word was actually
Tagaste
, not something that just sounds similar in German. The word isn’t German at all.’

‘
What is it then?’

‘
Tagaste
is a town in Algeria, the birthplace of St Augustine of Hippo.’

‘
So the translator made a mistake. I’ve never heard the word either. Why does that make you suspect McIntyre?’

‘
Hold on, I haven’t finished yet. I did a bit more sniffing around and discovered that McIntyre was a member of an academic organisation in New York called the
Tagaste
Society. That’s too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?’

‘
Maybe. Does it make a difference?’

‘
There’s more. Guess who was this Society’s secretary a few years prior to the war.’

Castro shrugged his shoulders.

‘
The General who signed the order to Donovan,’ said Koestler, his prominent German brows emphasising the connection.

Castro didn’t respond. There were too many facts in front of him; a circle of intrigue he was having difficulty following.

‘
So, there’s a lot of strands here,’ Koestler continued. ‘And they all seem to be tied up with this
Tagaste
Society.’

‘
Were they radicals, political activists, or something?’

Koestler laughed. ‘No. Apparently, something much more harmless. They were a group of well-educated literary men interested in the history of religious writings. They would meet and discuss biblical scholarship, the interpretation of the scriptures, that sort of thing. I say ‘were’ but in fact they still exist.’

‘
But how are they connected with Schlessinger’s activities?’

‘
I don’t know. But they must be part of it. They used their influence to get McIntyre into Europe to bring the old soldier into the hands of his peers, at least one of whom was a very powerful military man.’

Castro grabbed his cup and drained the last of the JD. He peered out the window again, but turned back to Koestler almost immediately. ‘When we first met,’ he said, ‘you said that someone in the CIA knows why Schlessinger was taken out of Germany. Did you mean McIntyre? I thought the CIA didn’t exist until after the war.’

Koestler nodded. ‘You’re right, it didn’t. And no, I didn’t mean McIntyre. When the OSS was dismantled, McIntyre stayed on in the counterintelligence groups that would eventually form the CIA in 1947. He retired from the service in 1965, died in ‘73. I meant someone in the CIA now, or someone who used to be. When I found the connection with the
Tagaste
Society, I tried to find out as much as I could about them. They seemed to be quite a secretive bunch of people, although there’s never been any suspicion placed on them. Apart from once, perhaps. This was about a year ago, after I returned to Germany. I was searching the Web for any references to the
Tagaste
Society and found that
The New York Times
had printed a story about them shortly after I had first left for England. I looked up the copy of the newspaper and found the story. It wasn’t much, just a few column inches. Apparently, the FBI were investigating some possible discrepancies related to imports of artistic works or something. The newspaper report was a bit vague, but I thought the story might provide some useful clues about the Society’s activities. I managed to track down the FBI agent chosen to head the investigation. He told me his enquiries were stopped without explanation, that he was ordered to leave the Society alone and that when he questioned his superiors he was threatened with ‘early retirement’. He was convinced a CIA agent was responsible for shutting the investigation down and told me he thought the CIA wanted something kept quiet. Well, I decided to jump straight in. A while later I was back in the States. I set up a meeting with the CIA Public Affairs Office and put that allegation to them. I didn’t reveal my source, of course. They later wrote me saying they knew nothing about the
Tagaste
Society, and had certainly never investigated it.’

Castro smiled. ‘The CIA deny a lot of things,’ he said.

‘
I know, but I’m still not convinced this conspiracy is about institutions. I’m sure it’s about individuals, some of them individuals in powerful positions of responsibility. I’ve reserved judgement. I went back to the FBI agent. He was a bit uneasy at first. I think he was quite upset about how he’d been handled by his superiors over this case, so it wasn’t difficult to get him on my side. Eventually, he agreed to give me some of the documents relating to his investigation. They landed on my doorstep back in Germany about a month later.’

‘
And what had the Society been up to?’

‘
Well, it certainly wasn’t import malpractice. In fact, I was shocked by what they were looking into. A member of the
Tagaste
Society, an American called Arthur Tonry, had been arrested in Germany by Interpol and the FBI had been asked to assist in the investigation. Tonry was a high-profile religious leader from Pittsburgh, a bishop I think. He’d been arrested at Frankfurt airport trying to smuggle stolen documents back to the US. The FBI files contained a list of the documents found in Tonry’s possession. Most of it I didn’t even understand, but one item in the list stood out.’

Koestler sounded like he was going to reveal the item but instead went silent. His eyes asked Castro to guess.

‘
C’mon, what did he have?’ Castro urged.

‘
The military service records and personal diaries of SS-Oberführer Gerhard Erich Schlessinger.’

Castro’s face was a picture of incredulity. ‘The records you couldn’t find in Münich, and the original diaries,’ he said.

‘
That’s right,’ said Koestler.

Castro was shaking his head. ‘This is complicated.’

‘
I know. It took a while for me to make all the connections. But the conclusion is simple enough. Whatever it was Schlessinger was involved in, the
Tagaste
Society was somehow part of it. The CIA man who shut down the FBI investigation was covering up their involvement. I guess he’s part of it too. They know why Schlessinger was taken out of Europe at the end of the war. They know what Schlessinger was doing. They’re protecting him. And they’re willing to kill to prevent anyone finding out. And worst of all, the conspiracy may go as high as the most powerful men in the world.’

Koestler looked away, a distant reflection in his eye. ‘I’ve tried to imagine what these men could have done. Were they stealing important works of art, Swiss gold perhaps? Or was it more subversive, more immoral? I just don’t know.’

Castro had his own opinions. Whatever the root of the conspiracy, whatever the connection to Bergamo, to Alfonso, he felt sure his experiences could be attributed to this secretive group. They were probably a front for the government’s involvement in a global deception.

‘
This CIA man,’ Castro said, ‘do you know his name?’

‘
No, that’s one piece of the mystery I haven’t solved. Even the FBI man didn’t know, or at least, wasn’t going to tell me.’

‘
It could be dangerous to push too hard. They’ve already tried to kill both of us. They murdered a harmless old man for what he knew.’

‘
The Italian?’

‘
Yes. His name was Marcello Lanza. He was a curator of an art collection during the war. Schlessinger tortured him, threatened him. It seems those threats made all those years ago have become a reality.’

‘
Why did Schlessinger do that? Could it be related to his mysterious mission?’

‘
I don’t know. He wanted a picture from Lanza’s collection. He took it too, told Lanza to forget it ever existed. He really fucked up the guy’s mind. Lanza died because he spoke to me, because he admitted the painting existed, and that Schlessinger took it. I feel terrible about that.’

Koestler didn’t offer any sympathy. ‘So, perhaps this is a simple case of looting; a group of men systematically ransacking Europe’s historical treasures and transporting them back to the US.’

‘
I don’t think it’s that at all,’ Castro said, his voice hushed, introspective.

‘
You don’t?’

‘
No, it’s more than that.’

Koestler was inspecting Castro’s face closely. ‘What is it you’re after, David?’ he said.

Castro returned the stare, catching a glint of suspicion in the German’s eyes. From the depths of that desert, to the splendour of Bergamo, the alpine majesty of Murnau, Castro had held his cards close to his chest. Telling the truth had lost him the trust of the woman he loved more than life. Honesty was difficult for him. But Koestler at least deserved the facts.

‘
I’m ready to tell you,’ Castro said. ‘But not here, not now.’

He turned away quickly, looked out of his window again. His gaze wandered up to the dark sky, still spanning above him like a death shroud.

He forced his eyes away; the reality of it was too much to bear. It reminded him too much of his pain.