The Hornet's Sting (29 page)

But he didn’t finish there. Acting on a fresh request from London, Duus Hansen invented a high-speed Morse transmission system that helped to protect the lives of countless British agents. By cutting the time during which the feared German detector-vans could trace those transmissions, Duus helped many Allied spies evade capture, and ultimately ensured his own survival as well.

The importance of his continued involvement in the Danish resistance was emphasized in the late summer of 1943, when the British were provided with vital intelligence on Hitler’s V-rocket operations on Peenemunde and Bornholm. Had Tommy Sneum not recruited Duus Hansen twenty months earlier, many more Londoners might have been killed towards the end of the war. The engineer had needed someone to convince him that he had the necessary character to prevail in a battle of wits against the Germans. Sneum had provided that inspiration, setting Duus Hansen on the path to his future heroics.

E
LSE SNEUM PRESUMED THAT her husband was still in Copenhagen that December, yet feared he was now out of reach. She hadn’t seen Tommy for more than a month, and the rapid approach of Marianne’s first Christmas must have sharpened her sense of anguish. While Else’s parents had been generous in supporting her and the baby, the traditional breadwinner in her little family remained elusive. Tommy’s father had also contributed financially, but Else clearly didn’t want to become dependent on either of Marianne’s sets of grandparents. Around this time she seems to have decided that she had played the waiting game long enough. She chose to go back to work, leaving Marianne with the Jensens during the day. Taking advantage of extra seasonal demand, Else found a job as a shop assistant in Copenhagen’s well-respected Fonnesbech store. If she persevered all through Christmas and the New Year, she could earn two hundred Danish kroner. It wasn’t a fortune, but it would give her some control over her own destiny.

Sigfred Christophersen also craved independence and normality. As Christmas approached, he decided to attend a seasonal show at the Palace Theatre in Copenhagen. He was about to settle into his seat and enjoy a special evening along with the rest of the festive audience when he was spotted by a young man who recognized him instantly, even though they hadn’t seen each other since Sigfred’s return to Denmark. How lucky for him that the man in question was one of his younger brothers, Hildur.

Although desperate to speak to Sigfred for the first time in more than a year, Hildur felt that he could not approach his sibling. He had heard through Thorbjoern that Sigfred was back in town, and he knew his two brothers had begun some kind of secret work together. Drawing attention to Sigfred now might endanger him. So Hildur Christophersen kept his distance, and, at the end of the show, he allowed Sigfred to leave the theatre without saying a word. Much later, Hildur confided in a voice betraying the sorrow he had carried inside for many decades: ‘I will always remember that evening because it was the last time I ever saw Sigfred alive.’

Shortly before Christmas, Emmy Valentin left St. Annaegade to visit relations. It was going to be a busy week for a socialite of Emmy’s standing, and there would also be much to do for the Countess Trampe. If she could get some of her family obligations out of the way early, Emmy’s own diary would be left a little bit clearer for Christmas itself. She told her daughter Birgit that she should call Tommy on the fifth floor in case of emergency. If any suspicious stranger rang the front doorbell, she should also warn Tommy immediately. A little later, with very different kisses, Emmy bid farewell to her two loved ones on the fifth and ground floors. She said she would be back in four days.

At twenty-six, the buxom Birgit was only a couple of years older than Tommy, and blessed with a vivacity which men found attractive. He had noticed the way she looked at him, but knew the situation would become far too complex if he took advantage of her obvious interest.

The night after Emmy’s departure, Tommy heard a knock on his door. He reached instinctively for his pistol and crept up to the little spyhole he had drilled for the early detection of unwelcome visitors. He heard Birgit’s whisper and saw her on the landing. She was wearing a flimsy nightdress and asked if she could come in. Deciding it would be less than gentlemanly to tell his girlfriend’s daughter to go away, Tommy opened the door. Birgit walked confidently into his room, pulled off her nightdress in the semi-darkness and climbed straight into Tommy’s bed. He nearly asked her if she was sure this was a good idea, but there seemed little point. They both knew what was going to happen next and it was a long time before they paused for conversation.

‘This is going to make life a little complicated,’ suggested Sneum at last.

‘Not really,’ Birgit explained. ‘Perhaps I should have told you. I’m leaving for Germany after Christmas.’

She then revealed that she had met someone who wanted her to work in the Propaganda Department of the Ministry of Information in Berlin, as a secretary behind the scenes for German radio. But that would only be her cover, she explained conspiratorially. In reality she would be sending information back to Denmark, effectively working as a spy. If the Germans grew suspicious, she was supposed to send a postcard to request her withdrawal.

Sneum thought the whole notion ludicrous, since Birgit had no experience or training, would probably be caught and might then be forced to reveal the names of everyone she had met in Copenhagen. He pleaded with her to reconsider.

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Birgit. ‘But I’ve just bought a new fur coat especially for Berlin.’

Tommy couldn’t believe how naïve she was being. He had seen her stylish winter outfit already, and now imagined how it would go down in Germany. He remembered later:

Again, he begged her to abandon the entire hare-brained scheme. She promised to give it more thought.

Emmy returned on schedule, and pretty soon Tommy was entertaining both mother and daughter, though never at the same time. With a smirk, he recalled later: ‘I have never disclosed before that I fucked Birgit and Emmy. Birgit may have been younger, but Emmy was the better lover.’ When the daughter went to work during the day, Tommy would steal downstairs to Emmy. Then, at night, as the mother slept, Tommy would sometimes creep downstairs again, this time to see Birgit.

One morning, however, the young lovers were woken by the sound of Birgit’s door being opened. There was no time to move. Emmy Valentin was confronted by the rather confusing sight of her daughter lying in bed with her lover.

‘There’s nothing going on, I’m just sleeping here,’ said Tommy. ‘I was just tired. We were talking and I must have nodded off.’

Emmy digested this absurd excuse and said: ‘Birgit, I want you out here in one minute.’

When she slammed the door on her way out, Tommy knew he would have to eat a lot of humble pie to extricate himself from this awkward predicament. Later, he reflected with a smile: ‘When Emmy found me in bed with Birgit, that was not good.’

Unfortunately for Sneum, much worse was to come.

Hans Lunding banged on the fifth-floor apartment’s door with such ferocity that Tommy thought the Gestapo had arrived. Pistol in hand, he peered through the spyhole to see his least favorite Prince red-faced with rage. Sneum opened the door, though he knew that this meeting would be no more pleasant than their first.

Lunding insisted that they go out before he was prepared to tell Tommy what was on his mind, so the two men strolled down to the canal in Christianshavn. There, Lunding erupted: ‘What the hell have you been saying to Birgit Valentin? She has just told me she no longer wishes to accept the offer of employment in Berlin. Do you know how long we have been waiting to get someone into Germany?’

‘No,’ replied Sneum. ‘But everyone in the area will know if you keep shouting.’

Lunding lowered his voice to a hiss. ‘Finally, we had the opportunity to plant a flower in Berlin. It is so difficult to do this, and at last we had a chance. You have just ruined everything.’

Sneum repeated what he had said to Birgit—that it was a crazy idea which would have resulted in them all being compromised after her swift capture. ‘I’m living in the same house as her. I don’t want all this nonsense coming back on me. Besidehe was only going to work at a radio station. She wouldn’t have been able to gather much intelligence from there.’ Then he suggested something which could have signalled the end of his mission in Denmark: ‘If you want someone in Germany, send me. I have a cousin, Knud Nielsen. He worked in Berlin three years ago. I resemble him so closely that people in our own families sometimes mistake one of us for the other. He still has contacts in Berlin and he could brief me on what he did there before the war.’

Lunding looked at the young man disdainfully, as though the idea were insane. ‘Birgit was above suspicion. That was the beauty of it. Sabotage any more of our projects and I’ll kill you.’

Sneum was at breaking point. ‘Why don’t you try? Because make no mistake, Lunding, if you don’t kill me, then one day I will kill you.’

Some of the citizens of Christianshavn had heard the heated exchange and began to look out of their windows. Reluctantly, both men realized they would have to conclude their argument some other time. As they stormed off in opposite directions, each believed the other to be nothing more than a liability to the Allied war effort.