The Swiss Spy (4 page)

Henry
Hunter’s training as a British agent had been entrusted to a classics don who
had moved from a crumbling Oxford college to a crumbling country house
somewhere north of London for the purpose of training his special scholars, as
he liked to call them. He never tired of telling them that the transition from
teaching classics to teaching espionage was a natural one.

‘Classics,’ he would say, ‘are all about war, human
failings, chance and intrigue: not so very different to spying.’

Captain Edgar had visited the country house once a
week to check on Henry’s progress. He was taking his time: physical fitness was
an issue, as was his radio training, but he was regarded as a brilliant map
reader and became proficient with a revolver. It was only towards the end of
October that the classics don conceded he was more or less ready.

‘My opinion is that the characteristics of a spy are
innate. It is a skill one is born with: it is, I believe, part of someone’s
personality. You see, we all too often make the mistake of taking someone who
appears to have all the attributes of a spy then train them in the specifics of
the job. They could fly through the training with an A-plus, but that wouldn’t
necessarily make them a good spy. Some of those A-plus types make hopeless
spies once they’re out in the field. A truly effective spy will have some
personality flaw or such like which marks them out from others. They are used
to walking in the shadows, on the other side of the street, slightly apart from
the crowd but not so much so that people would notice them.’

‘Very interesting, but does Hunter make it as a spy?’

 ‘Good heavens, yes, Edgar. I don’t think I’ve ever
come across someone quite so well-qualified. The most dangerous moment for a
spy is when they make that transition from what one might call “normal society”
into the world of espionage. For the vast majority of people that can be too
great a wrench, they have too much to lose. But if you feel you’ve never really
been part of society, that you’ve always been on the margins of it, then you’re
a natural spy. I’ve rarely come across such a good example of this than Hunter.’

***

A
week later, Henry and Edgar were being driven down a lane on a moonless night
when Henry chose to break the uneasy silence that had accompanied them since
leaving the country house.

‘Can’t see a bloody thing in this dark Edgar – and what’s
happened to all the road signs?’

‘I appreciate that you have been holed up in the
country for the past three months or so Henry, but it can’t have escaped even
your attention that we’re now at war with Germany, even if it doesn’t actually
feel like it. Hence the blackout.’

‘And the road signs?’

‘No need to help any German spies who are lost, is
there?’

‘Can you at least tell me where we are, Edgar?’

‘No.’

‘You’re treating me like I’m a bloody prisoner.’

‘Which but for the grace of God and my own good
offices, Hunter, you actually would be – and for many years. Don’t forget that.’

‘How could I? You know how grateful I am to you.’

‘Less of the sarcasm if you please, Hunter. I can
tell you we’ve been driving south and we’re now in Hampshire, which is as much
as you need to know.’

‘Any particular part of Hampshire?’

‘Obviously, Hunter, but you don’t need to know any
more than that. In any case, you’ll be gone within a day or two. Look, we’ve
arrived: better go and get some sleep. We’ll start the briefing first thing in
the morning.’

***

First
thing in the morning for Edgar was around two hours earlier than Henry had
hoped it would be. It was still dark when he was woken by a knock at the door,
followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock and a stiff bolt sliding
open. The soldier who woke him – the same one who’d escorted him to the room
the previous night – announced he would need to be ready in ten minutes.

Edgar was sitting at a long table in a large office,
the room already wreathed in smoke. He was wearing a coat and a high window was
open, letting in the cold morning air and the distinctive smell of recently
turned soil. The table was crowded with files and documents. As Henry entered
the room, he was followed in by another soldier bearing a tray with a pot of
tea, toast and boiled eggs.

Henry had little appetite, but Edgar tucked in. He
ate in silence for five minutes while Henry nibbled on a slice of toast and
sipped the weak tea.

‘Right: now we begin! Tonight, Hunter, you will
begin your journey back to Switzerland. I need to be very clear and you need to
fully understand that from now on, you are working for British Intelligence. It’s
a role that carries few rewards and privileges, other than that of serving your
country. On the other hand, you’ll find this life that has been chosen for you
will have plenty of responsibility and not a few dangers. There’ll be long
periods of tedium and you’ll find the fact that you can’t confide in anyone
makes it a most difficult and stressful existence. I need hardly tell you the
world of espionage is not one of glamour or excitement. The most common
emotions are boredom and fear.’

Henry nodded. This was not the first time he’d heard
this, but now his return to Switzerland was imminent he began to feel nervous.

‘I’ll spend the next few hours briefing you. I shall
remind you of what is expected of you. I’ll tell you everything you need to
know.’

And so it continued for many hours. As noon
approached and the sun became brighter, sandwiches were brought in along with a
couple of bottles of beer. Edgar began to appear more relaxed than Henry had
ever seen him.

‘Usually in these situations, Hunter, one spends a
good deal of one’s time making sure someone in your position is absolutely
familiar with their new identity. In your case, however, the Henri Hesse
identity is so good, there’d be no merit whatsoever in furnishing you with a
new and false one.

‘You leave tonight, Henry. I know that flying is
your preferred method of travel around Europe, but I’m afraid that now we’re at
war there are no more civilian flights to either France or Switzerland, so
you’re going by boat. A troopship, the
SS Worthing
is leaving
Southampton this evening. She’s taking a contingent of the Royal Fusiliers over
the Channel. She’ll dock at Cherbourg early tomorrow morning and you’ll travel
from there to Paris. You will stay in Paris tomorrow night then travel by train
the following day to Geneva, using your Swiss identity. Do you understand?’

Henry nodded.

‘Good. Your mother is expecting you: send her a
telegram from Paris giving details of your arrival. Once you arrive, you’ll
tell her as little as possible. All the letters you wrote while you were being
trained have been sent on to her, along with two payments of one hundred pounds
into her own bank account. As far as she’s concerned, you were staying at a
guest house in Fulham while you were sorting out your aunt’s will. That was the
address from where your letters were sent.’

‘It’s going to be hard to convince her why those
financial arrangements took so long.’

‘But not as long as it could have been, eh? Don’t
try and explain too much. Just tell her it was far more complicated to transfer
money out of the country than you’d realised and in the end you had to settle
for it being paid in instalments. The initial five hundred pounds deposit and
the two hundred pounds she has been sent should ensure you can now lead a more
agreeable lifestyle, along with the one hundred pounds per month, of course.’

‘When will I be contacted Edgar? How will I know
what to do?’

 ‘Within a day or two of your arrival back in Geneva
you are to go to the
Quai des Bergues
branch of
Credit Suisse, where we’ve opened an account in your name as promised. You are
to ask for an appointment with Madame Ladnier. Under no circumstances are you
to see anyone else there. Madame Ladnier is a senior clerk there and looks
after new clients. You are to go through paperwork with her, then she’ll activate
the account and you’ll be able to access the money. Madame Ladnier is, very
indirectly, a contact of ours, but you must never discuss intelligence matters
with her: she is no more than a conduit, a messenger if you like. However, if
you need to contact us urgently, you can do so through her. You can do this
either at the bank, which is preferable, or on her home telephone number – she
will give that to you. That, you understand, is most irregular, so please do be
discreet. If you need to contact us urgently, simply tell her you need to
change some Swiss Francs into Italian Lira. If there are any changes in your
circumstances, you must inform her. Do you understand all this?’

Henry understood. Edgar got him to repeat it.

‘When we make contact with you, it won’t be through
Madame Ladnier. It could be in anything from a couple of weeks to a few months.
Depends on what we need you to do. Chances are that the first job will be
something relatively straightforward, probably within Switzerland. Shouldn’t be
anything too dangerous; a warm-up, if you like. What will happen is this: you’ll
be approached in the street by someone asking for directions to the Old Town. What
is it you call it in Geneva?’

‘The
vieille ville
’.

‘They’ll be carrying a copy of the previous day’s
edition of the
Tribune de Genève
. In reply to their question, you’re to
ask them if they’d prefer to walk or to take the tram. They’ll tell you they’d
prefer to walk if you can point them in the right direction. You’ll explain you
are walking that way and they’re welcome to follow you. Take any route to the
Old Town. At some point after entering it, they’ll overtake you. You’re not to
acknowledge them, just carry on walking at the same pace, but now you’re
following them. When you see them place the
Tribune de Genève
in a waste
bin outside a building, you are to enter the building and wait. If no-one has
approached you after five minutes, you leave the building and return home. But if
someone joins you and introduces themselves as Marc, you are to go with him. He
will take you to meet your main contact. At that moment, your new career will
have begun. Please repeat all of this to me Henry.’

***

Edgar’s
briefing finished just after 1.00 and Henry was escorted back to his room. Edgar
urged him to try and get some sleep: it was going to be a long night and he shouldn’t
count on being able to sleep on the boat. In his room he saw a case had been
carefully packed for him, along with his two briefcases. A change of clothes
was laid out on the bed. Edgar explained that everything had been carefully
checked to ensure nothing incriminating was in his possession in case he was
searched.

He was woken at 4.00 and the soldier who had been
looking after him told him a bath had been prepared. By 4.30 he was back in the
office where his briefing had been held that morning. The soldier carried his bag
and Henry carried his own briefcases. Edgar was nervously fiddling with his
leather gloves.

‘There’s a train from Cherbourg at 10.15 in the
morning, which you’re to take to Paris. You’re to go to the telegram bureau
inside Gare Saint-Lazare as soon as you arrive and send a telegram with the
following message to this address.’

He handed a slip of paper to Henry. The message
read: ‘Arrived safely Paris stop regards to all stop.’

‘Memorise that and destroy the paper. Then go to find
a hotel and, the next morning, take the train to Geneva. You know your way
around Paris?’

Henry shrugged. ‘I’ve been once or twice.’

Edgar pointed to the table. ‘Here are your British
and Swiss passports, which we’ve been looking after for you. Here’s a receipt
for the guesthouse in Fulham to show you’ve been staying there since the middle
of August. In this envelope is more paperwork than you could imagine from
various firms of solicitors and the Midland Bank relating to the release of
money from your aunt’s estate, including a terribly helpful letter from the
bank explaining the money can only be transferred legally to a foreign country
in instalments. Can I ask, is your mother the inquisitive type?’

‘Do you mean, is she nosey?’

Edgar laughed. ‘Well, yes.’

‘She could not be more nosey, if I was honest. Always
poking about in my things.’

‘Good. Don’t show all these letters and documents to
her, then, just leave them for her to find. It’ll be much more convincing that
way and she then ought to believe your account of why you were kept here for so
long. It’s essential she never suspects what you’re up to, do you understand?’

Henry nodded.

‘Hang on, before you put all that in your briefcase,
here’s some more money: twenty pounds worth of French francs which ought to be
more than enough for your hotel tomorrow night and the ticket to Geneva, plus
meals. And here in this envelope is fifty pounds worth of Swiss Francs, which
ought to cover any expenses you may incur in the foreseeable future in
Switzerland.’