Traitor's Gate (37 page)

They heard it in the Sudetenland. Spontaneous riots, long planned by the Sudeten German Party under the leadership of Konrad Henlein, broke out all over the region. But it rained, hard and long and cold. The Czechs declared martial law, but showed restraint and discipline. There was no massacre of Sudeten Germans; in fact casualties were low on both sides. The revolt spluttered and fizzled out.

In Paris, the Cabinet was split on whether to stand by France’s treaty obligation to the Czechs in the event of a German invasion. Georges Bonnet, the Foreign Minister, argued forcefully that peace should be preserved at any price. Édouard Daladier, the Prime Minister, dithered. Telegrams were sent to Moscow, to Washington and to London.

 In London, Chamberlain knew that Britain was entering a decisive phase in its history, and it was incumbent on him as Prime Minister to be decisive. German troops were massed on the Czech border, and it seemed highly likely that German tanks would roll into the Sudetenland within days, perhaps within hours.

The information he had was frustratingly contradictory. Both Britain and Germany were rearming rapidly. The assess­ment of the majority of his advisers was that Britain needed another year at least to be ready for war, and that in an early war the German Luftwaffe would bomb Prague, Paris and London to obliteration within sixty days. Others thought that, on the contrary, Germany was still too weak to overwhelm the combined forces of Britain, France and Czechoslovakia.

It looked as if the plot to overthrow Hitler that von Kleist had revealed to the British government was more real than Chamberlain had originally thought. All over Europe, from Moscow to The Hague, German military attachés and diplomats were whispering to their British counterparts that Britain must stand by Czechoslovakia. Two more emissaries, a retired colonel named Böhm-Tettelbach and Theo Kordt, the diplomat at the German Embassy in London, had had quiet discussions with British officials, Kordt even speaking to Lord Halifax himself in 10 Downing Street. Indications were that the coup could be launched at any time, according to some reports possibly even that very day.

But relying on disaffected generals to save Europe from war seemed extremely risky to Chamberlain. Who knew what would happen if their coup were allowed to proceed? Chamberlain at least believed he could deal with Hitler; he did not relish the prospect of negotiating with unknown generals, traitors, throwbacks to the warmongering imperial Germany of the last war. He could not permit the plotters to throw a spanner in the works now: the time had come for him to seize the initiative. He, and he alone, could win peace for Europe.

It was time for Plan Z.

Unfortunately, Sir Nevile Henderson had counselled against Chamberlain’s original plan of flying unannounced to Berlin. There were all kinds of practical problems, one being that his aeroplane might be shot down by the Luftwaffe, and the other that Hitler was planning to go to Berchtesgaden after the Nuremberg rally, so he wouldn’t be in Berlin to receive him. So, after frantic discussions among those few members of government that knew of Plan Z’s existence, a telegram was drafted for Hitler:

IN VIEW OF THE INCREASINGLY CRITICAL SITUATION, I PROPOSE TO COME OVER AT ONCE TO SEE YOU WITH A VIEW TO TRYING TO FIND A PEACEFUL SOLUTION. I PROPOSE TO COME ACROSS BY AIR AND AM READY TO START TOMORROW. PLEASE INDICATE EARLIEST TIME YOU COULD SEE ME AND SUGGEST PLACE OF MEETING. SHOULD BE GRATEFUL FOR YOUR EARLY REPLY.

NEVILLE CHAMBERLAIN

The reply came the next afternoon. The Führer would be happy to receive the Prime Minister at the Berghof, his moun­tain retreat in Bavaria, the following day, 15 September, and he was invited to bring Mrs Chamberlain if he so wished. Chamberlain informed the King, the Cabinet, and then the people what he was about to do.

The plotters were ready. Canaris and his inner core of advisers, including Oster and Theo, were waiting at the Abwehr’s offices. They expected Case Green to be put into motion that afternoon, the 14
th
. This would be followed by Hitler’s return to Berlin from Bavaria, at which point the coup would be launched, General von Witzleben would arrest Hitler and the carefully prepared legal case against him would be put in motion. The army, the police, the lawyers, the politicians: they were all ready to undertake their assigned rolls.

It was a long afternoon. Theo checked and double-checked the orders that were to be sent out to the regional commands of the Wehrmacht and the police the moment that the coup was announced. Oster found it impossible to sit still and paced around the offices trying to keep himself busy. Only Canaris remained calm.

By eight o’clock there was no news and so the Abwehr officers stayed on to dinner at the Tirpitzufer. The conversation was stilted; any subject seemed irrelevant compared to the enormity of what lay ahead of them. In twenty-four hours, forty-eight at the most, the tyrant would be overthrown.

Dinner was interrupted by a message for Canaris from the War Ministry next door. All eyes were on him: was this the announcement they had all been waiting for? Canaris opened the envelope and scanned the sheet of paper within. His already pale face went white.

‘What is it, excellency?’ asked Oster.

‘Chamberlain has announced that he will fly to see Hitler at the Berghof tomorrow to discuss a solution to the Czechoslovak situation.’

It took a moment for the news to sink in. ‘A solution?’ Theo said. ‘You mean he’s going to give up the Sudetenland without a fight.’

‘It sounds very much as if he is,’ the admiral agreed, put­ting down his knife and fork. ‘I’m sorry. I seem to have lost my appetite.’

Chamberlain flew to Munich the next day in a silver Lock­heed Electra. It was the first time he had ever been in an aeroplane, and he took no agenda, no interpreter and no wife, just his special adviser Sir Horace Wilson, his umbrella and the conviction that peace was achievable. Henderson and von Ribbentrop, the German Foreign Minister, met him at the airport and joined him on the train to Berchtesgaden. Chamberlain was gratified by his reception by the crowd in the small Bavarian town; it confirmed his hunch that he was popular in Germany. The Berghof was high above the town on the slopes of the Obersalzberg, a mountain dividing Germany from Austria. Unfortunately that day the spectacular views were shrouded in cloud.

Chamberlain thought his visit a success. Although he found Hitler the commonest little dog, he felt that his temperament was one of excitability rather than insanity. The British Prime Minister prided himself on his ability to understand the common man, and he was quite sure that he had made a favourable impression on the Führer. To Hitler’s assertion that he would start a world war if necessary to save the Sudeten Germans from Czech oppression, Chamberlain had said that he would need to consult with his colleagues, but for himself it was immaterial whether the Sudeten Germans stayed in Czechoslovakia or were included in Germany. In doing this he had held out the prospect of negotiations for Herr Hitler, negotiations that would meet Germany’s most important demands and that would thus bring peace.

Hitler thought Chamberlain was ‘
ein
Arschloch
’
.

Klaus was trembling with excitement as he entered Heydrich’s office. What he had to tell him should make the chief sit up and take notice.

‘Ah, Schalke, any luck with the German politician who went to London?’

‘Not directly, Herr Gruppenführer. We haven’t been able to find a record of any politician leaving the country whose movements cannot be verified. But...’

‘But?’

‘But I have stumbled upon something that might be con­nected. A source whom I feel sure is reliable tells me that there is a conspiracy afoot to remove Hitler as soon as he orders the invasion of Czechoslovakia.’

Heydrich frowned. ‘Who is this source?’

Klaus told him.

Heydrich shook his head. ‘It is just a rumour. If we jumped every time we heard a rumour that someone was unhappy with the Führer, we’d have the whole country locked up by now.’

‘There are more details,’ Klaus said. ‘The plans are at a very advanced stage. The army is involved, and the Abwehr, and the Foreign Office.’

‘And who is the leader of this revolt?’

‘We don’t know,’ Klaus admitted. ‘But Lieutenant von Herten­­berg of the Abwehr is involved. As is Conrad de Lancey, the British spy we are searching for.’

‘Why am I not surprised to hear that name?’ Heydrich said.

‘We know de Lancey is a spy,’ Klaus replied. ‘Now we know what he’s really up to.’

‘I thought he was investigating my ancestry? I don’t see what that has to do with a plot against the Führer.’

‘He seems to be involved in all kinds of things.’

‘Is Göring involved in this plot?’

‘Not from what I’ve heard. I think de Lancey might have been pulling the wool over our eyes with that one.’

‘Or over the Abwehr’s eyes. Admiral Canaris more or less admitted to me that de Lancey had deceived them. They are looking for him as hard as we are.’

‘My understanding is that the Abwehr are involved in the plot too.’

‘Admiral Canaris?’

‘I don’t know how high up it goes,’ Klaus admitted.

‘You don’t know much, do you?’

Klaus’s excitement had turned to frustration. ‘But what if this information is accurate? We’re not talking about a lone nutcase here. This is a widespread conspiracy against the Reich. We can’t just ignore it.’

‘What do you want me to do, Schalke?’ said Heydrich, his own frustration showing. ‘Throw every general into jail? Arrest Canaris? Even arresting Hertenberg would cause a stink. We were lucky to get away with the Fritsch case. The Führer needs the army now – he’s just about to start a world war, if you hadn’t noticed. The last thing he will want is us storming around the Bendlerstrasse locking up everyone in sight.’

‘If there is a putsch and the Führer is removed, you know what will happen to the Gestapo,’ Klaus said.

Heydrich steepled his long fingers. ‘All right, Schalke. Get me some more evidence, something in writing, preferably. I want specifics: names, dates, plans. And find this spy de Lancey. I am beginning to share your distaste for the man.’

Theo paid another visit to the Wedemeyers in Dahlem. There was no way of avoiding it: he had an important message for Conrad and he had to deliver it himself. He had used the same manoeuvre with his horse in the Tiergarten to lose the two Gestapo whom he had spotted on his tail. He had then taken a roundabout route, backtracking several times on the U-Bahn, before ending up at the Wedemeyers’ house. It all took a long time.

Elsa let Theo in and once again he climbed the stairs to the attic. Conrad was lying on his tiny bed.
The Magic Mountain
was a thick book, but Conrad had nearly finished it.

‘How are things?’ Theo asked.

‘Still bored. Elsa is teaching me Swedish. It’s not that different from Danish, so I am picking it up fairly quickly.’

‘I didn’t know you spoke Danish?’

‘It’s hard to understand the Schleswig-Holstein question without it.’

‘I’m sure,’ said Theo. ‘Have you stayed here the whole time?’

‘I go out for long nocturnal walks in the forest,’ said Conrad. ‘Otherwise I’d go insane.’

‘I hope you are being careful?’

‘Very careful. I’m keeping well clear of the gardener: appar­ently he’s the local
Blockwart
.’

‘You’ve been in this country long enough not to under­estimate the danger of the nosey neighbour,’ Theo said. ‘I told you these people are my friends.’

‘I know. Have you seen Warren?’ Conrad asked.

‘A couple of times. The Gestapo picked him up after you ran off, but they didn’t rough him up. They are careful with foreign journalists, especially Americans. He’s decided to stay in your flat while he is in Berlin. I hope that’s all right with you?’

‘Absolutely. That’s good of him. Has he had a chance to speak to Wilfrid Israel?’

‘Yes,’ said Theo.

Conrad could tell from the way Theo enunciated that one word that there was something wrong. ‘What is it, Theo? It’s Anneliese, isn’t it? He can’t get her out.’

‘It’s worse than that,’ said Theo.

‘Her head?’

Theo nodded. ‘She’s dead, I’m afraid, Conrad. Wilfrid Israel heard it from the camp commandant at Sachsenhausen. I’m sorry.’

Ever since Conrad had heard about Anneliese’s head injury he had feared this. His face froze, but he was crumbling inside. He couldn’t speak; he was fighting to contain his emotion in front of Theo.

Theo touched his arm. The sympathy in that touch was over­powering: Conrad almost cracked. He tried to say something, but couldn’t. He needed to be alone so he could deal with this; he didn’t want to fall apart with Theo watching him.

Theo understood. ‘Would you like me to go?’

Conrad nodded, blinking.

‘I’ll try and see you this evening, if I can. She was a wonder­ful woman.’

Conrad nodded again, and Theo was gone.

Tears streamed down his cheeks. Conrad couldn’t remember the time he had last cried – however miserable he had felt after the mess with Veronica he had held it together. But not now. Not now.

He swore softly to himself, and then louder and louder. He hit the bed, pounding the mattress so hard that the bed creaked and the springs rang out.

He had to get out of there. He put on his shoes and stumbled downstairs, past Elsa and out of the sitting room, through the French windows into the garden. He strode across the lawn to the fence, climbed over and plunged into the forest.

He didn’t look where he was going, he just charged deeper into the woods, head down. Where there was a choice of paths, he took the smaller one. It had rained overnight, and there was still the smell of damp leaves in the air as the wood dried out under the September sunshine. Occasionally he passed purposeful walkers who offered him a cheery ‘
Heil Hitler
’. He ignored them.

How had she died? Beaten by some SS bully? Her head staved in with the butt of a rifle? A fist? His imagination conjured up images of a broken and bleeding Anneliese, lying helpless on the dusty ground of a concentration camp.