Faked Passports (26 page)

He found the girl in the back-garden, hands on hips, calmly staring up at the great black planes which might discharge their deadly cargoes at any moment; but she understood German
and on Gregory's ordering her into the house she reluctantly accompanied him down to the basement.

Erika had turned on a wireless and had managed to pick up some dance-music which partially drowned the deep booming note of the planes. They sat there for some twenty minutes, but no bombs fell and, as the Finnish anti-aircraft squads kept their heads, no guns opened fire. Then the booming ceased and they knew that the Red air-armada had gone home after only showing itself as a ghastly threat to the people of Helsinki.

Upstairs in the sitting-room again Gregory found that it was only a little after three o'clock so there was still at least an hour to wait before Wuolijoki could be expected. There was nothing that he could do in the meantime so he and Erika were free to curl up on the sofa and glory in the joy of being together again while, in snatches of talk that were interspersed with frequent kisses, they exchanged particulars of what had befallen them during the time they had been separated. At four o'clock he reluctantly released her so that she could go and tidy her hair before Wuolijoki put in an appearance.

Soon after tea had been brought in Wuolijoki arrived. He was a small, dark man, only a few years older than Gregory; his eyes were black and quick with a humorous twinkle in them and as he spoke he used his hands all the time to gesture, like a Frenchman.

Erika introduced Gregory as
Oberst-Baron
von Lutz. Gregory clicked his heels and bowed in the approved manner; he then presented his letter of introduction from Goering.

Wuolijoki read it through carefully and handed it back. “May I see your passport,
Herr Oberst-Baron
?” he inquired, blandly.

“Certainly.” Gregory produced the German one that had been made out for him.

Wuolijoki flicked through it and returned it as he said: “That is all in order. Welcome to Finland, Baron. How did you leave our good friend the Marshal?”

“Well but worried,” Gregory replied. “He is entirely satisfied as to the progress that Germany's war effort is making but he is gravely concerned for Finland.”

“Ah,” Wuolijoki shot out his hands, “our dilemma is a terrible one indeed but it is good to know that we have the sympathy of the Marshal and all those sound elements which he represents in the new Germany. Where is this document,
mentioned in the letter, which he states will be of such great assistance to us?”

“At the moment I believe that it's in the safe at the Helsinki Gestapo headquarters.”

“But was it wise to leave it there? Unfortunately all Germans are not as yourselves and it is in the interests of the von Ribbentrop party that we should give way to Russia.”

“I didn't leave it there,” Gregory confessed. “I meant to bring it to you personally this afternoon but it was stolen from me at about two o'clock. It's for that reason we asked you to come here. I wanted to ask you outside the Foreign Office if you could give me your assistance to get it back.”

Wuolijoki gasped; bowed to Erika as she handed him a glass of milkless tea with lemon and sugar, sat down and said: “What a blow! This is a major calamity. Do you know what was in the document?”

“Yes. It's quite impossible for me to remember all the details with which it is packed, because it took Marshal Goering nearly six hours to dictate, but I was with him the whole time so I can give you a general résumé of its contents.” Gregory then proceeded to describe Goering's Herculean effort and ended up by relating how the package had been stolen from him by Grauber that morning.

“Why should a Gestapo agent steal a German officer's papers?” asked Wuolijoki; and Gregory knew that he was on difficult ground. It had been essential to use his fake British passport at the air-port, otherwise he would have been faced with all sorts of awkward questions as to why he had arrived in the company of an R.A.F. pilot; and, in case of a check-up by the police, to use it again at the hotel afterwards. But on no account must Wuolijoki be allowed to suspect that the Colonel-Baron was really an Englishman, for the Finnish diplomat would then never believe that he had come from Goering and, owing to his extreme pro-German feelings, would change at once from a potential friend to a dangerous enemy. But Gregory was prepared for such a question and replied calmly:

“Because he knows that I was one of the officers concerned in the recent Army
Putsch.
It was for that reason Marshal Goering chose me as his messenger. I have been in hiding on my estate in Brandenburg for the past three weeks so I'm no longer on the Army register and am presumed either to be dead or to have escaped abroad. Therefore the Marshal was able to send me out of the country without arousing the suspicion which would
have attached to the sudden disappearance of one of his own staff.”

The Finnish diplomat appeared satisfied as he said: “I suppose this man, Grauber, got on to you when you checked in at the air-port? The Gestapo would almost certainly have one of their spies among our officials there.”

“No. We thought of that, and to evade such a possibility the Marshal gave me a faked British passport and a British prisoner-of-war pilot, who agreed, as the price of his liberty, to bring me over. He also provided us with a Belgian plane. Grauber got on to me at the Hotel Kamp because I am posing there as a British subject.”

Gregory lit a cigarette and puffed it with considerable satisfaction.

“The Cabinet are sitting now,” said Wuolijoki suddenly. “They have been in almost perpetual session for the last three days but they will take their final decision tonight. Our great patriot, Marshal Mannerheim, is urging them to fight and the people are behind him; but the Government still hesitate. They are afraid not for themselves but of the terrible responsibility that will rest upon their shoulders if our women and children are massacred and our towns and villages devastated by Russian bombs. I fear that the Red Air-Force demonstration over Helsinki an hour ago will seriously have weakened the moderates among them, who may now go over to the ‘peace-at-any-price' party.”

“It's by no means certain that there will be air-raids in the event of war,” Gregory argued. “We Germans have so far refrained from bombing London.”

“That is true. And I think that in any case the Cabinet would decide to fight if only they could be certain that the Red Army will not overrun the country in the course of a few days. Marshal Mannerheim declares that he can hold his line, but if he's wrong it would be pointless for us to call upon our people to sacrifice their lives.”

“You agree, though, that you would be justified in doing so if the line could be held?”

“Certainly. If we could prevent a Russian break-through for a month there would be a real hope of saving our country.
Norway and Sweden know that we shall be fighting their battle as well as our own and even if they do not openly declare against Russia they will send us munitions, planes and volunteers. Every country in the world will recognise that we are championing the ideals of Christian civilisation against the evils of atheistic tyranny and they will send us aid of some kind or other. But meanwhile we shall be as David before Goliath, with only the courage of our own little army to throw into the scale against the enormous weight of the Russian masses.”

“Marshal Goering's report on the state of the Red Army will convince even your most pessimistic Ministers that Finland can hold out for a month on her own; I'm certain of it,” Gregory said swiftly.

“In that case it is vital that we should get it back; but how do you propose that I should help you?”

“Could you find some pretext for your police to raid the Gestapo Headquarters?”

“Wuolijoki shook his head. “This is a free country, my friend—not Russia; we do not use such methods here.”

“But if the fate of Finland depends upon it,” urged Erika. “After all, it is not like asking you to raid the German Legation, which might create an international incident.”

The little man turned quickly towards her. “True,
Frau Gräfin.
We have no official knowledge that the Gestapo have a Headquarters here at all; it is a private house out in the suburbs, leased by a German citizen. But that does not alter the position. Private property here is sacred whether owned by a Finn or a foreigner.”

“If I attempted to burgle the place on my own,” Gregory said, “I shouldn't stand a dog's chance; and even if I could get as far as the safe, I have only the most rudimentary knowledge of safe-breaking. That's why our only hope is a raid which will keep the occupants of the place busy while somebody who understands such things tackles the safe. I take it that unofficially you would raise no objection if I organised such a raid privately?”

“Ah; that is a different matter.”

“If there is any excitement out there are the police likely to come on the scene quickly?”

“No, no. It is quite distant from the centre of the city. Your only danger of that kind would be from a solitary patrolling policeman.”

“Good. Could you provide me with bombs and a safe-breaker?”

Wuolijoki raised his eyebrows. “The use of bombs might cause loss of life. It seems that you are prepared to go to any lengths, Baron?”

“Certainly; for your sake as well as mine, since the independence of Finland is at stake. I shall need incendiary-bombs to cause a fire which will keep Grauber and his people occupied while the safe-breaking is going on.”

“I must warn you that our police would take a very serious view of such methods, but I could certainly get you a couple of bombs.”

“How about a safe-breaker? Your police must know of a man who would be prepared to take on the job if his immunity were guaranteed. He would have to speak German, English, or French, though, so that I could tell him what I wanted done.”

Wuolijoki nodded. “That is more difficult, as no immunity could be granted; but a friend of mine in the police might know a safe-breaker who would risk a prison-sentence in the service of his country.”

“How about the lay-out of the house? Do you happen to know it?”

“No; but I could easily find someone who does. At what time do you propose to make your raid?”

“The sooner the better; it's dark already. The time must depend upon how long it will take you to get me my bombs, my safe-breaker and a rough plan of the house.”

Wuolijoki glanced at his watch. “It is now ten past five. Three hours should be enough. Shall we say nine o'clock? I will return here then with all that is necessary.” As he spoke he stood up, kissed Erika's hand and shook hands with Gregory. “Forgive me if I leave you now, but my own work is overwhelming and this business gives me many additional things that must be done. Till nine o'clock, then.”

When the diplomat had gone Gregory smiled at Erika. “Well, that's that; we're on the move again, thank goodness.”

She took his arm and drew him down beside her. “Yes, darling, I know; but the risk you're taking is terrible. There will be at least a dozen Gestapo men in that place—probably more—and they'll all be armed.”

“Yes; it's going to be tough work,” he agreed. “But it won't be worse than the Adlon on the night of November the 8th, and I'll have the advantage of surprise. They won't be expecting
anything of this kind in law-abiding Helsinki and I promise you, sweet, I won't take any risk that's not absolutely necessary; I never do.”

“But if you have to kill anybody you may get into frightful trouble. The Finns have an enormous respect for their own law and I doubt if even the knowledge that you had killed a man in their interests would influence a Finnish court in your favour.”

“Well, let's not think of the Vistula until we're over the Rhine,” Gregory smiled.

“But the Rhine in this case is about as deadly as it possibly could be. Oh, my darling, I can't bear to think of you risking your life again within a few hours after your return to me; and to go into that place alone is like a soldier attacking a machine-gun nest single-handed.”

“I'm not going in alone. I'm certain that I can count on at least one fellow to go in with me.” Gregory disentangled himself again, and added: “May I use your telephone?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” He went over, and getting through to Freddie at the Hotel Kamp asked him to come out to the von Kobenthals' house at once.

While they were waiting for him the von Kobenthals came in. Fredeline von Kobenthal—Erika's cousin as it transpired—was a pretty, but rather stupid-looking blonde of about thirty; and Oscar, her husband, a well-set-up, fair, blue-eyed, moustached man of about the same age. He had always been anti-nazi and had been wise enough to get his money out of Germany and settle in Finland several years before, while von Hindenburg was still President and Hitler only a menacing figure upon the political horizon.

With the hospitality customary among Germans of good family they greeted
Oberst-Baron
von Lutz most charmingly and expressed their hope that he would make his home with them during his stay in Helsinki.

Gregory accepted with spontaneous gratitude although, privately, he doubted if events would enable him to make much use of their invitation. Von Kobenthal got on the telephone at once and gave instructions at the hotel that Gregory's things should be packed and brought out there as soon as possible.

They had hardly settled the matter when Charlton was announced, and Gregory introduced him as the British officer who had regained his liberty by agreeing to fly him secretly to
Finland. At first the von Kobenthals were distinctly cold in their reception of Freddie, as their country was at war with his, but they gradually thawed out when they found that their new acquaintance, the
Oberst-Baron,
whom they had instantly accepted as one of themselves, had made a friend of the young airman.