he froze.
That list of officers.
There was something about it.
He struggled to recall. There had been so many lists drawn up recently, so many meetings. It was hard to remember them all.
The candidates had been put forward by his old comrade Sepp Dietrich, now in command of the 6th SS Panzer Army. Initially, Hitler had approved the list as a matter of course but following the failure of the 6th Army to hold back Red Army forces attacking the city of Budapest, Hitler had ordered his approval to be withheld. His secretary, Bormann, had dutifully filed it away among those documents consigned to limbo at the headquarters. Withholding the document was not an outright refusal to issue the medals, only a sign of his disapproval at the performance of Dietrich’s soldiers. In practical terms, all it meant was that Dietrich would have to resubmit his request, but Hitler’s gesture would not go unnoticed.
What mattered now was not the list itself, but the fact that it had never left the bunker. And yet, here was Der Chef, reading it off word for word.
‘The spy is here among us!’ Hitler muttered hoarsely.
Misch had, by now, returned from his cigarette break and was busy sucking on a mint in order to hide the odour of smoke on his breath. Hitler could not stand the smell of tobacco.
Hitler turned in his chair and eyed the man. ‘He’s here!’ he whispered.
Misch stared at him blankly. Is he talking about me, wondered the sergeant. Is he seeing ghosts? Has he finally gone out of his mind?
Hitler had hooked his left knee around the leg of the table in order to stop the incessant trembling of his calf muscle. Now he untangled himself from his chair and rose to his feet. Just as he was handing the headphones to Misch, he spotted the message form which Zeltner had filled out the night before. ‘What is this?’ he asked.
‘Something that came last night from a certain General Hagemann,’ Misch explained hastily. ‘I was going to give it to you.’
Hitler fished out a pair of reading glasses. Shakily, he perched them on his nose. Then he picked up the form. ‘Diamond Stream,’ he said. Then he glanced at Misch. ‘Are you sure this is correct?’
‘The message came through on Zeltner’s shift,’ Misch explained nervously. ‘I doubt there has been a mistake.’
Hitler folded up the message form and tucked it away in his pocket. ‘Bring me General Hagemann,’ he commanded softly.
10 April 1945
10 April 1945
Message from Major Clarke, via SOE relay station 53a, Grenton Underwood, to ‘Christophe’:
Urgent. Supersedes all other work. Acquire plans for diamond stream device.
Message from ‘Christophe’ to Major Clarke:
What is diamond stream?
Major Clarke to ‘Christophe’:
Unknown as yet. Believed to be of extreme importance. Will need photographs. Can you deliver?
Message from ‘Christophe’ to Major Clarke:
Can attempt. Usual channels for developing and transport of film no longer function due to bombing raids. Will require extraction if successful.
Major Clarke to ‘Christophe’:
Arranging for extraction. Send word when you have results.
The sun had just risen
The sun had just risen above the onion-shaped domes of St Basil’s Cathedral when Major Kirov and Pekkala arrived at the Kremlin.
Escorting them to their destination was Stalin’s personal secretary, a short and irritable man named Poskrebychev. Although he held no rank or badge of office, Poskrebychev was nevertheless one of the most powerful men in the country. Anyone who desired an audience with the Boss had first to go through Stalin’s outer office, where Poskrebychev ruled over a dreary cubicle of filing cabinets, a chair, a telephone and an intercom which sat like a big black toad upon Poskrebychev’s desk.
After showing visitors into Stalin’s room, Poskrebychev always departed, closing the double doors behind him with a dance-like movement that resembled a courtier’s bow.
Poskrebychev never attended these meetings but,
That list of officers.
There was something about it.
He struggled to recall. There had been so many lists drawn up recently, so many meetings. It was hard to remember them all.
The candidates had been put forward by his old comrade Sepp Dietrich, now in command of the 6th SS Panzer Army. Initially, Hitler had approved the list as a matter of course but following the failure of the 6th Army to hold back Red Army forces attacking the city of Budapest, Hitler had ordered his approval to be withheld. His secretary, Bormann, had dutifully filed it away among those documents consigned to limbo at the headquarters. Withholding the document was not an outright refusal to issue the medals, only a sign of his disapproval at the performance of Dietrich’s soldiers. In practical terms, all it meant was that Dietrich would have to resubmit his request, but Hitler’s gesture would not go unnoticed.
What mattered now was not the list itself, but the fact that it had never left the bunker. And yet, here was Der Chef, reading it off word for word.
‘The spy is here among us!’ Hitler muttered hoarsely.
Misch had, by now, returned from his cigarette break and was busy sucking on a mint in order to hide the odour of smoke on his breath. Hitler could not stand the smell of tobacco.
Hitler turned in his chair and eyed the man. ‘He’s here!’ he whispered.
Misch stared at him blankly. Is he talking about me, wondered the sergeant. Is he seeing ghosts? Has he finally gone out of his mind?
Hitler had hooked his left knee around the leg of the table in order to stop the incessant trembling of his calf muscle. Now he untangled himself from his chair and rose to his feet. Just as he was handing the headphones to Misch, he spotted the message form which Zeltner had filled out the night before. ‘What is this?’ he asked.
‘Something that came last night from a certain General Hagemann,’ Misch explained hastily. ‘I was going to give it to you.’
Hitler fished out a pair of reading glasses. Shakily, he perched them on his nose. Then he picked up the form. ‘Diamond Stream,’ he said. Then he glanced at Misch. ‘Are you sure this is correct?’
‘The message came through on Zeltner’s shift,’ Misch explained nervously. ‘I doubt there has been a mistake.’
Hitler folded up the message form and tucked it away in his pocket. ‘Bring me General Hagemann,’ he commanded softly.
10 April 1945
10 April 1945
Message from Major Clarke, via SOE relay station 53a, Grenton Underwood, to ‘Christophe’:
Urgent. Supersedes all other work. Acquire plans for diamond stream device.
Message from ‘Christophe’ to Major Clarke:
What is diamond stream?
Major Clarke to ‘Christophe’:
Unknown as yet. Believed to be of extreme importance. Will need photographs. Can you deliver?
Message from ‘Christophe’ to Major Clarke:
Can attempt. Usual channels for developing and transport of film no longer function due to bombing raids. Will require extraction if successful.
Major Clarke to ‘Christophe’:
Arranging for extraction. Send word when you have results.
The sun had just risen
The sun had just risen above the onion-shaped domes of St Basil’s Cathedral when Major Kirov and Pekkala arrived at the Kremlin.
Escorting them to their destination was Stalin’s personal secretary, a short and irritable man named Poskrebychev. Although he held no rank or badge of office, Poskrebychev was nevertheless one of the most powerful men in the country. Anyone who desired an audience with the Boss had first to go through Stalin’s outer office, where Poskrebychev ruled over a dreary cubicle of filing cabinets, a chair, a telephone and an intercom which sat like a big black toad upon Poskrebychev’s desk.
After showing visitors into Stalin’s room, Poskrebychev always departed, closing the double doors behind him with a dance-like movement that resembled a courtier’s bow.
Poskrebychev never attended these meetings but,
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