1005 hrs, Friday, 7th March 1947, House of Madame Fleriot, La Vigie, Nogent L’Abbesse, near Reims, France.
Anne-Marie Knocke was now unmistakably with child, her pronounced bump so large as to draw comments from visiting Legionnaires and Deux agents as to the likelihood of twins, or even more.
She had sought permission to return to Nogent L’Abbesse to have her child, something that her husband had suggested in the first place.
If he could, Knocke intended to be there, but for now he remained with the division in Poland.
A number of boxes of De Walle’s personal papers had been delivered to La Vigie, as the Belgian had no family and had declared Anne-Marie Knocke, née de Valois, his sole heir.
It had taken her some time to pluck up the enthusiasm to start sorting through the boxes, but she had eventually set to the task.
This was her third morning, and probably her last, as the mountain had gradually been reduced, most of the items being set aside for subsequent disposal in a brazier that the gardener had already prepared.
There was little of note worth keeping.
She decided to hang on to De Walle’s personal assessment of the members of the Colloque for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the astute assessment of the man she now called husband.
Some communications regarding Molyneux made her laugh, the more so as she could imagine her old friend and mentor saying them aloud and with undisguised passion.
A transcript jotted down from memory detailing a relaxed conversation with the Soviet paratrooper, General Ivan Alekseevich Makarenko, reminded her of a brave man who had decided to do something about a corrupt system.
An unpaid bill for Bossong’s Wine Shop in Selestat was set aside to be paid.
She would ensure his bill was honoured.
De Walle had left a considerable sum to her and the forthcoming child, as well as bequeathing a wonderful lakeside property in Pierre-Percée.
Jerome knocked and entered in one easy movement, a silver tray brimming with the makings of morning coffee and some sweet bites that his employer, Madame Fleriot, had insisted Anne-Marie ate to keep her strength up.
The elderly butler closed the door behind him without saying a word and Madame Knocke returned to her meanderings.
As she leant forward to pick up the delicate cup, her eyes caught and processed two words that intrigued her.
‘Herr Furt.’
It was Georges’ special name for the German spymaster, Gehlen, who had been born in Erfurt. The play on words had always amused the affable Belgian.
She pulled the contents out of the envelope and raised the cup to her lips.
It never made contact as words spilled out of the pieces of paper and into her brain, words that would have made no sense some months beforehand but now drew her attention like a vulture to a ripened corpse.
“Uspenka… Steyn… General Strong… Uranprojekt?”
That one she hadn’t heard about, nor the words ‘Geheime Auergesellschaft, or Konitz.’
She continued reading… Osoaviakhim… VNIIEF… Godmanchester… and whilst not understanding the words, she understood enough to know that Gehlen and De Walle had discovered something important and were working…
“Merde!”
The thought spurred her to swear openly.
“They’re both dead… both dead… Gehlen assassinat… Merde! Both assassinated! The bomb was meant for Georges. He survived and then… the nurse no one found!”
She reached for the telephone and sought a connection, her heart and mind racing each other and making her head feel light.
A tinny voice answered.
“Commandant Vincennes.”
“Bonjour, Henri, it’s Anne-Marie.”
“Bonjour! How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I was just wondering if you could send me a file I was working on, I forgot to finish it. I’m staying with my Aunt… you recall where I hope?”
He sat up straight in an instant, the words sending a small chill into his heart.
“Mais oui.”
Vincennes fished for the emergency card relating to Anne-Marie de Valois.
“The file number’s 1225. Easy enough to find. If you could send it as soon as possible, 1830 at the latest, that would be lovely. Natalie sends her regards, by the way. Thank you, Henri.”
“But of course, send her mine in return please… and now I must go. Work calls. Bon chance.”
The telephone went dead and Anne-Marie leant back into her chair.
In the office of Commandant Vincennes all hell broke loose as the information she had passed required an immediate response.
He double checked the coded communications against the emergency card and came up with the same results.
‘1225… Unable to communicate as unsecure.’
‘1830… in possession of vital information.’
‘Natalie… immediate danger.’
Within ten minutes, three Deux agents were mobilised from the Reims office with orders to pick up Madame Knocke and to follow her orders.
As she waited for them to arrive, Anne-Marie considered her options and decided that she would go straight to the top.
By 1052, the SDECE Citroen was speeding eastwards towards Frankfurt.
1922 hrs, Friday, 7th March 1947, office of General Strong, NATO Headquarters, Frankfurt, Germany.
The heavily pregnant woman was ushered in and Strong rose to his feet, inviting her to sit.
“Madame Knocke, my apologies for the delay. Can I get you anything?”
“No thank you, Général Strong.”
He resumed his seat and leant forward on his elbows.
“So, how may I be of assistance to the SDECE?”
“General Strong, until recently I was aide and bodyguard to Georges de Walle.”
“A great loss… a great man… he’ll be missed. Such a tragic end.”
“His end was not as it seemed.”
“Oh?”
“I have reason to believe he was killed in the hospital after surviving the bomb attempt on his life.”
“On his lif… hang on… the bomb was aimed at the SS officers, was it not?”
“That’s what we thought, but I suspect it wasn’t so.”
“And what makes you think that, Madame?”
She produced a leaf of papers and worked through them one by one, placing each in front of him in turn.
His reaction to some of the words she hadn’t understood was noticeable.
Anne-Marie finished working through the documents.
“One moment please.”
Strong rose and picked up a decanter, offering the woman a glass, which was declined.
He sat down with a fine measure of single malt and considered the evidence.
“This is to remain between us, Madame Knocke.”
“Of course, mon Général.”
“Much of what you have spoken of here is connected to the Soviet Union’s atomic weapons programme. VNIIEF and Uranprojekt for instance. That obviously makes any intelligence associated with it of extreme interest to me.”
He leant forward, inviting Anne-Marie closer.
“I do know there were some other concerns that Gehlen and de Walle had been keeping an eye on. Matters with the Germans and some game playing in higher circles.”
Quite deliberately, Strong stopped short of mentioning the Soviet information.
“I’ll give that some more thought of course, but for now I would like to keep this information. I’ll have a copy made for you immediately, but I’d like to run some of it past someone who might have a different perspective.”