“That’s fine, mon Général. I came to you first… given your position. I have yet to report this fully to my own superiors…”
The fact that the superior to whom she normally reported was named in the papers struck her in an instant, and brought a tear to her eye.
Strong understood, and also grasped the struggle inside the normally ice cold woman as she tried to keep her emotions in check.
“Thank you for bringing this to me, Madame Knocke. I understand that it must have been a difficult decision for you. I’ll have you shown to a room where you can rest until the copies have been completed. Can I get you anything at all?”
“Nothing, thank you, mon Général.”
He rose and showed her to the door.
She staggered slightly and he instinctively reached out to offer her support.
“When is the baby due, Madame?”
“We think about a month’s time, mon Général.”
“The very best of luck to you both, and I hope all goes well, Madame. I’m going to ask the doctor to come and have a look at you, just to be on the safe side”
It was a mark of how tired she felt that there was no resistance.
They shook hands and Anne-Marie was escorted to a waiting area whilst Strong organised the copying of the paperwork.
A number of staff introduced themselves to Madame Knocke as she sat waiting, more often than commenting on her state and wishing her well.
A bouquet had been hastily arranged and was hand delivered to Anne-Marie by Strong’s secretary.
The doctor arrived and gave her a check-up and, with the normal advisories about rest and proper eating, left without a fuss.
The original paperwork arrived in the hands of one of Strong’s staff, complete with a letter from the head of NATO intelligence to the head of the French SDECE, expressing thanks for the woman agent’s actions and deportment.
2032 hrs, Friday, 7th March 1947, Imperial College, London, England.
“Penney.”
The professor always worked late, so Strong had expected him to answer his call.
“Good evening, Bill, Kenneth here, Sorry to bother you so late.”
“Not at all, old chap. How are you keeping? Brita well?”
“In the pink, so she says, Bill. Eleanor still on the scene?”
Penney’s first wife, Adele, had died in 1944, but his friends were delighted when he started to take a shine to a new woman.
“Yes, indeed, Kenneth… not that I have much time for those sort of shenanigans.”
“Yes, well, Bill… I’m going to steal a little more of your time soon enough. I’ll be sending a courier to you with some documents that you need to take a look at. Don’t want to cause too much of a stir at the moment, and there are the normal security implications as ever, plus some interesting new ones.”
“Mum’s the word then, Kenneth.”
“Quite, Bill. Especially as I think your time at Tube Alloys might help you in understanding them.”
The conversation took a different turn when the code name of the British and Canadian atomic research project was mentioned.
“Right, Kenneth. I’m with you.”
“Good, Bill. I’ll have one of our chaps stay with you for a while. Hope you understand.”
“As you wish, Kenneth. I’ve an appointment at Balliol tomorrow, but I’m spending the weekend at home. I’ll be back at East Hendred by teatime, I should warrant. Have your chap come round. I’ll find him a bed for the night, maybe a spot of breakfast, Suit you?”
“Perfect. I’ll have the stuff flown to Benson and my man will pick them up from there… be with you, say… five?”
“Five should be perfect. If I’m not home, William’ll let him in and tend to his needs.”
“Splendid. Now, I need to get things organised. Have a good evening, Bill.”
“You too, old friend.”
Sir Kenneth immediately sought another line.
“Ah Major. I have a package for immediate pick-up. Destination Benson. I need one of your men to pick up and deliver. Sensitive stuff… Yes, thank you, Major.”
He inserted the paperwork that Anne-Marie Knocke had given him, addressed it to the country’s leading mathematical physicist, and handed it to the courier who presented himself shortly afterwards.
‘Interesting.’
Major von der Hartenstein-Gräbler of the Abwehr, liaison officer on Strong’s staff, went on his way, already forming a report in his mind.
Being at a loose end he had assisted the new British 2nd Lieutenant with overseeing the copying, which had granted him enough opportunity to read some vital pieces concerning his own Government and Allied suspicions.
He also recognised Anne-Marie from her file photograph.
His previous reports on liaisons between Strong and the two intelligence officers, Gehlen and de Walle, had already caused some consternation, and he didn’t doubt that he was at least partially responsible for their untimely deaths.
But he was Diels’ man, so it didn’t particularly matter, even though Gehlen had mentored him and recommended him for the position in Strong’s department.
Now the French bitch was in the mix too, and he expected that his report might promote a similar reaction.
Shame, as the woman was a beauty, had tits to die for, and was clearly good in bed.
His report arrived in Magdeburg the following day.
He had grossly underestimated the effect it would have.
Chapter 190 – THE UNCONCEIVABLE
The most shocking fact about war is that its victims and its instruments are individual human beings, and that these individual beings are condemned, by the monstrous conventions of politics, to murder or be murdered in quarrels not their own.
1653 hrs, Saturday, 8th March 1947, Friedrich-Ebert-Strasse, temporary government building #1, Magdeburg, Germany.
Speer sat impassively, occasionally looking at his closest advisors, who sat similarly silent, still absorbing the latest news.
Diels rustled the paper of his notes deliberately, trying to provoke some sort of response from those present… unsuccessfully.
He felt it necessary to fill the void.
“At this time, the matter is being kept to Strong himself… and obviously the woman who brought him the information. Herr Kanzler, I feel I must advise that we take immediate action here. That action must be total. Nip this in the bud now and we guarantee the safety of our plans. There are too many dangers here”
Guderian thumped the Marshal’s baton into his gloved hand.
“Dangers! Of course there are dangers… we knew that when we embarked on our plans. But what you imply goes well beyond that… that… level that is acceptable.”
He turned to Speer.
“Surely we cannot take this risk, Herr Kanzler?”
Speer shrugged in slow motion, considering his response.
“I’m not sure that we can afford not to, Feldmarschal.”
He looked at Pflug-Hartnung for support and found it in an acquiescent nod.
Adolf Schärf considered his words very carefully.
“I think the risks are great, no matter what happens from this point… but surely we’ve come too far to risk our enterprise on inactivity?”
Guderian gave vent to a scornful sound.