“How might one do that?” The other man enquired carefully, the hint of a smile creeping across his features once more. “Hypothetically-speaking, of course…”
“Of course…” Barkmann smiled also this time, more comfortable now they were playing a game he understood well. “Hypothetically-speaking, as a member of the intelligence community with some modest training and experience in such matters, I should imagine that an unscrupulous individual seeking to do harm to the Reichsmarschall could do so in an indirect manner by ensuring a misfortune befell this Oberstleutnant Ritter. Regardless of the reasons behind Reuters’ interest in the man, the fact remains that he does have an interest, and I’ve no doubt therefore that the man would suffer some emotional pain and difficulty, should this Ritter be hurt of killed, in action or otherwise.” He shrugged as if the suggestion were painfully obvious. “An event of that nature might even become the necessary catalyst for discovery of the background behind their involvement, although it’s not something that could be guaranteed…”
“This has been a most enlightening afternoon, Ernst!” Zeigler exclaimed after a moment’s thought as he took the information in and processed it. “I must thank Herr Streibel for making our introductions… I suspect you’ll be a fine asset to the SS, and to the Reich in general in the coming years.”
“Just a humble soldier doing my job, Mein Herr,” Barkmann demurred humbly, but the compliment had hit its mark and it was difficult to subdue the expression of pride that fought to spread across his features.
“I think I shall have a quiet word to Generalfeldmarschall Göring tomorrow morning,” Zeigler mused softly, his mind already ticking over. “Perhaps a Luftwaffe reshuffle is in order… there are some new and resupplied units that have spent too long out of combat that may be getting a little rusty during this period of inactivity. No doubt we can find some ‘Devils Work’ for these idle hands…”
“An excellent thought, Oswald,” Ernst Barkmann smiled openly, understanding completely what the other man was referring to.
At that moment, a large hare broke cover from the left side of the forest track, just thirty metres from where they stood, and darted away along the cleared trail. Barkmann caught the movement in his peripheral vision, and without a word he turned and raised the rifle to his shoulder, safety catch already disengaged as his index finger curled around the trigger. There was a sharp ‘crack’ as the weapon fired, and in an instant the hare was sprawled dead across the track, a .22 calibre slug buried deep within its chest.
The whole thing was over before Zeigler could even react, and he stared in surprise and more than a little awe at the man beside him as Barkmann lowered the rifle once more. Pulling down on the trigger guard caused the weapon’s falling-block to lower and expose the breech, and as the expended cartridge ejected automatically, Barkmann used his left hand to pluck another round deftly from the store held at his left breast and slip it into the smoking breech. As he snapped the trigger mechanism back into place, the rifle was now reloaded and once more ready to fire.
“Shall we carry on, Oswald?” He asked brightly, as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had just occurred. Zeigler could only nod and followed on silently as the SS officer walked off along the track toward his kill.
Poplar Railway Station, East India Dock Road
Tower Hamlets E14, London
Loading freight at night was difficult in the dim station lighting, but it was a necessary hardship for several reasons. First and foremost, there was the ever-present danger of aerial attack. Although the Luftwaffe had generally eschewed attacks on civilian centres, preferring targets of a more military bent such as airfields, naval bases and such like, the London docks could nevertheless be considered a site of a legitimately strategic nature, and it was therefore advisable to remain cautious. There’d been significant exceptions to the rule where industrial centres such as aircraft factories at Coventry or shipyards on the Clyde near Glasgow had been heavily bombed, with significant civilian casualties as a result.
In James Brandis’ mind, there was also the quite valid matter of security to be considered; particularly taking into account the nature of the freight they were intending to move. His guards and workers were well paid and quite trustworthy, on the whole, but trust was a very difficult concept to rely on where gold was concerned, particularly in the vast quantities Brandis was in the process of transporting.
The cover story was that the shipment was machine parts (as labelled on the crates), and that they were destined for new armaments factories being set up in Canada to assist the war effort. There was enough detail in the story to — he hoped — keep his employees happy and devoid of curiosity, and movement under the cover of evening darkness at least helped keep the activities away from the prying eyes of the majority of the local populace.
Poplar Station lay on the southern side of East India Dock Road. Originally opened by the North London railway in 1866, it had served freight and passenger needs alike in the years since and was now part of the London, Midland and Scottish Railway (LMS). The twin tracks passed under the East India Dock Road on its way to Broad Street Station heading north, and had become the termination of that line since the closure of Blackwall Station in 1926.
A pair of parallel branch lines split just south of the station and diverged into a siding on the western side of the platforms where freight might be loaded as required. It was at this siding that steam locomotive LMS Number 8233 stood waiting as the ten freight cars coupled to its tender were carefully loaded, each in turn, by men operating Brandis’ pair of forklifts. While those flatcars were being loaded, ten more similar wagons waited patiently on the next set of tracks over, having already been loaded earlier that evening. Camouflage netting had been erected around and over the stationary cars in an attempt to hide their existence from any potential Luftwaffe reconnaissance from above.
Locomotive LMS 8233 was a ‘2-8-0’ Stanier Class 8F heavy freight model, originally built by the North British Locomotive Company of Glasgow under orders of the War Department, with the intention of sending it across The Channel. The Fall of France however had put paid to any likelihood of that happening, and instead it was taken under the control of the London, Midland and Scottish Railway, hauling freight out of their Toton, Holbeck and Westhouses yards in Northern England. For the last two weeks however, LMS 8233 had been operating a good deal further south under charter by James Brandis.
Over nine consecutive afternoons, ten M-series Bedford trucks had formed into two convoys of five each and began a shuttle service between the West India Docks and Poplar Station, each vehicle loaded with two pallets of gold for a total of ten pallets per trip. At the station, each truck was unloaded in turn and the pallets were carefully transferred to the line of covered freight wagons. Each flatcar could carry thirteen pallets, the weight loading coming in just under the maximum 20 tonnes allowable, and by the time they were finished that night a total of 377 tonnes of crated gold bars would be tied down and concealed beneath army-green tarpaulins. It’d been hard work, and all would be happy when that night’s final shipment was loaded and on its way to Liverpool, none moreso that Brandis himself.