Desperate for money after my disappearance and Rado's going underground, she had, against all the rules and regulations, telegraphed to a former cut-out of the organisation, one Hermina Rabinovitch, who was working for the I.L.O. in Canada. This message was sent through Isaac, who was one of Cissie's sources in Switzerland and whom she used as a safe deposit for compromising documents. In veiled language the message asked Hermina to go to the Soviet Legation in Ottawa and ask for ten thousand dollars to be sent to Cissie through the medium of a New York watch company whose Geneva agent would pay the money to Cissie. Knowing that the message would be given to the military attaché at the legation, she also gave news of Lucy and Rado and asked news of me. (This message is mentioned in the Royal Commission report on the Canadian spy case and the relevant extracts from the report showing the connection between our organisation and the Canadian network are given in Appendix C.)
This telegram was sent at a time when Cissie was under surveillance by the Swiss police, who also saw copies of all telegrams sent abroad. In Moscow it was believed that this was the first clue that the Allies got regarding the Canadian network and that it, together with other information in Swiss hands, had been handed over to the Allies by the Swiss, that through this the whole organisation was uncovered, and that the defection of Gouzenko had been but a minor contributory factor.
It was quite apparent to us both that before anything else was done it was essential to see Lucy. He had been released at the same time as I, and after a short delay we all three arranged to meet at the Restaurant Bolognesa in Kasernenstrasse in Zurich. Cissie and I arrived first and awaited with some curiosity the arrival of this agent who had his lines so deep into the innermost secrets of Hitler. A quiet, nondescript little man suddenly slipped into a chair at our table and sat down. It was Lucy himself. Anyone less like the spy of fiction it would be hard to imagine. Consequently he was exactly what was wanted for an agent in real life. Undistinguished-looking, of medium height, aged about fifty, with his mild eyes blinking behind glasses, he looked exactly like almost anyone to be found in any suburban train anywhere in the world.
It was not difficult for us to establish our identities. He had been shown photographs of Cissie and me when he had been in prison, and a few questions from us soon proved that he was Lucy. He said that despite the July purge he was still able to supply information from Werther, Olga, and his other sources as before, and indeed was most anxious for communication to be re-established so that he could send his material to the Centre regularly. During the ten months that I had been in prison Lucy had continued to supply information from his sources, but there had of course been no means of transmitting it to the Centre. Cissie had collected it and paid for it and it had all been deposited in Isaac's safe (he had diplomatic privileges so it was safe there). Lucy had, however, insisted that certain of his information be made available to the Allies - even if it could not go to the Centre direct. As a result Cissie had arranged, through a series of cut-outs, for certain selected items which affected the western front to be passed to the British. The items which had been so passed were marked with a red cross on the copies of the Lucy material kept in Isaac's safe so that if and when the information was sent to the Centre they could see exactly which items had been passed over to their allies.
It was obviously essential that someone should go to Paris as soon as possible in order to re-establish the network. Rado could and should have done so, but he had left without a word, having made no arrangements. The obvious person was I, as I had taken over the job of resident director after Rado went into hiding. Lucy therefore agreed to give me all the material he had, and I arranged with him and Cissie a system by which they could be contacted quickly and safely by any new resident director who might arrive. I also saw Pakbo a day or so later and made a similar arrangement with him and collected a large quantity of information which he had accumulated.
At this time, November 1944, France was in a state of chaos and all normal means of transportation had broken down. I therefore commissioned Jean Beau- champ to arrange my journey to Paris, telling him it must be as quickly as possible and without any nonsense about visas or passport formalities. Jean arranged matters with his usual efficiency. He gave me a rendezvous in a cafe near the Swiss frontier on the road to a French frontier town. He would be sitting at a table there with two people, one the chief of police and the other the president of the Committee of Liberation of the French town, and I was to hand them any money or documents that I had in case I was searched by the Swiss customs. After leaving Switzerland I would be joined in no-man's land by these two, who would pass me through the French control. The whole thing worked like a charm. I left Switzerland on my valid British passport and I was then joined by my two new friends and additional reinforcements in the shape of two young members of the Maquis with tommy guns who waved the French and frontier guards aside. Thus I entered France for the first time since the war started.
My documents were returned to me and I was given a safe-conduct for Paris and a seat was found for me in a car which was just about to leave for the capital. The journey was completely uneventful and late that night I arrived in Paris and took a bed off one of my fellow travellers.
The next morning I set off on my search for a Soviet official to whom I could tell my story.
THE EDGE OF THE IRON CURTAIN
My first port of call was, of course, the Soviet Embassy in the Rue de Grenelle. I approached it somewhat circumspectly as I did not know conditions in Paris, whether it was likely to be watched or whether the arrival of a stray person there would be conspicuous. I need not have worried: the place was in complete chaos. I was quite unable to discover anyone who knew anything, who or where anyone was, or what anyone was supposed to be doing; and it was only with the greatest difficulty that I found anyone who could understand any known Western language. The entire ground floor of the embassy was occupied by a seething mob of Russian ex-prisoners of war whose main object in life appeared to be attempting to cadge cigarettes off me. At last I managed to make linguistic contact with one of the less ferocious-looking types in the place who realised that I wanted to see some high official and he gave me an address in the Rue de Prony where he alleged there were some Russian officials who might be the ones I wanted. It was obviously useless to stay where I was, and anyway my stock of cigarettes was running low, so I went off to the address. There I found that the Soviet Military Mission had just arrived in the building (the former Lithuanian Legation) and was busy installing itself.
The doorkeeper below luckily spoke French, as he had been fighting in the Maquis for part of the war, and I told him that I wanted to see "the chief' as I had important news from Switzerland. After only a short delay I was ushered in to see Lieutenant Colonel Novikov, who appeared to be in charge at that time.
Novikov was a tall fair flying officer with more than the usual share of Slav charm. Unfortunately for me, this was his first visit outside Russia and he did not appear to have much knowledge of intelligence work. Things were not made easier by the fact that he was at this interview willing to talk only Russian and the conversation had to take place through his adjutant, who acted as interpreter. At first he was reluctant to accept me at my face value and to take any action regarding my request that he get in touch with the Centre about me. He told me later that before leaving Moscow he had been warned to be on his guard against agents provocateurs and had been instructed to treat all unknown visitors as such until the contrary could be proved. Fortunately, during this first interview, when conversation was at its stickiest, the Soviet naval attaché from London came into the room and took a hand. He was evidently an old hand at the game, and after a few questions he seemed convinced that I was genuine and advised Novikov to treat me as such. I feel sure that he himself had worked at some time for the Centre, as both Rado's and my cover names seemed familiar to him, and when he asked the cover names of our main sources the answers seemed to give him satisfaction- as if they tallied with his recollection.