Friese, Gelda.
Frontstrom, Elsabeth.
Grüber, Agneth.
Hoffmann, Lene.
Mallman, Irma.
Obermann, Hiltrude.
Vögel, Imke.
Von Fahlon, Viktoria
‘A busy woman indeed.’
She set the file pictures to one side. Neither was of great quality but the likeness was undeniable and yet unconfirmable…
‘…and yet it is her, I swear it…’
The words leapt out into her mind and were soaked up as a sponge consumes water.
She read aloud as she went, cherry picking the crucial sections.
“A member of the Ausland-Sicherheitsdienst Amt-E… which governed SS espionage in Eastern Europe if I remember rightly.”
Rufin nodded, the smile set firm on his face.
‘He’s confident this is the one… we’ll see…’
“Never directly linked to any known SD operations… however… this photograph comes from Oslo… ah, the famous Eddie Chapman…”
The photograph had come from their penetration of British Intelligence, as had a number of such photos, taken by the notorious double agent Chapman whilst he was in Oslo training other German agents.
“SD… and yet the Oslo operation was purely an Abwehr affair… interesting…”
She read on.
“Possibly involved in the assassination of Party leader in…”
She sat upright.
“Possibly involved the assassination of party leader in Bialystok. Believed to have infiltrated the underground cell… poisoned.”
“Possibly involved in the assassination of…”
The list went on.
Nazarbayeva went to the first photograph, one of a much younger… err… woman.
‘What’s her real name?’
The one under which the main documents were filed as Mallman, so she went with that.
“A young Mallman.”
She flipped the photo and read the inscription.
‘3rd May 1920, Philipps-Universität Marburg.’
Turning it back again, Nazarbayeva took in the pretty face and the surroundings, assuming that the crowd were gathered in front of one of the university buildings.
She looked, her eyes wide open, desperate to take in every single point of the photograph.
An urgent knock was answered with a gesture and Rufin obliged by opening the door.
“Mudaks!”
Polkovnik Orlov walked in as the expletive exploded from her mouth.
The young lieutenant recoiled from the violent outburst.
Nazarbayeva held up a calming hand.
“Comrade Rikardova, please bring me the file on Rudolf Diels immediately. Abwehr officer.”
Relieved to be leaving a room full of senior officers, Hana Rikardova almost ran to the records centre.
As she departed, Nazarbayeva handed to innocuous picture to Orlov.
“Irma Mallman… picture taken in 1920 at a university in Germany… in the background there… you see?”
The name had already been spoken, so it was easy for Orlov, and then Rufin, to identify the figure raising a glass.
“Diels.”
Rikardova returned in record time and the folder of the new head of the Abwehr was quickly examined.
“Make sure this picture is copied and added to this file with cross-referencing on these documents, Comrade Mladshy Leytenant.”
“At once, Comrade Leytenant General.”
Again the young officer scurried off, leaving the three to ponder their find.
“Either of you think I’m wrong when I suggest that Diels and Mallman know each other very well, and that she was in the SD as a snooper for the Abwehr, as well as clearly being a competent field agent for the SD’s assassination missions?”
They were with her so far.
“We have Gehlen murdered by apparently communist elements, but neither GRU nor the NKVD ordered the attack… so Beria says anyway… an attack that now places Diels at the head of the Abwehr. The same Diels who we can tie to Mallman, a woman with a background in poisoning, who is seen in the same location as a senior member of French Intelligence, who mysteriously dies when expected to recover…”
They both waited, although something was burning the fingers of Orlov’s right hand, he decided not to interrupt the moment.
“Fuck coincidence. They’re connected. I can smell it. Somehow, they’re connected.”
“Comrade Leytenant General, if I may?”
Orlov extended his hand and two reports arrived in Nazarbayeva’s possession.
“The first is a report and pictures from an agent with the German police force. A man with an eye for detail and an excellent memory.”
“What does it say?”
“The two men were indeed known communist sympathisers, although they were not GRU… and NKVD deny ownership as well. The fact that they were apparently known as such I find strange, for they were not apprehended… not even once according to our agent.”
“Strange indeed, Comrade Orlov. Mayor, perhaps someth…”
A bottle slid easily out of Rufin’s trouser pocket.
“Carry on.”
“Immediately after the murder, a local photographer was allowed to take pictures. He took many… this one in particular caught the eye of our man.”
“What am I looking at?”
Clearly the body of Gehlen was the object of the photographer’s attention but Nazarbayeva understood it was not the focus of Orlov’s thought processes.
“There… behind the wounded waiter and the man with the bag… in the hat…”
“None the wiser, Comrade.”
“That’s Vögel.”
“What? Hans Vögel?”
“I’m positive, Comrade Leytenant General.”
“Vögel… who works under Pflug-Hartnung… who reports to… mudaks!”
She threw the fiery vodka straight down her throat and held out the glass for a refill.
“They’ve cleaned house… or it’s a power struggle that has ended badly for Gehlen.”
“Or not, Sir… the second report may shed some light on matters… but I now understand that it raises more questions… worrying questions.”
Nazarbayeva opened the file and took in every word of the Abwehr internal memorandum.
‘Jochen Strauch assigned as bodyguard… reports meeting between Gehlen and De Walle… overheard the name ‘Diels’… and De Walle promise to investigate matters in Germany…’
She placed the paperwork carefully on the desk and drained the refilled glass.
“That’s it. They are tied together. It’s not a house cleaning operation… Gehlen and Walle suspected something was going on in Germany… and they were silenced because of it.”
Orlov tilted his glass in acknowledgement of her words and drained it in one.
“The German bastards are up to something!”
In minutes, Orlov and Rufin were on their way through the headquarters, redirecting staff from one set of files to another, trying to focus on what was happening in Germany that was so secret and important that two senior intelligence officers had been murdered to protect it.
Nazarbayeva completed her notes and sought an urgent connection to Moscow.
The connection was denied to her, although the clerk informed her that the General Secretary would call her back as soon as possible.
Taking what she could get, Nazarbayeva made another connection.
It was swiftly done.
“Comrade Leytenant General Kaganovich, Nazarbayeva here… yes well, thank you… but I need to quickly inform you of something. I think it’s vital that the General Secretary knows as quickly as possible.”
At the other end of the line, the deputy head of the NKVD made his own notes, pausing occasionally to ask a question, or confirm a point.