Chapter 25
Knut was sitting in a meeting with a small circle of employees who were privy to the true reasons for Operation Seven. Since his return from Switzerland, he hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to Bernd, so he was doubly pleased to see him among the participants.
Bernd was reporting on the incident with Fr?ulein Vogel. “It’s only thanks to her quick thinking that the SS didn’t arrest her. I was able to convince the SS officer on duty over the telephone that he was about to drag away one of our agents.”
“We need to get our agents out of the country sooner rather than later if we don’t want to risk the Gestapo torpedoing the operation.
After the Operation Pastorius debacle, our organization urgently needs a success story.
” Hans Oster stared around the room with a serious face, before focusing on Knut.
“Lieutenant Hesse, what results have you achieved in Switzerland?”
Knut felt all eyes on him and took a deep breath before delivering his report. “Herr Steiner of the Foreign Office has proved open in principle to issuing the required visas, provided the refugees have sufficient funds to support themselves for the duration of their stay in Switzerland.”
Bernd tilted his head, looking at him. Knut had never been able to hide anything from his partner, so he wasn’t surprised when Bernd asked, “How much exactly do the Swiss want?”
“One hundred thousand dollars.” Knut gazed into horrified faces all around.
“Have they gone mad? That’s a fortune,” spluttered Emil, the first to regain his power of speech.
“Herr Steiner fears the refugees won’t be able to travel onward promptly, and in the worst case, will have to live in Switzerland for years to come,” Knut echoed the chief of the Swiss Immigration Police’s cynical calculations.
“In any case he wants to avoid them being a burden on the state. In his words: ‘The boat is full. If we take in any more refugees, we risk going down with them’.”
“I can’t believe the Swiss, of all people, are saying that. Switzerland is swimming in money. A not inconsiderable part of it coming, incidentally, from German sources.” The expression on Emil’s face had hardened, and Knut wondered if personal experience lay behind it.
Another officer, whom Knut knew only in passing, spoke up. “The Abwehr used to have money in Switzerland. What happened to it?”
“You mean the coup fund?” Oster asked.
Knut pricked up his ears, since he’d never heard of the existence of such a fund.
“If you want to call it that,” said the head of the foreign exchange department.
“I cannot make any detailed statements, but yes, we deposited several million dollars with the banker Eduard von der Heydt in Switzerland. However, Wehrmacht High Command became aware of it and arranged for its inconspicuous repatriation.”
“Are there still funds in Switzerland?” asked Emil.
“I would assume so.”
“In other words, we could use those funds as advance payment for the Sevens’ living expenses, then tap into further funding sources over the next few months?” asked Knut.
The head of foreign exchange seemed to suffer an internal struggle, before finally nodding.
“As long as nobody outside this room finds out. It must be handled with extreme caution and every transaction must be above suspicion. God knows, I don’t want to get it in the neck with a disciplinary complaint because someone from Wehrmacht High Command suspects that currency controls have been circumvented. ”
This little group of conspirators in the Abwehr had many powerful enemies who’d leap at the chance to overthrow their despised adversary Admiral Canaris, along with his entire team, in order to get their hands on their resources.
“I can take care of that,” Emil offered. “As long as in the foreseeable future – say within a year – the funds flow back through other sources, I’ll make sure nobody notices anything.”
“But where would you get it from without stealing it?” It was perhaps an inappropriate remark, but Bernd hoped to ease the general air of depression.
“Actually, stealing wouldn’t be so bad…” Knut muttered.
“What do you mean?” Dohnanyi seemed to be open to the idea, although Knut couldn’t imagine for a moment that this conscientious man would consider doing something dishonest. Then he had to bite back a laugh, since they had all turned into criminals by working against Hitler, to whom they had sworn an oath of allegiance.
At that moment, Knut had an idea. He’d have liked to discuss it with Bernd first, but there was no time for that.
“I’ve just had an idea.” He looked at his superior officer uncertainly. “Though it’s a little unconventional.”
“Fire away. Right now, any idea is better than nothing.”
“According to the Eleventh Decree to the Reich Citizenship Law, German Jews residing abroad lose not only their citizenship, but also their assets, which automatically revert to the German Reich.” Knut glanced at Emil, who was hanging on his every word, nodding repeatedly.
It gave him the courage to continue with his crazy idea.
“So if our Operation Seven agents lose all their assets the moment they set foot in Switzerland anyway, surely they could sign them over to the Abwehr in advance, instead of waiting for the Gestapo to snatch them up?
“Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” exclaimed Emil.
“We’ll put one over the Gestapo, the operation will be cost neutral and with a few skillful transactions, nobody abroad will suspect the Sevens are working for us in any way, while in Germany, they’ll believe the opposite.
” The head of foreign exchange tilted his head from side to side, before finally saying, “If the rest of us think this is a viable course of action, let’s do it. ”
Nobody objected and the meeting ended with a resolution that the foreign exchange department should work out a watertight plan in the next three days.
Knut made sure he took plenty of time tucking his papers into his briefcase and strolling to the door, where he waited for Bernd.
“Shall we go to the officer’s mess?” Bernd asked.
“Gladly. I could eat a horse.” Knut longed to discuss the events of his trip, but as soon as they sat down at a table in the mess, Emil began making his way toward them, tray in hand. Knut groaned inwardly, because he could hardly stop their colleague from joining them.
“May I sit with you?” Emil asked.
“Certainly,” Knut replied graciously. “We wanted to talk about the proposal anyway.”
Emil glanced over his shoulder, before he sat down with them. “I’ve had an idea about that. I can’t give any details yet, but don’t worry, it’ll all be done strictly to the letter of the law.”
“My biggest concern is that the agents will disagree,” said Bernd.
“Why would they? It’s the perfect solution for all concerned. And—” Emil lowered his voice, “their assets will be confiscated anyway. This way, at least they’ll get something out of it.”
“Did you know about this coup fund?” asked Knut, not wanting to let the matter drop.
Emil hummed and hawed, before finally admitting, “I’d heard rumors. Probably comes from the very top. Best you forget its existence altogether. If it comes out, we’ll all be in hot water.”
“I can believe that.” Bernd shoved a forkful of roast meat into his mouth, before he asked, “Do either of you feel like going to the opera tonight? My parents have tickets for the Marriage of Figaro, but they’re unable to go.”
“Sorry, opera’s not for me.” Emil raised his hands defensively, and Bernd turned to Knut. “What about you? Or don’t you like classical music either?”
Knut all but laughed out loud, since Bernd knew very well that he loved opera in general and Mozart in particular. To play along, he pulled a face. “Concerts aren’t really my thing.”
“An opera isn’t a concert,” Bernd said sternly. “You’re showing a real gap in your education there. Mozart in particular is ideal for beginners, because the music is so catchy.”
Emil, worried he might be press-ganged into joining, took Bernd’s side. “If you’ve never been to the opera, you definitely should give it a try. If it’s truly not to your taste, you can always leave in the interval.”
In a moment of devilment, Knut couldn’t resist hesitating a little more before admitting defeat. “If I don’t like it, you owe me a beer, Emil.”
Emil simply shrugged, obviously relieved that this poisoned chalice had passed him by.
“All right, let’s meet at the Deutsche Oper at a quarter to eight. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” said Bernd.
“I’ll be there. Please thank your parents on my behalf for the generous offer.” A warm feeling of anticipation pulsed through Knut’s veins.
“I have to hurry, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow at the latest to present the plan.” Emil was about to get up.
Bernd grasped the opportunity. “Wait, I’ll come with you.”
Knut remained seated for a few minutes, watching the constant coming and going in the mess, before he too got up and went to his office. He still had a lot to do and would have to hurry if he wanted to finish work in time for the opera.
That evening, he put on his dress uniform and walked to the Deutsche Oper, where he recognized Bernd’s dark blond hair from afar. His friend had also dressed smartly, looking dazzling in his gray-green uniform jacket with aiguillette and brass buttons on the epaulettes.
After shaking hands, Knut asked, “Wasn’t it a bit risky inviting Emil?”
“Not really,” Bernd grinned with mischief. “I know from a reliable source that he doesn’t like opera.”
Knut would have loved to squeeze Bernd’s hand, but that was impossible, so he asked, “Why didn’t your parents want to attend the performance?”
“My mother isn’t feeling well.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.” Knut had only seen Bernd’s parents once at a reception to which half of the Abwehr had been invited.
“She doesn’t tolerate the heat well, which is why my parents used to spend the summer in Sweden. Let’s go inside.”
Their seats were in the first row, which was a new experience for Knut.
He’d been to the Deutsche Oper many times before, although usually in the standing area in the balcony.
His father had passed on a love of culture to him.
Before he retired, he’d been a teacher and then a school principal, but with four children, his salary hadn’t stretched to luxuries.
Bernd, on the other hand, came from a family of wealthy industrialists.
Just like Bernd, Knut also had a difficult relationship with his parents, who completely toed Hitler’s line, spurred on by his older brother Joseph, who had a prestigious career in the SS, and had recently been promoted to Sturmbannführer.
Even Carsta, his youngest sister, was a loyal Nazi supporter who’d proudly birthed eight children for the Führer.
Just Edith had become the black sheep of the family.
Edith of all people, who’d once been their darling for marrying into the Falkenstein family, one of the richest families in Germany.
Over the course of the 1930s, the entire family, with the exception of Knut, had dropped her like a hot potato as her husband Julius’s Jewish ancestry made him intolerable to the family.
“What are you thinking about?” Bernd interrupted his thoughts.
“My family. Edith in particular.”
“Have you heard from her?” Honest interest resonated in Bernd’s voice as they took their seats and were handed a program.
“Not after I warned her about the raid last month.” Knut pretended to study the program. “I’m so worried about her.”
“You couldn’t involve the two of them in the operation, you know that.” Bernd took the program from him, surreptitiously stroking the back of his hand as he did so. It was such a brief touch, yet Knut felt comforted.
“I still feel guilty.”
“I understand that. But you have to look ahead. We can’t save everyone,” Bernd whispered.
“Not even my own sister?”
At that moment, the auditorium doors were closed and silence descended over the audience in anticipation of the grandiose music to come.
Until the opera began, Knut continued to brood. Operation Seven had turned out to be much more complicated than anyone had foreseen, presenting more problems at every turn. He gave a silent sigh, feeling inadequate.
Under the cover of darkness, Bernd touched his hand, whispering, “We’ll get them out, you just wait and see.”