Chapter 39
Brunner was waiting for Lizzie in the café the next time she went in a few days later.
Ursula took her order, and they joked about how she always ordered the same food.
When the friendly waitress had moved away from her table, Lizzie raised her eyes cautiously to where she’d seen Brunner sitting when she entered.
He had a pen in his hand and was making an elaborate show of doing a crossword.
That was their agreed signal when he needed to talk to her urgently.
The crossword was a tricky way to communicate, so she acted normally as if they had nothing to hide.
When she closed the gap between her table and his, she glimpsed the alarm in his eyes before he composed himself.
Lizzie greeted him so that anyone watching would see they were acquaintances, and she sat down on the chair opposite when he invited her to join him.
‘How good to see you again, Herr Brunner,’ she continued, and he played along with the charade.
Glancing around, she saw no sign of Voss or anyone else watching them, and her shoulders relaxed.
‘May I get you a drink?’ Brunner said.
Lizzie declined politely, lowered her head and whispered, ‘What do you need?’
Brunner pointed to the crossword as if he was asking if she knew the answer to one of the clues and replied in a low voice she had to strain to hear, ‘I can’t take any more of this. I’m making myself ill.’
Lizzie realised he was panicking again, and that was why he hadn’t made a recent drop. It was disappointing when she thought she had inspired him to continue until the job was complete.
‘We’re nearly done,’ she said, pointing to a clue. Then added urgently, ‘We still need you.’
Brunner’s voice was muffled. ‘I’ll let you into the vault to get what you want.’
His words took her by surprise. Allowing her into the vault was something she hadn’t imagined, but she had wondered what was in there after they had almost caught her in the storeroom.
The unlocked room contained incriminating papers, so the vault itself must contain all the proof she needed to complete her mission.
‘How?’ she said, pointing to the crossword and smiling.
Ursula swept past with a tray and called out to her that her lunch was served. ‘Would you like it there with Herr Brunner?’
Lizzie shook her head. It wouldn’t do to publicise their acquaintance any further, and people might gossip about the older married man having lunch with a young woman.
The less they drew attention to themselves, the safer it would be for them both.
She asked Ursula to leave it at her table, and she would be over shortly.
‘Can you arrange it so that I’m not seen?’ she asked as she shuffled in her chair, preparing to stand up.
Brunner’s lips barely moved, and his voice was an almost indecipherable whisper. ‘You’re a spy, aren’t you? I’ll worry about how to get you in, and you do the rest. Like I said, I can’t risk anymore.’
Lizzie’s pulse raced at the thought of getting her hands on the bank’s ledger in the secure vault. ‘When?’
‘Next Wednesday. Arrive by 11 a.m. I’ll tell security to let you up like last time.’
‘Very well,’ she said, rising. ‘So good to see you again, Herr Brunner.’
‘One more thing,’ he muttered.
She looked at him as if their conversation was continuing in the casual manner of friends chatting and waited for him to say what else was on his mind.
‘I will need assurances that my participation will be noted.’
Pausing briefly, she said, ‘You have my word.’
It was the way of things in situations such as this, and she was familiar with this type of agreement.
It was standard for the informant to need something from them, or it was unlikely they would risk their life.
There weren’t many like Hildegard, who had helped her unequivocally under the most dangerous circumstances and asked for nothing in return.
She said contributing to the destruction of the Nazis was all the reward she wanted.
The courageous Swiss woman was now their regular courier, smuggling intelligence out of Berlin into Bern whenever she could, under the guise of her family’s import-export business.
Back at her table, Lizzie ate her delicious lunch and turned over the Brunner developments.
Extraction wasn’t an option for him. The reason he was collaborating with them was to save his bank so that if the chips landed as she hoped they would, and Brunner clearly feared they might, Brunner & Cie wouldn’t be targeted after the war like the other Swiss banks who had collaborated with the Nazis.
The banker wanted his reputation protected, and judging by his partner’s performance, it was just as well it was Brunner’s name on the door.
Lizzie would report to Val when she returned to London, and a classified record would mark Brunner and his bank as having cooperated.
She was under no illusion that he was helping her as an act of heroism, even though he seemed a decent enough man.
This was a Swiss banker’s deal, and it was all business.
Lizzie didn’t care why he was helping her.
She was just grateful that he was, and as she ate the Rosti, she wondered what his plan was for getting her into the vault without his partner knowing.
If Swiss counterintelligence discovered she had infiltrated the most confidential area of the bank, she feared she would be in more trouble than her diplomatic immunity as an employee of the British Legation afforded her.
Back at work, Lizzie knocked on the cipher room door, and Tom admitted her, asking. ‘How are things?’
Lizzie told Tom of Brunner’s plan for the following week, and he digested the information, his brow furrowing as he thought through the implications.
‘There’s no doubt it’s a significant breakthrough, but if we’re not careful, it could also bring this whole house of cards crashing down on our heads. ’
Lizzie asked the question that had been tumbling around in her mind all the way back from the café. ‘What would the Swiss do if they caught me?’
Tom’s frown deepened, and he scratched his chin.
‘It’s unlikely they would arrest you because the Swiss modus operandi is to avoid international incidents at all costs.
The last thing they want is to upset the British government and risk the backlash that would come with arresting a Legation employee. ’
‘What would they do with me then?’
‘You’d more likely be declared persona non grata and expelled from the country. Revoking diplomatic status doesn’t require proof, and the minister would be compelled to comply.’
‘Alright, well I’ve had worse. If I can extract what I need and get it back to London, it will be a successful mission.’
Tom lowered his voice further. ‘Of course, there’s the other threat.’
Lizzie raised her eyes to meet his. ‘That doesn’t sound good.’
‘Swiss counterintelligence does not differ from any other agency in that perpetrators have been known to disappear mysteriously when they get in the way. If Voss learns you are stealing state secrets, he may do something unpredictable.’
They discussed the situation, with Lizzie saying this was her chance to get what she needed in one shot, whilst Tom remained hesitant. He was the one who would be left to pick up the pieces if she disappeared, so she understood.
‘Any word on the diplomatic pouch reaching London?’ she asked.
‘It’s been much longer than usual and there’s a real possibility it’s gone astray or been intercepted.’
‘Intercepted, by whom?’
Tom shrugged his shoulders. ‘That is the question, but let’s give it a few more days. It’s a hazardous route.’
They both knew the pouch could have been shot down in an aircraft with no survivors—which could be the ominous reason for the continued silence instead of confirmation of its arrival.
The latest batches of intelligence were still stuffed behind the picture frames because the next diplomatic pouch hadn’t been sent.
Baker Street had yet to receive any evidence of Swiss collaboration from her considerable efforts.
It was disappointing, and even if the copied papers reached London, they weren’t definitive, and the Swiss could claim they were falsified documents.
Brunner’s proposal was extremely tempting, but if she accepted it, he could stitch her up. For all she knew, he’d decided he was in too deep and planned to sell her out to Voss to save his own skin. Betrayal was a possibility at every turn, and she would be naive not to consider it.
Could she trust him, and was it worth the risk?