Chapter 26
Lizzie settled into a rhythm of going to the orphanage most weekday mornings after breakfast. She was happy to have something meaningful to do to distract her whilst she waited for the intelligence mission to take shape.
Before the SOE recruited her, she had a somewhat romantic vision of spies from the few films she had seen.
She thought espionage must be thrilling, but the truth was that for most spy operations, it could be as dull as waiting for paint to dry, and slower most of the time.
The extraction route had been established from the Reich Ministry to Bern, which was a tremendous breakthrough, but Ingrid could only risk passing information to Hannah when their paths crossed naturally, which was seldom.
The supervisor had taken a shine to Hannah and gave her more work than she could handle, and the result was that she was at her table in the typing pool from morning until evening, except for her breaks and when she delivered letters to the relevant departments.
Since she received the first letter, there’d only been one piece from Ingrid, which was a hand-drawn rough copy of a blueprint of the weapons’ facility, and some formulas which neither Lizzie nor Hannah understood.
That didn’t matter because the boffins in London would know how to decipher the formulas, but the top-secret paper was still hidden in Lizzie’s raincoat pocket, which meant she went nowhere without it.
Hildegard was a natural, and after she had delivered the envelope to Bern for Lizzie, the next time they met she said, ‘Let me cut straight to it. If this is what I think it is, I would like to help further.’
Lizzie was taken aback, expecting turning Hildegard from a casual contact into a regular courier to be a painstaking and sensitive one.
In SOE training, she had studied such cases on how to identify potential sources among the enemy population and how to turn them.
There was an art to it, and nothing about it was supposed to be quick.
The very act of suggesting that a German citizen collaborate with the Allies could get both parties killed.
‘That depends on what you think it is,’ Lizzie had replied, her pulse quickening and her voice low as she surveyed Hildegard across the small table in the café where they frequently met.
‘I’m not stupid,’ Hildegard said, checking no one was listening. At this time of the afternoon, the café was almost empty, which was why Lizzie liked it.
Lizzie leant across the table and laughed as if they were having the most entertaining conversation. ‘I know you’re not. Forgive me if in any way I gave you the impression I thought you were.’
Hildegard patted Lizzie’s hand. ‘No, no, it’s me being snappy. Sorry, but I’m not used to this kind of thing. It’s put me on edge.’
‘Understandable,’ Lizzie said, raising her cup to her lips. ‘Now act naturally. Sip your coffee and then tell me what you mean as if we’re talking about something as innocent as your children’s latest antics.’
Hildegard did as instructed and turned her cheerful face towards Lizzie after drinking from her coffee cup and replacing it on the table. ‘Before the children were born, my husband and I took a trip to London. We saw all the famous sights and enjoyed the holiday very much. Have you ever visited?’
Lizzie now followed her cue. It was better to keep the conversation innocuous, although even a mention of London these days could cause a frown or a raised eyebrow.
‘I haven’t, but one day when this is all over and England is part of our victorious Reich, I look forward to it. Perhaps we may even visit together.’
Hildegard flashed her a smile. ‘I would love that.’
They continued talking for some time in a vague, tangential manner until Lizzie’s Swiss friend appeared to be satisfied. She had conveyed as much as she could so early in their relationship, but after several meetings, Lizzie thought she had a reasonable evaluation of what motivated Hildegard.
She was a loving mother and wife who, above all, wished to protect her family.
Her husband was fighting for Germany even though he had claimed to be exempt as a key businessman in their import-export company.
Through a combination of facial expressions, conversations, and willingness to act, Lizzie was certain her recruit opposed the Nazi regime and was anxious to help end the war however she could.
When they were about to part, Hildegard kissed her cheek and whispered, ‘Share nothing of this nature with Frau Fischer. She is a pleasant woman, but from what she tells me, she keeps dubious company and is loyal to the cause. I don’t know how deep her affiliation runs, so please be careful.’
On her walk back to the boarding house, she passed a row of shops with punishing queues spilling onto the pavement and people huddling in their coats and shifting from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm while they waited in the dropping temperature as dusk approached.
Their expressions were grim, and Lizzie hurried past, grateful she didn’t need to queue for rations like she did in France.
Frau Fischer handled their meals, and the lodgers presented her with their weekly coupons.
Thoughts of the mysterious landlady and Hildegard’s sudden warning played on her mind as she walked.
It was fortunate that Frau Fischer had introduced her to Hildegard, when they were clearly very different in their loyalties.
If she were as dedicated to the Nazi regime as Hildegard suggested, Lizzie must be even more alert.
The landlady had questioned her about Hannah’s work at the ministry, but she had put her questions down to curiosity until she met Herr Vogel coming out of her parlour.
It was just as well she rarely lingered to drink coffee with her after breakfast anymore because she rushed to the convent.
That evening over dinner, Lizzie surreptitiously watched Herr Vogel and Frau Fischer.
Her young daughter darted about serving meals and was a delightful child, always eager to help.
Lizzie noticed a certain familiarity between the landlady and her lodger when she did the rounds of the tables to make sure everyone was satisfied.
Back in the attic, she and Hannah dissected their day. Ingrid stood next to Hannah when they queued for their lunch and whispered, she would have something for her soon.
Lizzie said, ‘We’re gaining momentum. If things continue at this pace, we should be able to get the critical information out in a few more trips. Then we can leave. What do you plan to do next?’
Hannah said she would return to Toulouse, and they talked about the Lavender Network in muffled tones, always aware being overheard would be deadly.
There was a slight noise from outside the door, and Lizzie rose from the bed, put her finger to her lips and crept silently across the room.
She pulled the door open suddenly and poked her head into the corridor.
There was no sign of anyone, but she listened and thought she heard a door close quietly on a lower floor.
Lizzie shrugged her shoulders and locked the door.
‘I must be getting even more paranoid,’ Lizzie said. She told Hannah about Hildegard’s warning about Frau Fischer.
‘Well, it wouldn’t be unusual for her to be an informant. They have people in every house and neighbourhood, you know, reporting the comings and goings of residents. A landlady is in a prime position to be a Nazi snitch. If she is obedient to the Reich, she would see it as her duty.’
‘And what about Herr Vogel?’ Lizzie asked.
‘He seems like your average small-minded official toeing the party line. He loves a Heil Hitler opportunity, but there are so many like him, it’s hard to say if he’s up to anything out of the ordinary.’
That night, as Lizzie wrestled with sleep, her mind buzzed with ideas, and she wondered whether Frau Fischer and Herr Vogel were having a love affair, or if their relationship was of a more official nature.
As she closed her eyes, she resolved to find out. If they were this close to Nazi informers, they must know about it.