The spies of warsaw (35 page)

explain every day why there won't be war. And I assure you there will

be, unless the right people determine to stop it."

"I can only hope this meeting is a step in that direction," Mercier

said.

"We shall see."

For a moment, Mercier paused. Here was an opportunity--take

it, or not? He had from the Rozens a name, Kohler, an affiliation, the

Black Front, and a target, the I.N. 6 bureau of the German General

Staff. And, if Dr. Lapp couldn't help him take a step forward, then no

one could. "I wonder, Dr. Lapp," he said slowly, "if I might ask you a

favor."

"One may always ask, colonel. Are you asking at General de

Beauvilliers's behest?"

Mercier paused, then said, "No, it's nothing he suggested, for this

conversation, but I don't believe he'd mind, if he knew."

"You've been honorable, colonel, which I appreciate. You haven't

. . . taken advantage . . . of a situation that could put me in real danger. So then, what sort of favor do you require?"

"I've become interested, in the course of my work here, in the

Black Front, Hitler's most determined enemies in Germany."

Delicately, Dr. Lapp cleared his throat. "I do know who you mean,

colonel, and regret that they haven't been more effective. But I suggest

you go carefully with this crowd, those who remain with us--most of

them are in the ground, or wherever the Gestapo put them. Very

extreme, these people. Captain Rohm, before he was murdered in

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'thirty-four, recommended that the conservative industrialists be

hanged. Dear me."

"I will be careful, Dr. Lapp; I would greatly prefer to remain

aboveground. But I cannot move forward on a certain project until I

obtain information that only a senior Black Front member might possess."

Dr. Lapp leaned toward him and folded his hands on the desk.

"Now," he said, "I must ask you if this project involves
German
interests, or is it particular to the interests of the Nazi party, the present

regime? And, please, colonel, an honest answer."

This last was, Mercier understood, a veiled threat. "To the best of

my knowledge, the interests of the Nazi party."

Dr. Lapp nodded, then looked at Mercier in a way that meant
I

hope you know what you're doing
. "Have you pen and paper?"

Mercier produced a small pad and a fountain pen.

"The man who might help you is hiding in Czechoslovakia, in the

town the Poles call Cieszyn and the Czechs Tesin--much-disputed territory, as you'll know. Presently he uses the name Julius Halbach,

because he is hunted by the SD and the Gestapo. As a member of the

Black Front, under yet another alias, he served directly under Otto

Strasser and was active in the clandestine radio operation that broadcast propaganda into Germany. Last year, the head of that operation

was murdered by SD operatives at an inn near the German border, but

Otto Strasser and Halbach escaped.

"Halbach is a man in his mid-fifties, and his story is typical. At

one time he was a professor of ancient languages--Old Norse,

Gothic, and so forth--at the university in Tubingen. In the late twenties, there was some sort of scandal, and he was forced to resign, his

life ruined. Typical, as I said; the Nazi party was built on ruined

lives--a failed career, the bitterness that feeds on injustice, redemption promised by a radical political movement.

"Now comes the difficult part, which is that you may speak with

him, and you might wish to offer him money, but you may not threaten

him. And that is because
we
talk to him, through the good offices of

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an extraordinary woman, the kindest old soul in the world, a piano

teacher in Tesin. I doubt he knows that he's talking to us, but he is

forthcoming--so don't bruise him, agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Currently, he is employed as a teacher at a private academy in

Tesin and rents a room in a house at six, Opava street. And, I should

add, I don't know what your plans are but I would not, if I were you,

postpone this contact too long. He remains active in the Black Front

underground, writing anti-Nazi pamphlets that are smuggled into

German Silesia, and, because this infuriates the security services, he is

not long for this world."

Mercier put away his pad and pen. "Thank you," he said.

"I hope it will help."

"Surely it will. And, Dr. Lapp, should you require further assistance, you know where to find me. Otherwise, we'll meet at diplomatic events in the city."

"No doubt we shall. With all the formality of sworn enemies." Dr.

Lapp was amused and showed it, the Keaton prune face breaking into

a sunny smile.

Mercier stood, and they shook hands. "I wish all my enemies . . ."

he said, not bothering to finish the thought.

"Indeed."

Mercier was in his office early the following morning, laboring away at

what he now called, for his personal use only,
Operation Halbach
.

This was not easy, but the excitement of the chase drove him on, hour

after hour, until midday, when a luncheon at the Hotel Bristol intervened, followed by a long meeting, and cocktails with the Roumanians

at six. Then, to make up for lost time, he took the dossier off to Sienna

street, where he sat at the kitchen table while Anna stroked his hair

and looked over his shoulder. "Ahh, funny little numbers."

"It's hard to work, at work."

"I know too well," she said.

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"Only an hour."

She blew gently on the hair at the back of his neck. "Take your

time, my dear, I like conscientious men."

He didn't answer, took a roneo of a Tesin town map, and ran a finger down Opava street.

Anna went off to bathe, returned in a towel, lay back on the bed--

the towel chastely arrayed across her middle--retrieved her book, and

turned on the radio. "It appears we're in for the night."

"I fear we are."

"When you tire of it, come and say hello."

Later, she crawled under the covers and fell asleep, and at midnight he joined her. But she was restless, lay awake in the darkness,

then got out of bed and prowled around the room. "Can't sleep?" he

said, rising on one elbow.

"Not right now."

He lay back down, watched her white shape in the darkness as she

paced about, and finally said, "Are you looking for something?"

"No, no. I'll come back to bed in a minute."

By late morning of the following day, 13 April, he'd finished his plans

for the operation and sent a dispatch off to de Beauvilliers, marked for

the general's eyes only. This was no business for
2, bis
--not directly

from him, it wasn't. De Beauvilliers would have them provide what

was required, but he would not ask, he would simply order, and the

internal politics of the bureau would be successfully tamed.

The response took some time, and it was 17 April when the general's courier showed up at Mercier's office in the chancery. A young

man in civilian clothes, he introduced himself as an army captain. "I

came over on the train," he said, "and I'm going back on the morning

express, so best look through this now, and you'll have to sign for it."

He removed a few files from a small valise and pried up the false bottom. "German border control, Polish border control, I hope I don't

have to do this again."

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Mercier did as the captain suggested, licking his thumb as he

counted hundred-reichsmark notes.

"It's all there," the captain said. "And there's a verbal message

from General de Beauvilliers. 'Please be careful, do try
very
hard not

to get caught. And best to avoid a visit to the casino.' "

"Assure him I'll be careful," Mercier said. He signed the receipt.

The captain said, "The valise is for your use, naturally," wished

Mercier
Bon courage
and good luck, and went off to a hotel.

19 April. Tesin, Czechoslovakia--Cieszyn to the Poles--the former

Duchy of Teschen, held over the years by this prince or that empire,

changing sides with European wars and royal marriages as the centuries slid past. Just another small town, the usual statue and fountain in the central square, but grim and poor as one left the center and

traveled out toward the edge, in the direction of the coal mines. On

Hradny street, rows of narrow houses, women on their knees out on

the stoops, with buckets and rags, trying to scrub away the Silesian

grime. After Hradny, Opava, where the signs above the shops turned

from Czech to Polish, and a tiny bar stood across the street and down

the block from number 6. Four stools, two tables, a miniature Polish

flag by the cash register.

Mercier had made his way to Tesin on a series of local trains, sitting in second-class carriages, then taken a room in the hotel by the

railway station. And stayed out of sight, keeping to his room, emerging only twice--once to buy a cheap briefcase, then, an hour later, setting out for the long walk to Opava street. He was being as cautious as

he could be, for this was no normal operation. A normal operation

would have included a supporting cast: cars and drivers, a couple with

a child, old men with newspapers under their arms. And of this drama

he would have been the star, summoned from his dressing room only

when the moment came to take center stage and deliver the grand

soliloquy. But not this time. This time he had to do the work by himself.

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He ordered a beer. The man behind the bar brought him a pilsener, then lingered a moment, taking a good long look at him.
And

who the hell are you?
It was that kind of neighborhood. But the beer

was very good. He turned on the stool and stared out the window, the

melancholy stranger. Out past two well-attended strips of flypaper,

the house on Opava street. Where a child now climbed the steps, home

from school, swinging a blue lunchbox as she disappeared through the

door. Next, a woman came out with a net bag, and returned fifteen

minutes later with her marketing. Mercier had a second beer. The barman said, "Warm day, we're having."

Mercier nodded and lit a Czech cigarette from a packet he'd

bought at the railway station. It was after five when a man, dressed in

worker's blue jacket and trousers, entered the house across the street.

Mercier looked at his watch: where was Halbach? Two young women

came through the door, joked with the barman, then took one of the

tables and began to conspire, heads together, voices low. Mercier now

realized he could hear music. In a room above the bar, someone was

playing a violin--playing it well enough, not the awful squeaks of the

novice, but working at the song, slower, then faster. A song Mercier

knew, called "September in the Rain"; he'd heard it on Anna's radio at

Sienna street. Was this, he wondered, a classical violinist, forced to

play in a nightclub? A man with a small dog came into the bar, then

two old ladies in flower-print dresses. And then, suddenly, Mercier was

again overtaken by a certain apprehension, a shadow of war. What

would become of these people?

Busier now, out on Opava street--work was over for the day--

time to chat with neighbors, time to walk the dog. Mercier ordered his

third beer, set a few coins down on the counter, and looked back out

the window in time to see Julius Halbach enter 6, Opava street. Anyhow, a man who looked like a teacher, in his mid-fifties, tall, wearing

an old suit, expensive a long time ago, and carrying a bulging briefcase. Mercier glanced at his watch: 5:22.
I hope you're Halbach,
he

thought, as the man plodded wearily up the steps and disappeared

through the door. Too much to ask for a photograph, he'd decided,

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before his meeting with Dr. Lapp. That would have been dangerously

close to an act of treason, whereas, a genial conversation in a bookstore, while conferring on another matter . . .

Mercier stayed where he was, now numb and slightly dizzy from

an afternoon of beer drinking, for another thirty minutes, then gave

up. The family was home, their lodger was home, in for the night.

Tomorrow would be the day, 20 April, 1938, at approximately 5:22 in

the afternoon. Tomorrow, Herr Halbach was in for the shock of his

life.

Mercier stopped at the cafe across from the railway station, had a

sausage and a plate of leeks with vinegar, bought a newspaper--

Tesin's Polish daily--and returned to the hotel. Was the room as he'd

left it? Yes, but for the maid, who had moved his valise in order to mop

the floor. Opening the valise, he was relieved to find his few things

undisturbed, though the important baggage stayed with him, in the