Page 27 of Echoes of Betrayal

If so, this was much larger than the SOE traitor dribbling information to Berlin. A traitor at Bletchley Park underpinned Britain’s entire military intelligence strategy to win the war.

Gould was up to no good one way or the other, and Jack vowed to unmask him. In the meantime, he would pretend he hadn’t yet located examples of Gould’s people failing to pass vital intelligence to London.

He would watch him from a distance and lure him into his trap.

CHAPTER 26

The winds of war had blown decidedly colder in recent months, and whilst Ernst was worried about his collusion with the British, he felt better to have taken what he judged as positive action.

Ernst wondered if he was growing paranoid with the guilt he felt at betraying his partner. Franz had joined the bank when Ernst expanded the family business, and it had been a successful partnership until recently. Before the war, Brunner & Cie had grown exponentially both in size and profitability, and during the war, their growth had exploded. This was all good news, but Ernst had watched Franz embrace the Swiss collaboration with Nazi Germany with growing concern. Whilst he was as pleased as his partner about the increased profits, unlike Franz who showed no hesitation, Ernst was uneasy about German methods, and when he raised the subject with his partner, he always brushed him off.

Their most recent conversation was after the fall of Stalingrad. Ernst entered Franz’s office at the usual time and poured them both a schnapps. They discussed the previous day’s business as they did most mornings after they’d attended to urgent matters. Ernst sighed and broached the subject he knew would not be well received by his partner.

‘The Nazis are losing, Franz. I fear we have taken a position that will be indefensible after the war, and we will have to answer for it. Are you prepared for that?’

Franz drained his glass in one shot, and replaced it on his desk, almost slamming it. ‘You worry too much, my friend. That’s always been your weakness. It’s why we do well together.’

Ernst looked across the room at Franz, unsurprised by his reaction. He’d heard this argument many times before. Franz always painted him as the dithering, weak partner who was reliant on him, the courageous warrior who had the resolve to do what was necessary to keep the bank profitable in dangerous times.

Ernst was determined not to have his fears brushed aside by his partner’s clever rhetoric this time. ‘Franz, I know you believe we are doing the right thing for the bank, and I appreciate your dedication. However, we cannot keep sticking our heads in the sand, or we will pay a heavy price when the post-war reckoning is done. Look how things ended for Germany in the last war. The Allies made them pay, and they have exacted their revenge by stripping Europe of its gold reserves. And they are using us to launder their looting. When they looked like strong contenders to win, perhaps we could reconcile our conscience and turn a blind eye in the name of good economics. But that ship has sailed with Stalingrad.’ Ernst sank into the chair opposite Franz and fixed him with a hard stare.

Franz returned his stare, shaking his head. ‘The Germans will rally again, you’ll see. And even if they don’t, Switzerland is neutral. A few unsubstantiated rumours about gold transfers can’t touch us.’

‘I wish I had your confidence,’ Ernst said.

‘Leave it to me. I established a link with Swiss counterintelligence. There’s a decent chap called Kurt Voss who keeps me informed of anything he learns on the financial front that might affect us. The British are trying to increase diplomatic pressure on us to stop trading with Germany, but they have nothing to go on but hearsay.’

Ernst had pressed Franz further, appealing first to his decency and then to his instincts to protect the bank’s future, but he wouldn’t take him seriously. That was the last of several similar approaches Ernst had made to his partner during the past year. Once again, he had left his office unsatisfied, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Franz was stubborn and had bought into the Swiss banking legend that they were untouchable. He couldn’t reach him, and it was on that day he decided he would go behind his partner’s back to secure the future of Brunner & Cie.

A week had passed since he made his first treacherous drop for Elizabeth Gale. He’d been back to the spot to check she had understood his clues and followed the breadcrumbs. The afternoon after he left the package, unable to think of anything else, he had walked to the cathedral. From beneath the nearby chestnut trees, he watched the terrace until the people milling about dispersed, and then he walked over, his eyes searching the gap in the wall. His heart raced and his stomach swirled when he saw the package was no longer there. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. Ernst had betrayed no one in his life, and the realisation that what he had done would be considered an act of treason against Switzerland mortified him. But what was the alternative? They had jumped into bed with the Nazis like all the other banks, without a second thought, and if he didn’t show he was against the gold laundering operation, who knew how harsh the penalty would be?

What if someone other than Elizabeth Gale had noticed the package and taken it? He contemplated the scary thought. This was the risk he must take if he were to do the right thing. The intelligence services would arrest him if they discovered what he had done and would deem him a British spy and traitor to Switzerland.

Ernst left the terrace and decided he must see Miss Gale again to check she had got the package. Only then would it be safe to leave her another one.

CHAPTER 27

Lizzie looked up from the document she was translating and noticed Pemberton welcoming another official into his office. In the time she’d been with him, she’d quickly concluded that he spent a large proportion of his time sweet-talking Swiss officials. She assumed that must be the way of things with diplomats posted overseas, but even so, something didn’t sit quite right with her about the way he pandered to the bigwigs.

Resuming her work, she pushed the unpleasant thoughts from her mind. She had bigger fish to fry in Switzerland, and Pemberton was the least of her problems. As long as he didn’t keep her under too tight a rein, which he didn’t, presumably because he was too busy pursuing his own interests without her there to cramp his style, she was free to do as she wished if she completed her work.

Lizzie was more concerned with Brunner’s state of mind and whether he intended to leave her another package. Did he imagine that what he had passed to her was enough to clear his bank of colluding with the Nazis? The difficulty was that she couldn’t speak to him to discover his intentions. She felt adrift as she waited for more from him, not knowing if what he would give her was enough to fulfil her mission or whether she should risk searching for another source. Jack hadn’t exaggerated when he warned her that this kind of work was like walking on eggshells in treacle-coated boots.

Since the day she was almost certain she had been followed to her apartment with the secret package on her, she’d taken greater precautions, and wherever she went, she circled back and paused multiple times. There was a man who kept popping up in her vicinity, and she wondered if it was he who had followed her that night. Whenever she noticed him, he seemed to have a perfectly satisfactory motive for doing whatever he was doing, such as queuing to buy a newspaper or entering a shop. One lunchtime he was even in her café before she arrived, so she could hardly accuse him of following her. If he was a spy, and running into him wasn’t pure coincidence in a city as compact as Bern, he was a clever one. The man she suspected of watching her and Brunner in the café hadn’t resurfaced since, and she thought she might have imagined it.

The close shave with someone potentially following her when she collected the package had spooked her, and if Brunner left another dead drop in the wall, as she hoped he would, she planned to take it straight to the Legation.

On reflection, going to her apartment had been a poor choice, as she’d had to smuggle it into work and hide it there the following day. If she had left it in her apartment, someone could break in and steal it, whereas the Legation had much tighter security and was off-limits. She doubted even Swiss counterintelligence would dare breach their territory, although they were probably in there enough at Pemberton’s invitation. Nowhere was safe, but the Legation was as close as it got.

Brunner hadn’t left another package for her yet, and she had been back to the terrace several times in the past week and scoured the gaps in the wall.

Tom appeared and muttered over her shoulder. ‘The diplomatic pouch is being collected sometime this afternoon.’

Lizzie nodded and then they switched immediately to talking about upcoming events on the Legation calendar. ‘You are quite the social butterfly,’ she teased Tom.

‘That’s the nature of my communications role, I’m afraid. If one doesn’t have the stomach for endless social engagements, they’re in the wrong line of work.’

Lizzie glanced at her watch and saw it was past noon. She waited until Tom had moved on and Pemberton was in his office with his door closed before rising from her desk and walking to the cipher room.