Page 38 of Echoes of Betrayal

Lizzie prepared to leave, excited to talk to Brunner again, away from prying eyes. On the way there, in the car, she wondered what had made him take the risk of reaching out to her like this. The dead drops were set up to avoid personal contact, so something urgent must have happened.

It was a clever move on Brunner’s part. No one would suspect a mundane meeting with a low-level employee to take care of minor administrative duties. She wished she had thought of it herself, but it could only be engineered by Brunner. If she were to start initiating meetings, Pemberton might find it odd, or worse, decide to accompany her. As it was, this was a perfect development, and she couldn’t have asked for better, just as she was trying to figure out how to speed up the flow of intelligence.

It was a chilly day with a fine drizzle in the air, and the sky hung over the Old Town like a menacing grey mantle. When she reached the bank, she was pleased to enter the warm building. The doorman greeted her, going through the usual procedure of escorting her upstairs. Lizzie entered Brunner’s office after he responded to the knock, and the doorman returned to his post.

Brunner stood and said in a loud voice, ‘Miss Gale. Please come in and take a seat. Thank you for coming so quickly and apologies for the inconvenience.’

Lizzie replied in an equally loud voice that it was no inconvenience at all, and she was pleased to make any amendments he might need.

They looked at each other, like two mice calculating how to escape a cat. Brunner called for refreshments, which his secretary served, and then they were alone again, eyeing each other over the large desk.

Brunner’s gaze strayed to the door, and then he leant forward and said in a hushed tone. ‘I had to see you. Matters are growing complicated.’

Lizzie had expected something of the sort. It was rare for an informer not to lose their nerve at some point, and they usually needed some handholding and cajoling along the way. ‘The contracts we drafted so far are exceptional,’ she said, using coded language so he could understand. It was always better to stick to the truth in as far as one could in such situations. It was not unknown for secretaries to listen at the door, or even for offices to be bugged.

Lizzie signalled to Brunner that someone might be listening, and he followed her cue. After a minute of stilted conversation where he tried to convey his fears to her unsuccessfully, he stood abruptly and strode across the room. Opening a polished cabinet door, he twiddled a knob on a gramophone, and Beethoven streamed into the room.

Lizzie stood and joined Brunner. He told her his partner was determined to continue laundering the Nazi-looted gold, and that he could not keep on passing information to her without drawing his suspicion and possibly that of Swiss Intelligence.

Lizzie said she understood how difficult it must be and that Winston Churchill wished to personally thank him for the risk he was taking to assist the Allies in winning the war.

The mention of the much-lauded British prime minister who had led the tiny British Isles to single-handedly face down the Nazi villains and their Axis forces, had just the effect she had hoped.

Brunner’s features softened, and some of the tension seemed to visibly leave his tall frame. ‘You have contact with the man himself?’

Lizzie confirmed she did, asking herself, what was one little white lie in the name of such an urgent cause? If he needed to believe his information was being sent directly to Churchill, then so be it. Quite honestly, it could be true for all Lizzie knew. Val had said it was the Prime Minister who gave the order for them to gather proof of Switzerland colluding with Germany.

Lizzie had not met Winston Churchill, but Jack had. He said that one day after the war, she would meet him too, and the Prime Minister would thank her personally for her heroic efforts. Much like Brunner, the vision of such a grand gesture inspired her to keep going, even if it was just a pipe dream.

‘We need more from you, more quickly,’ whispered Lizzie as the music reached a violent crescendo.

‘It’s too dangerous,’ Brunner said. ‘I will continue, but I can’t promise to go faster. Each time I go to the vault to copy the ledger, I risk being seen by my partner or by a member of staff.’

Lizzie patted him on the shoulder. ‘Be cautious. Only do it when you feel safe to do so. Get as much as you can on the gold being laundered through the clearing system. Names, dates, and as many details as you can gather.’

Brunner’s eyes reflected the fear he felt as he contemplated what he must do, but he nodded, and Lizzie believed he would follow through.

The music ended, and they heard the static on the gramophone as the needle hissed on the record. Brunner gestured for Lizzie to return to the desk, and he produced a contract with a small amendment for her to review. Lizzie appreciated his resourcefulness and went through the motions of checking the papers.

‘I will have them drafted and send them by courier this afternoon for Mr Pemberton to sign,’ he said, his voice loud again. ‘Thank you, Miss Gale.’

Lizzie crossed silently to the door and pulled it open in one fluid movement, a spycraft habit she had developed over the years to check no one was listening. Relieved to see the corridor empty, she turned to thank Brunner.

He asked, ‘Would you like me to escort you downstairs or are you alright to find your own way out?’

Lizzie said not to trouble himself, and she could easily find her way out. She wished him a pleasant day and closed the door behind her.

It had been a close call. Brunner had been about to pull out and say it was too risky, but as always in these situations, a few carefully chosen words could restore courage and remind a courageous person of why they were putting themselves in danger. A mention of Churchill was all he had needed to hear. Lizzie reflected that it was strange, really. She hadn’t planned to talk about Churchill, but she had improvised when she saw the fear in his eyes. Brunner owned one of the top private banks in Bern, and he must have fought hard to get where he was. It was obvious he would admire other strong men. Thank goodness for improvisation, she thought. Planning had its place, but so often during missions in make-or-break moments, the breakthrough came by relying on one’s gut and responding to the situation accordingly.

Pausing for a second when she reached the end of the corridor, encouraged by her success, she decided on impulse not to return the way she had come.

This might be her only opportunity to search the bank, and she was going to take it. The pulse in her throat quickened as she reached a downward-spiralling staircase and took the first step.

CHAPTER 34

Jack arrived back at Bletchley Station with a renewed sense of purpose and determination to uncover the inconsistencies of what was going on with the SIS. Not only were they keeping Baker Street in the dark, Jack sensed there was something more sinister at play than mere incompetence or refusal to share intelligence.

He had known his chances of gaining approval for a Toulouse mission were slim to none, but he’d wanted to talk through the Hannah situation with Val and apprise her of his suspicions about Aubrey Gould. Always one to make the best of things, he made his plan as the locomotive rattled out of London and into the Buckinghamshire countryside, the gentle rays of early morning sunshine illuminating dust particles in the shabby train’s interior.