Mission Berlin (The Only Good German) Read online

  This unique espionage novel unites two unlikely allies at the end of World War II. Colonel Munsel, Germany’s last surviving expert on Russian affairs, surrenders to Captain David Mills. During the interrogation after his capture, Munsel cooperates with Mills and a bond of trust is grudgingly formed.

  Decades later, the two revive their alliance to unravel and defeat a secret cell of never-say-die Nazis. This sinister group is sowing international trouble by staging sabotage operations intended to appear as the work of the KGB. These villains hope to splinter the Warsaw Pact with their mad mischief.

  The action accelerates in Berlin, when the true identity of the saboteurs becomes increasingly more obscured from the view of Munsel and Mills. The reader is held in delicate suspense as the pawns in this international contest of wills play out their fearful game.

  For all the readers who have made LeCarre and Deighton household names, Mission Berlin is a riveting example of imaginative storytelling laced with an utterly authentic perspective on the unforgiving world of spies and saboteurs.

  “About ten o’clock in the evening of the first of May 1945 Hamburg Radio was broadcasting Bruckner’s 7th Symphony when suddenly the solemn music was abruptly cut off. There were a few moments of silence then an ominous roll of military drums, and after the announcement of the Führer’s death that afternoon, the appointment of Admiral Donitz as his successor was proclaimed.”

  “A classic of espionage fiction with the ingredients to keep you reading all night long.”—Len Deighton

  “Well up to his usual high standard.”—Anthony Masters

  About the Author

  During World War II, and then into the Cold War period, Tea Allbeury was a member of the British Intelligence Services, concentrating his expertise in counter-espionage activities. These experiences place his novels among the most compelling and believable spy fiction being written today. A resident of Kent, England, Mr. Allbeury has also been the director of an advertising agency, a farmer, and the manager of a radio station.

  MISSION BERLIN

  Ted Allbeury

  Walker and Company

  New York

  Copyright © 1986 Ted Allbeury

  All rights reserved.

  All the characters and events portrayed in this story

  are fictitious.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Allbeury, Ted.

  Mission Berlin.

  Originally published: The only good German.

  London : P. Davies, 1976.

  I. Title.

  PR6051.L5205 1986 823’.914 86–5663

  ISBN 0–8027–0892–7

  To Grazyna,

  my wife,

  with all my love

  PART ONE

  Chapter I

  About ten o’clock in the evening of the first of May 1945 Hamburg radio was broadcasting Bruckner’s 7th Symphony when suddenly the solemn music was abruptly cut off. There were a few moments of silence then an ominous roll of military drums, and after the announcement of the Führer’s death that afternoon, the appointment of Admiral Donitz as his successor was proclaimed.

  At 10.20 p.m. Donitz himself had broadcast, and ended his speech by saying, ‘God will not forsake us after so much suffering and sacrifice.’ But the Nazis had forsaken God long, long ago, and as Donitz stepped out of the radio building into his car he was probably the only man in Europe who believed what he had said. They hadn’t even played the ‘Horst Wessel Lied’ at the end of his speech.

  By the time his big Mercedes was halfway up the road to Flensburg it was raining hard, and his motor-cycle outriders were having difficulty in cutting a way through the hundreds of refugees. There were cars in the ditches, some of them still burning and flickering as the flames fought against the rain.

  About halfway between Flensburg and the Baltic was a small farm called Dieter’s Gut. It had carried that name since the seventeenth century when it had commanded over a thousand acres. Now, it was ten acres of small-holding and a bare living for the elderly couple who farmed it. They had deserted the farm to seek the protection of relatives over the frontier in Denmark, and today the only occupants were a soldier who had been billeted on them two weeks before, and their young maid, who came from one of the Frisian Islands. To call him a soldier was probably unfair, both to the Wehrmacht and to the young man himself. He was in fact Scharführer der SS Max Lerner, aged 26, and a radio operator with a special unit which had been shuffled off to Schleswig-Holstein a few weeks earlier. The girl was Ursula Oster who had worked on the small-holding for two years. She was seventeen, and had come originally from Norderney. Her hair was dark and long, and her big brown eyes gave her pretty face an air of innocence and frankness. But it was the combination of the pretty face and her big firm breasts that had caused all the trouble. Scharführer Max Lerner had been a pest even when the old people had been there, but since their departure his restless hands had given her no peace. It wasn’t that she disliked him, but her mother had always said that those kind of privileges were for the man who gave you a roof over your head and food in your belly. And if God was with you, that man would be your husband.

  They had both been sitting at the big wooden table in the kitchen while Donitz was saying his piece, and when it was over Max Lerner had reached over and switched off the radio. ‘That means we’re buggered,’ he said, and the girl looked frightened. ‘Is that what he said, Herr Max?’

  ‘No, Ushi, it isn’t what he said, but it’s what he meant. They’re going to hang on as long as they can to let the army get away from Berlin and the Russians. The British or the Yanks will be here in a matter of days I reckon.’

  ‘Which is best, Herr Max – the British or the Yanks?’

  He shrugged. ‘They’re both better than the bloody Bolsheviks I’ll tell you that. I expect the British Navy will want the ports like Hamburg and Bremen, and the Yanks won’t give a damn. So I expect we’ll get the British.’

  She was silent for a moment, then she said. ‘What will they do to us, Max?’

  He looked across at the pretty face and the big breasts that so tormented him. Generally when he looked at them too openly she folded her arms, but he noticed that this time she didn’t. And she hadn’t said ‘Herr’ – but just Max. He grinned. ‘Don’t worry, kid. I’ll look after you. We’ll be all right.’

  And he had stood up and walked over to the big wooden door. It was badly hung and he had to lift it open. The rain was pouring down, and even in the few seconds that he stood at the door his uniform was soaked. He put his head inside the kitchen and said to the girl, ‘I’ll be out here for about half an hour. Wait for me.’ Then he closed the door.

  He walked to the barn and took up a spade and then walked slowly across the big field to a small copse. As he walked he could see a red glow in the sky from the direction of Kiel and there were clusters of searchlights criss-crossing the sky. But everywhere was quiet. At the copse he dug a hole about four feet deep but quite narrow. By the time he had finished it was full of water. He thrust the spade into the ground and then stripped off his uniform, underwear and boots and counted the pieces as he dropped them to the ground at his feet. When he was quite naked he threw every item into the hole, and then, using the spade, shovelled back the soil to cover the hole in the ground. Back at the barn he stood in the pelting rain and held the spade so that it was washed clean.

  Ursula Oster had been thinking; or at least thought had leapt rough-hewn into her mind, and she had decided, without going into details, that Admiral Donitz was giving her good warning about the impending disaster. And this, coupled with the memory of her mother’s words, had decided her course of
action. Max Lerner was the only one who could look after her. There was another side to the young girl’s thoughts rather like the day-dreams of peace-time generals with untried weapons in their armouries. They wished no one any harm but they were given to touching the buttons and mechanisms of their unproved hardware. They knew how they destroyed sandbags but not how they destroyed men. Perhaps they didn’t work – impressive weapons, but not lethal. So perhaps just one tiny war? And Ushi Oster felt like that about the God-given weapons of her body. She knew they looked good but would they really work.

  Nevertheless when the door opened, and a lean, stark-naked man stepped inside, she was not prepared. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she was about to scream until she recognized Herr Lerner. He walked over to the black stove and took one of the dry towels and started to dry his hair. He stood in front of her as he towelled his chest and back, and he said breathlessly, I’ve been burying that bloody uniform. From now on you and I are the owners of this dump. OK?’

  She nodded. Then she saw he was looking at her body and she could see all too plainly that any doubts she had had about the effectiveness of her charms were unnecessary. He sat down beside her on the big old-fashioned sofa and as his mouth met hers his hands were fondling her breasts. At the same time that Admiral Donitz was entering his new headquarters in Flensburg, Max Lerner was doing the same to Ushi Oster. Ushi Oster dressed, was pretty exciting. Ushi Oster naked was explosive. The big breasts looked even bigger, and it was clear that Max Lerner was her first man. SS-man Lerner had had tarts in brothels before, but they were just sparklers compared with the Roman candles and rockets of this young girl. She had never learnt any rules so she just did what he wanted. And what was best was that she clearly liked it.

  During the next days they had seen convoys of vehicles on the distant road to Flensburg. Although the trucks moved very slowly none of them stopped and the war seemed to have passed them by and left them untouched.

  Lerner wore the farmer’s old suit but he stayed inside the farmhouse most of the time. They had basic food enough to last several weeks, and it was Lerner’s instinct that it was best to attract no attention; at least until the chaos of Flensburg had been sorted out.

  It was late one afternoon that they had heard the noise of the motor-cycle. Lerner had sent the girl upstairs and then looked carefully through the lace curtains. It was a solitary soldier in khaki and he was riding his bike across the main field to meet the dirt road that led to the farm. In the courtyard he had switched off the engine and propped up the heavy bike on its biped bracket. Lerner could see now that the rider was a sergeant. As the man took off his crash helmet he wiped the back of his hand across his brow. Then he stamped a few times as if to settle his feet, and he slowly looked around the courtyard. He was a biggish man, and as he stood there he gazed towards the farmhouse, and after spitting loudly he stepped out towards the farmhouse door.

  Chapter 2

  The sergeant was wearing battle-dress and brown leather riding-boots that came up to his calves. At his left side there was a webbing holster that was empty, because he held the Smith & Wesson .38 in his right hand. He looked slowly and carefully around the kitchen, but his gun pointed all the while at Lerner. He was red-faced and unshaven, and there were glints of red in his beard. On his shoulder was a red flash with, in white, the letters H.L.I. Lerner didn’t know what it meant but he knew that this man with the little piggy eyes was tough and had to be humoured.

  The bulging eyes moved slowly back to Lerner and the hoarse voice said roughly, ‘Wo is’ der Fraulein?’

  Lerner spoke quickly in good English. ‘I’m sorry sergeant. I don’t understand.’

  The sergeant looked at him and then said, ‘Come on Kraut – where’s the lassie?’

  ‘What lassie?’

  The sergeant grinned. He’d been at this game through the Middle East and half of Europe. ‘I mean the lassie with her britches on the washing-line outside.’

  Lerner realized then how stupid they’d been, and as he opened his mouth to speak, the sergeant fired a shot. It wasn’t meant to hit him, it just thudded into the staircase and sent up a cloud of dust. Piggy-eyes said, ‘Tell her to come here wherever she is.’

  Lerner hesitated, and said, ‘Why do you want her? Can’t I help you? Is it food you need or cigarettes?’

  The sergeant waved the gun and shouted, ‘Get her here now, pig-face – go on.’

  Lerner called the girl, and she came down the stairs. The sergeant looked pleased with what he saw and waved her over. She came hesitantly and stood still as he looked at her. And suddenly Lerner knew what he had to do.

  ‘Sergeant, if you leave it to me I can make it much easier for you. It won’t be much good if you frighten her. She won’t mind if I talk to her first.’

  The sergeant half turned. ‘She your wife, or what?’

  ‘She’s just a girl who works on the farm.’

  The sergeant looked him over and he could see the sergeant’s crooked teeth as he grinned. ‘You been giving it to her, have you?’

  ‘Of course, there’s plenty for everyone in times like these. Shall I tell her?’

  ‘OK, Fritz, but don’t try anything silly or you’ll get this,’ and he waved the gun. ‘Tell her there’s some chocolate for her. I’ll get it later on. Maybe we’ll have a party tonight eh?’ Lerner spoke to the girl slowly in German. ‘Listen carefully, Ushi. This bastard wants you. I’ve told him you’ll do it if I say so. He’ll shoot us both if you don’t, but he’ll have you anyway. Try and smile, look like you’re glad to do it because he’s going to give you some chocolate. Don’t look at me after I stop talking. Look at him, and keep him occupied.’

  The sergeant was pulling up her sweater with his left hand and she smiled and pulled it over her head. He put the gun back in the holster and his rough fingers closed over her breasts, and she stood patiently as he enjoyed them. Then his hands were at her skirt and she undid the buttons and the skirt slid to her feet. He pushed her against the table and she watched as he undid his fly. Then he was standing between her legs, and as she lay back unresisting he pulled her legs wide apart and was thrusting at her body. She felt him thrusting in her as his hands used her breasts and then as he moved quicker there was a terrible crashing explosion, and a scream that made her certain that Lerner was dead. But it was the sergeant of the Highland Light Infantry who was dead. Or nearly dead. And a white-faced Lerner was standing over him with the gun pointing at him, as if, despite the bright red blood that pumped from the gaping hole in his chest, he might still put up a fight. But the red face was grey now and after a few moments no more blood pumped from the torn chest. The H.L.I. sergeant was taking the high road back to Sauchiehall Street.

  Lerner had wheeled the motor-cycle into the barn and they had spent the rest of the day washing the blood from the sergeant’s battle-dress. They had dried it carefully in the bread oven and when Ushi had stitched the hole and Lerner had put it on, the girl could hardly recognize him. He looked like a Tommy. He was a Tommy. She had taken in the blouse and shortened the trousers, and then they’d washed them again and let them dry in the fresh air of the barn.

  Two days before, Donitz had sent the signal to General Jodi, ordering him to sign the unconditional surrender. Now, all over Europe, there was an eerie, uncanny silence.

  He stood outside the barn and looked across the deserted landscape. All Germany was now a disaster area. He’d seen what had happened in other countries; the demoralizing poverty, and the slow starvation. He guessed that for Germany you could really wipe out the next ten years, because hard work alone would get you nowhere. It was io May 1945 and, as at the beginning and end of all wars, the sun shone its consolation on the losers, and its warmth on the victors. As he looked across the meadows he saw that already there were yellow king-cups and marsh violets. They didn’t realize that they were German flowers, growing in German soil, and without permission of MilGov. The thought of MilGov sent his mind back to the sergeant.

/>   The grave had gone right down to the big stones and the spoil had been carefully heaped on each side. They had put the sergeant’s body in at dusk the same day. It had fallen awkwardly and stiffly, and Max had had to put down the ladder and knock the protesting limbs into shape with a heavy spade. But at last it was done and the surface was levelled. A barrowload of surplus soil was put on the small garden, and then the flagstones in the barn had gone back into place.

  Lerner was sitting in the wooden rocking chair and the girl was making some coffee. He had been studying the pages of a small brown covered book. He’d been looking at the buff pages all day long. Finally the girl had said, ‘What’s that you’re reading?’

  He looked up. ‘It’s called an AB64 part two, it’s the sergeant’s identity book.’ He closed it and tapped it idly on his leg. ‘Going to be our meal ticket, Ushi.’

  The girl smiled. He was a smart fellow.

  Each day he had gone out for several hours in his uniform taking the big 500 cc BSA motor-cycle. Every day he had brought back small items of food. But on the third day he had come back with paper bags bulging with food and cigarettes. He was grinning as he spread the various things out on the kitchen table. She was delighted. ‘How did you do it, Maxie. You haven’t been silly, have you?’

  ‘I joined the British Army today, Ushi. I drew my back pay as well.’

  The girl looked astounded, and Lerner was laughing as he sat down. ‘I’m the official interpreter attached to the MilGov detachment for Kreis Glücksburg. Just reported in, said I’d been posted through Hamburg. No trouble at all. They’re delighted to have someone who speaks German.’