Colin Forbes - The Leader And The Damned

'For one week,' Masson said with typical precision. 'They are my men – working round the clock in relays. It is merely a precaution for your protection.'

'Why now? Something has happened?'

'I wouldn't say the timing has any particular significance. It is simply that your work is so important – to us as well as to the Russians…'

Masson sat down in an armchair by the small table where Anna had placed his cup of coffee. Roessler joined him in a nearby chair and drank greedily from his own cup, his eyes never leaving the Swiss.

'This is 1943,' he said after consuming half the cup. 'It is now over two years since Hitler invaded Russia. What has happened recently to make my work – so important is the phrase you used, I believe. You must be employing a lot of valuable men to have me guarded round the clock – again to use your own phrase, I believe…'

Masson forced himself to relax. He smiled and his bright blue eyes expressed confidence. The trouble was Roessler was shrewd – to say nothing of Anna. It was a godsend he had come to see them today. The moment he walked into the apartment he had sensed a new atmosphere – wariness on the part of Anna, something close to panic on the part of Roessler. He waved a reassuring hand.

'Before, there was this terrible shortage of staff. Suddenly I am allocated more men. Now I can look after you properly – as befits your importance…'

He sipped his coffee as Anna perched on the arm of her husband's chair. He was relieved to see Roessler trying to assume an expression of modesty which did not reflect his true reaction. It was certainly a truism, Masson thought to himself: flattery did get you somewhere. Cautiously he pressed a little further.

'When you visit us at the Villa Stutz it might be an idea if you varied the route and timing of your calls.

It will give my men a little practice in keeping tabs on you. Regard it as a game…'

'I'll do that…'

Roessler had started on the cup Anna had just refilled, still revelling in the rosy glow of Masson's compliments. The feverish expression was disappearing. What a strange man this German is, the Swiss chief reflected. Outwardly so ordinary and middle- aged, you could pass him on the street and never recall you had passed anyone. Which was an advantage, of course.

Anyway, he had pulled it off. Best clear out before there was an unfortunate turn in the conversation. Leave well alone. He finished his cup, refused a refill from Anna and stood up, smiling amiably. Now, leave…'

'Well, Hans, I think I managed that; said Masson, settling himself in the front passenger seat of the limousine.

He sighed. He glanced at Roessler's apartment window as the driver performed an illegal U-turn and headed for the Villa Stutz. What a quaint man RR was.

The driver, the only other occupant of the large car, was Captain Hans Hausamann. In peacetime he had run a business which provided him with invaluable contacts all over Europe as far as Finland.

At the outbreak of war Hausamann had been recruited by the Swiss Commander-in-Chief, General Guisan. His business contacts provided a ready-made network which kept the Swiss High Command in touch with developments across the whole continent. He now controlled the highly secret counter-espionage system centred at the Villa Stutz known as the Bureau Ha.

'You sighed,' Hausamann commented. 'They gave you a rough ride?'

'Not really. After a little initial awkwardness I convinced RR our people watching him were a simple precautionary measure…'

'And he swallowed that one?'

'I think he did, yes.' Masson thought for a moment. 'Anna, of course, is a quite different proposition. She knows something is very wrong but I can rely on her to soothe RR…'

RR was how they referred to Rudolf Roessler. It was not a code reference – someone had started calling him that and it had become standard practice.

'You're sure about Anna?' Hausamann pressed. 'You know her…'

'We conspire over RR's head.' Masson smiled briefly. 'I know her only concern is her husband's peace of mind. So she always goes along with me in an emergency. And, boy, have we got an emergency on our hands…'

They drove in silence the rest of the way. It is no more than eight kilometres to the district of Kastanienbaum where a lonely cape projects into the lake. Half a kilometre further, Hausamann pulled up outside the Villa Stutz. It is a very peaceful spot. But so is Bletchley, England, where Ultra operated from. And so was Prae Wood near St Albans, the headquarters of Section V where Whelby had his desk.

The wrought-iron gates in the outer wall were opened by a man dressed in a Tyrolean hat, a dark raincoat and leather boots. The gates were closed behind the limousine as it was driven up to the front entrance and stopped.

'I was just thinking,' Masson remarked, 'that when I first joined Intelligence I had ideals. I had no idea I would spend most of my life persuading others to tell the truth while I told nothing but lies. Even if by omission…'

'I don't follow you,' replied Hausamann who always spoke his mind.

'RR – I left him happy-happy. How would he react if he knew that Switzerland is now swarming with German agents dedicated to tracking him down? That this is the reason we blanket his life with our own men? At least we can console ourselves with the fact that the Germans – Schellenberg in particular, thank God – have no idea of what is going on…'

Masson did not realize it but this was probably the most naive statement he made in his whole career.

NDA FRX NDA FRX… NDA FRX…

It was exactly midnight when Roessler, hunched half-inside his cupboard over the transceiver, tapped out the call sign for Moscow Centre. Even then Soviet agents were in the habit of referring to Russian State Security headquarters as 'The Centre'.

Earlier Roessler had received a signal from Woodpecker which he was now trying to re-transmit to Moscow. He was crouched over the instrument when a hand appeared with a cup of coffee. Still not sure that her husband had recovered from his fright earlier in the day, Anna had decided he would get extra coffee tonight.

She need not have worried. Once he was ensconced in his minute working quarters only one thing existed for Rudolf Roessler – the transceiver, the receipt and sending of signals. He had, in fact, forgotten all about the visit of Roger Masson.

He repeated the call sign two more times. As agreed, for this phase he was using the 43-metre band. And his 'fist' was firm and normal as he tapped out the dots and dashes.

His next move was to switch to the 39-metre band, again as per the arrangement. He waited. He drank half his cup of scalding coffee. He was busy. He was happy. He was ruling the world…

NDA OK QSR5… NDA OK QSR5…

Moscow was responding to his call. He waited again. Within seconds came a series of five letters and five figures – masking the code chosen for this transmission.

Roessler recorded the signal and only then did he begin to transmit Woodpecker's latest message about the present German order of battle. All on the 39-metre band. All was well with RR's world.

NDA FRX… NDA FRX.. NDA FRX.

At the Dresden Signals Monitoring Centre in Germany the call sign came through clearly. Walter Schellenberg, chief of SS Intelligence, listened on the spare set of headphones while Section Chief Meyer personally recorded the signal passing through the ether.

'It's stopped! You've lost him. This is the suspect call sign?'

'It is,' Meyer confirmed. 'It's taken me months to track it down. All I can say at the moment with the resources at my disposal is the transmitter is located somewhere along a line from Madrid through Geneva, Lucerne and Munich…'

'Can't you narrow that down?'

'If you're asking me to guess – and at present it is no more than a guess – I'd say it's located in the