A Reluctant Spy Read online

  She hid a smile. ‘It always pleases me to hear that Germany has so much in common with England, or to be more precise, Britain.’

  He thought about what she said for a moment. ‘Forgive me. Yes, Great Britain, you are right of course. The British royal family has Hanoverian connections, the English are Saxons from central Europe, and of course, the Scots are pure Viking Aryan stock, is it not so?’

  ‘Well, some are. Most are lowland Scots of Irish descent.’ The confrontation eased and Hilda relaxed eager to expedite the conversation. ‘Why should this interest you?’

  Herr Eicke took a cigarette from a silver swastika emblazoned case. He tapped the cigarette twice against the case. He lit up and inhaled a second time before blowing a stream of blue smoke towards the ceiling. Then he turned to look at her. His eyes seemed to be closer together than ever, his eyebrows almost colliding. Eventually, he said, ‘Since 1912 you have been a German wife. You will be the mother of a brave German soldier soon and so I expect you will retain a firm loyalty to the ideals of our Fatherland in all its aspects?’

  Hilda felt the atmosphere change for the worse.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she replied firmly, keen for her conviction to appear genuine.

  ‘It would be good if you would keep in touch with me, not on a personal basis of course, although I would always value your friendship if it were granted.’

  Hilda’s lips tightened. ‘I am confused, Herr Eicke. I am going to be in Scotland for a while. I cannot see how I could be of interest or assistance to you when I am there.’

  ‘Forres is in the north of Scotland, isn’t it?’ he asked curtly.

  ‘How do you know that?’ Suddenly she was on edge once more.

  ‘Otto has only told the truth. He told me you would be staying with your parents in Forres at their hotel, is that not so?’

  ‘Well, of course, I have to go somewhere when I arrive, and it is my parents’ home.’

  ‘Of course.’ Herr Eicke placed his cigarette ash in the ashtray on the mantelpiece. His spectacles slipped down the bridge of his nose and his expression grew more and more solemn.

  ‘We have our contacts in that area.’

  Hilda let out a gasp of astonishment. ‘I doubt that, Herr Eicke. What a claim. It is in a remote part of Scotland, and it is most unlikely that you have German agents there. It would be a waste of their time.’ She laughed at the thought of German men entering Mr David Harvie’s baker’s shop in Forres without being noticed. Herr Eicke seemed uncomfortable as he threw his cigarette end into the fire.

  ‘You know the airbase at Lossiemouth and the garrison at Fort George?’ he asked.

  Cold sweat trickled down Hilda’s back as she realised Eicke was quite serious and was playing his hand with both caution and precision. A moment’s silence seemed to pass at a snail’s pace. The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall stopped as it prepared to strike four.

  ‘If you already know about these places, what use am I likely to be?’ she asked guardedly.

  ‘Frau Richter, there are bases we would need if there was war against Russia and a naval attack on our country. We would rely on the British in such an event. If they refused, well… we would have to take the matter into our own hands. I’m sure you understand?’

  ‘I see. You need British assistance.’

  ‘Exactly. Our agents may not speak such fluent English as you do. They may need some help; some reassurance perhaps. Or even just the opportunity to speak to someone who is familiar with both languages and cultures and who shares their love of the Fatherland.’

  She felt trapped. ‘I would have no hesitation in helping any stranger who needed it, whether they were German or any other nationality.’

  Eicke gave a long sigh. ‘Yes, true, I am sure you would. Nevertheless, if there should be a war, would you help our cause? In fact, Frau Richter, exactly where would your loyalties lie?’

  This question had been at the forefront of her mind many times over the last few months, and she had gone to great pains to avoid answering it. She turned away from Herr Eicke in an attempt to compose herself.

  ‘Why would Germany be at war with Britain?’

  ‘We have no intention of being at war with our friends, of course.’ Herr Eicke began to walk up and down the room, staring at his feet awkwardly. When he looked up, his eyes seemed to pierce through to Hilda’s heart. ‘Should it come to war, you realise the Gestapo has to secure its borders.’

  ‘Naturally. That makes sense. Herr Eicke, I think you have a lively mind. You seem to enjoy playing games. Britain has no land borders, you realise?’

  He seemed annoyed at her attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Then let me make myself clearer, Frau Richter. Your sister-in-law Renate and her husband Karl, Otto’s guardians. We don’t want any weakness there, do we?’

  She looked down at her hands and found them so tightly clasped together that her knuckles were white. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead and nipped her eyes as they ran down. Why was he mentioning her brother and sister-in-law? She took out her handkerchief and dabbed her running sweat.

  ‘Most loyal Germans are keen to attend rallies when the opportunity arises,’ he went on. ‘I think I can say quite confidently that neither Karl nor Renate Richter have ever attended such grand occasions.’ He paused to allow her to absorb his allegations. ‘They may have to be given some… encouragement… perhaps?’

  ‘And just what do you mean by that?’ she asked, placing a defiant fist on her hip.

  ‘Times are changing. Everyone must change with them, everybody, with no exception, including Karl and Renate. We must all support and serve the Fuehrer.’

  She was incensed. ‘Karl and Renate do support him, as does Otto as you know. Karl is a busy dentist and his wife is his secretary. They work long hours.’

  ‘It’s my job to mend the cracks, Frau Richter. You don’t see them, do you?’

  ‘I only see what is right.’

  He nodded slowly, clearly impressed by her determination. ‘Then we agree.’

  Hilda had a strong sense that she had already lost the argument. She could not compete with Eicke; she could only confront him. She drew herself up to her full height and raised her chin.

  ‘What exactly are you expecting of me, Herr Eicke?’

  Now he spoke a little more warmly, ‘Troop movements in Scotland, Frau Richter. That would be interesting information for us. New and existing air bases too. We need their exact locations, please. Nothing else at present, I assure you. We will contact you when we need to.’ He clicked his heels and gave a little bow. ‘I am glad you see the need to remain loyal to the Fatherland. Rest assured that Renate and Karl will be treated fairly. As I said, you will hear from me or one of our agents abroad at the right time.’

  Hilda was speechless. The wind had gone out of her sails. She stood aside to let him pass as he headed out of the lounge. He made for the front door with a parting shot.

  ‘Frau Richter, I have a very high regard for you and know you will not disappoint me.’

  She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.

  As the door closed firmly behind him, she sagged against the wall and groped for her handkerchief to dab her forehead once more. The German war machine had found her. She had become a cog in its grinding wheel. It had entrapped her. She bit her fist.

  It took her no time to realise exactly what was required of her. She was to spy for Germany against Britain, her real homeland.

  Chapter 4

  The Voyage Home

  Guilt threatened to overwhelm her as she wrote the labels on her trunks. They stared back at her. Had she packed the right items, made the correct decisions? Was she right to leave Otto at a crucial time in his life?

  She was past the point of no return. The mantelpiece was almost bare except for the photo of Willy with Otto as a small child playing on the beach at Sassnitz on the Baltic shore. She would leave that photograph in place for Otto’s sake. Photo albums brough
t back memories of the happy family she once knew. She took one and left the others in the cabinet. She still found it hard to accept Willy’s passing; the grief was still raw after such a short time. If only she could turn back time. She knew it could not happen, no matter how much she willed it.

  After agonizing over her recent decisions, she realised she had to be strong and decisive. She was going to Scotland. That was the right decision, though only time would tell, of course. The photo album was crammed into her trunk, all except two photographs. The family seaside scene and one of her remained on the mantelpiece for Otto to remind him of his absent parents. The constant thought, which dominated her thinking however, was how she could spy against her homeland.

  The Grampian Empress lay impressively in the Vopak Terminal Dock. Hilda felt a warm glow as she read the word Glasgow on the ship’s stern, beneath a red ensign flag. Her two trunks boarded the ship, and she accompanied them to ensure no prying eyes might inspect them out with her absence. Her anxious, suspicious mind was ever-present.

  Otto had said goodbye to her the night before she was due to embark, and Karl and Renate spent the final afternoon with her. They took Herr Eicke’s warning seriously. Karl promised to attend some rallies and close his surgery to show he was attending. That might ease the situation, even although it irked him to do so. They parted with long, tearful hugs, knowing both of their futures were uncertain.

  She was escorted to her cabin by a crewmember quick to pick up her accent when she spoke to him.

  ‘Thurs nae many Scottish women like you on board, ye ken,’ said Able Seaman Rory Tait.

  ‘There are not many Scottish women in Germany at all,’ Hilda replied.

  He looked at her as if she was an endangered species. ‘There are only a few women on this trip. I guess families o’ Jews. They Jews, they are nae welcomed here, are they?’

  ‘You mean in Germany?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘They are victims of the state,’ she told him as she grabbed a rail in the slight swell of the ship.

  ‘I ken. Worrying times.’

  ‘These are the fortunate few. They’re getting away – that’s why they are on board.’

  Tait looked at her blankly. ‘Aye… suppose so.’

  He took her hand luggage and eased the cases through a compartment door leading to a carpeted aisle.

  ‘Ladies always need their extra boxes for perfume an’ the like. Mind you, there will be nae ballroom dancing tonight, Miss,’ said Tait.

  She saw he was looking at her black box. She laughed. ‘That’s not what you think it is. It’s my oboe.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Well, ye’ll hae nae use for that either. There’s nae orchestra on board,’ he said.

  She chuckled. ‘I am not travelling to play in public.’

  Tait looked at the box and shook his head. ‘If it has any sense, that oboe of yours should stay in its case on this voyage.’

  ‘Not keen on music, are you?’

  ‘Naw, not keen on rough seas. The barometer is low. It’s gonna be a rough crossing.’ He laid her cases at her cabin door and she gave him a collection of coins. He looked at them with distain.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve no shillings or pence.’

  He did not reply. Perhaps it was a familiar predicament on his sailings. He tapped his forelock and was gone.

  As Able Seaman Tait had said, even before the Grampian Empress left harbour a swell gently rocked the ship from side to side. After familiarising herself with her cosy cabin, Hilda wrapped herself in a warm blanket blazoned with the ship’s livery and made her way to the deck. Her hair caught the breeze and she felt its strands tangle. Nevertheless, she needed to see the land that meant so much to her drift away. Where Germany was heading was uncertain; she wondered whether she would go with it when the extent of its ambition became clear. In fact, would she ever return to Hamburg?

  Church spires and cranes stood erect above the skyline, proud of their achievements. However, the church no longer had a strong voice, and the cranes rested before they began work in the morning, building more ships for the German navy. Flags flew everywhere, warm bright red and the sombre black swastika on its stark white background. Mixed feelings swept through her as she remembered. Her thoughts came in an ordered sequence; order had become a requirement, a demand even, during her recent life in Hamburg.

  Germany had been her home since 1911 when as a recent language graduate of Aberdeen University, she had come there to brush up her German. She met Willy by chance at a music concert. That memory gave her a warm feeling. She smiled as she recalled the Kunsthalle near the Binnenalster pond in Hamburg where the concert took place. They listened to Grieg’s Piano Concerto. By the third movement, the Allegro Mercator, Willy was holding her hand.

  Their honeymoon in Scotland two years later was another happy memory. She was proud to take her husband, Dr Willy Richter, around her relatives scattered around the country. Then back to Germany, and the fateful visit of Vera Caldwell, her cousin, in the summer of 1914, and the trials and strains of getting her home after the first guns had been sounded in that devastating war. Perhaps she might visit Vera again on this trip if she managed to get to Glasgow. Could history repeat itself, and find their roles reversed if there was another war? Had the lessons of the Great War not been learned?

  The ship’s horn sounded and the thick restraining mooring ropes were manually released from the dockside bollards and fell freely into the dark water below. They were then hauled on board, slithering upwards to the deck by the vessel’s capstan winch drum. The Grampian Empress eased itself away from the quay, setting it free from an increasingly belligerent land and headed towards an island of peace and relative harmony.

  In the dying light of autumn, the golden trees and flags of Hamburg waved goodbye. She gave a lingering smile to the city which had brought her happiness, love, culture and family. Fear and foreboding now overcame the land, but those treasured happier memories would always be with her.

  ‘Till the next time, Hamburg. I will return, God willing. Deus Volente, I will return,’ she said to the breeze, and it cast her words landward.

  She made her way unsteadily towards her cabin as the ship lurched towards the open North Sea. As she passed cabin number 227 she stopped. She listened. She made a note of the cabin number then returned to her own cabin swaying as if she was drunk.

  That night in the restaurant she ate alone, noticing a dearth of single travellers aboard. She managed to spill some soup on to the clean white tablecloth. A waiter arrived promptly to wipe and clean the offending spot.

  ‘Soup is possibly not the best choice on a night like this,’ she said by way of apology.

  ‘Perhaps not,’ he replied. ‘You might like me to serve you the soup in a cup?’

  ‘An excellent solution, thank you.’

  The soup arrived promptly. It was filling, but she needed a further layer of food to settle her stomach. That would serve two purposes. It could quell the movement of the ship for her, and go some way towards giving her confidence for what she had in mind.

  After a plate of haddock, mashed potato and peas, she returned to her cabin and opened her black box. She dampened the double reed then left her room, retracing her steps unsteadily until she reached cabin 227. She knocked on the door and the German chatter inside fell silent. She waited a few moments, and then knocked again. This time the door opened an inch or two.

  ‘Good evening. I hope you don’t mind me calling.’

  ‘What have you there?’ The young girl asked, clearly curious.

  ‘It’s my oboe. I brought it because I thought I heard music coming from this cabin earlier.’

  ‘You are German?’

  ‘No. I speak German, but I am Scottish. I am returning home.’

  The door opened wider. She entered. Three children sat on the top of the bunk bed with their legs dangling and swinging back and forth. Their mother was behind the door, gripping a dark brown shawl tightly around her sho
ulders.

  The parents remained cautious. Hilda understood how they must have felt. She had to show she was no authority figure plotting to have them returned to Germany.

  ‘You are safe here. I mean you no harm.’

  There was a pause. The father’s instinct of suspicious towards the visitor was understandable. That was why she had reassured them that she was not German. The ship was also now underway, and that was reassuring too. Hilda raised her oboe for his inspection.

  ‘I am Hilda Richter. I am a widow returning to Scotland. My parents are there.’

  The father relaxed and smiled. It was a signal for the rest of the family.

  ‘My name is David Hortowski,’ he said ‘My wife Anna, my son Konrad and daughters Lilli and Petra.’ He pointed proudly to each member of his family.

  ‘You are right to leave Germany at this time,’ Hilda said.

  ‘We had no choice. We decided and planned to leave Vienna the day after the Anschluss,’ said Anna.

  ‘Ah…12th of March,’ said Hilda.

  ‘You remember it well. I am not surprised. It pleased the German people,’ said Anna. Her husband shook his head sideways and frowned.

  ‘Yes, I can remember it very well indeed,’ Hilda said. ‘In fact, I can never forget that date. It was the day of my husband’s funeral.’

  Anna emitted a quiet apologetic gasp and Petra bit her lip.

  ‘I am sorry,’ David said.

  ‘I am sorry too, for the way your people have been treated,’ she replied.

  David nodded thoughtfully. ‘These are difficult times.’

  ‘Very true. However, we can make some moments happier. Who was playing the clarinet?’ asked Hilda, looking at the children.

  Lilli raised her hand.

  ‘My daughter Lilli was a pupil of the Mozarteum in Salzburg. It was her final year, but she could not finish her studies because we are Jewish,’ said her father.

  Hilda looked at Lilli sympathetically. ‘Perhaps we can play together?’ she suggested.

  Lilli’s eyes shone brightly, and with a smile as wide as the Danube, she brought her clarinet to her lips. Her eyes were dark, playful and bright.