To Hpt. Lockhart, Posen Military District Hospital

Message starts

+ + + + Report back as soon as possible to St. Michael STOP Recruiting on hold STOP Notify date of return immediately STOP Strasser STOP + + + +

Message ends

2/3/44 12:18

“Shit,” said Lockhart, leaning back.

“What’s the matter?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“What, sir?”

“There’s to be no more recruiting. And no more recruiting means I’m stuck with what I’ve got.”

He was an ugly little man, and Leni didn’t like him on first sight. Still, she had her orders, and they had told her that she must work with him. Would she have to sleep with him, she asked? No, they said, keep this one away from the bedroom. He’s a great catch, this one, they said, make sure you play him right. He’d approached them direct, they told her, approached them via the Swedish merchantman in Danzig. Apparently, he used to be a real Nazi, but now he had gone against them. They had treated him badly, he had told them, lied to him, put him in some punishment unit, and now he wanted to turn against them.

They met at the Café Vaterland, a huge nightclub in the center of Berlin. It was crowded, and they took a table in the corner and talked about how they would work together. She made it clear that all information would go through her, and then onward. He was under her command, and he must remember that, do as she said. He was prickly about that, but she insisted, saying that they could just as easily drop him, throw him to the wolves. This was the only way he had to save himself, and she was now his lifeline.

It was a small victory, but an important one. Asking Strasser to refrain from smoking for the sake of Lockhart’s newly healed lung had gone down badly, but Strasser had had to concede.

“But how can my smoking harm it?” he asked, sitting behind his desk. Lockhart noticed that a portrait of Himmler had appeared on the wall.

“It makes me cough, and when I cough, it damn well hurts.”

“But you smoke yourself.”

“Not often, and not at the moment I don’t.”

“All right,” said Strasser, “I shall refrain from offending your poor lung.”

Sarcastic sod, thought Lockhart. He had half a mind to stab him in the chest, see how he liked it. Instead, he replied sincerely:

“That’s much appreciated, Carl. Thank you.”

Strasser started sifting through the papers on his desk.

“Have you got another memorandum for me?” Lockhart asked.

“I have indeed. It’s from Berger. You’d better read it.”

From:

SS-Obergruppenführer Gottlob Berger, head, SS Hauptamt

To:

SS-Haupststurmführer Carl Strasser, British Free Corps

Date:

1 March 1944

Subject:

Recruitment

Strasser,

The news of the stabbing of Hauptsturmführer Lockhart troubles me greatly.

It occurs to me that your use of existing members of the BFC to recruit POWs is ineffective, and we should instead be concentrating on coercing prisoners who are presently confined in POW punishment camps.