An Officer and a Spy

‘The degree of censorship is extraordinary. I’m not sure there’s any need to restrict their correspondence quite so drastically.’

‘Ah!’ Henry gives one of his smirks. ‘Perhaps you have a more tender heart than the rest of us, Colonel.’

I refuse the bait. ‘Actually, it’s not that. If we were to allow Madame Dreyfus to tell her husband what she’s doing, it would save us the trouble of having to find out. And if he were permitted to say more about his case, he might make a mistake and reveal something we don’t know. In any case, if we’re going to eavesdrop, let’s at least encourage them to say something.’

‘I’ll pass that along.’

‘Do.’ I glance down at the desk. ‘What’s all this?’

‘Agent Auguste has made a fresh delivery.’

‘When did you pick it up?’

‘Two nights ago.’

I examine a couple of the torn-up notes. ‘Anything interesting?’

‘Not bad.’

The letters have been ripped into fragments the size of a fingernail: the German military attaché, Colonel Maximilian von Schwartzkoppen, is obviously careful to shred his communications into unusually tiny pieces. But it is stupid of him not to realise that the only secure way to dispose of paper is to burn it. Henry and Lauth are adept at piecing the scraps back together using tiny strips of transparent adhesive paper to repair the tears. The extra layer imparts to the documents a mysterious texture and stiffness. I turn them over. These are in French rather than German, and filled with romantic touches: mon cher ami adoré. . mon adorable lieutenant. . mon pioupiou. . mon Maxi. . je suis à toi. . toujours à toi. . toute à toi, mille et mille tendresses. . à toi toujours.

‘I take it these aren’t from the Kaiser. Or maybe they are.’

Henry grins. ‘Our adorable “Colonel Maxi” is having an affair with a married woman, which is a very foolish thing for a man in his position to do.’

For an instant I wonder if this is a barb aimed at me, but when I glance at Henry, he is not looking in my direction but at the letter, with an expression of lascivious satisfaction.

I say, ‘I thought that Schwartzkoppen was homosexual?’

‘Wives or husbands, apparently it’s all the same to him.’

‘Who is she?’

‘She signs herself Madame Cornet, which is a false name. She uses her sister’s address as a poste restante. But we’ve followed Schwartzkoppen five times now to their little assignations and we’ve identified her as the wife of the councillor of the Dutch legation. She’s called Hermance de Weede.’

‘A pretty name.’

‘For a pretty girl. Thirty-two. Three young kids. He certainly spreads his favours, the gallant colonel.’

‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Since January. We’ve observed them having lunch in a booth at la Tour d’Argent — they took a room in the hotel upstairs afterwards. We’ve also followed them strolling around the Champs de Mars. He’s careless.’

‘And why is it of such interest to us that we expend our resources following a man and a woman who are having an affair?’

Henry regards me as if I am a halfwit. ‘Because it leaves him open to blackmail.’

‘By whom?’

‘By us. By anyone. It’s hardly something he’d want known, is it?’

The notion that we might try to blackmail the German military attaché for an adulterous liaison with the wife of a senior Dutch diplomat strikes me as far-fetched, but I keep my counsel.

‘And you say this batch came in two nights ago?’

‘Yes, I worked on it at home.’

There is a pause while I weigh what I need to say. ‘My dear Henry,’ I begin carefully, ‘I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I really think that material as sensitive as this should come straight into the office the moment it’s collected. Imagine if the Germans found out what we’re doing!’

‘It never left my sight, Colonel, I assure you.’

‘That’s not the point. It’s sloppy procedure. In future I want all of the Auguste material to come direct to me. I’ll keep it in my safe, and I’ll decide what leads are followed and who handles it.’

Henry’s face flushes. Astonishingly for such a big and hearty fellow, he seems to be close to tears. ‘Colonel Sandherr had no complaint about my methods.’

‘Colonel Sandherr isn’t here any more.’

‘With respect, Colonel, you’re new to this game-’

I hold up my hand. ‘That is enough, Major.’ I know I have to stop him there. I can’t back down. If I don’t take control now, I never shall. ‘I have to remind you that this is a military unit and that your job is to obey my orders.’

He jumps to attention like a wind-up toy soldier. ‘Yes, Colonel.’

As in a cavalry charge, I make use of my momentum. ‘There are several other changes I’d like to make while we’re on the subject. I don’t want informers and other dubious characters hanging around downstairs. They should come in when we summon them, and leave immediately afterwards. We need to introduce a system of passes, and only authorised persons should be allowed upstairs. And Bachir is hopeless.’