The Vienna Connection

CHAPTER ONE

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Can we trust the messenger? asked Harry Ward slowly, as the tall Warrant Officer scratched at a scar on his cheek, then returned the hand written note to his commanding officer. What it says is believable, because the Nazis broadcast their plans for Rome and Paris before liberation. But why wait until now to reveal the details?

Why indeed, Harry? replied Captain Charles Glover of the Royal Military Police. However, could there be an element of truth in this. Might it be conveying something more pertinent to the present time, if you get my drift?

Aha, you suspect matters of a more entrepreneurial nature? suggested Ward with a smile.

Indeed I do. However, as any official investigation would require more personnel than we can muster; should this communication be shown to higher authority?

From every standpoint, I consider that a wise choice, boss.

It had already been a long summer's day, an increasingly hot one as well; the Captain having spent the morning sorting out transit problems at the Soviet zone check point. The mercury had soared to way over thirty degrees before he could escape; revelling in the cooling breeze as his British Army jeep powered away.

Unhindered by traffic, the dull green military vehicle had weaved its way past a subdued tide of pedestrians, to speed along now quieter streets of Vienna. The ancient ramparts of St Stephen's bomb damaged basilica bore silent witness to this swift passage, the officer now relaxed for the first time that day.

There was a screech from the tyres when the vehicle came to a halt outside a rundown building. The fair haired, red capped driver leapt out, his piercing blue eyes darting about as he surveyed the area; old habits die hard! Expressionless, he returned a salute from the soldier on duty at the entrance and strode inside.

The room he headed towards was hardly suitable for the commanding officer of a military police detachment inside the British occupation zone, but here, accommodation of any sort was hard to come by.

Several metal filing cabinets, the large desk and a couple of wooden chairs constituted its full complement of furniture, while a recently installed telephone represented the occupant's sole link with the outside world. However, one of the bare, painted walls was enlivened by colourful and detailed maps of the city.

Hit by the stuffiness inside this space, he had taken off his hat, mopped his brow and switched on the desk top fan. Unfortunately, the eccentric electricity supply, which ensured perennially dim lighting, also meant its sluggish rotation hardly stirred the air. He moved to open a solitary small window, the welcome breath of fresh air having him look out across the rooftops opposite. It never ceased to amaze him that so many were still intact, this despite many Allied bombing raids and violent street battles at the end of the war.

He had returned to his desk, where, yet again, a small pile of mail lay; most being those official brown missives from Headquarters, orders that required carrying out. However, today, there was also a cheap looking white envelope mixed in with them. This had his immediate attention, though opening it revealed just one sheet of paper with a single paragraph of writing. A quick perusal had him start, then stare at it, not quite believing what was implied; only to reread the beautifully hand written script.

Sir, there are many explosives situated somewhere beneath all major historic buildings within Ringstrasse. Squads of Nazi S.S. troops were seen carrying quantities underground shortly before the final Soviet assault on Vienna. It is obvious these should have been detonated before Russian troops reached the city centre; so be aware that, even now, they can be activated at any moment.

Those few stark words offered nothing more, nor date or signature. Suspicions raised, he wondered if it were true, after all, the war ended over a year ago. Surely the victorious Russian forces would have unearthed all threats months ago? Or, was this just something to divert his men while other more sinister deeds were carried out? In need of another opinion, he had reached for the telephone.

Harry, get over here immediately, I think we may have a problem!

Having relayed this intriguing message to those at Headquarters, Captain Glover paced around, waiting impatiently for a decision. Irritatingly for him, it was next morning before a reply came.

On arrival at the office, his orders were lying on the desk. He and his men were to undertake a thorough search of all underground structures leading inside Ringstrasse. Headquarters expected a detailed report on their findings immediately after it was completed.

This had Glover on edge, convinced his superiors already knew the men would find something; so those involved were warned to be extra vigilant.

CHAPTER TWO

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The stench of sewerage was overpowering, but a determined Corporal Ian Doyle impatiently prodded his platoon's Austrian guide forward along the tunnel. Being underground meant cooler temperatures, while a lack of rain made their progress easy, for only the central gully had foul water flowing along it.

Fortunately for some, their noisy progress was masking frantic action up ahead; until disaster, something fell onto damp brickwork, the shattering glass making an overly loud noise.

What the ...! cried one of the conscript soldiers as all hell let loose. They dived for the ground as a deafening roar of gunfire had bullets ricocheting off the brickwork. There was a period of quiet; then a command came from Doyle.

You are in the British military sector. We order you to put your weapons down, place your hands on your heads and advance to be recognised. Refusal means you will be shot on sight.

The response was another short burst of gunfire and the receding footsteps of people fleeing the scene.

You two, the corporal ordered, follow that trigger-happy bunch, and arrest any who are lagging behind. The rest of you, search around for the glass, it can't be far away.

He was right, but their torchlight also revealed a large niche in the wall, where a torn carton had been left behind. Removing it for examination, the Austrian read the labels, saying it contained medical supplies, including doses of penicillin.

As everyone there knew, hospitals all over the city were crying out for this miracle drug. Black market racketeers had exploited the scarcity by stealing supplies from any source, then selling them on to the highest bidder. A lucrative business, especially in the Soviet controlled areas, where incessant demand had made penicillin worth more than gold.

Using the tunnels to smuggle medical items, eh, remarked Doyle, wondering what else could pass to and fro undetected. His thoughts were disrupted by the return of two soldiers, one prodding a reluctant captive along with his rifle barrel. The other was virtually carrying a scrawny older man, who seemed resigned to his fate.

The two prisoners were escorted to Captain Glover, who took one look at their exhausted state, ordering them to be given a night's rest in one of their cells.

Harry, I want every detail of what took place there, and who said what; you know the drill.

Just like old times, eh sir? replied the senior N.C.O.

Quite, the Captain smiled. Now then, Corporal Doyle, I gather the search for explosives has proved negative so far, how much longer do you need?

A few more days, sir, he replied. The sewerage system is well mapped and has been thoroughly examined; however, there are some more tunnels, most unknown to our guide. My squad are exploring them now.

Very well, but one thing before you go, asked Glover. We have some medical supplies, presumably being smuggled to the Russian zone; what else could be going on down there?

The Captain was told that in the drier months, this underground conduit would allow anything to be moved around the city, so long as it could be carried. This included entering or leaving the eastern sector, for no tunnels had been blocked off.

This also suggested people could be smuggled, meaning Nazi escapees, refugees, criminals, even agents from Eastern European countries may have used these for a quick transit.

Only the overflow tunnels had substantial grilles fitted at their exit points; while there were entry points everywhere, though it would take an Army to monitor every drain cover, twenty-four-hours a day. Clearly something should be done, but a lowly Corporal had no authority to suggest the solution.

Thank you for that, Doyle, this will be included in my report, replied an interested Captain Glover. For now though, continue the search for those explosives.

CHAPTER THREE

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So, did you persuade them to have a shower last night? queried Warrant Officer Harry Ward.

Yes sir, but it took time, replied the duty Sergeant, and you were correct, the older man has the mark.

Just as I thought, he nodded. Is there anything else to report?

Nothing untoward last night, but this morning it happened just like you said it would, came the reply. The older one ate half of his breakfast; then hid the rest in his bedclothes. The younger man noticed this, and made a grab for it when he wasn't looking. Quick as a flash, the older one came at him with the fork, threatening to kill him. I'm telling you, it took all my strength to keep those buggers apart.

Lessons learnt the hard way, Sergeant, Harry stated, remembering disturbing events he witnessed after front line troops had come across a Nazi concentration camp.

As the older man was brought in for interrogation, Harry and the Captain were having a quiet conversation. When it finished, they came in and sat opposite the prisoner; but before he began, Glover studied the old man. Christ, he thought, this poor sod is just skin and bone, we had better take things gently!

Can you confirm your name is Hans Eisener, originally from Linz? The man nodded.

What camp? Glover then asked.

I beg your pardon? the prisoner spluttered.

Come, come, Herr Eisener, please don't insult my intelligence, we know you are a well-educated, former doctor. As such, I'm guessing it was your political views that weren't shared by the Nazis, came as Harry grasped his left arm, pulling back the sleeve to expose a number roughly tattooed there. I'm sorry, we could have avoided that, you know; so again, what camp?

Dachau, he muttered.

Thank you, now we would like to know about your smuggling ring, and the person behind it. Please don't make this difficult, those on the other side won't be as patient.

You can't send me there, the eyes pleaded.

We may have to, if they learn of what has been discovered, warned Glover.

Okay, okay, all I know is, some of the medical supplies are stolen from somewhere in Bavaria, then smuggled here. My job is to check that the contents are what they purport to be, before they are taken east.

And how is that arranged?

The lorry drives to Lindener Strasse at night, where the cartons are lowered through a hole in the load bed to an open grating near the kerb. I go with them to prevent pilfering, Eisener admitted.

There's no honour among thieves, Harry commented.

So it would seem, agreed Glover. Now, this appears to be a dangerous and expensive enterprise; would you happen to know who finances and runs it.

Alex, was the reply.

Alec or Alexander, it could be a Russian on the make, suggested Harry, or even a female, Alexandra!

She is English, Eisener interrupted loudly. I've never seen her, only heard the voice; it was slow 'hoch Deutsch', the German taught to foreigners at a school.

Now that is very interesting, isn't it, Harry? commented Glover, scribbling a note and giving it to his Warrant Officer; who glanced at it then left the room.

Well, thank you for your co-operation, Herr Eisener, just one more question for now. Why on earth did you choose to continue living on the edge, given your past experiences?

If you had visited hell, been beaten, starved, denied any human decency and forced to adopt baser animal instincts just to survive; you would know why, Eisener said without emotion. After regaining your sanity and compassion, you make sure those without are supplied with the resources to keep their dignity, to survive and prosper. Rejecting society leaves only bitterness.

Admirable for one so slighted, thought Glover, but food and medicines, plus Lord knows what else, are being smuggled into the Russian zone. Given their rigid control over every aspect of life there, this should have been discovered long ago. So, what clever person has exposed a chink in their armour?

He learnt no more from the other prisoner, a Viennese resident and known felon, Fritz Engels. Because of worsening health, the smugglers only used him as a guide through the subterranean maze; for in pre-war days, he had used the tunnels many times, successfully evading capture by the police.

CHAPTER FOUR

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Corporal, come and have a look at this, called one of Doyle's men, hurrying him to where a tunnel divided in two. Aiming his torch at the floor, three objects reflected a dull yellow glow, having them lean down to see the Nazi eagle stamped on them. Placing a pencil alongside one, Doyle carefully lifted it with a handkerchief covering his hand, the weight confirming his expectations.

It's gold alright, he mumbled while replacing it, realising this meant yet more time wandering around in this smelly subterranean warren. Barnes, stay here and guard them; Atkins, go and fetch Captain Glover, he needs to see this. The rest of you, come with me.

The squad carefully examined the tunnels, both of which ended with an iron rung stairway and covers above, making them standard rainwater run-offs.

As there was no indication of disturbed or new brickwork, Doyle doubted any more gold, or explosives for that matter, were hidden there. However, it still bothered him that the nineteen-thirty-seven layout plans didn't show several of the tunnels, why was this?

Blimey, I know prized commodities like food, medical supplies, et cetera, don't come cheap in this city, but just how much stuff is passing through here? asked Harry Ward, as he stared at the gold bars. The black market racketeers must be raking it in like never before!

Be that as it may, I'm curious why these three bars were left here unattended, replied Captain Glover. One wonders if it could be a distraction; which begs the question, exactly what are they deflecting attention from? While we think on that; Harry, take the gold bars topside, before temptation strikes.

On my way, sir, he replied.

Hardly had he disappeared out of sight, when Corporal Doyle arrived carrying a small, heavyweight wooden box with Cyrillic writing on it.

More findings, sir, he reported, opening it to show several pistols and a quantity of ammunition. These weapons are standard Russian Army issue.

Oh dear, commented Glover. Now we really do have a problem! Are there more?  The corporal shook his head.

No sir, they were found in a similar situation to the gold bars.

Curiouser and curiouser! Right, Corporal Doyle, bring those with you, we must retreat to ground level and consult those on high for advice!

CHAPTER FIVE

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At Schonbrunn Palace, the Headquarters staff listened to what Glover had to say, before retreating into an inner sanctum to deliberate. Fifteen minutes later, he was called in and told his men were to finish their search for explosives; meanwhile, he and Ward were to carry out a delicate mission.

There has been a development: a senior officer thinks he recognises the handwriting in the letter, said the pompous sounding Lieutenant Colonel, handing over a note. Go to this address and interview the person there; but be very careful, she has the ear of those in high places.

Intrigued, the two military policemen made their way to a quiet avenue, now devoid of its trees, those having long disappeared to provide firewood. This exposed