Lion Hunter

Cover

Prologue

Leningrad, Russia

May, 1941

THE YOUNG RUSSIAN soldier stood near his wounded target. He had shot the German from over a hundred yards and had closed in to finish the job. With an outward appearance of calm, he raised his rifle and began to apply pressure to the trigger.

This was the first German he had ever seen, let alone shot. The wounded man was not wearing a uniform; in fact, he looked like any other Russian in Leningrad, with nothing to wear except rags.

He had walked by this man who was with two others an hour ago and thought he had heard the man he had shot speaking German. After that, he kept an eye on them. They were observing the preparations for the defence of the city with too much interest. When the Germans noticed someone was watching them, they made a run for it into a nearby alley. The man lying on the ground bled profusely from the chest. The other two had dragged him into the shadows with them.

As he released his finger off the trigger guard, an old man hobbled around the corner from the opposite end of the narrow corridor, seemingly unaware of what was transpiring. The soldier waved him away but still the crippled man kept coming forward, into the line of fire, his body bent over with arthritis and his long dirty coat dragging on the ground behind him.

When he reached the Russian soldier, he looked at him with a sideways glance and mumbled something with his hand held out. The soldier was about to shove him away when he realized this was one of the Germans he had been following. The old man amazingly began growing as he straightened his body, all signs of sickness gone. Standing now only a foot away from the old man, the soldier was able to face him eye to eye. The rifle now pointed off at an angle. Thinking what cold eyes the German had, his last thoughts flickered sporadically as he felt cold steel go through his greatcoat and pierce the flesh of his stomach.

Hans Farber could feel the steel go through tissue and mingle with the Russian’s intestines, finally resting in the man’s liver.

Shooting a man from a hundred yards is so impersonal, don’t you think, he whispered in the Russian’s ear as he forced their embrace tighter.

With a shove, he let the Russian drop to the ground, the steam rising from the fatal wound. He put a foot on the body. Bending over, he wiped his blade on the Russian’s coat. With a twist of his wrist, he made the commando knife retract into its sheath. Turning around, he ran back to his friend, Gunther Altmann, lying in the dirt.

It did not look good. Altmann had lost too much blood to make it back to their camp. Hans knelt down and held the shivering man in his arms. I’m sorry, Gunther. It looks like you won’t be going back with us. I didn’t enjoy using you as bait.

I know, Hans, Altmann whispered. The fatal bullet had been a lung shot. The blood flowed freely down Hans’ arms as he held his friend.

Did you get the bastard that did this?

Yes, I think he was a seasoned pro, Hans lied. Who else could take you down?

Gunther tried to laugh but it only made the blood flow faster from his mouth. With a final wheeze, he drooped in his friend’s arms and was quiet.

Hans laid the body down and said a silent prayer. Standing up, he gave a salute and left Altmann to the scavengers, human and animal alike.

Hans nodded to the remaining team member, who had positioned himself behind some boxes to cover Hans when he had approached the Russian. Hans had told him not to fire on the Russian. They had drawn enough attention already. Falling into the crippled act, the two-member team made their way through the city. They had been here now for three weeks and had a good picture of the defences. The main German army wasn’t far away and would soon begin its siege of Leningrad. The citizens had worked hard at building the defences. Anti-tank traps were set on the outskirts of the city with heavy weapons strategically placed. The German army’s plans for taking the city were going to be in for a large setback, he thought.

They travelled for another hour, through pipes and under concrete until they were on the periphery of the city. Another hour and they were in deep woods. They carefully threaded their way through alarms that had been set up to keep the squad safe.

Hans had started with a team of ten and was now down to five. The mission was taking a toll on his men. Trained as they had been, he had never heard a complaint. They would soon be finished, he thought. Then, back to Berlin and on to another mission for the Abwehr.

Even his own men thought he was a strange one, he reflected. He went on one mission after another, one success after another. When Admiral Canaris needed a job done with no mistakes he knew he could rely on Hans Farber.

The story among the Abwehr staff was that Hans was on the fast track to succeed Canaris; the admiral was making sure the general staff noticed everything Hans did. He was now the youngest agent in the unit and was the most valued.

Standing outside the cave they were working from, Hans looked around before going in. This mission would soon be over and he was already wondering what the next one would bring. He didn’t dream it would be his last.

1

London, England

July 15, 1941

HARRY HOPKINS GLANCED out the window of his car at the passing London streets. It never failed to amaze him how beautiful this city was. Known as the unofficial emissary of the president, Hopkins was working directly for President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who had sent him to London and then on to Russia to be the eyes and ears for his leader in dealing with the Lend-Lease program. He had an appointment with Winston Churchill at nine o’clock and was urging the driver to make better speed.

Hopkins had flown in this morning and had gone directly from the aircraft to Churchill’s residence. This was not out of place, for he had had many meetings with the British leader since the war had begun.

The driver pulled into Downing Street and slowed to a stop near number 10. Showing his ID, Hopkins went through security and walked to the door. It was an unassuming building with its brick front and modest width. Walking up on the single stone step, Hopkins grasped the black iron knocker and let it hit once with a gentle tap. Moments later, a butler answered the door with Churchill’s bodyguard standing in the background behind the servant, watching the proceedings closely.

Good morning, Charles, Hopkins said to the butler. Mr. Churchill is expecting me.

This way, sir, he answered, directing Hopkins in with a graceful wave.

Together they moved from the foyer toward the dining room. Hopkins gave a nod to Walter Thompson, Churchill’s bodyguard and trusted friend. Because of Churchill’s busy lifestyle, he had each day broken down into segments. Each hour was allocated for personal and business affairs. He held off seeing anyone regarding business until after three o’clock. As it was still early, Hopkins hoped Churchill would understand that he was pressed for time and still had to go to Russia.

Arriving at the door to the small dining room, the butler gave it a quick tap and entered, announcing Hopkins as he went in. The prime minister was sitting at the head of the dining table. Smoke rose from a cigar lying in the ashtray beside him.

Come in, come in, Harry old man! yelled Churchill as he rose from his chair to greet him. That will be all for now, Charles, thank you.

The butler left the room, closing the door behind him, as Churchill came up to Hopkins and shook his hand. All the stories one heard about Churchill’s appearance were true. He did look like a bulldog and was just as tenacious when he became fixated on something.

Churchill motioned to Hopkins to take a seat at the table beside him. Hopkins could not help but be impressed with the room with its wood-panelled walls. With its unadorned ceiling, the room was not to impress heads of state. It was for personal dining and small meetings, with space for twelve.

While Hopkins made himself comfortable, Churchill poured coffee, passing one to Hopkins as he sat opposite him.

How are things at the White House? I would imagine busy.

They have been, yes, and getting busier every day. As you know, even though the States isn’t at war, that doesn’t stop the intelligence machine from gathering and sorting.

No, you’re right on the money there. If I didn’t sign off on the reports MI6 sends me every day, my office would be overrun by the scoundrels.

Which brings me to why I asked to see you, Hopkins said. President Roosevelt has concluded that it is time for he and you to meet, the sooner the better.

I agree, Churchill replied. We’ve long been admirers from afar, and I think if we don’t meet soon it will never happen. Churchill leaned back from the chair and, putting his drink on the table next him, clasped his hands together.

Hopkins was silent for a few moments as he absorbed what Churchill had said. I think I may say the president would be pleased that you both feel the same, Mr. Prime Minister. He has always admired the way you’ve stood up to Hitler.

Churchill took a deep breath and exhaled with a sigh. "I warned the government about Hitler since he wrote that excuse for a book, Mein Kampf, back in the ’30s. Nobody took me seriously until that meeting between Chamberlain and Hitler turned out to be a farce. It’s time we put an end to this madness of his.

As you know, your president’s staff and mine have been working on making this meeting happen for months now. The latest location mentioned is near the new base in Argentia, Newfoundland. Have you heard the same? Churchill asked.

Yes, sir, Hopkins replied.

The decision to have it in Argentia had taken some time, he thought. First it was to be in Bermuda, but both sides agreed that if Churchill had to return quickly for an emergency, it would be too long a trip. They finally agreed on Argentia. There was a large contingent of American and Canadian soldiers there, as well as plenty of air cover. It would be a good location to discuss matters face to face and talk strategy.

Would you fly over to Newfoundland, sir? Hopkins asked.

No. I would definitely go by ship.

Don’t you think it might be risky taking a ship across the Atlantic with all the U-boat activity going on? Hopkins asked.

I’ve always been a navy man and always will be a navy man. It wouldn’t do for the public to find out their leader and former first Lord of the Admiralty flew across the ocean, frightened of the same enemy he defeated in the last war, would it?

When you put it that way, it makes sense.

I’ll tell you, Harry, if the United States does not get involved in this war, Britain will soon be conquered. We can hold out for a while longer, but after Britain falls the Nazis will be on your doorstep, knocking to get in.

Churchill rose from his chair and walked over to the deep window seats. Turning around, he faced Hopkins; he walked back to the table and reached for a cigar.

You have a great leader in Roosevelt, said Churchill. Maybe some day your president’s picture will adorn my desk as another hero I admire. Time will tell. You can be sure I will call him immediately and we will get this organized. Time is of the essence.

I don’t see any problem with the meeting going ahead, especially since you’re willing to cross the Atlantic, at great risk to yourself, to meet with him, Hopkins said. As you say, this must be kept under the greatest secrecy.

You’re a fine man, Hopkins. The president was wise in sending you to Britain as his representative, Churchill answered.

Hopkins rose as Churchill came over to shake his hand. Both men walked to the door and left the dining room. Churchill escorted Hopkins to the front door. Pausing for a moment as the door opened, both men took in the scene of the security snapping to attention on seeing Churchill.

You take good care of yourself now, Harry. You are going to be the lifeline between your president and myself for the next little while. I don’t want any harm coming to you.

Don’t worry, sir, I’ve always been the prudent sort. As soon as I deal with the Russians I’ll be back, hopefully before you sail.

With both men shaking hands, Hopkins walked to the waiting car. Looking in the rear-view mirror, he could see Churchill standing in the same spot with his hands resting on his hips, watching him leave. Leaving Downing Street, the guards waved him on, with one guard yelling, See you again!

You can bet on that, thought Hopkins. Sooner than you think.

An hour more in London, and from there straight to Russia.

2

Berlin, Germany

July 19, 1941

THE MORNING SUN’S rays beat down on the city of Berlin. It was the middle of July and this was day five of a spectacular heat wave. The first couple of days had been pleasurable, but now it was becoming oppressive: grass was turning brown under the sun’s onslaught; water was becoming a valuable commodity, which Berliners were using to trade for fans and other necessities.

Walking down Berlin’s main thoroughfare, Hans Farber amused himself with the thought that with the majority of Germans being fair-skinned, all this heat was nature’s way of knocking some of the German superiority down a few notches. He was himself a member of the Nazi party, but you had to be if you wished to succeed and move ahead in your job. It didn’t mean he had to enjoy it.

By now everyone walked around with faces that had seen too much sun. He himself was not too badly off, having not long returned from the eastern front, where some heat would have been welcome. Wearing his best suit, Hans Farber flowed along with the crowds of people going about their business.

He glanced at the people as they walked by him, always suspicious and on the alert. Some habits die hard, he thought. He glanced down at his watch. His appointment was for nine this morning and he did not want to be late. He did a quick check of his suit. He hardly ever wore one these days, except on special occasions like today, when he was seeing Admiral Canaris.

Hans stood still across the street from Abwehr headquarters. The size of the building always amazed him. Encompassing the entire block located in central Berlin, it was a desirable piece of real estate. The building needed to be large; the organization had over 13,000 employees worldwide.

The division was the intelligence department of the Third Reich and fell under the Ministry of Defence. Hans worked for the foreign intelligence collection branch. His section dealt mainly with embassies in neutral and friendly countries and planted spies in enemy locations dealing