Free The Spy Net by Henry Landau Page A

His precious information piled up only to become valueless as the days dragged by. Frantically, he waited for a courier from Holland to pick up his reports at the letter box, which he had established in Liège.
    In Holland, Afchain was working feverishly to find some means of reaching Liège. He could no longer pick a trusted courier from a dozen volunteers. He would be fortunate if he could find anyone at all to undertake the dangerous mission.
    His chief at British GHQ wired him impatiently. He tooka risk. Whether he handed a letter for Lambrecht to an intermediary, who was duped, or whether he himself was tricked, is not known exactly. The letter, however, fell into the hands of Keurvers, a Dutchman in the employ of the German counterespionage service.
    Lambrecht’s ‘letter box’ in Liège was a small cigar store owned by one of his relatives, a man called Leclercq. While Leclercq was out Keurvers called at the store and introduced himself to Madame Leclercq as a Dutchman who had just arrived from Holland with an urgent letter for her husband. Madame Leclercq, fully aware of her husband’s dangerous activities, was suspicious. This man with his red, bloated face, and small vicious eyes, repulsed her; besides, his accent seemed more German than Dutch. She refused to accept the letter. But Keurvers, not to be put off, countered with the password: ‘The seven boxes of tricolour cigars have arrived safely.’ Madame Leclercq was nonplussed: she recognised the words, but still she could not bring herself to trust the man. After some hesitation she replied that her husband had told her nothing about the cigars, and that they were not expecting any letters from Holland.
    As soon as Keurvers was out of sight, she hastened to Lambrecht with the news. To her surprise, instead of praising her discretion, he scolded her for being overcautious. ‘He gave the right password, didn’t he? What more did you want?’ Thoroughly dismayed, she hurried back to the store, where she found Keurvers had returned in her absence and left the letter with her servant together with a message that he would be back the next morning at ten o’clock. The message and the letter were quickly conveyed to Lambrecht.
    Lambrecht eagerly opened the small roll containing the letter, and found that it was in Afchain’s familiar handwriting. It was dated 24 February 1916, and contained the following message:
    I confirm the long list of merchandise orders delivered to you, 28 January, care of our friend Dupont (Leclercq’s service name), but regret having received no reply.
    Our delivery man, who brought you the above orders, being unable to continue with his duties, I am using the present carrier, who will contact you once a week. I believe he is the only one who can do this at the present moment. I hope you will be able to pull us out of our present critical situation by giving him a report, as complete as possible, of all the merchandise in your store. It is absolutely necessary to make use of the present opportunity, as none of our competitors are in a position to deliver .
    If Madame Leclercq had sowed any doubts in his mind, they were quickly dispelled by Afchain’s letter, which was undoubtedly genuine. Lambrecht was ready to welcome Keurvers with open arms, so relieved was he that regular communications with Holland had once more been established. His thoughts immediately turned to the accumulation of six weeks’ reports which he had in his possession. He knew they would be too bulky as they were, and so the night was spent making a résumé of all but the most recent ones.
    At ten o’clock next morning, Lambrecht was at the Leclercq cigar store, in the rue de Campine. As he entered, he saw a man in conversation with Leclercq. It was Keurvers. Leclercq immediately called Lambrecht aside into the small parlour atthe back of the store. He, too, shared his wife’s suspicions of this man. But Lambrecht could not be persuaded: there was Afchain’s