Free Burn After Reading by Ladislas Farago

was due to the incompetence of key personnel. The naïveté with which Stevens and Best fell into Schellenberg’s trap indicated that they were by no means the ideal choices for such delicate jobs. They were tired adventurers, over-ripe for retirement.
    The blow Schellenberg had dealt had a frightful impact on Whitehall’s approach to the secret war in that it dissuaded the disillusioned and embittered British Secret Service from ever again dealing with even the most deserving Germans who came bearing such gifts. But at the same time, it also had a salutary effect. It led to the long overdue, complete reorganization of the British intelligence setup.
    The whole incident shook British complacency to its roots, but the ultimate shock came from a venomous little touch administered by Schellenberg. Even as Stevens and Best were being safely salted away in the Gestapo cellars in Prinz Albrecht Strasse, Schellenberg used the wireless set-up they had created to send one last message to London. It read:
    â€œCommunication for any length of time with conceited and silly people is dull. You will understand, therefore, that we are giving it up. You are hereby heartily greeted by your affectionate German opposition.
    The Gestapo.”
    In London the message was duly set down by the British operator who acknowledged it with a polite “Thank you” and, as usual, added his name—Walsh.

6
The Great Carillon
    Early in 1937, Hitler had given Canaris the green light to establish an espionage network in Great Britain, and the delighted admiral set to work at once. Operating responsibility fell to Colonel Karl Busch, a veteran intelligence officer who headed the Abwehr’s Anglo-American branch.
    Busch set up not one, but two, separate rings in Britain. The first was made up of relatively petty agents. It included hundreds of German maedchen who were planted as domestic servants in the homes of important Britons. Like other spies, these girls were trained at the Abwehr school in Hamburg where they learned such diverse things as how to prepare English roast beef and how to operate a wireless transmitter.
    Busch regarded this ring as useful, but expendable. It would gather handy information, but its major purpose was to act as a gigantic decoy. Busch expected that it would so absorb the attention of the woefully-undermanned British counter-espionage agencies that the second, and far deeper, ring would go undetected.
    Most of the members of Ring No. 2 were dormant. They were to establish themselves in key positions in Britain but to do no peacetime work unless they came across something of the utmost importance. Only when war itself came were they to unpack their ingenious transmitters and go into action.
    By 1939, both rings were functioning according to plan. And both were known to British counter-spies, thanks to a little hairdresser of Dundee, Scotland. Mrs. Jessie Jordan, a middle-aged, middle-class widow, led a humdrum middle-of-the-road life on Kinlock Street in Dundee. She was a Scotswoman, and average in every respect: homely, industrious and insufferably dull. Her beauty parlor was quite a favorite with the ladies of the neighborhood.
    Mrs. Jordan was also a favorite of the mailman because she was always most generous with tips. She had reason for being so open-handed. People like Mrs. Jordan usually receive very little mail, but hers was exceptionally heavy, a fact that the mailman reported to his superiors. His report wound up on the desk of a big, bluff, broad-shouldered, stern-looking man, Colonel Hinchley Cooke, in Room 505 of the War Office. It was the room which housed MI.5, the counter-espionage service.
    Mrs. Jordan was put under discreet surveillance, and soon Cooke learned some interesting facts about her. He found out that she was the widow of a German who had died fighting for the Kaiser in the First World War. Then it transpired that several times in 1937 she had gone surreptitiously to Germany.