Synopsis

In Chapter 1 (KTB #148) ERICH begins his career as a spy, and he lets us know of his love of beautiful women. In Chapter 2 (KTB #149), he was transferred home to Germany and his shipboard romance with Karen ended. In Chapter 3 (KTB #151) he began his training as a spy – and he learned that a spy who falls in love with an enemy spy – gets shot! In Chapter 4 (KTB #152) we read where ERICH himself falls for a woman who turned out to be a German spy herself and her job was to lure German spies in training to betray themselves – and ERICH is nearly washed out of spy training. In Chapter 5 (KTB #153) we learned that ERICH was to be in charge of Operation PELIKAN, the plan to blow up the Panama Canal with two Ju 87 STUKA dive bombers brought over on two U-boats. At the last moment, it was thought by the German agency, that someone had tipped off the Americans to this plot, so the plan was scrapped. In Chapter 6 (KTB #154 and KTB #155) we read how ERICH and the Abwehr tried to find him a partner for his mission into the USA with the intended purpose of sabotaging the Manhattan Project – the atomic bomb project in the United States. In Chapter 7 (KTB #156) we read about the Atlantic crossing to the USA where ERICH and Billy were to be put ashore to assault the ‘Manhattan Project’. In Chapter 8 (KTB #157), the two agents landed on the coast of Maine, ready to begin their sabotage of the atomic bomb project. In Chapter 9 (KTB #158) ERICH gets the shock of learning that Billy has taken all the money and the diamonds, and deserted not only the mission, but ERICH as well. In the first part of Chapter 10 (KTB #159) ERICH is trying desperately to find Billy – and get his $60,000 and diamonds back. In the balance of Chapter 10, we see how ERICH outwitted Billy and got his suitcases, filled with money and spy equipment back – at Billy’s expense but in the meantime to nobody’s surprise, ERICH has found another woman. In chapter 11, ERICH is doing well with this new woman, an old contact is going to tell him about the Manhattan Project - but his time is running out and Billy is about to betray him to the F.B.I. In Chapter 12, ERICH was happily spending Christmas with Joan, but his tour of duty as a spy – and his life, were almost over. He was arrested by the F.B.I. and headed for the gallows.

Chapter 13
Grilled by the F.B.I.

(Editor Note - ERICH has just been arrested by the F.B.I. It appears that the clock is about to run out on him.

They certainly knew their job and I found myself so wedged between them that any attempt to escape would have been suicidal; at the same time everything was done so unobtrusively that not one of the thousands who at that time were crossing Times Square could possibly have imagined that anything at all out of the ordinary was going on.

“My name is Nelson,” said one of the two men. He was short and stocky, with a round head and lively eyes. He showed me his badge. “This isn’t a very good place to talk,” he went on. “Come along with us.”

The newspaper stand which had spelled my doom had behind it a small room. We went inside. “I would now like to know what you want with me,” I began.

“I’ll tell you that straight away,” replied Nelson. He lit a cigarette, smiled and indicated his colleague.

“May I introduce to you Mr. Gillies, Mr. Green.”

“I told you my name is not Green.”

“Show me your papers.”

I produced a document bearing the name Frank Miller.

“They certainly know how to forge papers in Germany” he replied.

I realized now that I was for it and the only thing that surprised me was that the F.B.I. did not push me into a car and drive me off for interrogation at once.

“Well, Mr. Miller,” said Nelson, “where do you live?”

“I come from Chicago?”

I gave him an address, which I learned by heart. He made a note of it. “And how long have you been in New York?

“Ten days,” I replied.

“And what are you doing here?”

“I am on business.”

“Mm, Mm,” he said, “on business - just think of that. Well, I’ve got a little message for you”.

“For me?”

“From William Curtis Colepaugh, otherwise known as Billy. He’s been waiting a fortnight for you already.”

“I don’t know him.”

Gillies went up to the telephone and dialed a number. He cursed quietly on finding it engaged. At the second attempt he got through. “We’ve got him,” he said. “Come along over...........No you can be quite sure, there’s absolutely no doubt about it.” Then he hung up.

Nelson went on with his interrogation.

“I’ll tell you something. About five weeks ago you landed in Frenchman Bay. The two of you. Then by a roundabout route you traveled. From Boston you came to New York. In New York your friend stole the suitcases. You recovered them at Grand Central Station - that was marvelous, the way you did that. You’ve got a quantity of money and diamonds with you and a wireless transmitter. And I’ll wager that you’ve already sent a report through to Germany.

“Yes,” he continued. “We’ve waited a long time for you. You’ve certainly held out a good while. Longer than all your colleagues; and you didn’t make any mistakes.” He toyed with his revolver. It was a Smith & Wesson, latest model. He took hold of it and aimed out of the window.

“To be precise, you made one solitary mistake. As soon as you landed, you should have taken your revolver and shot Billy between the eyes. No American would have held that against you.”

“I’ll take your advice next time,” I replied.

I knew now that there was no point in pursuing the role of the indignant, wrongfully arrested American. They had Billy, and Billy had given me away. There was no doubt about that. There was no harm in admitting to what they already knew about me, but I must at all costs keep quiet about what they did not know.

I thought of Joan, of Santi, of Brown, of my contact men in South America. All of them would be in the greatest possible danger if I did not keep my mouth shut.

“Where are you staying in New York?”

I hesitated for a moment.

“If you don’t tell us, your picture will appear in every New York newspaper tomorrow morning, and I’ll bet you anything that we’ll have your address by 7 o’clock at the latest. Do you believe me?”

“All right,” I replied. “I’m staying at the Pennsylvania Hotel, room 1559.”

“I’m glad you’ve decided to be sensible. Now I’m afraid I must search you. Would you please empty your pockets?” I put everything on the table. A comb, a knife, two handkerchiefs, a wallet and several bundles of banknotes. Gillies counted the money. There was more than $10,000 dollars.

“You certainly carry plenty of money around with you.”

“It’s an old habit of mine.”

“Just have another look in your pockets and make sure you’ve forgotten nothing,” said Nelson, “otherwise I shall get into trouble afterwards.”

“I’ve still got my wrist-watch.”

“Give it me, please.”

The door opened and a man of medium height with an intelligent face, lively eyes and a small dashing moustache came in.

“Here’s the boss,” explained Nelson. “Mr. Connelly, Deputy Head of the F.B.I.”

“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,” I said.

“Me too,” he replied, and smiled.

“It’s a good thing you’ve managed to keep you sense of humor. You’ll certainly need it.” He had a pleasant voice. It was a voice I was to hear for days and weeks on end. The questions he put to me became ever more unpleasant, but the tone in which they were put remained always friendly.

Nelson was in a corner of the room taking notes. Connelly came up to me. “I’ve one request,” he said. “I’d like to take a look at your hotel room.”

“Go ahead,” I replied.

“Not without your express permission.”

“I don’t understand,” I replied. “If I don’t give you permission you will have it searched just the same.” His smile broadened.

“Tomorrow, yes, but not today. I shan’t be able to get a search warrant today.” This punctiliousness seemed so strange to me that I was at a loss to understand it. In the last year of the war the F.B.I. could still afford to abide by the strict letter of the law in respect of an enemy, a spy, a saboteur.

“Go along by all means,” I said. “You’ll be thrilled with what you find there.”

“I’ve no doubt about that.” Connelly went to the telephone and gave instructions for the room to be searched.

“That’s fine,” he said. “I’ll go on ahead now. We’ll question you in my office.” He nodded to me and to his two officers.

“I hate to do it,” said Nelson, “but I must ask you for your arm.”

I stretched out my and he handcuffed me to Gillies. “We have our instructions,” he said by way of apology.

We got into a car. The noise and bustle on Times Square had increased. New Years Eve! Confetti was flying above our heads. People were laughing and shouting and joking with each other. A new year was beginning, a year which was certain to bring peace. The Americans were celebrating this is advance. They clapped us on the back, smiled at us and utterly failed to notice that I was handcuffed. They were on the threshold of peace. I was at the gates of death.

Nelson drove and I sat with Gillies at the back of the car.

“It’s time we had a drink,” I said.

“I could do with one myself,” replied Nelson.

“Well then, might I invite you gentleman to take a drink with me?”

“But you wouldn’t want to go and have a drink like this, would you?” laughed Nelson.

“Well, you could take the cuffs off. I certainly shan’t run away from you.”

“I quite believe you,” answered Nelson. “But perhaps we’ll find a bottle of something in my office.” Connelly was waiting for us. He was wearing a dark suit with a bright tie. He looked full of energy and enterprise.

“Welcome!” he said. It sounded facetious but not malicious.

“The whole of American rejoices at this moment,” he said. “You’ve no idea what a job we’ve had to catch you. Next time don’t put your change in your breast pocket. That’s what gave you away.”

“I’ll make a note of that, Mr. Connelly,” I said.

He clapped me on the back.

“He’s a nice chap,” he said, “our friend Gimpel.” So he already knew my real name.

“Where’s Billy?” I asked.

“In the next room. Are you impatient to see him?”

“By no means.”

“I like you,” said Connelly. “But I don’t want to have anything to do with your friend. You might have saved us the trouble, but now we’ve got to hang him.”

Connelly brought me a glass of whisky.

“Drink up,” he said, “it will do you good. You’ve got a long night in front of you and a long day. We’ve got to cross-question you now, but we’ll make it as pleasant as we can.”

I answered in the same strain.

EDITOR NOTE – It must have been difficult for ERICH, trying to remain friendly with the F.B.I. agents yet all the while, knowing that he would be hanged eventually. And it must have been even more aggravating to know that Billy was in the next room – the guy who gave him up - and he couldn’t get to him.

This gets even more ominous for ERICH in KTB #166 next month. The New Year is usually a joyous time, but New Year of 1945 was anything but joyous for ERICH GIMPEL.

Spy for Germany

Chapter 7: To America by Submarine (KTB # 156)
Chapter 8: The Landing in America (KTB # 157)
Chapter 9: Tricked by Billy in NYC (KTB # 158)
Chapter 10 (I): I Work Out My Own Situation (KTB # 159)
Chapter 10 (II): I Work Out My Own Situation (KTB # 160)
Chapter 11 (I): Billy Betrays Me to the F.B.I. (KTB # 161)
Chapter 11 (II): Billy Betrays Me to the F.B.I. (KTB # 162)
Chapter 12 (I): Love -- and then Arrest! (KTB # 163)
Chapter 12 (II): Love -- and then Arrest! (KTB # 164)
Chapter 13 (I): Grilled by the FBI (KTB # 165)