The Hornet's Sting_ The Amazing Untold Story of World War II Spy Thomas Sneum - Mark Ryan [112]
With his worst fears confirmed, Tommy cursed his British spymaster, Rabagliati, for ignoring his warnings before the mission had even begun. But he also cursed himself, for not killing Christophersen when he had the chance. He knew the Danish police would now check all his old contacts and visit his regular haunts. More than ever, it was time to behave in a way the Danish authorities would least expect. ‘At the time, I was very much concerned about staying alive, and that’s why I moved into the Hotel Astoria,’ Sneum explained later. ‘I thought it was the one place where the people who were hunting me would never think to look.’
On the face of it, there was nothing wrong with the Astoria: the architecture was a little grim, but that made it no different to many hotels situated next to a city’s central railway station. What made it a curious choice as a spy’s hideaway was the fact that it was inhabited by half of the middle-ranking German officers in Denmark. It was a place where some of Hitler’s luckier soldiers could enjoy a convivial atmosphere, free from the rigours of enforcing an occupation. Ideally placed to welcome colleagues on their arrival in Denmark, the hotel was also a handy venue when giving units a send-off before they were transferred elsewhere.
In a further gamble, Tommy made no attempt to deceive any of the German officers in the Astoria about his naval past. He was quite happy for it to be known that he had been a flight lieutenant in Fleet Air Arm. The way he saw it, he needed the respect and friendship of the Germans in order to make the location work for him. Outrageously, he even used his real name when he introduced himself, confident that he was building a reputation among longerterm residents as an ally and occasional source of information. Meal times meant shared tables, and he tried to keep his cool as he ate with men who could make his worst nightmares come true. ‘I just laughed as they tried to test me,’ he remembered. ‘It seemed to work.’
It wasn’t the Germans who grew wary of Agent Sneum during these dangerous March days. Naturally enough, there were members of the Danish resistance among the staff and non-German guests inside the Astoria, locals who discreetly monitored the comings and goings of the occupiers. They would also make a mental note of any Danes seen collaborating with German officers. One morning, two Copenhagen men, tough characters who had also been engaged in the silent fight to gather intelligence on the enemy, entered the Astoria’s dining room and spotted Tommy at a table with several Nazis. Sneum spotted the Danish pair, too: ‘These men had been present at the reception dinner the Princes held for my arrival back in September. You should have seen the expressions on their faces when they saw me. They were angry, and looked at me as though I were a traitor. I just tried to ignore them because obviously I couldn’t explain what I was doing there.’ If his own friends on Fanoe had distrusted him earlier in the war, then these acquaintances from the capital would take a far dimmer view of his apparent collaboration. To them, it must have looked as though he had gone over wholeheartedly to the other side, having cracked under the pressure of imminent arrest.
A few days later, an even more dangerous arrival grabbed Tommy’s attention. As he finished off a lavish breakfast with his new German ‘friends’, he saw two Danish detectives, faces he recognized from photographs supplied by Bertelsen. ‘It was a very bad moment,’ he remembered. ‘They were part of the squad whose job it was to hunt down any subversive people who were against the German occupation. I was probably top of their list. I could feel my heart beating and I looked for the best escape route. There wasn’t one because they were standing at the door. And I hadn’t brought my pistol down to breakfast.’ With no exit