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Over the bridge in Christianshavn, Tommy Sneum heard the commotion and went straight to the palace to watch the events unfold. This was, after all, the first substantial public gathering openly to defy the Germans since the occupation had begun. Understandably nervous, Danish policemen began to ready themselves for action under the watchful eye of their German puppet-masters. At this moment Sneum was confronted in the square by Captain Volle Gyth, the lowest-ranking Prince.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Gyth hissed. ‘If anyone recognizes you here, you’ll be arrested. Don’t you realize, you’ll risk all our lives.’

Sneum, who thought the older man was being melodramatic, mocked Gyth’s fear. ‘We only live once,’ he replied. ‘And you’ve got to die some time.’

The police began to move in and demanded that the students leave the vicinity of the palace. The uniformed constables drew their batons to leave the students in no doubt about what would happen if they didn’t comply. The demonstrators moved on, but only to where the Rigsdag and the Foreign Office were situated. Tommy followed at a safe distance and saw more sympathizers joining the throng. After a further stand-off, the police drove the demonstrators back, but the mass of angry young Danes began to march down Copenhagen’s main shopping street, the Stroeget, towards City Hall. On the way, they passed a fashionable restaurant, where a German officer assumed the passing crowd was on the street to celebrate the signing of the Anti-Comintern Pact. Arrogantly, he marched onto the restaurant’s balcony to accept their applause with a Nazi salute. Spontaneously, the demonstrators picked up whatever missiles they could find and began to stone the German. This act of violence provided the police with the excuse they needed: they rushed in, swinging their clubs against their fellow countrymen.

Sneum hid in a doorway and watched with disgust as the beatings increased in ferocity. Still the police failed to restore order, however. As word spread of the brutality that had accompanied the government’s signing of the pact, the ordinary citizens of Copenhagen became more irate. Huge crowds expressed anti-German feelings that had festered among many for more than a year and there were serious disturbances in the city center all night. Outside the Hotel d’Angleterre, where Sneum had dreamed of assassinating a top Nazi, the people sang Allied songs, such as the old British soldiers’ favorite ‘Tipperary.’ Even when arrested and thrown into cells, they refused to fall silent, singing ‘God Save the King’ and other pro-British anthems until their defiance rang in the ears of their captors.

The following day, students were threatened with expulsion from the universities if they didn’t leave the streets and come to order. Although there was more trouble that night, most felt they had made their point and peace was restored after two momentous days.

Sneum wanted to communicate these events to London, just as Rabagliati would have expected him to, but he didn’t have any crystals to use with his radio set. He didn’t know what the solution might be, but he did know that it was time to make contact with the chief engineer from Bang and Olufsen.

In the first week of December Tommy called Werner Gyberg and asked him to arrange a meeting with Lorens Arne Duus Hansen. Gyberg told him to go to Kongens Nytorv and sit on the bench furthest from the Hotel d’Angleterre. At 2.00 p.m. Duus Hansen would introduce himself.

There were sixteen benches in Kongens Nytorv, or the New Royal Market, forming a circle around the central monument, a magnificent statue of King Christian V on horseback. Tommy walked to the appointed one and sat down. Even though he had previously socialized in many bars with the German occupying forces, he felt strangely conspicuous now. Stripped of direct contact and beer as a prop, he worried in case his presence seemed suspicious, and he had the sensation that his loitering would be noticed. Even sitting as far away from German Headquarters as possible, he knew