The Hornet's Sting_ The Amazing Untold Story of World War II Spy Thomas Sneum - Mark Ryan [96]
‘The Count,’ he said. ‘I took it from the Count.’
Knowing that 15 St. Annaegade belonged to Countess Trampe, the boy had assumed that Sneum was her aristocratic husband. Armed with the address, the police wasted no time in mounting a raid.
Before Tommy could leave the building with the radio, his telephone rang. It was Emmy, warning that two uninvited visitors were outside the front door. She had pulled a bucket and sponge out into the main hall and was pretending to be cleaning the floor, but she didn’t know how long she could stall them. Once she had hung up, the knocks on the door became louder. The two plainclothes policemen were threatening to break down the door, so Emmy decided to try a charm offensive. As soon as she opened the door, however, they brushed past her.
‘We’ve come to see the Count,’ said the leading detective impatiently, looking around for anyone who might be ready to make a break for it.
‘Well, you won’t find him here,’ answered Emmy truthfully. Before she could delay them, though, they had begun their climb to the fifth floor. They raced all the way up to Sneum’s door in no time, and he was trapped. If he tried to scramble out of his window now, they would hear him. He had two choices: try to fight his way past them and risk being shot; or stay where he was and pretend to be out.
He recalled his fear: ‘I looked through the little spyhole in his door and recognized one of the men on the other side. It was Detective Esbensen, one of the most pro-German police officers in the whole of Copenhagen. Bertelsen, my brother-in-law, had given me photographs of the most dangerous policemen soon after I landed back in Denmark. Now I was practically face to face with the worst of them.’
It was Esbensen’s job to track down anti-Nazi elements and eliminate anyone who might threaten the cosy cooperation that existed between Denmark and the occupying forces. If the first British-run spy in Copenhagen were caught, the consequences certainly wouldn’t be pretty for him. Sneum might be sent to Germany for torture at the hands of the Gestapo, packed off to a concentration camp or simply executed. Whatever Sneum’s fate, he knew there wouldn’t be a happy ending if Esbensen got through that door.
He heard Emmy climbing the stairs in one last attempt to save him.
‘Gentlemen, please. Surely there must be some mistake,’ she pleaded.
‘Who lives here?’ demanded Esbensen.
‘Just a tenant, a very nice chap,’ replied Emmy, looking as casual as she could. ‘He passed me on the stairs at lunchtime and seemed in a rush to go out. He hasn’t come back yet.’
Esbensen tried the door and discovered that it was locked. ‘Do you have a spare key?’ he asked. ‘Otherwise I’m afraid we’ll have to break down the door.’
On the other side of that door, Tommy’s heart thumped a little louder as he willed Emmy to think on her feet. She said she thought there might be duplicate a key in her apartment, along with some of the tenant’s details. ‘You can see the street from there, so you will be in a good position to notice when he comes home. Follow me,’ she said breezily.
The last thing Tommy could make out as the trio started to descend the stairs was Emmy declaring herself to be terrible with names. He wondered how long she would be allowed to play dumb as she went through the motions of searching for the key and documents, which of course she would be unable to find. He guessed a minute or two at best. Leaving only a pair of spectacles on a table in his room, he crept downstairs, carrying the precious new radio transmitter in its neat little case. Praying that no creaking floorboard would betray him, he slipped out of the front door and walked away as briskly as he dared. With a smile he remembered: ‘Emmy told the policemen they could observe