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Counterfeit Traitor The 1962 CD1

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There are times when it's not pleasant to see your picture in the paper.
This was one of them.
The article was direct and to the point.
It said that Cordell Hull, the secretary of state for the United States,
had released a list of certain Swedish citizens
who had been giving economic aid and comfort to the Axis powers.
In other words, I was considered a Nazi collaborator.
I had been trading with Germany.
There was no secret about it.
I'd been importing oil for years from all over the world.
That was my business.
And even now with the war on, there was nothing illegal about it.
Sweden was neutral and traded with both sides.
When I went to my office that morning, I received a call
from a friend of my brother's who was in Stockholm on business.
He was staying at the Grand Hotel. I went over.
I knew the blacklist would be printed in the American papers,
and it was sure to embarrass my brother and parents
who lived in New York.
I wanted to explain a few things to this man
so that he could take back my side of the story.
The lobby of the Grand was a busy place.
Like Lisbon and Istanbul and other neutral cities,
Stockholm was crowded with what were euphemistically called "visitors".
They came from every country
and babbled away in a dozen different tongues.
Some were there to buy Swedish ball bearings and Bofors guns,
and the rest were espionage agents trying their best
to see that the shipments never reached their destinations.
Come in, come in.
Sorry not to have finished, I slept late.
- Let me take your things. - I'll put them here, thanks.
- May I offer you something? - No, thank you.
Please sit down.
- You're British. - Have been for years.
You didn't sound it on the phone.
I didn't call.
Thank you.
- How's that brother of mine? - I really don't know.
You see, I've never met your brother.
Oh, I say, this is a delicious bit of bacon.
You must forgive me for using the "friend of the family" approach.
I didn't want you to tell anyone you were coming
to meet a stranger on business you knew nothing about.
Who are you?
I'm one of the few so-called intelligence agents
who's not in the lobby at the moment.
But, so far as the hotel, immigration and taxi drivers are concerned,
I'm here to buy special steel products.
Please remember that, in case anyone should ask you.
Now that I'm here, what do you want?
Why, you're in a bit of a mess over this blacklist, aren't you?
I'm a Swedish citizen. Sweden is neutral.
She trades with both sides.
Every drop of oil I import is turned over to the Swedish government.
Every ton has been contracted for.
And that's what they refuse to understand.
You don't know too much about my background but...
I think I do. You were born in New York...
He knew things about me that even I'd forgotten.
And he ticked them off like a telegraphic report.
Graduated Cornell.
Oil salesman, Yokohama and Shanghai.
Transferred to Stockholm, 1927.
Started my own business, 1929.
Largest importer of German oil in Scandinavia.
When I tried to explain the reason for doing business with Germans,
he cut me off short.
I'm not here to debate your case. I'm here to ask you one question:
Would you like to get off the blacklist?
Well, naturally.
I think I can arrange that. Provided you cooperate.
Not now, of course. When the war is over,
you'll be given a clean bill of health, retroactively.
You're from US Intelligence?
No, not... Not really.
I'm sort of lend-lease in reverse, if you know what I mean.
Since I've had more experience in recruiting,
they thought it best that I had a go at you.
Besides, the Americans don't seem to trust you very much.
And for the oddest of reasons.
Simply because you gave up US citizenship in 1930.
When I decided to spend the rest of my life here,
I thought it only decent to become a Swedish subject.
Of course. Are you interested, Mr. Erickson?
That all depends.
- What do I have to do? - Oh, nothing much really.
Just a businessman keeping his eyes and ears open.
You know more about German oil than anyone in Sweden.
And you travel back and forth on business.
You're making a trip tomorrow, I believe.
Baron von Oldenbourg, of the German Oil Commission,
- is an old friend of yours. - That's right.
You may be able to pick up some useful information here and there.
Now I think I understand why I was put on the blacklist.
So I'd be forced to cooperate with you.
Oh, now, Erickson.
You don't honestly think we'd do a thing like that?
Oil will undoubtedly be one of the deciding factors of this war.
When they can't put planes in the air or tanks into the field, it'll be the end.
You might be able to help.
Being a Swede, I would be violating my country's neutrality.
If Swedish Security Police find out about it, they'd throw me in jail.
And we won't be able to help.
For diplomatic reasons we'll have to say we never heard of you.
And of course, if the Germans catch you, they'll shoot you.
So you're asking me to risk my life to get off a blacklist
that I didn't deserve to be on in the first place.
It's not a very enviable position, is it?
Collins, I always thought that oil was a dirty business without scruples.
- But you people are... - I couldn't care less what you think.
Fortunately, in this work, people don't have to love each other.
My job is information, and in order to get it, I will deal with thieves, liars,
procurers, traitors, sluts, the lot.
I don't care if you're Goebbels' half brother or if you sell heroin.
You just bring back the information, and we'll get along splendidly.
Let's leave it that way.
Tell them you got me in a vise and I'm going along to save my business.
We'll see you after this trip, then we decide where we go from there.
Any questions?
Yes, one.
How does a person get to be so cold-blooded?
Watching German planes bomb London helps enormously.
Well, what do you think?
How do we know he won't go to German legation and tell them?
We don't.
It'd be a perfect spot for high-class double-dealing.
That's why I wanted that recording.
If he tries to work both sides of the street,
you can have that fall into the hands of the Swedish Security Police.
Now I can eat in comfort.
The next day, I flew to Berlin to see the baron.
I'd been there many times since the war began,
but this trip was different.
Now that I had something to hide, I felt every passenger staring at me,
that every gun was trained on me,
and every man in uniform was suspicious.
The baron was there to meet me.
After dropping my bag at the hotel, he took me to dinner at Wannsee.
You can expect to hear that your imports will be cut even more.
Baron von Oldenbourg?
Frau Möllendorf. A pleasant surprise.
How nice to see you again.
May I present an old and dear friend, Eric Erickson.
- How do you do? - Are you alone? Will you join us?
No, I'm meeting General Bacher and his wife.
- But I seem to be a few minutes early. - Then please wait here.
- May I offer you some sherry or...? - No. No, thank you.
Erickson? You must be Swedish.
Yes. From Stockholm. I just arrived.
And will you be with us long?
Afraid I have to leave tomorrow morning.
Oh, that's a pity. Just now when the weather's so good.
I wish I could say the same for my business.
I have just had the unpleasant task of telling Mr. Erickson
that our petroleum exports are going to have to be reduced.
Oh, but I'm certain that's only temporary.
The moment the Russians are whipped, and that can't be long,
the führer will be generous with Sweden again.
Would you mind coming to Stockholm and telling my investors that?
But surely, your countrymen are more than willing
to make such a small sacrifice to beat Russia.
After all, she's been your enemy as well as ours for a long...
Oh, here they are.
Sorry to have interrupted your little business conversation.
Not at all. It's the most pleasant moment I've had since I arrived.
Well, perhaps when you come to Berlin again, we'll have another talk.
Looking forward to it.
Good evening.
Sorry, Eric.
She and her husband are...
She gets around quite a bit.
In Germany today, it's wise to be nice to such a person.
You never know into whose ear she'll be whispering next.
I'm sorry about your oil, Eric.
Well, I know if there's anything to be done, you'd do it.
The shortages in the coming year are going to be more acute
than anyone is willing to admit.
I'm doing a survey now on the possibility of building refineries
in Italy and France.
But the only trouble is, they'd be more open to bombings
and sabotage than our own.
Suddenly, a solution occurred to me. The baron was interested.
If they wanted bombproof refineries,
what about building one in a neutral country?
The moment I got back to Stockholm, I told the plan to Collins,
who immediately spotted the one big flaw.
The Swedish government would never approve.
It would hardly be considered a neutral act by the Allies.
That's the weakness.
And von Oldenbourg pounced on it.
Maybe you could arrange for the Allies not to object too strenuously.
How far do you think you could nurse this along before it'd collapse?
Oh, with discussion of finance and construction,
I'd say...
...five or six more trips.
Provided the German officials here in Stockholm
don't torpedo the idea from the start.
Since I'm American-born, they don't trust me...
...any more than you do.
Perhaps you might have to spend time
in developing a little character... or the lack of it.
What I mean to say is this, that now that you are on the blacklist,
wouldn't it be logical to express your anger and indignation
by beginning to say some nasty things about the Allies?
And from there, the Germans wouldn't be too surprised
if you gradually became pro-Nazi.
The people who know me would never believe it.
You wouldn't be the first businessman to let profit color his politics.
The best friend I have is a Jew.
Max Gumpel.
For a time, you'll hurt one Jew deeply.
You might help save the lives of thousands.
You'll be hated for a while, no doubt about that. You'll be a quisling.
And you'll just have to live with it. You won't be able to tell anyone.
Not even my wife?
This is more than I bargained for.
I know. That's the trouble with this sort of work.
The simplest little thing often leads to such complications.
- When do you have to know? - I take the plane to London tonight.
The Americans take over from here.
Heavens, I'll have to rush.
Don't become pro-Nazi too fast, Erickson.
Handle it slowly and subtly.
I haven't said I'd do it yet.
Oh, but I think you will.
We have a most interesting recording of you accepting our first proposition.
There wasn't much choice now.
It was either go along or go to jail.
The next night I invited my closest friend, Max Gumpel,
to have dinner with my wife and me.
If I could get by them, the chances were I could convince others.
I started by ranting about the unfairness of the blacklist
and then tried my first anti-British remark.
We like to feel that Sweden is free and neutral, but she's not.
I hate to say it, but we're occupied
just as surely as Denmark and Norway.
Not by German military.
By Allied officials.
Eric, I know how angry you must be,
but don't talk like that.
These men are determined to capture us economically.
Watch and see. England will involve us in this.
Ingrid was merely surprised, but Max was hurt.
I hated to do it to him, but apparently he believed me,
and that was the most important thing.
Now I began to drop remarks here and there with associates and friends.
Nothing too obvious at first.
That Germany was only trying to recover
what had been stolen from her at Versailles and Locarno.
As months went by, I kept hammering away
at Churchill's treatment of the French.
I took my time
but never lost an opportunity to drop a little poison whenever I could.
Friends began avoiding me, and I was alone most of the time.
I didn't try to contact the German Embassy crowd.
I figured, sooner or later, they'd hear about my attitude and try to woo me.
And they did...
... and eventually offered me a membership
in the Swedish-German chamber of commerce.
At one of the weekly meetings,
I made a speech paraphrasing an editorial from a German newspaper.
And someday, even those countries who now oppose him
will realize who their true enemy really is.
And then they'll join the Third Reich,
in a combined front against international exploitation
and racial degeneration.
Thank you.
Remember Ulrich and I are here
as representatives of the Third Reich to help Swedish businessmen.
So if you have any problems, please call on us.
- Thank you. Good night. - Good night.
Good night.
- Oh, excellent speech, Eric. - Yes, good.
Very much like an editorial I read in the Frankfurter Zeitung.
Have you had a chance to study my letter on the refinery?
Yes. I feel it has great possibilities if certain questions can be answered.
And I have the first question.
Are you planning this to help the Third Reich or to help yourself?
Well, I admit that personal gain has a great deal to do with it.
National Socialism is sacrifice, not profit.
And business is profit, not sacrifice.
It's amazing how well the two get along together if they have to.
I hate opportunists.
Whether they are Swedish or German.
Heil Hitler.
On behalf of my government, my apologies.
His beer-hall manners are disgusting.
He should have a job requiring muscles rather than brains.
I'm working on just that.
Without consulting me, he requested a transfer to Copenhagen.
Without consulting him, I demanded it.
He can wear a uniform. That should make him happy.
He was born distrustful.
But I must say, in this case he has reason.
To retain 50 percent of the stock for yourself
makes you appear rather greedy.
Permissions are going to be costly.
I am reserving many shares for... helpful friends.
Why don't we have a drink, play bridge and talk it over.
Willy, this is the fifth time in a row that I've done the paying.
And for 3,000 crowns, you'd better write a glowing letter to Berlin for me.
- Hello. - Hello.
We're in here. It's been a long time.
The last six months have...
I thought we'd managed to lose you.
London felt that since you and I hit it off so well at the start,
I ought to run this little show. I must say I'm delighted.
The food in England these days is ghastly.
Well, it's good to see you, Red.
- Red? - Yes.
Your code name from now on.
He's Memphis and I'm Dallas.
Don't ask me why.
Anything less like a Texan you couldn't imagine.
It sounds rather cloak-and-daggerish, but it's necessary.
Fix yourself a drink.
I hear you've done a smashing job.
Even the little children hate you.
I've lost most of my friends.
Been dropped from every club except Book-of-the-Month.
Your refinery.
What do they call those things now in the advertising business?
Visual presentation, that's it.
The Germans admire thoroughness. It might help.
It looks so good I might even invest in it myself.
But London thinks we ought to protect ourselves on this,
in case they turn you down.
In order to assure a flow of information,
they feel that on this coming trip,
you ought to recruit some friends in the German oil industry.
I agreed to take the personal risks,
but I am not going to put anybody else in jeopardy!
Many of your German friends went along with Hitler
because it was good business.
They thought it would be a quick war and they'd profit by it.
They might, as you did, be willing to pay the price of cooperation
in order to buy protection for themselves after the war.
- You'll guarantee that protection? - Definitely.
What about your friend Otto Holtz in Hamburg?
He runs a refinery, doesn't he?
Yes, he's a possibility.
London will select somebody in Berlin.
I leave day after tomorrow.
If it doesn't come through by then, our agent will contact you there.
Don't tell me I'm going to meet a little old lady
wearing a beard in some dark alley.
If someone should find an excuse to use your handkerchief
and return it to your pocket like this...'ll know you've made contact.
Three points showing.
Just a businessman keeping his eyes and ears open.
Oh, Red.
Are you in good physical condition?
We just want to make sure you won't collapse on us.
I had my yearly checkup at the clinic a few days ago. Anything else?
- No. - What about these?
Oh, we'll see that they get to you. Just... good luck, Red.
And... do be careful.
Your sudden concern for my safety
touches me deeply.
Have the chap at the clinic get his dental x-rays for us.
I got them this afternoon.
This one of the bilaterals on the right side was the best.
During the months before, I had written regularly to the baron,
keeping him excited about the possibility of the refinery in Sweden.
Now, loaded down with the fraudulent charts
and a briefcase full of forged documents, I flew back to Berlin.
The baron had to put in an appearance at a reception
for a Japanese trade commission, and I went along.
It was a chance to meet Albert Speer, Herman Goering
and Joseph Goebbels, the minister of propaganda.
He was oily and over-polite, and so was I.
There was no telling who might prove helpful later on.
- A bit young, isn't she, Gerhard? - That's my tragedy, they all are.
Baron von Oldenbourg. General Schroeder would like to see you.
Excuse me, Eric.
Frau Möllendorf.
- Mr. Erickson. - Excuse me, please.
So nice to see you again.
You've come back on a happy day.
The news from the eastern front is most encouraging.
A 50-mile advance into the Caucasus.
Ah, yes.
Now that the Wehrmacht has crossed the Don,
I'm sure that we can look forward to more glorious victories.
Shall we drink to them?
Thank you so much.
I think you missed a drop.
Thank you.
No, no, it was so much more attractive the other way.
Allow me.
I haven't been in Stockholm for years.
Has it changed much?
No, it's still as beautiful as ever.
We seem to be standing in the center of Martini Street.
Shall we try someplace with a little less traffic?
- Good evening, general. - Frau Möllendorf. Good evening.
Good evening.
- Good evening, general. - Who's that?
You remember, we met her at Albert Speer's.
She's the wife of Friedrich Möllendorf.
Since we'll probably be seeing each other from time to time,
we'd better establish a reason for it right now.
The obvious and most acceptable one
is that we immediately found each other irresistibly attractive.
I don't know how believable that would be to my German friends.
- You see, I'm married. - So am I.
Unfortunately, that's exactly what will make it credible.
Glance around.
In Berlin today, there's a feeling of almost desperate urgency,
which somehow seems to settle in the glands.
Now, if you could capture some of that urgency,
I have something to tell you.
- How's this? - Oh, now there's candlelight
and champagne in your eyes.
And your smile has just the right amount of lechery.
Do I look convincing?
Convincing? You look convinced.
Now, I'm told you're here to recruit some of the oil officials.
Whom did you have in mind?
Werner Albricht. But London said no.
Oh, they're so right.
Werner Albricht has been currying favor lately.
It would be quite a feather in his cap to turn you in.
No, no, no. Your best bet
is the man you came with this evening.
- The baron? - Smile.
Well, he's as patriotic as Wagner.
With a name that goes back even further.
His family means everything to him. He'd do anything to protect them.
That's why he can't refuse you.
I couldn't do that. He's one of my oldest friends.
I know.
There are many things I've had to do
that I can't explain to my conscience.
- Frau Möllendorf. - Baron von Oldenbourg.
I should have warned you,
this man has as many conquests to his credit as Genghis Khan.
If you hadn't interrupted, I might have been one ahead.
If we don't get out of here,
I'm going to have to explain the Fischer-Tropsch process
to the Japanese delegation.
Would you join us for dinner?
I'm sorry, I'm with friends.
- Oh, I'm so sorry. Goodbye. - Goodbye.
- Goodbye, Mr. Erickson. - Goodbye.
I hope I'll see you again soon.
Now, Gerhard. Assuming I could get
approval of the Swedish government,
you think your oil commission would be interested in exploring the idea?
I think they would be very interested.
How much do you figure it would cost?
Not a penny.
I have no intention of building a refinery.
All I want is a sound, legitimate reason to travel to and from Germany.
I'm working for the Allies, Gerhard.
Sometimes friendship makes me deaf.
I didn't hear what you just said.
Please leave now.
And don't contact me again.
I can't.
I'm here to ask you to work with me.
I wouldn't do that.
Remember, you have a son in a Russian prison camp.
All they'd have to do is send a message.
I'm not a Nazi, Eric.
You know that.
But at the moment, they are Germany...
...and I am a German.
Don't ask me to betray my country.
You're their choice, not mine.
I have to do it because they've got me in a vise too.
I'm sorry, Gerhard.
It's a stinking, rotten business.
He was trapped.
There was nothing he could do but cooperate.
He called a meeting of the oil commission, explained the project
and suggested that the commission meet with me periodically
and keep abreast of any future developments.
When the members nodded agreement,
I knew I'd be making weekly visits to Berlin,
and that's all I wanted.
I had expected opposition from the man next to me,
who was a Gestapo colonel in charge of Scandinavian countries,
but he went along without too many questions.
Later in his office, though, he called Kortner in Stockholm,
just to check on me firsthand.
Kortner assured him that I was trustworthy, loyal
and that the refinery plan had great possibilities.
Kortner's enthusiasm, of course, was based mainly on larceny.
A little graft, it seemed,
could open more doors than a passkey.
Colonel Nordoff and I had a pleasant chat.
When it came time for me to leave, I felt I could ask an important favor.
Oh, one more thing.
I was wondering if on my return trip I could go via Hamburg.
I'd like to say hello to Otto Holtz, old friend of mine.
You seem to have many friends in the oil business.
Oil is a fraternity.
You've been in it for a while, you know all the members.
I think it can be arranged.
- Thank you, you've been very kind. - Thank you.
It's comforting to know that we have such loyal Swedish friends.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye.
Have him put under surveillance.
Express train to Hamburg departing 8:10 on track 11.
Train to München departing 8:20 on track six.
The trip was slow and uncomfortable. We were sidetracked a dozen times.
It gave me a chance to see the condition of the rolling stock.
By the time we pulled into the main station in Hamburg,
I'd been able to make mental notes on troop trains and marshaling yards.
I hadn't found out too much about oil yet,
but I was picking up other bits of information that might prove valuable.
You didn't have to come to meet me.
Those are the people I like to meet, the ones I don't have to.
I even brought an honor guard.
My son, Hans.
- Hello, Hans. - Heil Hitler!
Herr Gunderscharf. Please contact the stationmaster.
There's a message for you.
I had never been to Otto's new home.
After his first wife died,
we'd always gotten together in his office or my hotel room.
When I met his second wife, I understood.
Klara was not someone to be proud of.
She flaunted her sex, was tawdry and rather stupid.
I wondered why he ever married her.
And then I found out.
How long have you been married?
Eleven years, but for Hans' sake, we say 12.
Papa! Papa!
I heard just now on the radio that six people here in Hamburg
were arrested for treason.
- Jews? - No, Germans.
A boy in our class does treason.
- What are you talking about? - It's true, Papa.
Every morning, our teacher says, "God strike England."
And we answer all together, "He will."
Well, this boy Klaus does not say it. I watched him.
He opens his mouth and makes movements,
but he doesn't say it.
Maybe his father and mother like the English.
That's ridiculous, Hans.
The boy's probably just daydreaming.
I think soon I must report him and his parents.
You'll do nothing of the sort! Go to your room!
Otto, you must not discourage the boy.
If he really has such an idea, it's his duty to report it.
Klara, Klara.
What are you teaching him? The boy will grow up to be...
If they're guilty, they should be taken. If they're not,
no harm will be done to them.
In either case, it's good for Hans' record.
My Jugendführer said if I report things like that,
I will get the star for my uniform.
Ah, your Jugendführer is a...
Go on, go on.
We'll talk about it later.
Mr. Erickson and I have some business to discuss now.
- You mind if we talk in the garden? - Of course not.
After dinner is the only time I have to work on my vegetables.
I'll get my old clothes on.
Otto was not hard to recruit, but difficult to satisfy.
He didn't want any money, but he insisted on some kind of document
stating that he was cooperating with the Allies.
I tried to dissuade him but he...
When the Allies march into Hamburg,
I want something I can take to headquarters.
I'm sorry, Otto, I can't do it. It's too risky.
It's the only way I'll cooperate.
You think about it tonight.
I'll meet you in my office in the morning.
- At the refinery. - No, my office in town.
Come about 10. I have an appointment first.
Mama says you should come in now.
You'll catch cold.
- What are you doing sitting out here? - Just changing my shoes.
By the next morning, I had decided to give Otto the letter he wanted.
It was a death sentence for both of us if anybody found it.
Otto was willing to take the risk, and so was I.
On one condition:
I want to be sure that where you put that is really a safe place.
for a long time, I've been withdrawing money from the bank.
Little by little.
Not enough to create suspicion,
but sufficient to live on for a time when the war is over.
Somewhere in these cabinets are 200,000 marks.
If you can find them, you can have them.
What if this building is bombed?
Someone goes through the debris, finds a piece of paper...
If this building is hit,
the chances are a hundred to one that it'll catch fire.
And if the office is searched?
They'll break open the safe,
tear up the rug,
smash the desk.
But I doubt if they'll wade through all these files.
But they might.
They might also find the money.
I might also be arrested... and talk.
I honestly don't know how I'd react under torture.
Those are risks you have to take, Eric.
All right.
Wait a minute. This is dated March 5th.
Today is September 5th.
You see, I have to be protected too, Otto.
If tomorrow you should get cold feet
and decide to turn the letter over to the Gestapo,
they'd wonder why you held on to it for six months.
Otto gave me the two-dollar tour, and I saw the refinery from top to bottom.
When I got back to Stockholm, I talked into the recording machine
for what seemed to be hours, trying to remember every little detail.
During the air raid of August 23rd,
the distillation plant was burned, but not extensively.
The damage was repaired in six hours.
Good. Have those transcribed and sent up to London right away.
- Good work, Red. - How about a drink now?
No, thanks.
Red, I was hoping you might come back
a little more enthusiastic about the Allied cause.
When you force me to blackmail von Oldenbourg,
one of my closest friends,
don't expect me to whistle the "Stars and Stripes Forever".
- What about money? - I'll send you a bill later.
Meanwhile, I want Holtz and the baron taken care of immediately.
Documents acknowledging their cooperation
will be filed at the legation tomorrow.
Incidentally, I gave such a document to Holtz.
You did what?
I had to, he wouldn't help otherwise. It's in a safe place.
Why didn't you file it with the Gestapo?
It'd have saved them all that trouble of looking for it.
It's awful damned easy for you to sit here
figuring out how brave and smart I should be.
The only danger you're in is getting a bad lobster.
All right, I made a mistake.
But if they find that letter, it's my neck, not yours.
Curious chap.
The most amazing combination of intelligence and stupidity.
Hello, Eric. Welcome back.
Thank you. I was going to call you.
I wanted to tell you about my conference in Berlin.
Any time. I'll be waiting.
- Your office, 3:00? - Splendid.
Eric! Where have you been keeping yourself?
I called you a dozen times, but you never answered.
I would think that you'd finally get the idea
that I want nothing to do with you or your propositions.
I don't do business with Jews, Gumpel, so stop bothering me.
That, I think, was the loneliest moment of my life.
When other people hate you, it's unfortunate,
but when you hate yourself, it's unbearable.
And hurting Max the way I did filled me with self-contempt.
Of course, news that I'd publicly insulted him
didn't take long to spread.
My wife called me at the office and berated me for what I had done.
I went home and tried to mollify her, but it was hopeless.
I couldn't tell her why I had to do it.
I could only plead rather guiltily for understanding.
All right, you've made your bed, but don't expect me to share it.
Dear Eric, I cannot believe you have changed to this extent.
Your outburst this noontime only strengthens my conviction
that your conduct has some special hidden purpose.
Because I trust you implicitly,
I shall consider our friendship only temporarily interrupted.
If I can ever be of help, let me know.
Every good wish. God bless you. Max.
They seemed greatly interested.
Providing, of course, I could give them some promise
of Swedish government approval.
Perhaps if you wrote a letter to Nordoff...
I have just one question.
What were you doing at 20 Stortorget last night?
I'm glad my wife didn't ask that.
Yes, infidelity is difficult to explain...
...but not nearly as difficult as espionage.
I have to send that lady some flowers.
She recommended the restaurant. A lovely place.
I'm amazed at American intelligence sending two such incompetent men.
But that's not my worry.
My problem is, what do we do with you?
I could turn you over to the Swedish Security Police,
but I can't see what would be gained by that. Can you?
I think the best procedure would be
for you to continue to work for the Americans,
with one slight difference.
The information you bring back from Germany will be supplied by us.
Have you told Berlin about me yet?
Oh, no. I haven't told anybody yet.
I wanted to talk to you first, to see if you'd be reasonable.
It's not often we are able to get an Allied agent working for us.
These are five canceled checks from me to you.
An Allied agent has paid you over 20,000 crowns
in the last few months.
I doubt whether the Gestapo will consider these... gambling losses.
You can destroy them if you want, they're only Photostats.
The originals, in the meantime,
are in the hands of these two incompetents.
Now, I think you'd better write that letter to Nordoff,
saying that we've discussed the refinery plan
and you'll contact the more influential members of Parliament and...
We can discuss the details later, can't we?
You realize if I'm arrested...
...the originals will find their way to the Gestapo.
So if there are any other members of your department
who are suspicious of me,
tell them... I'm a real nice fellow.
Oh, Willy.
You didn't honestly think I was that bad a bridge player, did you?
Kortner was most cooperative.
We collaborated on the letter. I wrote it and he signed it.
It was a perfect opportunity to move on to the second phase of my plan.
The letter requested that I be allowed to make a survey trip
of all the refineries in Germany.
After all, since I was going to help the Third Reich
by building a refinery in Sweden,
it'd be to their advantage if I became acquainted firsthand
with all the latest technical developments
and methods of production.
So on my next trip to Berlin, I went to Gestapo Headquarters
to see Nordoff once again.
He had referred the request to the Oil Commission.
The baron, who was the chairman,
naturally could do nothing but recommend it.
With such auspices,
Nordoff was willing to push it up the ladder for Himmler's approval.
When I got to the hotel later,
I received a cryptic message telling me to meet a contact
on the embankment of the Spree River near the Oberbaum Bridge.
Well! There hasn't been a welcome like that
since Lindbergh landed in Paris.
Just in...
In case you're being followed.
Keep it up. The whole Gestapo's behind me.
There was someone following me in the subway, but I think I lost him.
We'd better go.
Is this...?
Now, good evening.
Good evening.
Wagner seems to be popular tonight.
Hitler speaks in a moment.
When they told me to contact you, they didn't tell me why.
My courier has had to hide out.
And I have some information that must get back as quickly as possible.
Just a businessman keeping his eyes and ears open.
Why this place?
Well, if our romance were to be convincing,
we'd better have a rendezvous. I rented it shortly after we met.
Since we're both married, I think it's only logical
that we wouldn't want to be seen in my home or in hotel rooms.
But you're ruining my reputation for being generous and gallant.
In Berlin today, not even Lothario could do any better.
Now, if you're ready.
How about a drink before we start?
How about a drink after we're finished?
The third bomber group is being transferred
from Lesmont in France to Brok in Poland.
Third bomber group
transferred from Lesmont in France to Brok, Poland.
I can't concentrate with that going on.
Look, I have a visual memory.
If I can write it, I can remember it. Do you have some paper?
Yes, of course.
Now, third... bomber...
Lesmont... to Brok.
Now, I overheard a senior officer in the construction corps mention
that just north of Regensburg...
Repeat again.
And the special fuel for these experimental jet planes
is believed to be manufactured someplace in northern Germany.
That's all.
Now may I have that drink?
Excuse me.
How should I get rid of these?
You'd better burn them in the sink here.
Although our job is just to get the information,
not evaluate it,
if they can get those jet planes in the air in any great numbers,
it might be disastrous.
And fuel is the key to the situation.
Well, that's not our worry.
But we do have one.
In case either of us should get arrested and questioned,
I think we ought to know a few intimate details about each other.
Now, for your information, I have a scar, appendicitis here.
And a birthmark there. Wine-colored.
White or red?
Vin rosé.
Well, I haven't anything quite as glamorous.
Just a cut on my thigh, which you probably never noticed in the dim light.
I'm very observing. So is the Gestapo.
What's it look like?
Well, a horse bit me on the a...
Just a bite scar.
Your hair is most attractive.
Is that the natural color?
Now, what else should we know about each other?
Well, although you probably had the good taste
not to praise your wife in front of me,
I think you would have mentioned her name.
It's Ingrid.
And she doesn't understand you.
Oddly enough, that's true.
They wouldn't let me tell her,
and she couldn't stand the thought of being unpopular.
She left me just a few days ago.
Oh, I'm sorry.
At least I found out who trusted me and who didn't.
Now, what about your husband?
His name is Friedrich.
He's a colonel with the occupation in France.
Well, don't you think that sometime during our passionate love affair,
you would have told me more than his name, rank and serial number?
I mean, for my own protection,
I would have found out if he were jealous
and apt to take a shot at me.
No, Friedrich wouldn't care.
Legally, we've been married ten years.
Actually, just about a month.
Very early, he told me I was one in a million.
And I discovered he was telling the truth.
Why didn't you divorce him?
I'm a Catholic.
It's worked, though.
People take pity on me,
and I'm asked to the best parties, where I pick up the best information.
Do you mind?
I'm curious.
Ever since I met you, I wondered what they have on you.
The Allies, I mean.
They've got me handcuffed.
If I don't work for them, I lose my business.
Oh, I see.
Yes, I have something to lose too.
If I don't help them, I lose my self-respect.
But haven't you ever opposed anything for the simple reason that it's wrong?
Morally wrong?
Not when my life depended on it.
You've got connections. You could go to Switzerland, Sweden.
I could, but I can't.
- Well, what's stopping you? - My faith.
He's the Antichrist, I'm a Christian.
If I don't oppose him, my religion becomes a mockery.
Your religion also tells you to love your enemies.
I try to be a Christian, I never hoped to be a saint.
You don't think hanging that paranoiac is going to end persecution?
Another greedy psychopath will come along...
But this is now, and I'm here. And I must do what I must do.
- And risk your life doing it? - Yes, if necessary.
You certainly are a businessman, aren't you?
You look at war in terms of hundreds of tanks
and thousands of planes and millions of men,
like some sort of a wrestling match on a gigantic scale.
Try thinking of it in terms of a single truck
on its way to a concentration camp
and what's shivering inside it.
I feel sorry for those people, deeply sorry.
- I suffer for them. - But not with them.
That's the difference.
Someday, though, you might.
You'll see a stranger, a complete stranger, being bullied and beaten.
And suddenly, in an agonizing moment, he'll become your brother.
I guess I've always been an opportunist.
And the women I've known have been too.
I've never met anyone quite like you.
You're either very foolish or very wise.
I can't decide which.
But I can tell you one thing.
Your husband must be an idiot.
Good night.
After our conference yesterday, I was exhausted.
I went to bed early. I'll wager you did the same.
Now, colonel, you know that isn't true.
One of your men followed me out of the hotel.
- But not very far. - Yes, he was a bit obvious.
So I managed to lose him in the subway.
You shouldn't have done it. You hurt his professional pride.
I was on my way to visit a beautiful woman.
I didn't feel it was any of his business.
Frau Möllendorf is a charming person, isn't she?
And I thought I was being so clever.
The man following you was obvious because he was supposed to be.
To give you a false sense of security.
You see, there were two men.
You gave the slip to the wrong one.
I was delighted to learn that your nocturnal prowling
was for the purpose of romance and not intrigue.
And now, on my recommendation,
Reichsführer Himmler has approved your inspection tour.
This will allow you access to all refineries.
To avoid suspicion,
I suggested that a team of technicians go along with me.
Nordoff thought that one man would be sufficient,
and the baron was selected.
It was comforting to know that my only watchdog had no teeth.
The baron grew to hate me, and I certainly couldn't blame him.
But then, one day while we were touring a small plant near Leipzig,
his attitude changed. And so did mine.
The workers had gone on a sit-down strike.
Who are they?
They are Polish volunteers.
Why do they refuse to work?
They say too long hours and too little food.
You'd better wait upstairs in my office.
If you refuse to work, I'll hang you, one by one!
Don't misjudge me. I have no mercy!
Now, get back to your posts!
So you are going to test me, are you?
Well, which one of you is going to go first?
Let me see.
You! Come here.
Help me. Help me. Help me, please!
- Take that man. - For God's sake, someone help me.
I didn't do anything, I didn't do anything!
I just sat down because I was hungry.
Oh, please, please help me!
I'll go back to work! I'll go back to work, don't hang me!
Don't hang me, I'll go back to work!
Now, are you going back to work?
No? I'll give you ten seconds.
One... two... three...
You can read about a hundred atrocities,
hear about a thousand,
but you only have to see one.
And suddenly... he becomes your brother.
So far, I have cooperated because I had to.
Now I do it willingly.
So do I.
They want me to find out
where you're manufacturing and storing fuel for those jets.
I'll find out.
And every place we went, it was the same.
Factories, refineries, railroads.
All beginning to show the effects of the bombing.
Did you drive through Regensburg?
What was left of it.
I hear the raid was very successful.
The chemical plants were completely destroyed.
So was a school and 120 children.
- Well, those things can't be helped. - That doesn't console me.
I provided the information on those chemical plants.
- And so did ten others, I'm sure. - I don't care if there were a thousand.
I am partly responsible for killing those children.
And maybe partly responsible for shortening the war.
Don't you think I've told myself that?
Don't you think I've tried to rationalize what I'm doing in every possible way?
But even a good end does not justify evil means.
You were willing to give your life to that end.
I still am, but the lives of others are not mine to give.
All the convictions I have, you gave me.
And because of them, I'm willing to live with fear.
And now I find out that you have doubts.
I discovered there's something worse than fear.
There's guilt.
- But you must have known... - First, it was quite impersonal.
I relayed names, dates and conversations,
and I knew somewhere, sometime, somebody was going to act upon them,
but I never foresaw that gnawing feeling of...
Caccia alla volpe - After The Fox
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