Chapter 14: Operation Thumbtack

In the dim room, a single incandescent light bulb hanging from the ceiling swayed gently, causing the shadows of the torture instruments on the floor to appear somewhat sinister and twisted.

“Speak! Are you a communist or not?” a German officer roared menacingly, holding a leather whip.

The man tied to the cross slowly raised his head. His gaze was somewhat unfocused, but he still managed a slight shake of his head and answered in a weak voice, “I have Russian blood, but I am a German. I am not a communist. I am a German. I am not a communist.”

“This is your last chance. Take him out and shoot him,” the officer said, adjusting his collar. It had to be said, this uniform was damned handsome. It felt different wearing it. He had tried it on at home yesterday, and his wife couldn’t help but give him a passionate kiss. He really had to thank that Lieutenant Colonel Akado.

After the man was dragged out by two soldiers, the officer sat down on a long bench, lit a cigarette for himself, and began to puff away contentedly. From another door nearby, several other officers emerged.

The one in the lead flipped through the documents on the table and nodded with satisfaction. The others skillfully began to clean up the room.

“That’s the six hundred and seventh one,” the smoking officer said, looking at the officers who had just entered. He asked, puzzled, “This week, you’ve been sending an average of over a hundred suspected spies a day. There are communists, French democrats… in the end, they are all basically taken away by you and shot. Since you’re going to kill them whether they confess or not, why send them to us for interrogation?”

“This is a secret beyond your rank. We are also just following orders. After they are taken to the execution ground, the Reichswehr High Command takes over immediately. All we can hear are the gunshots echoing from the execution ground,” the officer who had entered later recalled with some lingering fear.

An officer in an old army uniform who was cleaning the room sighed and added, “You guys have it better, continuing to serve in the Reichswehr’s interrogation department. Once we finish this task, we have to be discharged.”

The smoking officer gave a wry smile but said nothing more.

At the execution ground of the Seventh Prison, under the jurisdiction of the Reichswehr High Command, a group of men in suits were firing the latest model PPT pistols at targets, emptying their ammunition as if it were free.

Not far away, on a viewing platform, Akado, accompanied by two officers, was speaking with a man covered in blood.

“You have passed the practical combat assessment, soldier. You are now a reserve member of the German Reichswehr’s Shadow Force. From this day forward, you have no name, no identity. Silence is your language, and the revival of Germany is your life. Can you do this?” Akado asked with great solemnity.

“Yes, sir!” With Prussian rigidity and seriousness, the man, though covered in blood, still stood at attention and answered forcefully, his voice filled with determination.

“You will be sent to the Soviet Union. There, you will establish our intelligence station. We will arrange for you to join the Soviet Communist Party and gain the trust of the Soviets. You are to steal all the Soviet intelligence you can obtain and report it to your superior,” an officer behind Akado instructed the man.

“My superior’s contact method,” the man asked.

“His codename is Cyclops. All you have to do is go to Moscow’s Red Square every day to feed the pigeons, wearing a black overcoat. He will find you to make contact. The password is he will say, ‘The holy light hides the darkness,’ and you will reply, ‘The shadow forges the dawn’.”

“We will send more of our people to find you one by one. You can help settle them in, but do not leave any form of contact. Understood?” Akado asked.

“Understood, sir!” the man nodded, then asked with an expectant look, “When can I have my identity restored and return to Germany?”

“When you are dead.” Akado’s answer made the faces of the several people around him change. But his next sentence made everyone laugh. “Or when your chest is covered in medals.”

“Long live Germany!” the man said with a salute.

In the distance, the sound of gunshots grew louder.

…

In the dark of night, in the still-cold waters of the Rhine River, several figures in black one-piece wetsuits swam to the shore. In front of them, a man in a suit was already standing there.

The man held a shovel in one hand and a large bag in the other. He stared silently at the four people who had just come ashore.

Once they were standing, he finally spoke, uttering a single phrase: “Sea of blood!”

The four immediately replied in a low, unified voice: “Azure blue.”

The man in the suit nodded with satisfaction. He pointed with his shovel at a large, pre-dug pit and two shovels lying beside it. “Throw your clothes in there and help bury them.” After speaking, he pushed the large bag he was holding forward. “Change into these clothes.”

By the time the five of them had finished everything, the sky was beginning to lighten. The five got into the car the man in the suit had driven, and they drove towards a nearby road. On the side of the road, a rusted sign read “Lorraine” in German.

In the car, the three people in the back were silent. The driver introduced the situation to the person in the passenger seat. “The French have occupied this area. They don’t allow us to build military facilities on the other side of the river, but they themselves are building the Maginot Line here on a massive scale.”

The car made a turn. He straightened the steering wheel and continued, “I’ve already arranged your identities. The war has left this place full of vagrants. Brawls and drunken fights happen every day. Three or four more people won’t be a problem.”

As he spoke, he pulled four sets of identification papers from his pocket, tossed them to the people in the back and the passenger seat, and then continued, “Later, our highest-ranking operative, codenamed Scorpion, will arrange for the French military to conduct a recruitment drive. You will be able to smoothly infiltrate their army.”

“Long live Germany!” As he got out of the car, the man in the passenger seat finally spoke before pushing the door open.

“Long live Germany!” the driver said with a smile and a nod.

…

At the port, seagulls swooped back and forth. The sound of steam whistles rose and fell. A passenger ship was docked at the famous British port of Manchester, and countless tourists were pouring down the gangway. The air was filled with noise and the horns of luggage carts.

“Uncle Greve, welcome back to England,” a young British naval officer in a white uniform said with a smile, extending his hand to an old man walking off the ship.

“Thank you,” the old man said, putting down his luggage and shaking the officer’s hand with a smile. “I’m back. This is my true homeland!”

“Yes, Germany has been defeated! Back then, you were so stubborn about helping your mother’s homeland. Now it seems your father’s homeland, Britain, is the most powerful country,” the young naval officer said, a proud look on his face. “Your nephew, me, I am already a probationary commander of a destroyer in the Imperial Royal Navy.”

“Such promise! You haven’t brought shame to your father!” the old man said, patting the young man’s shoulder, his eyes full of smiles.

The young officer pointed to a car in the distance. “Uncle, that’s my car. The latest model Ford from America. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Not bad! Your uncle likes it very much. I’ll buy one in a few days,” the old man nodded, casually handing his suitcase to his officer nephew.

The soldier in charge of baggage inspection at the exit saw the nephew’s military rank, snapped to attention, saluted, and abandoned any thought of inspecting the luggage.

“Uncle, what’s so heavy in here?” the nephew asked jokingly as he placed the suitcase on the back seat of the car.

The old man was still smiling. “A pistol and a radio. That’s why it’s so heavy.”

The young man was taken aback for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Uncle, you’re quite the joker.”

“Well then, I’ll stop joking, John,” the old man said, his smile vanishing. His expression became very serious. “Gray Wolf.”

The young man’s face changed slightly. He then continued to start the car. “Poison?”

The old man nodded. “Poison.”

Far away in Berlin, at the Reichswehr High Command, a staff officer handed a coded telegram to Akado, then stood at attention and said, “Sir! Agent Poison is in position! The first phase of Operation Thumbtack is complete. Three agents killed in action, two have lost contact. All others are normal.”

“Deactivate all contacts for the agents who have been lost. Use them to mislead the enemy. Promote the fallen soldiers by one rank and issue posthumous medals. Execute immediately! Report any developments to me at once!” Akado ordered, putting down the document in his hand.

“Yes, sir!” The officer saluted and walked out.

Akado closed the file in his hand, stood up, and walked to the office next door. As he passed Grace’s desk, he said softly, “Coffee, please. Thank you.”

Pushing open Seeckt’s door, Akado stood at attention and saluted. “General, sir, the first phase of Operation Thumbtack has been completed. The Reichswehr’s eyes and ears are now all over Britain and France. We even have personnel deployed in the United States. Our intelligence has almost never been so accurate and reliable.”

“This morning, French border troops found four black wetsuits buried in a deep pit! They have already demanded a full investigation from me and have delivered a note to our ambassador in France!” Seeckt was clearly not pleased with Akado’s methods.

He stood up, looked at Akado, and continued with a frown, “Don’t treat our opponents like fools! A spy program on such a massive scale… the details of this plan are probably already sitting on the French president’s desk!”

Akado smiled. “They certainly know we are deploying a plan called Thumbtack and have strengthened their defenses. But it’s impossible for them to know the specific details of the plan, because the only ones who know the full picture are you and I, General.”

“Have all these people reached their respective positions?” Seeckt clearly had no intention of holding Akado responsible. He, of course, knew the importance of intelligence work. After a few reprimands, he changed the subject.

“Yes, General! In less than three years, if the Reichswehr wishes, we could even arrange the French president’s daily schedule.”

“Then he won’t get any sleep!” Seeckt said, displaying a rare moment of humor. Then, the two of them laughed heartily together.