Spook's Gold by Andrew Wood Page A

information that Marner had trawled through, it was not leaping out at him.  The only factor that seemed to be recurring was the use of these two particular submarines.  He returned to Graf’s office and dropped the files onto his desk.  Questioned as to the reason why only these two submarines were used for gold shipments, Graf explained that these were the only u-boats carrying cargo at all.  “They are the only type IX-D1’s ever built.  They were designed to be attack submarines but their diesel engines were adapted from e-boat’s and they proved to be completely unsatisfactory due to overheating problems.  So the D1’s were then used for spook operations.”
    “‘Spook’?” queried Marner. 
    “Spook as in spying.  Sneaking around quietly and slowly, dropping off spies on foreign shores, that kind of thing.  But when trade with our Japanese allies came into vogue, the two D1’s were fully adapted for cargo operations.  The engines were modified and non-essential equipment stripped out, which also gave the ability to run with a minimum crew.”
    “So these are in fact the only submarines carrying cargo shipments of any kind,” concluded Marner. 
    “Today, yes, although there are two more that have just been completed and are undergoing final commissioning and trials up in the Baltic.  But at the moment the 180 and the 195 are the only two.”
    Marner looked over Graf’s head and out of the office window, silent for several seconds, seeking some inspiration in the view of Paris rooftops.  “Is there anything else that you can tell me about these shipments and the submarines, anything that might be of use?” asked Marner in a hopeful tone. 
    “Unfortunately not.  I am in charge of all scheduling for the North Atlantic sector.  I don’t have much to do with these transports. I’m just told that something has to be picked up from a certain location on a given date and dropped at a location on a specified date.  These subs and shipments are just a minor part of my responsibilities and really don’t merit much of my time or attention.”
    Marner felt that yet another dead-end seemed to have been reached.  “Okay.  I’ll continue with my investigation and be in touch if I need anything.”
    “Of course,” smiled Graf.  “But don’t forget to have a look into the overland transport of the shipments.  Your missing gold could just as well have been purloined there too!”
    Marner nodded dubiously, no longer sure of where and how to pursue the case. 

Chapter Nine
    Marner had only just arrived at his office when Boris rolled in, returning from another extended lunch.  Boris Emsinger was the only person in the city that Marner would call a friend.  Finding themselves in adjoining offices with a common background as policemen in the pre-war years, it had been inevitable that a bond had formed. 
    Boris had been a country gendarme with the Landespolizei – the Bavarian state police force – in a small town in southern Germany.  He had immediately volunteered to join the Waffen SS on the outbreak of the war to escape the boredom of his provincial hometown.  Badly wounded during the retreat from Stalingrad in the winter of 1942, Boris was fortunate to have been evacuated before the encirclement and near annihilation of the trapped German forces.  Although he had recovered, he was no longer classified as fully fit for active service and so his previous career had landed him a job in Kripo and, as Boris phrased it, his natural charm and good luck had gained him the bonus of a posting to Paris. 
    “Ah, there you are Dieter,” roared Boris, lunging through Marner’s office door and crash-landing his considerable bulk into the spare chair.  Marner had seen him do it numerous times and was amazed that the chair remained intact.  “You need to stop working so damn hard, come out and enjoy lunch with us once in a while, why don’t you?”
    Marner smiled indulgently.  He enjoyed