The Secret Generations (6 page)

As he boarded the Stadtbahn train for Neuweissensee, Steinhauer hoped the crushing of Ulhurt
’s leg had almost performed the taming for him. Soon, the training phase would end, and his tame spy could be tested in the field. Ireland, perhaps, would be a good starting point. He was pleased with that idea.

Chapter Four

Giles Railton had trained himself to manage on only four hours of sleep each night. Between three in the morning and dawn he was often at his best. Some of his most constructive plans came to mental fruition in those twilight hours; though, sometimes, he was out and about.

On a Wednesday night, a few weeks after The General’s funeral, he walked the streets of London. He knew every road and alley blindfold and, in fact, could always find his way, even in pitch darkness or thickest fog. It was not a knack, but a self-taught art, for he could do the same in most of the great capitals of Europe, not to mention places as far away as Cairo and Calcutta.

On this morning the journey was simple
– Eccleston Square to his son’s house in King Street. The task was one which a messenger could easily have carried out, but the intriguer in Giles’ nature made it a pleasure for him to do the job alone.

Nobody either heard or saw him enter King Street, slip quietly to the house door, and deposit a letter through the box.

In the morning, Lieutenant-Commander Andrew Railton RN rose early, out of habit. While shaving he peered hard into the mirror. The General had seemed indestructible. Now he was gone – like a man dying in battle. Many Railton men had looked hard at themselves over the past days, as though searching for the seed of destruction which lies in all men.

Examining his reflection, Andrew found it hard to credit the fact that he had passed his mid-thirties, let
alone the rank of Lieutenant-Commander. He also marvelled at his happiness and good fortune. Though, like all sailors, he preferred to be in a ship, he was content with his profession. One of his sons, Caspar, was nearing the moment of decision regarding his future; while the twins, Rupert and Ramillies, now approached the first hurdle which would shape their futures. Andrew was inordinately proud of his sons.

There was also the intense happiness of his private domestic life. In all respects, even after the seventeen years of their marriage, Charlotte was an unbelievably ideal wife and mother. She had a good, interesting mind, always anxious to learn, so that the couple could talk about most subjects under the sun. She also ran his home with an almost naval precision, even if she occasionally took a little more drink than was good for her.

After all this time, she appeared to enjoy their lovemaking, with the kind of abandon Andrew associated with a completely different sort of woman. Certainly the two years they had spent together when he was on the China Station – and the one in the Mediterranean – could never make up for the years spent apart. Yet, undoubtedly, Charlotte had learned many ways to please her husband when living in those hot climates.

Dressed, he went through to Charlotte
’s room. In spite of the early hour, she was awake. He said he would be home at the usual time that evening, and merely wished to see her before breakfasting and leaving for the Admiralty.

She gave a sleepy smile.
‘Oh, my dear, what do you find to do with yourself all day at the Admiralty?’ Then, suddenly becoming wide awake, ‘Andrew, you never talk about it nowadays. What
do
you find to occupy yourself? You used to say so much…’

Andrew had been reluctant to tell his wife about the nature of his work with the Director Intelligence Division (Admiralty).
‘It’s just that the Admiralty isn’t quite as exciting as the old days: not quite the same as being Jacky Fisher’s Gunnery Officer in
Renown
.’ He hoped the question had been turned.

Her face fell.
‘Poor Lord Fisher. Oh well, I suppose you’re working with this new Naval War Staff, now they’ve chucked Jacky out on his ear.’

‘
Something like that.’ He bent over to kiss her. ‘I shall see you tonight, my darling.’

‘
And I shall look forward to it: she grinned, sinking back onto the pillows.

Tonight, he thought. One of these tonights he would have to speak to her about the very sensitive nature of his work. Wives needed to know these things in order to avoid gaffes in public, particularly at naval functions.

He went down to the dining room for breakfast, which stood ready in its various dishes on the sideboard. An envelope lay by his plate, and he immediately recognized his father’s hand. Inside, a single sheet of paper was neatly covered with a series of numbers. Urgent it might be, but he would eat first. Helping himself to bacon, eggs, and an excellent sausage, Andrew applied himself to
The Times
. When he had finished, he took a second cup of coffee and went into his study, on the far side of the hall.

Having locked the door, he spread his father
’s message out on his desk, and took a book from the case which stood against the right hand wall.

Andrew was barely fourteen when he became interested in secret writings and codes. As a quiet, secret pastime, his father devised the simplest form of cipher, an ordinary book code with messages passed by giving blocks of figures equivalent to page, line and number of the word. It was hardly professional, though most serviceable, for the numbers were useless to anyone else, unless they knew what book was being used. Initially they used the works of William Shakespeare, for all the Railtons were dedicated to the Bard
– some said they used the plays more than the Bible, and certainly regarded them with greater reverence. Then, Giles made the cipher more obscure by discovering two copies of a three volume history with the pompous title:
A View of Universal History, from the Creation

to the Present Time.

It had been published in 1795 by G. Kearsley No. 46 Fleet Street London, and written by The Revd J. Adams AM. They had often used the cipher to communicate with one another during the intervening years.

The current message, left by Giles in the small hours, was ciphered to Volume One, and Andrew took less than three minutes to unravel it. The book, being old, was written in a flowery language which made literal messages sometimes difficult.

When deciphered, this one read:

The author suggests you be not with your captain at the military tribunal this day.

So? Andrew allowed himself a cynical smile, was this a case of father not wishing to be distracted by son? Or was it merely a question of too many Railtons spoiling the broth of intrigue?
‘The Military Tribunal’ was the first full meeting of the CID’s sub-committee for the reorganization of the Secret and Security Services. Under normal circumstances, Andrew would have accompanied his superior, the DID.

On the way to the Admiralty, he thought of Charlotte
’s remarks concerning the unfair treatment of Admiral Fisher, recently resigned from his duties as First Sea Lord.

It was so damned unjust, for Jacky Fisher had changed the whole shape and capability of the Royal Navy more than any one man since Henry VIII.

Arriving at his office, Andrew went straight to give his excuses to the DID, and make sure he was not at the meeting that afternoon. Then he got on with the important, most secret, work entrusted to him.

*

After that very first meeting with the Kaiser, during which he was left in no doubt as to his orders and duty, Gustav Steinhauer contrived to take care of his own situation lest anything should go badly wrong.

He managed two more private conversations with the Kaiser, and overcame the vain man by the use of his own silver tongue, extracting from him two things. First a general-purpose letter, so phrased that the reader would be left in no doubt that Steinhauer was acting on the Kaiser
’s personal orders. Second, he pleaded for money. The cost of recruiting and training the kind of man required by the Kaiser was, Steinhauer explained, prohibitive. The Kaiser appeared to understand this, just as he saw that Steinhauer would be unable to get funds directly from the Foreign Ministry – and certainly never from the military, once they took over.

In this way, Steinhauer had gained a special private kind of power, and was in a position to make certain Hans-Helmut Ulhurt was properly cared for at the clinic in Neuweissensee. He simply bought the place out, and introduced his own staff.

When he was in Berlin, Steinhauer tried to visit the clinic every other day. He found that the big sailor had started to respond. The aim was to make Ulhurt dependent on him alone.

Soon, he discovered two things
– Ulhurt could be gentle, kind, and talk with great knowledge about a hundred different subjects; he was also full of pent-up anger, and could be as dangerous as a snake. He would be trained, as one taught an intelligent dog, to flush out quarry, to bring home messages, to maim and to kill. Altogether a most suitable subject.

Steinhauer told him there was special training ahead. He already knew a good deal about wireless telegraphy, but there was more to be learned; there would also be certain violent skills, as well as some kind of a course in
ciphers. The violent part would include explosives.

‘
As soon as you’re really moving well, and are fit,’ Steinhauer told him, ‘I shall want you to take a trip to sea once more.’

‘
To get my sea legs back?’ The sailor flashed a rare smile.

‘
Something like that. There are people to meet, and countries just over the horizon. Call it experience.’

‘
Call it what you like.’ Ulhurt pulled himself from the bed and walked, unaided, to the door and back again.

‘
Soon we shall have some new instructors here.’ Steinhauer was only just starting to formulate the course he wished Ulhurt to follow. ‘There will be people to teach you many skills – and some gymnastic experts.’

‘
I smashed up the teeth of a gymnastic instructor one time,’ Ulhurt looked at his hand. ‘Tried to practise some physical jerks on me – know the kind I mean?’

‘
I think so.’

‘
Look,’ he held up a hand the size of a small bunch of bananas. ‘Look, you can still see the scars, where his teeth went.’

‘
You have a good, interesting future,’ Steinhauer tried a smile, for the big sailor appeared to have become sullen.

‘
Even without a leg?’

‘
Especially without a leg.’

‘
Shithouse English pig-dogs!’ Ulhurt slapped his wooden thigh.

‘
You blame the English sailors?’ Steinhauer’s face blank.

‘
Who else? A life and career ruined.’

‘
I’ve already told you, your career is not ruined. Far from it. The reason you are here is to prepare you for future work for the Fatherland…’

‘
Fuck the Fatherland!’

‘
Ulhurt, my friend, do I have to remind you of your luck? Others have…’

‘
Died? I know, died. Damned bastard English sailors are the ones I want to see rot.’

‘
And you may well have that chance. Listen for a moment. The sooner you can get used to this wooden leg, the sooner you can get your own back on English sailors. Already you have achieved miracles. I know it is hard, but I will let you into one small secret. And kindly remember it is a
secret
. Something between us alone.’

The big head gave a surly nod.

‘The work I am to prepare you for concerns English sailors. It will bring you into close contact with them. If the opportunity arises, you will be able to exact revenge. Work hard. Learn what we are about to teach you, and there is a good life ahead.’ Steinhauer smiled, one hand patting the large man on the shoulder. He felt the hard flesh under his palm and thought, not for the first time, that this man had enough power in his body to kill with consummate ease.

All things were possible: he had the strength, experience at sea, and in countries throughout the world; he spoke French, Italian, Swedish and English like a native. How, Steinhauer wondered, coul
d a man with this kind of intelligence have allowed himself to become a person of two faces – the good professional sailor, and the drunken, whoring bar-fighter?

In a moment of near affection for the wounded giant he asked if there was anything he needed.

‘A woman,’ Ulhurt sounded surprised that Steinhauer even needed to ask. ‘A good woman. Preferably black. Black is the fashionable colour at the moment, I mourn for my leg.’

That evening, a henchman brought a tall, fine-looking mulatto girl to the clinic. She came from the Alexander-Platz area in a closed car with the blinds down, and returned there in the early hours of the morning
– with enough money to take a couple of days off. The male nurses reported to Steinhauer that their patient performed well, and made an extra effort during the following day.

Within thirty-six hours, Steinhauer returned to the clinic and sought out Ulhurt in his room. The huge sailor lay on his bed, and Steinhauer
– his head reeling with devious decisions – pulled a chair close to Ulhurt.

‘
You are to start,’ he announced, quietly, as though someone might be listening.

‘
English sailors?’ Ulhurt grinned with crooked pleasure.