The Secret of Spandau (24 page)

Dick went on probing, as conscientious in his way as the Gestapo officer had been. ‘Were the Germans you flew to England the same individuals each time?'

‘I think two of them were,' answered Frank. ‘There was always a third one in the party, but I can't recall that I ever recognized the same bloke on another trip.'

‘Would you say they were probably diplomats?'

‘I don't think they were servicemen, anyway.'

‘And it was always the same routine in England? You flew to Kidlington and there was a staff car waiting?'

‘Yes.' Frank took off his glasses and wiped them. ‘I mean no. We didn't always fly into Kidlington. Once it was Brize Norton and another time it was Benson. And there's something else I wanted to tell you, if I can remember it.' He replaced the glasses and stared around the terrace. There were only two other residents outside, and they were well out of earshot, but he still leaned forward confidentially. ‘The driver. I had a word with the driver of the car a couple of times, when we were getting the party aboard. He was in the Army. A Sergeant in Transport Command. One time I asked him where he took them, and he said it was usually some big house in the country, miles from anywhere.'

‘The same one?'

‘No. Different each time. But there was one thing the same. Whichever house he had to take them to, there was always this big saloon car standing in the drive. Being in Transport Command, he knew all about cars. It had no markings, no flag or anything, but he knew who those Germans had come to see. Who do you think? Only the blinking Prime Minister, Winston Churchill!'

Jane's mind reeled. Churchill, the greatest Englishman, the man who had exhorted the nation to defy the Third Reich in the darkest days of the war, had been secretly, regularly, receiving its envoys.
Churchill
, who had pledged that Britain would go on to the end, fighting in France, on the seas and oceans, the beaches, the landing grounds, the fields, the streets and the hills, defending her island, whatever the cost might be.

She was numb with the enormity of it. She was not a blind worshipper of Churchill. She had often rebelled against her parents' image of the man as a mix of the finest qualities of the British bulldog, St George and Jesus Christ. She would remind them of blots on his war record, like the fall of Singapore and the bombing of Dresden. Yet how could anyone begin to account for this massive inconsistency? She was so stunned that she totally failed to notice the silver-haired man in a dark blue suit who was waiting to intercept Dick and herself as they moved off the terrace and into the building.

She just heard his voice saying, ‘May I have a private word with you both?' She and Dick stopped together. She found herself looking into a pair of expressionless grey eyes above a thin, insipid smile.

Dick came down to earth first. ‘What about?'

‘If you would kindly step outside the building …' His voice was mild in tone, but so overloaded with reproach that he might have been apprehending shop-lifters.

‘Who are you?' Dick asked.

‘Not here, if you don't mind.'

Dick exchanged an uncomprehending glance with Jane and they allowed themselves to be led through the building to the main entrance. Three or four old soldiers were outside in wheelchairs, watching the traffic pass in and out of Richmond Park. The grey eyes flicked over them and then focussed in the opposite direction.

‘Let's walk towards the Terrace Gardens.'

‘If you've anything to say, you can say it here,' Dick obdurately told him.

Another glance at the war veterans. ‘Very well. I think it right to inform you that the residents of this home are all ex-members of the armed forces, and come under the jurisdiction of the Official Secrets Act. They are not at liberty to disclose information to the press about sensitive matters.'

‘Just who are you?' Dick angrily demanded.

‘A member of the security services.'

‘There's nothing illegal in what we're doing,' said Dick. ‘It's supposed to be a free country.'

Jane added, ‘We phoned the matron to arrange this visit.'

‘I know you did, Miss Calvert-Mead,' said grey-eyes, pausing to let the fact that he knew her name sink in. ‘But you omitted to advise the matron of the matters you wished to raise with Warrant-Officer Perry.'

‘He was under no duress,' said Dick.

‘He is an old man, Mr Garrick. Sometimes people take advantage of old men. As I mentioned, he is covered by the Official Secrets Act. Any information he may unwittingly have disclosed to you is also likely to be covered by the Act.'

‘So what do you intend to do about it?' Dick snapped back. ‘Prosecute? Haul the old man into court in his wheelchair? Is that the way this country treats its war veterans?'

‘No, but we can prosecute journalists who take advantage of the same old man.'

‘Is that a threat?' said Jane.

He ignored her. ‘I doubt if this line of enquiry will reflect much credit on your newspaper, either. I believe you pride yourselves on being one of the more reliable organs of the press. Old men's memories are notoriously unreliable.'

Jane started to say, ‘We wouldn't publish anything we hadn't confirmed,' but Dick gripped her arm, over-riding her words with some of his own.

‘Leave it, Jane. We don't have to justify ourselves to someone who doesn't even tell us his name.' He steered her towards his car.

As they turned away, the security officer said to their backs, ‘You'll be wasting your time if you go on with this.'

‘What did he mean by that?' Jane asked Dick when they were fastening safety-belts.

‘It sounded ominously like the threat of a D Notice.'

She took a long breath. ‘They can't kill this story. It's got to be told.'

He started the Renault, and backed it slowly, watched by the security officer.

‘What a wimp!' said Jane.

‘Just a functionary, doing his job.'

‘A bloody obnoxious job. If he goes back inside and scares that old man …'

‘He won't,' said Dick. ‘He's assigned to us. Watch him get into his car and follow. I reckon we alerted them by going to see Salter-Smith. The pressure is really on now.'

Jane watched in the wing-mirror, and saw Dick's prediction confirmed. Grey-eyes got into a blue Volvo and cruised into position behind them.

‘Where are we going now?'

‘To my place to check some facts,' answered Dick.

‘We're going to need all the evidence we can get to win this one with Cedric.'

Jane saw the sense of that. Dick was right about the pressure. It was coming from every direction: the secret service, Cedric, and Red in Berlin. And now there was this incredible lead on Churchill: a vast new avenue of enquiry to explore. Would it lead to Hess, or off into new territory? She kept thinking of Red, primed for action. On the phone to Cedric he had joked about some German girl making demands, but that was typical of Red. The message that had come over to Jane was a strong appeal for quick results. She sensed that he saw trouble looming, and in Berlin trouble came in ugly forms.

‘I'm going to call Cedric as soon as we get there,' Dick announced. ‘We've got to go out to Henley and see him tonight.'

Mindful of phone-tapping, Dick kept the call as uninformative as possible. Fortunately, Cedric caught on to the urgency of the request and agreed to see them at whatever time they could arrive. It was already 4.00 p.m.

Dick put two meat-pies in the microwave and brought out some Perrier water. At his suggestion, they spread a large sheet of paper on the floor and made a simple timetable: a vertical line down the centre: on the left, the dates Frank Perry had given for the German visits; on the right, the principal developments in the corresponding period of the war.

 

Before it was all on paper, Jane could see a pattern emerging, a pattern dominated by Hitler's curious love-hate attitude towards Britain. He had not planned to go to war with Britain. He had counted on a bloodless agreement on terms that would recognize Germany's power over mainland Europe.

When Churchill had succeeded Chamberlain as Prime Minister, there were fighting words from the new leader about blood, toil, tears and sweat, but Hitler, of all people, understood rhetoric. His tanks had rolled through France and the Low Countries, providing their own eloquent testimony to German invincibility. They could have annihilated the British Expeditionary Force, but Hitler astounded his Panzer commanders by arriving in person at battle headquarters and ordering them to halt. The miracle of Dunkirk, the evacuation of over 300,000 British troops, was by grace of the Führer. Why? Was it a magnanimous gesture to the new Prime Minister? When the last troops had been lifted off the beaches, Churchill thundered his response: ‘We shall never surrender.'

Hitler was unconvinced. He had completed the defeat of France. He had signed an armistice allowing the Pétain government jurisdiction over two-fifths of the country: another display of magnanimity.

He still had no desire to invade Britain. He was counting on a compromise peace. But in July he made preparations, and massed his forces on the Channel coasts.

This was the pattern: a show of strength followed by an offer of peace. As Operation Sealion ostentatiously got ready, Hitler stood up in the Reichstag and issued a ‘final appeal' to Britain's ‘reason and common sense'.

And at about this time, in July 1940, according to Frank Perry, a party of Germans had been secretly flown into Britain for a meeting with Churchill. Numerous peace feelers had been put out through neutral countries, but this was in another class. If it were true, it was sensational: Churchill actually talking to Germany.

‘What do you think?' Dick asked, when he had finished.

Jane didn't conceal her excitement. ‘You can almost see Hitler's mind at work. He makes a concession, and then sends his people over to get a reaction from Churchill. The Reichstag speech, then the cancellation of the invasion, then two deputations to Churchill in three weeks. It looks as if he really believed he could pull off a peace deal.'

‘Let's not forget that the Luftwaffe were given a drubbing in the Battle of Britain.'

‘Exactly!' said Jane. ‘What better incentive for Hitler to stop the conflict?'

Dick nodded. ‘Hitler's motives are clear from the start, but that's not the story, is it? The story is Churchill. What was
he
up to, talking to the Nazis while he was hurling defiance at them in Parliament?'

Jane had asked herself the question a dozen times and found no answer. Everything she knew about Churchill rebutted it. For all his faults, he had never made any secret of his implacable opposition to Hitler and the Nazis. ‘You ask: “What is our aim?” I can answer in one word: “Victory!”Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be: for without victory there is no survival.'

She made an effort to be analytical. ‘Either he was seriously considering Hitler's overtures, or he was boxing clever, trying to win time.' As she said it, she found the latter idea so engaging that it showed in her voice.

‘… and that's the more appealing explanation?' Dick suggested in a voice that showed he disagreed.

‘History supports it,' Jane answered stoutly. ‘There wasn't a deal and the Allies defeated Hitler.'

‘Six sets of talks was boxing very clever indeed,' said Dick with heavy irony. ‘The Germans must have felt they were getting close to a deal.' He casually threw in another shaft. ‘And where does Hess fit in?'

‘Hess?' Jane had almost forgotten him. ‘He acted independently. He has always said he came without Hitler's knowledge.'

Dick raised one sceptical eyebrow. ‘Yet he was regarded as totally loyal to his Führer, the most reliable of all the Nazi leaders. So far as I know, he has never to this day repudiated Hitler.'

‘Hitler repudiated
him
. He was in a screaming fury when he heard what had happened.' She hesitated, staring at Dick. ‘What are you suggesting – that Hitler was play-acting?'

‘No. He was angry, all right – in despair that Hess had failed.' Dick leaned towards her in a more conciliatory way. ‘Like you, Jane, I've read everything I can find on Hess. I simply can't accept that he flew to Britain without Hitler's prior knowledge. He was with Hitler from the beginning, in prison with him, helping him to write
Mein Kampf.
I think he was sent by Hitler to clinch a deal with Britain. It was to be the culmination of all the secret missions, the ultimate proof of Hitler's good faith.'