Traitor's Gate (31 page)

‘Not any more.’

‘Very good,’ said Churchill. ‘Tell me, Mr de Lancey, do you think Herr Beans will fight the Germans if they do invade?’

Conrad frowned for a moment before he realized Churchill was referring to Edvard Beneš, the President of Czechoslovakia. They spent a fascinating hour discussing Central European politics before Conrad returned to his waiting taxi, Churchill’s letter for von Kleist and General Beck safe in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Conrad sat in the first-floor drawing room of his family’s home in Kensington Square, sipping a cup of tea. He was staying there while he was in London, rather than at his club, and his father had just come up to town to sound out those of his old Cabinet colleagues who were still languishing in the capital in August. It was a hot day, and the windows were open, letting in the occasional sound of a car driving around the square and the more persistent hum of traffic from the High Street a hundred yards distant.

‘Your face is a bit of a mess,’ said Lord Oakford.

Conrad touched his cheek. ‘Actually, it’s healing quite well.’

‘Who did it? Winston?’

Conrad laughed. ‘No. Although he did greet me brandishing a trowel. It was the Gestapo.’

‘Did they hurt you? I mean, beyond what I can see?’

‘Not much, fortunately. I managed to put them off the scent just as they were getting into their stride.’

‘Be careful, my boy.’

‘I will, Father.’

There was an awkward moment as Lord Oakford peered closely at his son. Then he seemed to relax, sitting back in his chair and sipping his tea. ‘So, how is Winston?’

‘Building a wall,’ replied Conrad. ‘He said some nice things about you. About your resignation.’

Lord Oakford chuckled wryly. ‘It is a sad thing when the most notable event of one’s time in government is one’s depart­ure from it.’

‘I think he, like you, is frustrated at being out of things.’

‘Who said I was frustrated at being out of things?’ said Lord Oakford.

Conrad smiled. ‘Just a guess, Father.’

‘Well, I’m not completely out of touch,’ Lord Oakford said. ‘I had luncheon with Edward today at White’s. He knows all about your man von Kleist’s visit; Van, George Lloyd and Winston have given him a full report.’ Edward was Lord Halifax, and Van was Sir Robert Vansittart, the foreign-policy expert.

‘I wonder if they all said the same thing?’

‘Probably not. Van is a bit suspicious. He seemed to think von Kleist wanted to grab half of Poland.’

‘Oh dear. And Halifax?’

‘He doesn’t quite know what to think. He has authorized Winston to send a letter—’

‘Which I have here,’ said Conrad, patting his jacket, which was lying on the arm of the sofa.’

‘Be careful with that,’ said Oakford.

‘Don’t worry, I will.’

‘But you know Edward. He worries about it not being quite “proper”. And I have to say, I know what he means. It’s dashed tricky dealing with renegade aristocrats.’

‘It’s the only way,’ said Conrad.

Lord Oakford frowned. ‘I hope you are right.’

Conrad sipped his tea. ‘And what about the Prime Minister?’

‘He’s fishing at the moment. In Scotland.’

Conrad snorted. ‘While Europe is about to burst into flames?’

Lord Oakford shook his head. ‘I know, I know, but he was asked to Balmoral by the King, and he could hardly decline. I was at Cliveden over the weekend. There was a lot of talk about what we should do with Germany, as usual. Geoffrey is adamant that appeasing Hitler is the only way.’ Geoffrey was Geoffrey Dawson, editor of
The Times
and an old friend of Lord Oakford. ‘Nearly all the others around the table agreed with him.’

‘Except you?’

Lord Oakford smiled. ‘I said that Hitler was an evil man and he had to be stopped. But that war was a last resort. When they asked me how I thought I could stop him without a war and without doing a deal with him, I said we had to stand firm by Czechoslovakia and force him to back down. They weren’t impressed. And, more importantly, they are pretty confident Neville is committed to bringing Herr Hitler to the conference table and making whatever concessions he asks for.’

‘But if General Beck and the others get rid of him, there won’t be anyone to give concessions to.’

‘You know that, and I know that. They don’t.’

There was a pause. ‘Thank you for listening to me, Father.’

‘You were pretty bloody rude. I don’t think anyone has ever called me a coward before.’

‘I know, I’m sorry. It was the only way I could get through to you. I needed to make the point.’

Lord Oakford smiled. ‘And actually you did it in exactly the right way. I knew what you meant; I knew I was taking the easy way out by clinging to appeasement at all costs, that’s what made me so angry.’ He smiled. ‘Your mother put me straight, as always. If you ever get married again, marry someone with more sense than you. It can be very useful sometimes.’

Conrad found himself thinking immediately of Anneliese. Then he stopped. He was still married to someone else, someone with considerably less sense than himself. He glanced at his father. There was a twinkle in his eye, as if he could read Conrad’s mind. Conrad felt himself reddening and changed the subject to cover his confusion. ‘So what do you think Chamber­lain will do? Now he knows about the coup he must stand by Czechoslovakia, surely?’

‘I really don’t know,’ said Lord Oakford. ‘Neville is quite committed to appeasement.’

‘I can’t believe he would pass up such an opportunity!’ Conrad frowned. He had assumed that the British government would go along with von Kleist’s suggestion, once they had satisfied themselves that he was credible. ‘If Chamberlain does let Hitler walk into Czechoslovakia unopposed, will the Cabinet follow him?’

‘Some probably won’t – Duff Cooper, for example. Some will, come what may – Kingsley Wood, Sam Hoare. But I think the others will follow Edward. Although he’s toeing the appease­ment line at the moment, he’s not an out-and-out appeaser at all costs. If he comes to believe that Hitler can’t be trusted or that there is another way of stopping him, he might withdraw his support for the Prime Minister. And say what you like about Edward, he does have a reputation for integrity. He could swing the majority of the Cabinet against Neville if he was absolutely convinced Neville was wrong.’

‘So it’s all down to Lord Halifax,’ said Conrad.

‘I think so,’ said his father. ‘Let’s hope he takes the right decision.’

Conrad looked down upon the clear white V cutting across Lake Havel as a passenger ferry made its way south towards Potsdam. A pocket of warm air rose up from the Grunewald and struck the descending aeroplane, causing it to lurch alarmingly. Conrad gripped the armrests of his seat as the Ju-52 lowered itself on to the runway at Tempelhof.

It wasn’t the landing that bothered him, but what would happen afterwards. Whenever he had crossed the borders of the Third Reich before, his luggage had been diligently searched, but his personal correspondence had never been read. He had stuffed Churchill’s letter to von Kleist into the middle of a sheaf of old love letters from Veronica. As long as he was treated as any other passenger he had nothing to fear, but if Klaus had somehow learned of his return to Germany and decided to have him searched thoroughly, he would be in big trouble. He had cabled ahead to Theo to meet him at the aerodrome, so all he needed to do was to get through customs safely and he could hand the letter over and be done with it.

He was about twenty people back from the front of the queue in the terminal building. It was moving slowly: the German border police ahead were being thorough, but not suspiciously over-diligent.

Suddenly he felt as much as saw the queue stiffen. Two border policemen were walking purposefully towards the waiting passengers. Everyone looked around, trying to decide whether it was they or their neighbour that the police were approaching. The palms of Conrad’s hands became instantly clammy. He looked straight ahead, and then, realizing that this set him apart from the rest of the queue, joined in with those staring at the policemen.

They walked right up to him. ‘Herr de Lancey?’

He nodded.

‘Come this way please!’

The policemen’s faces were stiff and correct; Conrad couldn’t read them. Thoughts scrambled around his brain as he tried to think of what he would say to Klaus if the letter were discovered. In it Churchill made the point that if the Germans invaded Czechoslovakia a long and bloody war with Britain and France would result, but he didn’t mention von Kleist’s name or his activities, other than to note that the recipient had recently paid him a visit. The letter was addressed to ‘My dear Sir’. Conrad decided that his best bet was to claim that Churchill had written the letter to him, and that he was keeping it as a memento from a celebrated politician on an important subject.

Would Klaus believe that? Somehow, Conrad doubted it.

Under the curious gaze of his fellow passengers, Conrad was led through a door into a small office.

There, in uniform, was a figure he recognized.

‘Theo! What the devil are you playing at?’

Theo grinned and shook Conrad’s hand. He nodded to the two policemen, dismissing them. ‘You don’t think I could let you go through carrying that letter, do you?’

‘You could have warned me you would be meeting me on this side of customs. I had quite a fright when those policemen came for me.’

‘Keeps you on your toes,’ said Theo, clapping Conrad on the back. ‘Now, come on. Once we are in the car, you can tell me all about it.’

Theo and Conrad slipped out of a side door from the little office, out of sight of the other passengers. Theo’s Horch was parked outside and in a few moments they were heading through the Kreuzberg to Conrad’s flat.

‘Have you seen von Kleist since he got back to Germany?’ Conrad asked.

‘Yes, I have.’

‘Is he happy with his trip?’

‘I think so. He feels he made his point and that Churchill especially listened to him. He is still disappointed he didn’t meet anyone actually in government. Have you got the letter?’

Conrad rummaged through his suitcase and handed Theo Churchill’s letter. ‘It’s not from the Prime Minister, but I hope it will do.’

‘But will he get the message?’ Theo asked.

‘Oh, definitely. Halifax has had a full report already. Chamber­­lain is in Scotland fishing, but he’ll find out all about it soon enough.’

‘What will his reaction be?’

‘I have no idea. But my father will keep his ear to the ground. What’s all this?’

Theo’s car was stopped at a junction while a seemingly endless line of trucks crammed with soldiers drove past.

‘There’s a parade in honour of Admiral Horthy, the Hun­garian regent. It’s supposed to be one of the biggest yet. It’s playing havoc with the traffic.’

Conrad stared at the soldiers, hundreds of them, thousands of them. It seemed like a whole division. ‘If the British listen to von Kleist’s message and stand by Czechoslovakia, do you think General Beck will keep his promise to lead a revolt?’

‘General Beck has resigned.’

‘He’s what!’ Conrad turned towards Theo who was staring straight ahead at the column of trucks.

‘He submitted his resignation yesterday. We tried to stop him, but he insisted.’

‘So who will lead the coup?’

Theo sighed. ‘That’s a very good question. His successor is almost certain to be General Halder, his deputy.’

‘Will he do it?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Theo. ‘We’ll see.’

Conrad shook his head. ‘So Uncle Ewald’s trip was a waste of time.’

‘No, it wasn’t!’ said Theo. Anger mixed with determination in his voice. ‘There are enough of us who are determined to act. Trust me. We
will
get rid of that maniac.’

Conrad smiled at his friend. ‘Good. And I will do all I can to help you.’

Eventually Theo battled his way through the mayhem and dropped Conrad at his flat. Conrad was anxious to see Anneliese. True, he had promised Theo that they would stay away from each other to avoid provoking Klaus unnecessarily, but he thought he could risk dropping in on her during the day for a short period. He remembered that she was on an early shift that day and should be home by four. Since he had a couple of hours until then, he decided to walk, and watch the parade on the way.

Unter den Linden was packed, as was the Victory Avenue through the Tiergarten. Conrad found himself a spot near the Brandenburg Gate to watch the procession. Infantry marched past with a rapid goose-step; Prussian cavalry mounted on fine chargers trotted along, looking vulnerable in front of the armoured monstrosities clanking behind them. Bandsmen in many different uniforms played the same martial music. Looking down on it all was the Quadriga, the sculpture of Victory driving a four-horse chariot perched atop the Branden­burg Gate. The crowd were cheering wildly, not just the men but the women too, their faces lit up with excitement and pride. Arms were raised everywhere in the Nazi salute. When a giant gun passed by carried by four trucks, a gun bigger than Conrad had ever seen or even imagined, the crowd erupted into ecstasies of militaristic joy. Conrad wondered whether Uncle Ewald was right; it seemed to him at that moment that the German people were straining to march into a war, smiling and laughing to the sound of the bands playing ‘
Deutschland über Alles
’.

Beck’s resignation was clearly a blow to Theo and his con­spira­tors. But it was equally clear that something drastic had to be done to stop the Nazi juggernaut smashing over Europe. Conrad hoped that there were enough Germans who thought like Theo to do it.

It was impossible to cross the never-ending line of soldiers, and so Conrad doubled back to take the U-Bahn underneath them to the Scheunenviertel. He spent twenty minutes loitering in the streets around Anneliese’s building, checking for watch­ers. It was five o’clock by the time he finally rang the bell to her building. Frau Goldstein answered the door.

When she saw him, she burst into tears.

‘What is it?’ asked Conrad. ‘Where’s Anneliese?’

‘Oh, Herr de Lancey, it’s so terrible. I was hoping you would come so I could tell you—’