World War Two Will Not Take Place (20 page)

The meeting ended, and most of the participants dispersed. Knecht remained at the head of the table, tidying his papers and smiling to himself. Valk approached and sat opposite. ‘Things went very well, sir,' he said. ‘A little sombre occasionally, but very necessary topics. They have to be dealt with.'

‘What we have to ask, Andreas, haven't we, is whether it's all total bollocks?'

‘Whether what is, sir?'

‘You like to think things are as they seem, don't you?'

‘Which things?'

‘Luckily, I've happened to get sight lately of a confidential memo from von Ribbentrop to the Führer,' Knecht replied.

‘I don't understand. You came by a private message from the Foreign Minister to Hitler? How could that be? What kind of luck, exactly?'

‘It's not a comfortable or comforting document.'

‘In which respect, sir?'

‘This is what I mean when I say you like to think things are as they seem.'

‘Well, up to a point.'

‘“Up to a point, Lord Copper.” There's a new English novel where an underling tactfully questions something said by His Lordship, but really means: “That's out-and-out rubbish.”'

‘
Scoop
. Evelyn Waugh. Amusing, as is his earlier work.
Decline and Fall
. The British sense of humour. Mostly based on class. Terse. “Brevity is the soul of wit.”'

‘There is a girl at a club I go to sometimes who is familiar with that book,' Knecht said. ‘The memo gives Ribbentrop's view of the British.'

‘He's always been keen on friendship with them, hasn't he?'

‘We sit here chewing over details about transport, street protests, tall buildings, hospitals, energy drinks for the London pilgrimage, but to what purpose, Andreas?'

‘For contingencies. Perhaps none of the safety provisions will be needed. They must be in place, though. This is a rule one learned at the front.'

‘Ah, the front,' Knecht said. ‘One learned rules at the front, did one?' His voice assumed false awe and diffidence. From behind the lumpy spectacles, he stared pseudo-respectfully at Valk. It was like a child asking its grandfather to describe his war feats. The blubber rolls between his jaw bones and neck seemed to glow with excitement as he waited for the answer.

‘If one meant to stay alive, one learned the rules,' Valk said.

‘Which in your case, one did?'

‘One meant to stay alive and, yes, one did,' Valk said.

‘Thanks to the rules?'

‘That's to say, rules we made for ourselves. Not the brass's rules. They would get you killed. Remember that pair of troops in an English poem? They speak quite fondly of their general. But . . . Yes, but. . . . “But he did for them both with his plan of attack.”'

‘The British will fight,' Knecht said.

‘Certainly. As we discovered at the front, the British will fight, did fight.'

‘Will fight and win?'

‘They fought and won then, yes – with American help.'

‘That help might be on offer again.'

‘Some would say the United States has become much more isolationist, uninterested in Europe, sir. Times are different.'

‘Maybe. But, regardless of the American position, Ribbentrop thinks Britain will fight again. It's evident from his memorandum that he regrets having to write this. As you say, he's fond of the British. So, his view about their readiness to oppose us seems more believable. He's tried to think otherwise, but observation and logic will not allow it. He refers to threatening speeches by Winston Churchill, former holder of many government offices, and similar from Lionel Paterin, a member of the Cabinet and Defence Cabinet.' Knecht swung his gaze slowly around the big conference room, like a searchlight seeking enemy aircraft to pinpoint for the guns. ‘Why are we wasting our time here, then, making preparations for a state visit that might never happen?'

‘
Might
never happen, yes. Surely, sir, we have always recognized that. But it also
might
happen.'

‘Ribbentrop believes that if Britain and her friends come to consider themselves stronger than Germany, they will strike. He says – regretfully, very regretfully – that Britain must always be regarded as Germany's prime enemy.'

‘But Munich. I don't believe world war two will—'

‘What I said: you like to believe things are as they seem, Munich included.'

‘The winter is coming. Countries don't start wars in the winter.'

‘Countries start wars when they think they can win,' Knecht said. ‘We have people in our Ministries telling the British on the quiet that, really, Germany is weak at present – that the supposed arms build-up here doesn't amount to much, but it might do in a year's time. So, don't wait. Attack now. That's their message to Britain. They detest the Führer and all he stands for, especially the urgent requirements of
Lebensraum
.

‘You've heard of the Kordt brothers, Erich and Theodor? It sounds like a music-hall act. But both are considerable diplomatic figures. A mystery how they hold their jobs. In fact, I don't know how they are still free and, or alive. They talk to London, saying Germany's readiness for war is a sham, and saying also that the Soviet–German agreement is imminent, so Britain should act, before we and Russia are an unstoppable force.'

‘Eisen, back from Moscow, will have views on the possibility of an agreement.'

‘Oh, yes, of course, and from Eisen, or whatever they know him as – some clockmaking alias, I expect – the report will go to Mount. And from Mount to Bilson and the British government via, as ever, Mr Passport Control at the British embassy.'

‘Bernard Kale-Walker.'

‘Part of the scenery. But, incidentally, not, at the moment, part of the Berlin scenery. He's in Dresden with a team.'

‘To what purpose?'

‘A mapping purpose. A bombing purpose.'

‘Dresden?'

‘Symbolic. All that pretty architecture. Wipe it out and think of the damage to morale. Also, lots of converging railway lines. Kale-Walker and his exploration are another reason I think the war is nearer than some like to believe. I admit it's possible. Eisen will tell Mount and London not to worry about a Soviet–German agreement because it will never happen. However, the Kordt brothers urge the opposite to Vansittart – Sir Robert Vansittart, British Foreign Office bigwig. No chum of ours. And the Kordt brothers perhaps have more clout and credibility than Eisen. Meanwhile, Kale-Walker pops down to Dresden to select a few targets for the future. And how far ahead is that future? You'll know the term “pre-emptive”, Andreas.'

‘Of course.'

‘Attack a possible enemy first, to stop the enemy attacking you.'

‘Get one's retaliation in first,' Valk said.

‘Where does this leave the pomp and circumstance state visit?'

NINE

T
oulmin turned up alone at Mount's apartment. It was early evening. Mount had the curtains open, the lights showing. Mount thought it reasonably safe: surveillance seemed to be finished. Toulmin, wearing one of his very presentable, dark-grey office suits and a strikingly white shirt, brought what Mount immediately recognized as terrific insider stuff: at the least strong rumour or gossip, and possibly gospel. ‘The Hitler visit to London, spring 1939,' Toulmin said. ‘Still not a certainty, but preparations move forward fast and in considerable detail.'

‘Well, they're probably both very keen, the king and Adolf. They see great gains for their reputations in that kind of show.'

‘There's some bad interdepartmental strife.'

‘Between?'

‘The Foreign Ministry – including Ribbentrop himself, apparently – and the security gang. It's about who'll run things, if it takes place.'

‘And who
will
?'

‘Three people are to go over ahead to check safety arrangements,' Toulmin said.

‘I'd expect that.'

‘A Major Valk in charge,' Toulmin said. ‘That's the name on the grapevine here. I'd heard of him previously.'

‘Andreas Valk. Old trooper.'

‘Responsible to Knecht. More grapevine. Everyone recognizes that name, of course.'

‘Colonel Maximilian Knecht,' Mount replied. ‘Young star.'

‘Then we have to ask whom Knecht is responsible to.'

‘And what answer do we get?'

‘Himmler?'

‘Quite likely,' Mount said.

‘Goebbels?'

‘Goebbels? He's Public Enlightenment and Propaganda, surely. No security powers.'

‘Possibly not.'

But Toulmin sounded as if this didn't quite meet the point. ‘What, there's something else?' Mount said.

‘There's something else.'

‘Something to interest Goebbels?'

‘They have additional orders from Knecht. Or they come
through
Knecht. Who knows from where above?'

‘Yes, who does know?'

‘Not me, so far. Failure there. Possibly, as I say, from Himmler, possibly Goebbels, or possibly from Himmler at the request of Goebbels. There's all kinds of guesswork at the Ministry. It's not something the Russian desk would normally hear about, but the rumours are everywhere in the Ministry. Important to know whom you're getting into a fight with.'

‘And these “additional orders” direct Valk and his team to—?'

‘They direct Valk and his team to diversify.'

‘Into what?'

‘Naturally, they'll do the safety checks, and do them properly. This is the Führer's skin. Valk is thorough and very loyal. But they're also to dig for any sexual dirt about a member of the British Defence Cabinet, Lionel Paterin. A sort of on-the-side, on-the-sly, vice patrol. There's a married woman, Mrs Elizabeth Gane-Torr. Or Liz. A couple of Valk's people will go to London ahead of him, or may have already gone.'

‘Paterin would be against the visit, I should think. He's become very strong on anti-appeasement – a powerful member of Churchill's group.' They sat in two of the armchairs. Mount had made Bloody Marys. ‘Ah, I see why you think Goebbels,' Mount said. ‘The findings for propaganda use, in case ordinary negotiations fail.'

‘I'd think so. My people don't like it.'

‘Your people?'

‘Speaking loosely. The Foreign Ministry.'

‘Because it's not cricket?'

‘Cricket?'

‘Because this extra operation is sordid?'

‘There's always been a hate between the Ministry and the secret state police.'

‘Almost all Ministries in almost all countries have a hate for their country's secret service,' Mount said, ‘because the country's secret service might start poking into their privacies, allegedly in the interests of the country's greater good. I've got used to the hostility.'

‘Diplomacy against thuggery. This plan to smear Paterin makes it head-on. Remember, Stanley, it's
von
Ribbentrop. He has some family cachet behind him. Yes, he's a prime warmonger, but he also believes in a bit of protocol and refinement.'

Of course, Mount knew it to be a basic of all secret service practice that if your officers were welcomed into another country for a specific job, you snatched the chance to look into extra, adjacent but unrelated topics on the quiet. That kind of natural, opportunistic deceit wasn't uniquely German. Britain would do it. France would. Every developed nation did it – ‘developed' meaning, here, able to afford a sophisticated espionage outfit and amoral, adept and ruthless enough to use it. Spies spied. They spied wholesale. They did not recognize boundaries. Or they recognized them, but only as obstacles to be climbed over, got round, or tunnelled under. If boundaries worked there'd
be
no spies.

Toulmin said: ‘Suppose diplomacy wobbles, Joe Goebbels might want to show Britain as depraved, with drunks and adulterous lechers in prominent, important roles – Winston Churchill the loud, blood-up, brandy-drunk; Paterin, the wandering cock adulterer. Goebbels would love to batter British morale with that kind of attack and lift German morale at the same time by showing a possible enemy as depraved, easy to dispose of. Paterin is significant as Paterin, isn't he – not just for being close to the Prime Minister? He was a business chief before Parliament and the Cabinet – or cabinets: he's in the standard one, and the special Defence group. He's member of a very select, male-only –
distinguished
-male-only – politically influential London club.'

‘Most of the mighty males
are
members of a politically influential club,' Mount said. He stood, crossed to the sideboard and mixed some more drinks. ‘Not only Churchill can put away the alcohol,' he said. Toulmin took the glass. He looked relaxed but formidable in the armchair. ‘You're a bit of a genius, you know, Sam,' Mount said. ‘Information speeds to you, sticks to you. You're a natural.'

Mount felt damn pleased he'd decided not to destroy the four chairs because of that woman's call to the police. It could have been really hurtful and bewildering for Toulmin – arriving at the apartment, understandably excited and proud because of what he'd discovered, then finding the chairs gone, or in fragments waiting to be gone. And he'd realize, of course, that this change in furnishing had been caused by him – or, rather, him and Olga in considerable concert. He might feel shame, but also anger that Mount should behave so immoderately. Mount's explanation would have sounded like panic, just that. This could taint a relationship between an officer and his agent. Mount knew he'd have despised himself. Toulmin might have despised him, also. Mount simply had to hope the continuing life – so far – of the chairs would bring no trouble. Mount wondered whether Paterin and Liz broke chairs. ‘Did you keep an eye for tails on your way here?' he said.