The King's Prerogative

by Iain Colvin

  David let this sink in. ‘So, Hitler wanted peace with Britain so that he could focus on Russia?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Craig. ‘But his intentions had to be ultra-secret so that Stalin wouldn’t suspect. And that’s why he disowned Hess’s mission. He had to make it look like he was still facing westward. Any hint that he was putting out peace feelers to Britain would have alerted Stalin to danger. So from that point of view, Operation Sea Lion was a complete success, as a diversionary tactic. Even when Hitler deployed his Panzer divisions to the east in the run up to his attack, the cover story was that they were being moved out of range of RAF bombers, and Stalin believed it. When the invasion finally came it achieved complete surprise.’

  ‘There was an additional reason why Hitler might have tried to convince the world that Hess had taken leave of his senses,’ said Lynn. ‘Under the terms of the Geneva Convention, if it was accepted that Hess was mad the British would have been compelled to repatriate him.’

  ‘Which could explain why the British preferred to hush the whole affair up,’ said Fiona. ‘So they could keep him prisoner without too many questions being asked. But can I ask something?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Lynn.

  ‘Hess may have been lured here, or he may have come up with the idea alone. In either case, isn’t it likely that Hitler was telling the truth? I see the need for him to keep Stalin in the dark about a possible invasion, I get that. But maybe Hess did take leave of his senses. Maybe he was a lone maverick trying to do the right thing by his Fuhrer and his country by taking Britain out of the war. He was deluded, but he was acting alone and there was no master plan behind it.’

  ‘In a nutshell, that’s been the official line for forty years,’ said Lynn.

  ‘I’ve read everything I could lay my hands on over the past few weeks,’ said Craig. ‘And I’m convinced that Hess made his flight in full possession of his faculties and with Hitler’s blessing.’

  Now it was Lynn who provided the challenge. ‘What makes you say that? Apart from the timing of it regarding the invasion of Russia?’ Craig couldn’t tell if she asked this to test how much he knew or to prove that he was an idiot, but he took a deep breath and held out his fingers, ready to count them. He touched his thumb.

  ‘Okay. One: there’s a common belief that Hess was Hitler’s poodle, a puppet who’d slavishly and blindly do anything for him. In public he was the model Nazi, declaring unswerving devotion to his Fuhrer. In private however, he was one of the few who actively challenged Hitler over policy, and it’s on record that he argued with Hitler.’

  Fiona raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t imagine anyone would have argued with Hitler.’

  ‘He was the only one of the inner circle who did,’ said Craig. ‘Or the only one who did and survived to tell the tale. For example, they had a huge row over Dunkirk because Hess thought the generals were right and Hitler’s tactic was wrong. But he’d earned the right to argue with him because he’d been through thick and thin with Hitler over a period of twenty years, been in prison with him, and effectively co-wrote Mein Kampf. He was anything but unintelligent or politically naïve, and he was no “yes man”.’

  ‘Okay, I grant you that might have been the case in the twenties and thirties,’ said Lynn. ‘But was the point not that he had been side-lined in 1941 and he pulled the stunt to get back into favour with his beloved Fuhrer?’

  ‘That’s a myth too,’ said Craig. He tapped his index finger to indicate that he was coming to his second point. ‘The received wisdom is that Hess felt alienated because when war broke out he didn’t have a job to do. He was deputy head of the party, only a figurehead according to the legend that’s been propagated since the war. From what I’ve read, nothing could be further from the truth. Hitler used him as his right-hand man, his sounding board, the one man he could trust implicitly. More than one neutral writer who observed them at close quarters referred to Hess as Hitler’s alter ego. Originally it was Hitler who was Hess’s protégé, not the other way round.’

  ‘What?’ asked Fiona with more than a hint of scepticism in her voice.

  ‘I know, it sounds strange, but it’s true. For example, before he met important foreign dignitaries, Hitler used to consult Hess about how he should approach the meeting and took his advice on how to act. They were very much a partnership.’ Craig warmed to the topic and felt he was on a roll. ‘Hess also had some interesting responsibilities over and above his role as “minister without portfolio”. Apart from in effect being the head of the Nazi party, he was head of technical development. Which was the department responsible for developing the German atomic bomb. And he was also in charge of the Auslandorganisation, or AO. In other words, the German foreign intelligence-gathering network.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said David. ‘That sounds like a handy position to be in if you’re hatching a plan to make a peace offer to the UK.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Craig.

  ‘You’re saying that Hess and Hitler hatched the plan together?’ asked Lynn.

  ‘There’s a lot of circumstantial evidence that points to it, yes. You could be forgiven for overlooking individual pieces of the jigsaw, but when you put them all together after the event it creates an interesting picture.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, when Hess was training to make his flight, his tutor was none other than Hitler’s personal pilot. You can’t tell me that Hitler didn’t know about that, or it was allowed to happen without Hitler’s approval. And in the build up to the flight, Hitler’s diary reveals some interesting things. If Hess had been persona non grata, or at least side-lined, I don’t think Hitler would have asked him to give the annual May Day speech to the German people just days before his flight. Hitler was supposed to have given the speech personally. He’d given the speech every year since coming to power in 1933, but he changed his mind in May 1941 and asked Hess to do it. It’s almost like he was reminding the German people of Hess’s importance. And the two men had a private meeting before Hess left Berlin for the last time, which lasted for five hours. Five hours. What did they discuss?’

  ‘The flight?’ asked Fiona.

  ‘I can’t think what else would occupy them for that long.’ Craig touched the middle finger of his left hand, indicating the third point he wanted to make. ‘But thirdly, and probably most importantly, it is inconceivable that Hess would have abandoned his wife and young son to Hitler’s wrath. It was well known that Hitler’s policy was collective liability for any act of treachery. They even had a word for it – Sippenhaft – all family and friends of a traitor were punished as part of the retribution. Interestingly, not only were his family not punished, they were allowed to stay in the family home and Hitler personally ensured Hess’s wife Ilse received a generous pension as the dependant of Luftwaffe Hauptmann Alfred Horn! Hess’s aides also escaped any punishment even though they admitted helping with preparations. Even Willi Messerschmitt, the head of the aircraft company, was only given a token questioning even though he knew that Hess’s preparations pointed to a long-distance solo flight. The truth is, the myth of Hess as lone crackpot was created in retrospect because it suited the purposes of those who wanted to conceal his true mission. I think it’s very interesting that after Hess’s capture, Hitler made Martin Bormann Head of the Nazi Party, but he stopped short of making him Deputy Fuhrer. It was as if no one else could take Hess’s place.’

  The other three looked at Craig.

  ‘Wow,’ said Fiona. ‘I don’t know what’s scarier, the fact that you know so much about it or that you haven’t taken a breath for the last five minutes.’

  ‘Sorry, all this stuff has been swimming around inside my head for the last few weeks and it’s had nowhere to go.’

  Lynn looked at him. ‘You’ve done your homework, Craig, I’ll give you that. I’m not convinced that the jigsaw pieces fit together quite as you describe, but I tend to agree there’s a bigger story here.’

  Craig couldn’t hide the smil
e from creeping across his mouth. ‘Thanks Mrs Simon. Thank you for at least hearing me out. I wasn’t sure if I was losing my marbles or if I was just getting paranoid.’

  ‘You still need to go to the police. The fact that you ran away makes you look very guilty, even if you did it for the best of reasons. And for heaven’s sake, my name’s Lynn.’

  Craig’s smile faded. ‘You’re right Lynn. But I do feel better for having this chat. You mentioned…’

  The sound of the telephone on David’s desk interrupted Craig before he could continue. David pushed himself away from the table, the casters on his chair rolling him across to his desk a few feet away. He picked up the receiver.

  ‘Hello, Lynn Simon’s office.’

  Pause.

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart-Davis, she’s here. Can you hold for one second please?’ He put his hand over the mouthpiece and offered the receiver to Lynn, who perched on the edge of David’s desk before taking it from him.

  ‘Hello, Edward? Thank you for returning my call so quickly.’

  ‘The message you left on my machine sounded urgent. Did you get my manuscript?’

  ‘Yes, Edward, thank you, it arrived this morning and I’ve already started reading it. I’m looking forward to getting to grips with it. But I wanted to pick your brain on something unrelated.’

  ‘By all means my dear, how can I help?’

  ‘I have a friend who’s doing some research on clandestine intelligence operations carried out during the war. He’s reached the point where he’s looking for additional corroboration of his facts.’ She winked at Craig, who smiled back. ‘I remembered your book on the origins of the Cold War and I wondered if you had any contacts that might provide a route into that world. I thought an introduction from you would open doors that might otherwise remain firmly shut. If that’s not an imposition, of course.’

  Edward Hart-Davis chuckled. Lynn liked the seventy-six-year-old author because amongst other things they shared the same martini-dry sense of humour. She had made the lengthy and frequently tiresome process of bringing out a book easy and painless for him. He’d known her for nearly five years and counted her as a friend. Which meant he could tell when she was up to something.

  ‘I think you’ve found a particularly juicy bone to chew on, Mrs Simon. I recognise the signs.’

  ‘Why Edward, whatever can you mean?’ Her words said one thing but the tone of her voice said another thing altogether. It said, ‘You know that and I know that, but don’t ask me anything else because I’m not ready to tell you the answer quite yet.’

  Edward chuckled again. ‘Well I do know someone, he’s one of my old Cambridge clique. But I’m not going to put you in touch with him if you’re going to cause trouble. He’s a friend and I’d like to keep it that way.’

  It was Lynn’s turn to laugh. ‘Brownie’s honour, Edward. I’ll be on my best behaviour.’

  ‘Good girl. Well, you’ll have to give me a few details and I’ll pass your number on to him, how would that be?’

  ‘That would be very good of you, kind sir.’

  Lynn gave Edward the briefest synopsis. She didn’t mention Craig but instead she told Edward that it was Brian Irving who was conducting the research. She thought a little white lie would simplify matters so said that she was Brian’s agent and he had found some secret documentation dating from 1941 that he wanted to authenticate. Hence his desire to foster a contact in the Home Office or MI5.

  ‘And this document relates to?’ asked Edward.

  Lynn covered the mouthpiece and looked at Craig. ‘Can I tell him it’s about Hess?’

  Craig nodded.

  ‘It’s to do with Rudolf Hess’s flight to Scotland.’

  ‘Really?’ said Edward. ‘I think that should get his attention. How urgently do you need a response?’

  ‘That’s the thing. As soon as possible.’

  ‘I’ll get in touch with him today.’

  ‘Thank you so much Edward. I really appreciate it. Speak to you soon.’

  Lynn put the phone down and re-joined the others at the meeting table.

  ‘That sounded positive,’ said Fiona.

  ‘Yes it was, Edward is a good man to know. He’s been to most corners of the world and he knows just about everyone.’ She looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly twelve-thirty. ‘What are your plans now?’

  Craig looked at Fiona. ‘Well I suppose we could go to lunch and then I’ll pay a visit to the nearest police station.’

  Lynn’s face had a mischievous look.

  ‘What?’ asked Fiona.

  ‘Well it would be a shame if we didn’t give Edward a chance to phone us back with some news.’

  ‘But you said…?’

  ‘I know what I said, but the police will still be there tomorrow after all. On The Scotsman I had my fair share of run-ins with Edinburgh’s finest, so I wouldn’t just walk in and announce myself if I were you. Tell you what, let’s give Edward a few hours, and if we hit a brick wall, I’ll take you to police headquarters. I think I still know one or two of them in there.’

  Craig looked at Fiona again. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘What the hell. Let’s go and get some lunch.’

  Chapter 20

  Detective Inspector Bruce Cowie vented his spleen at the officers in the room. They had gathered for the morning case briefing and his junior DC had provided the latest update that they had taken nearly a 120 statements from people who knew Claire Marshall and spoken to twice that number of friends, colleagues and neighbours.

  ‘Do you consider that progress?’ Bruce Cowie’s glare was enough to make the DC study his feet in silence. ‘It’s not good enough, people!’

  The fourteen-man team – well the twelve man and two woman team – all stared at their feet.

  It was nearly two weeks since the murder and Bruce Cowie had made only negligible progress with the investigation. The police had been exhaustive in tracing every known housebreaker, convicted or otherwise, every drug addict, every violent criminal who matched the M.O. within a hundred-mile radius including Northern Ireland and northern England. Those that weren’t in prison were interviewed. Even those who were in prison were spoken to, on the chance that they knew something. Alibis were checked, every tentative line of enquiry followed through. A few leads looked promising initially but came to a loose end when it became clear that the potential suspects couldn’t be in two places at once. The police were still no closer to finding the murderer.

  One loose end in particular was troubling Cowie.

  ‘Where are we with finding Craig Dunlop?’

  DC Jarvis spoke up. ‘Nothing since we visited his parents again yesterday. He didn’t buy a train ticket and we showed his passport photo to the bus drivers who worked yesterday and none of them remember seeing him.’

  ‘If he didn’t take a bus or a train, did he take a boat?’

  Another policeman looked up. ‘He didn’t board a ferry yesterday either, sir.’

  ‘Well if he didn’t leave town by ferry, bus or train then either he left by car or he’s still in Stranraer. Have we spoken to all his friends and family?’

  ‘Yes sir. The last person to see him was his mother at around ten-thirty am yesterday.’

  ‘Is it possible that he fabricated the story he told his mother about this man masquerading as DS Wilson? Or that she lied to us?’

  ‘I think she told us the truth, sir. When I spoke to his parents last night they were both worried. They weren’t faking.’

  ‘I want this other man traced. Anyone who goes to the length of getting hold of a warrant card is up to no good, but I want to know what he is up to. Either he’s aiding and abetting Dunlop or he wants to stop Dunlop from talking to us. What have you found out?’

  ‘Just the description the bank manager and staff gave us,’ said his detective sergeant, DS Derek Campbell.

  ‘And do we know how he got hold of the real DS Wilson’s warrant card?’

  ‘DS Wilson told us that he mislaid his
warrant card in the changing rooms at his local swimming pool about two months ago.’

  ‘Did he report it as lost or stolen?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Conclusions?’

  ‘He was followed. This man stole it.’

  Bruce Cowie didn’t like the way the investigation seemed to be slipping out of his control.

  ‘Right. Go back over every statement we’ve taken. Look for any connection to a man fitting this fake DS Wilson’s description. Next, I want Dunlop’s parents and sister brought in for questioning. Find out everything they know. And I want every shop, café, pub, bed and breakfast and public toilet in this town visited, and everyone in them shown a picture of Craig Dunlop. And I want the results today.’

  He dismissed his team and they hurried out of the room, all except DS Campbell, who waited for the door to close. Bruce Cowie stood at the large bulletin board in the briefing room, studying the pieces of paper and photographs that represented the few facts definitively known about Claire Marshall’s murder, and the even fewer leads.

  ‘The guys are working flat out, sir,’ said the detective sergeant. ‘We just need a touch of luck.’

  Bruce Cowie said nothing, and DS Campbell opened the door and closed it behind him.

  A minute later the door opened again and Derek Campbell stepped back in.