The King's Prerogative

by Iain Colvin

  ‘What do you think about the collapse of the British Empire?’ asked Lynn.

  He thought for a moment before replying. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ he said, ‘I think it was inevitable and of course it’s only right and proper that countries that used to be British territories run their own affairs. The Commonwealth feels like a much better institution than the empire was.’

  ‘It wasn’t such a bad thing that Britain lost its empire then?’

  ‘Totally. But I’m thinking about all those people who died fighting between 1941 and 1945.’

  ‘To defeat Nazism. That has to be worth it.’

  ‘You’re right. Of course Nazism had to be defeated. God, you could get tied up in knots just getting your head around it,’ said Craig. He realised he was very tired. The last three days were catching up with him. Was it only three days since he was last at his desk in the bank? He dragged his thoughts back to the present, or to be accurate, back to that forty-year-old document. ‘Lynn, what did you make of the part that talked about Madagascar?’

  ‘That bit disturbed me I have to confess,’ replied Lynn. She locked her fingers together, making a steeple with her index fingers and pressing them to her lips, deep in thought.

  ‘I thought so too,’ said Craig.

  Lynn at last voiced what she was thinking. ‘Do you know about the Wannsee Conference?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Craig.

  Nothing more needed to be said. They both knew the significance. At a conference of senior Nazi officials held in the Berlin suburb of Wannsee in January 1942, approval was given to build the extermination camps in eastern Europe. That meeting was a full eight months after the failure of Hess’s peace mission. Eight months after the Madagascar plan was included in the peace proposal.

  Lynn and Craig stared out of the train window.

  Chapter 29

  They changed trains at Peterborough as planned and arrived in Cambridge at 2:45pm. They walked through the ticket barrier on to the main station area and studied the information signs to get their bearings. The signs told them that the toilets and left luggage lockers were to the left and buses and taxis were to the right. Craig insisted that they put the holdall into left luggage.

  ‘Call me paranoid if you like, but what if the first thing Clive Prior does is call the police?’

  ‘You’re paranoid,’ Lynn confirmed.

  ‘I’m in the papers, that’s what I am.’

  ‘He won’t do that, he told Edward Hart-Davis that he’d be happy to help us.’

  ‘That was before I was a fugitive from justice.’

  ‘Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?’

  ‘Perhaps, but I’d rather play it my way for now. It’ll be easy enough to come back and get the document later.’

  ‘Okay, but you’re paying for the extra taxi fares.’

  ‘Extra taxi fares? I forked out the best part of forty quid for two return tickets to Cambridge.’

  They laughed. ‘Consider that an investment, matey,’ said Lynn. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  It wasn’t a long walk to Emmanuel College from the station. Craig remarked on how much the green spaces and the old buildings reminded him of Edinburgh. There were fewer cars and more bicycles than in the Scottish capital, but they agreed there was a similar feel to the two old university cities. They arrived at the college and walked through a cloistered entrance into the wide grassy front court. The old college surrounded them on all four sides and looked every inch the venerable seat of learning it had been since 1584. Small groups of students were making their way one way or the other around the quadrant.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  Craig and Lynn turned in the direction of the voice. A small man in his fifties was striding towards them. He was in shirt sleeves which were rolled up to the elbow, and his tie hung loosely around his neck, the end tucked into his shirt front. He looked like he’d been shifting something heavy, or perhaps he was just out of shape.

  ‘Yes, we’re here to see Professor Prior,’ said Craig.

  ‘Professor Prior, of European History?’ queried the man.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Is he expecting you?’

  ‘Yes, we spoke to him on the phone yesterday.’ Craig decided he might get away with a half-lie.

  The man looked at his watch.

  ‘Just a minute, please.’ The man disappeared into a room built into a corner of the quadrant and emerged a full minute later. ‘Professor Prior should be in his study at this time of day. Follow me, please.’

  He started off along the cloistered path, walking quickly. Craig and Lynn had to speed up to keep pace. They walked along two sides of the front court and through a further two courtyards until they approached an imposing old sandstone building, covered in ivy. The man led them through a large door, along a wooden hallway and up two flights of stairs until they arrived at a door which had the name Prof. C.D. Prior inscribed on a small wooden plate. The man knocked and waited for the instruction ‘Come!’ before entering. He took two steps into a large study, or perhaps it was a small library, Craig couldn’t be sure.

  ‘Two visitors for you, professor.’

  A rather small man was standing on a stool at the far end of the study, in the act of replacing a book into a bookcase that took up the entire length and breadth of one wall. He stepped down from the stool, looked round and took off a pair of reading glasses. He looked to be in his seventies, with a wiry frame, thinning grey hair and pale deeply-wrinkled skin that suggested that he’d smoked all his life. He wore a tight-fitting grey herringbone jacket over a green sweater which in turn was stretched over a checked shirt, buttoned at the collar. A plain brown tie, tied impeccably in a half Windsor knot, completed the ensemble. Craig noticed that the man’s shoes were old Hush Puppies that, like him, seemed to have seen better days.

  The man stepped forward and offered his hand to Lynn.

  ‘Thank you Pugh. Mrs Simon I presume? We spoke on the telephone. I am Clive Prior. So nice of you to make the journey from Edinburgh to see me.’ They shook hands. Pugh closed the door behind him as he returned to his duties. If Professor Prior had been surprised at their unexpected arrival, he managed to conceal it with charm and good grace. He turned his head to look at Craig, his eyes searching Craig’s face.

  Craig stretched out his hand. ‘Professor Prior, my name is Craig Dunlop, I hope you’ll forgive us for landing on you unannounced like this.’

  ‘Delighted, dear boy, delighted.’ They shook hands and the professor invited them to take a seat on two chairs on the near side of a large mahogany desk.

  ‘May I offer you some refreshment?’

  ‘No thank you, Professor,’ said Lynn. ‘We hope we’re not disturbing you, but we wanted to meet with you urgently. We’ve come straight from the railway station.’

  ‘Indeed?’ The professor arched an eyebrow and looked between Lynn and Craig. He walked behind his desk and sat down. ‘Edward Hart-Davis spoke very highly of you, Mrs Simon, so I was only too happy to offer my help, such as it is. He told me that it concerns a letter dating from the war, is that correct? I believe it might be the same letter that Doctor Irving told me about it when we spoke on the telephone.’ His eyes settled on Craig, inviting him to speak.

  Craig took the wallet from his jacket and handed it to the professor. ‘Yes sir, this wallet belonged to my grandfather. He died recently and so the wallet came to me, as a keepsake, if you like.’

  ‘Your grandfather?’

  ‘Yes, my grandfather was the farmer who first came upon Hess when he landed by parachute.’

  ‘You don’t say? Fascinating. Fascinating. And it was in his possession all these years?’

  ‘Yes. It was only when it came to me that I found the letter hidden in the lining.’

  ‘Is that so? Fascinating.’

  Clive Prior turned the wallet over in his hands, feeling its texture. ‘May I?’

  ‘Please do.’

  He opened the wallet and took ou
t the two letters tucked inside. He put his reading glasses back on, unfolded the first letter and read it carefully.

  ‘This appears to be a photostatic copy of an original document,’ he said, looking up at Craig over the top of his glasses. ‘I assume you also have the original?’

  ‘I did, but I sent it to Doctor Irving. He wanted to examine it, and I asked him if he could authenticate it. You mentioned that Doctor Irving contacted you?’

  ‘Yes, yes, he did. A few weeks ago now. He seemed quite excited when he telephoned and I found his excitement contagious. We arranged to meet, but he didn’t appear I regret to say. It was very strange.’

  ‘He didn’t call again?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And he didn’t give you an indication of how far he’d taken his research?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. I was looking forward to him telling me at our meeting.’

  ‘What would be your assessment of that letter?’

  The professor coughed and took a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his mouth before speaking. ‘It is very interesting I have to say, and is entirely consistent with my knowledge of the operation at the time.’

  ‘The operation?’

  ‘Yes, the operation run by the British intelligence service. Frightfully clever people.’ The professor turned his attention to the second letter. ‘What is this?’

  ‘It would be easier to explain after you’ve looked at it,’ said Craig.

  Clive Prior unfolded the second letter and read it. Craig was sure he saw a look of surprise flit across the professor’s face for an instant. His gaze didn’t move from the paper for more than half a minute. When he finally looked up, Clive Prior’s expression was unreadable. His eyes however rooted Craig to the spot.

  ‘This was in the wallet too?’

  ‘Yes, but we only found it the other evening.’

  ‘Do you know what it refers to?’

  ‘Yes. I visited the Swedish Consulate yesterday and they still had the package after all these years.’

  ‘Did you see it?’

  ‘Yes, I was given it.’

  Clive Prior’s eyes sparkled. ‘What was in the package?’

  ‘It was a peace offer from Hess, addressed to the King.’ Craig saw the Adam’s apple in Professor Prior’s throat dip slightly. The professor leaned forward. ‘Do you have it with you? I’d very much like to see it.’

  ‘I don’t have it with me at the moment, but it is here in Cambridge.’

  Clive Prior stretched over and poured a glass of water from a jug on the desk. ‘Fascinating, most fascinating.’ He took a sip and put the glass down. ‘I can help translate it for you, it would be my pleasure. I have passable German.’

  Craig and Lynn exchanged looks. ‘It was written in English, Professor,’ said Craig.

  ‘It was? Even better. I assume you’ve read it? I expect it contains a lot about Germany allowing Britain to keep its empire in return for us turning a blind eye to the Germans invading Russia?’

  Craig and Lynn looked at each other again, surprised that the professor had hit the nail on the head.

  ‘That’s exactly what it says,’ confirmed Lynn. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Hess’s interviews in captivity were recorded, and that is essentially the thrust of what he told his interrogators at the time. Of course, we had no intention of acting on what he said.’

  Craig couldn’t suppress a feeling of disappointment. ‘Forgive me Professor, but reading the document might give you a different perspective. The offer is incredibly detailed and it left me with the impression that it was a genuine proposal to take Britain out of the war.’ He looked at Lynn who nodded her agreement.

  ‘Oh my dear boy, I’m sure it did,’ said the professor. ‘I don’t mean to belittle your discovery at all, far from it. But it was all a ruse. I don’t know how much you know about that era, but during the time that Britain stood alone, there was a huge chess game going on between the intelligence services of Britain and Germany.’

  He waited for Lynn and Craig to take this in before continuing once again. ‘You see, Germany wanted to take Britain out of the war, for reasons I’m sure you know of, and the British secret service was happy to lead them on. It was a no-lose situation for us, as our American cousins might say. Either we’d be able to demonstrate to Stalin that Hitler was deceiving him, undermining the German–Soviet pact, or we could string the Germans along long enough for them to gain confidence to attack Russia, and bring them into the war on our side. Which, of course, is what happened.’

  ‘So I understand you fully, Professor,’ said Craig. ‘you’re saying that this was an intelligence sting? Hess was lured here in order to precipitate Operation Barbarossa?’

  ‘Absolutely, my dear chap. So you see, it’s no surprise that this peace offer of yours looks impressive, because as far as the Germans were concerned, it was genuine.’

  Craig couldn’t help but feel downcast although he didn’t know why. He was also confused. He needed to process this.

  Lynn spoke up. ‘What do you suggest we do, Professor?’

  ‘Well, Mrs Simon, despite all that I’ve said, I would still very much like to inspect your document. It is bound to be a fascinating artefact. You said you brought it with you?’

  ‘Yes, it’s…’

  ‘It’s in safekeeping, professor,’ interrupted Craig. ‘As a potentially important historical document, I thought it wise not to carry it through the streets of Cambridge. Not until we had a chance to speak with you.’

  ‘Yes, I see.’ The professor picked up a pipe from a small rack on his desk and proceeded to fill it from a tobacco pouch retrieved from his jacket pocket. For a long minute no one spoke as the old man concentrated on his task. He was clearly thinking. Finally he looked at Craig over the bowl of the pipe as he lit it, blowing thick clouds of smoke into the air. ‘Perhaps Edward Hart-Davis mentioned to you that I still have one or two contacts in the Home Office. You know Cambridge, recruiting ground for all kinds of rum types in the old days.’ He winked at Lynn conspiratorially. ‘I’d be happy to make some calls on your behalf and let’s see if we can’t find someone who can provide some clarity for you.’

  ‘That would be very kind of you, Professor,’ said Craig.

  ‘Meantime, may I offer you some beds for the night? I live not too far from the college, and I have plenty of room. My wife would be glad of the company, if I’m honest. I can make my phone calls and hopefully by this evening or tomorrow we’ll have some answers.’

  Craig jumped in before Lynn could open her mouth. ‘That’s very kind of you Professor, but we’ve already made other arrangements for this evening.’ He subtly kicked Lynn’s foot. ‘Lynn’s taking the opportunity to catch up with some friends. I hope you won’t think us rude.’

  ‘Oh not at all,’ said the professor. Craig could tell that the old man was offended in spite of his manners. He rose from his seat and handed the wallet back to Craig. The two men shook hands.

  ‘Thank you very much, Professor. Shall we ring you at some point tomorrow?’

  ‘By all means, please do. I have lectures until midday but I’m free for most of the afternoon. Let me give you the best number to reach me on.’ The old man scribbled a number on a slip of paper and gave it to Craig before showing them to the door. ‘Hopefully I’ll have some news for you by the next time we speak. And you won’t forget that document, will you?’

  ‘Of course. Speak to you tomorrow.’

  The professor showed them to the door and gave them a small wave before going back into his study.

  Lynn waited until they reached the street beyond the college courtyard before grabbing Craig’s arm. ‘What was that all about?’ she asked. ‘I thought you’d jump at the chance to spend more time with Professor Prior. What was all that ‘Lynn’s got other arrangements’ stuff about?’

  ‘Yes, sorry about that. It was the first thing that came into my head. I didn’t want to impose on the professor.’

&nb
sp; ‘Impose?’ Lynn looked at him scathingly. ‘Craig, just because Brian Irving disappeared with your letter doesn’t mean that Clive Prior intends to disappear with your peace document.’

  Craig looked around him. Maybe he was being paranoid after all. ‘Okay, you’re right, maybe I overreacted.’

  ‘I think you did, just a bit.’ Lynn stopped and a look of sudden realisation swept over her face. ‘Oh I get it,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You want to phone your girlfriend tonight and didn’t want to be constrained by etiquette while in Professor Prior’s house.’ Lynn was pleased at her little joke and found it hard to wipe the smirk from her face.

  Craig blushed. ‘That’s rubbish.’

  Lynn saw that she had touched a nerve. ‘Oh no it’s not.’

  ‘Yes it is, Lynn. This is more important than my personal feelings. And in case no one told you, Fi is not my girlfriend.’

  ‘Well are you going to tell me the real reason?’

  Craig felt a bit sheepish. ‘I can’t. I don’t know why.’ He didn’t enjoy locking horns with Lynn. Apart from being in debt to her, he had quickly grown to respect her and he disliked the feeling that in her eyes he’d just blotted his copybook. The truth was that something about the conversation with Professor Prior troubled him. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the hairs on the back of his neck told him that he couldn’t yet put his trust in the old man.

  Lynn pursed her lips, then shrugged her shoulders. ‘No real harm done I don’t suppose, but Craig, remember that you want Clive Prior’s advice so you need to keep in his good books.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. Sorry Lynn, I suppose the last few days have made me a bit on edge.’

  ‘Understandable.’

  But Craig couldn’t shake the feeling that rather than making things clearer, their meeting with Professor Prior had muddied the waters further. ‘There was something a bit odd about our discussion with the professor. Don’t you think so?’