by Iain Colvin
The tactic seemed to work, the man seemed to melt right there in front of her. ‘Oh you should have said. Here, let’s have a look.’ They gathered round the rear of the car and examined the damage. One of the rear lights was broken and the plastic bumper was cracked and loose, but the only significant damage seemed to be that the exhaust pipe had broken free of one of the brackets holding it in place. The man got down on the ground, lay flat and looked under the car. He fiddled a bit with a pipe here and a connection there, then emerged with the satisfied look of a man who knew his way around an exhaust silencer.
‘Well the good news is that there’s no real damage done, the actual exhaust is still intact. Let me see if I can find something to help you with a running repair for the pipe and the bumper. You’ll need to get the light fixed but that’s cosmetic.’
The house’s driveway led to a single garage with an up-and-over door which the man opened, squeezing past an orange Opel Manta to a tool cabinet at the far end. He emerged a minute later with a spool of gardening twine and a pair of secateurs. He cut off a good length of twine and wound it around the bumper assembly and the exhaust tail pipe.
‘Can you hold this in position for me?’
Craig held the bumper and exhaust in place while the good Samaritan made them secure, tying the whole thing tight and lashing it against the chassis and the towing bar.
‘There, that should do it for now.’
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ said Craig, ‘that’s great.’ He shook the man’s hand. All the time, he’d been listening to the road, expecting to hear the noise of the Fiat’s big two litre engine at any moment.
‘Thank you so much,’ said Fiona. She bounced over to the man and kissed him on the cheek.
‘My pleasure, any time.’
Craig and Fiona reversed out of the driveway and retraced their route. Craig paused at the junction with Inverleith Row.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Fiona, the sense of alarm returning to her face.
‘We have a decision to make. We can’t go back to Lynn’s. Either we go back to your mum’s and think about a plan B, or we make straight for Thurso. What do you think?’
Fiona thought for a moment.
‘To hell with it, let’s go. I’ll phone my mum from Perth and face the music then.’
Craig turned right and headed towards the Forth Road Bridge.
The journey to Thurso was uneventful by comparison. They crossed the Forth, drove up through Fife and stopped at Perth as planned. Fiona phoned Lynn first of all. She was still waiting for Craig to show up, and was stunned to hear that the policeman who visited her office had staked out her house.
‘That gives me the creeps. And it obviously means he didn’t totally buy the story I told him the other day,’ said Lynn. ‘Best you tell Craig to keep a low profile until he gets what he needs from Brian Irving.’
‘Well, funnily enough, we’re in Perth, heading to Thurso.’
‘In your mum’s car? Have you told her?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Good luck with that.’
‘I know.’
‘Give it ten minutes, I’ll speak to her first.’
Craig and Fiona went to get a coffee and when Fiona eventually rang home, Lynn’s earlier call had achieved some kind of damage limitation. Valerie was worried, clearly, and furious that they had disappeared with the car. She wanted to blame Craig for getting Fiona mixed up in all this, even though she knew that it would have been her headstrong daughter’s own decision. She was on the verge of giving her daughter an ultimatum but stopped herself short. Lynn had reminded her friend of how wild she herself had been in her twenties and told her that if the worst thing Fiona did was take her car for a couple of days then Valerie should count herself lucky.
‘Mum, I’m sorry,’ said Fiona. ‘But don’t worry, we’ll be okay and we’ll bring the car back soon. Well, soonish, promise.’ She told her mum that she loved her and she hung up.
‘We’re both in trouble now,’ she told Craig. ‘She’ll go ballistic when she finds out about the damage to the rear end.’
‘You didn’t tell her?’
‘No, I decided that part could wait. Come on, let’s go.’
The A9 running north from Perth took them into Highland countryside and as the miles passed, Craig and Fiona managed to relax slightly. The scenery took Craig by surprise. He was ashamed to say that he hadn’t been further north than Dundee and that was only to go to the football. He hadn’t explored Scotland much at all, and he had a weird feeling of being a stranger in his own country. Places like Dunkeld, Pitlochry and Aviemore were known to him by name only despite the fact that they were practically on the doorstep, reachable in only a couple of hours. As they soaked in the scenery Craig and Fiona agreed that the Cairngorms were about as far away from the urban landscapes of Glasgow and Edinburgh as they could get. They continued to chat as the miles ticked by, happy to take their minds off what had happened back in Trinity. They talked about places they’d visited and reminisced about the people they knew and the good times they’d shared. By the time they reached Inverness they vowed to return to the Highlands together one day soon, when all this was over. Craig liked the thought of that.
The landscape north of Inverness became flatter. The newly opened Kessock Bridge took them over the Beauly Firth to the peninsula known as the Black Isle, which was neither black nor an island. After a few more miles they passed Dingwall and looped round to Bonar Bridge before the road turned northeast again towards Wick. Eventually they veered north and arrived in Thurso just after four o’clock.
Craig’s first impression of Thurso was how much it reminded him of Stranraer. The northernmost and southernmost towns in Scotland both nestled beside the sea in the midst of low, rolling countryside with headlands to the west and to the east. Craig followed the signs to the railway station, past some expensive-looking houses, across a river and through the busy town centre. He wondered whether the young Thurso residents decided to live and work and get married there, or if they also left for the bigger cities in the Central Belt.
He found the railway station and parked. As they locked up, Craig gave the roof of the Metro a gentle tap in appreciation. The little Austin had got them where they needed to go and the exhaust was still hanging on in there.
From the name, Craig expected the Station Hotel to be close by and they found it a couple of minutes’ walk down the long road from the station itself. It was a fairly small grey granite building with windows on three levels. Its notable feature was a long wooden balcony stretching under the three middle windows on the first floor. The girl Craig had spoken to on the telephone was at reception. He could tell it was her from her voice.
‘Hello, can I help you?’
‘Hi there,’ said Craig, smiling at her. ‘We spoke on the phone earlier, I called looking for Doctor Irving.’
The girl looked surprised at the fact that they had come all this way without booking ahead. Craig surmised that they probably didn’t get much passing trade.
‘We’d like to stay for a night or two, if you’ve any rooms?’
‘Yes, we do, I think.’ The receptionist checked a book, tracing a finger across two pages. ‘You’re in luck. We only have one room left. It’s a twin, will that be okay for you?’ She looked at Fiona as she said it.
Fiona and Craig exchanged a glance before Fiona answered for both of them. ‘That’ll be fine, thanks.’
‘How long will you be staying?’
‘Probably a couple of nights.’
‘That’s no problem.’
The receptionist invited Craig to complete their registration and she gave him a key.
‘It’s room 17, on the first floor. Breakfast is seven-thirty till nine-thirty through in the dining room to your left. Do you need a hand with your bags?’
‘No thanks, we’re fine. Could you tell me which room Doctor Irving is staying in?’
‘Would you mind waiting for just one moment, please.�
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The girl went through to a small office behind the reception and called up to Brian’s room. She returned a minute later.
‘Doctor Irving asks if you could call on him when you’re ready. He’s just along the corridor from you in room 12.’
‘Thank you.’
Craig and Fiona took the stairs to the first floor and followed the room numbers to 17, passing room 12 on the way. It was only when they were inside their room that Craig realised that he’d been holding his breath all the way along the corridor. Brian Irving had been the starting point for Craig and finally things were at last coming full circle.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Fiona.
Craig smiled. ‘I’m fine. I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all.’
Five minutes later Craig and Fiona knocked on the door of room 12. The door opened and Craig was face to face with Brian Irving.
‘Craig?’
‘Brian?’
‘It’s good to meet you finally.’
The two men shook hands, and Brian invited them in. Craig introduced Fiona and Brian asked them to take a seat. They looked round the room but apart from the double bed and a small stool in front of a dressing table there wasn’t a lot of choice. Then they noticed the bedroom window was set into a deep recess which had been padded to make it double as a seat big enough for two. Fiona and Craig went over to the window and sat down side by side. Brian sat down on the edge of the bed.
‘You got here okay then?’ asked Brian.
Craig and Fiona looked at each other. ‘Eventually,’ said Craig. He told Brian about their run in with Blake.
‘He actually ran into the back of your car?’
‘Yes.’
‘It sounds like they’re getting more desperate.’
Craig tried to read Brian’s face. He looked like a man who hadn’t had much sleep recently, and hadn’t shaved in three or four days either.
Brian seemed to know what Craig was thinking. ‘I suppose I should apologise for my appearance.’ He scratched his chin. ‘I’ve been ploughing a lone furrow recently and haven’t been doing much entertaining.’
‘What about your wife? Where is she?’ asked Fiona.
‘I’m not married. Confirmed bachelor, I’m afraid.’
Craig was going to apologise for Fiona’s legendary frankness but Brian broke into a smile.
‘Quite honestly no one would have me. My manners are deplorable. I haven’t even offered you a cup of tea.’
‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ said Fiona.
Brian busied himself with the tea as he continued talking. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, I didn’t know who else I could involve.’
‘Involve?’ asked Fiona.
‘Yes. I approached Clive Prior and that would appear to have been a mistake. Call me overcautious but I’ve been loath to take anyone else into my confidence.’
‘That sounds familiar,’ said Fiona.
‘Don’t get me wrong, there are loads of research students I could call on for help, but, well, I didn’t want to get them caught up in anything. You know.’
‘I do,’ said Craig.
Brian passed them a cup each and asked them to help themselves to milk and sugar.
Craig felt he had to clear the air. ‘Brian, look, I’m really sorry for getting you roped into this. If I had any idea it would turn out the way it has, I would never have started it.’
‘Don’t apologise. You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m glad you approached me. This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I’m not stopping now.’
‘Once in a lifetime?’
‘I think it could be. We have to be on to something massive here. The fact that the police and MI6 – or whoever this Anson works for – are so keen to stop us means this could be as big as… who knows? As big as Watergate.’
Craig made a decision. As Lynn told him only the other day, he had to start trusting someone sometime.
‘Funny, that’s what Lynn said too,’ he said.
‘Lynn?’
‘Yes, Lynn Simon,’ said Fiona. ‘She’s a friend of my mum’s. She used to be a journalist on the Scotsman. She’s been helping us this week. She says she met you once at a dinner.’
‘My memory’s clearly not as good as hers I’m afraid.’
‘She’s been a great help,’ added Craig. ‘She came with me to see Clive Prior. I trust her too.’
‘There’s four in our little gang then?’ said Brian. ‘Quite the conspiracy.’ He finished his tea in one go and put his cup down. ‘Well, I think we should swap notes and try to put a story together that Lynn can take to the papers. I assume you agree that our best defence is attack and we need to go public?’
Craig smiled. ‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘Good. Can you show me the peace offer? I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to seeing it.’
Craig didn’t want to admit that as a precaution he’d locked the document in his room before they’d come along the corridor to meet Brian. Instead he said, ‘No, please, you go first, bring us up to speed.’
‘Okay, of course.’
Brian opened a bedside drawer and pulled out three notebooks, opening all three and laying them flat on the bed. ‘These are the notes from my research in Edinburgh and London, with as much as I could remember from the notes that were stolen. It’s been a challenge putting it all together. The biggest problem has been the absence of records. So many haven’t been released into the public domain. That in itself is revealing in its own way.’
‘What’s your theory so far?’ asked Craig.
‘Let me start from the beginning. I looked at as many newspapers and periodicals from the time as I could find, and I backed that up with official records and Hansard publications.’
‘The official reports from parliament?’ asked Fiona.
‘Indeed,’ said Brian. ‘My starting point was the newspaper reports about Hess, and that allowed me to narrow my search when I went to the public records. The first thing to say is that I’m convinced that there was an organised group of influential figures in Britain who wanted peace. They had different reasons for wanting Britain out of the war. The City of London was worried about the cost of fighting it. Some industrialists were worried that the war would bankrupt Britain completely. Against that backdrop, the Secret Intelligence Service, or MI5 and MI6 as we now know it, was distinctly anti-communist. The head of the SIS, Sir Stewart Menzies, saw Soviet Communism as the main threat. He advocated making peace with Germany so that Germany could focus on the Soviet Union. No matter who won that conflict, both would be weaker as a result, to Britain’s advantage.’
‘That would back up the theory of an intelligence sting though, surely?’
‘No. There’s a piece of the jigsaw you’re not seeing.’
‘What’s that?’ said Craig.
‘Churchill didn’t trust Menzies. Before Churchill was prime minister, when he was still First Lord of the Admiralty he strenuously opposed his appointment to the head of the SIS.’
‘Couldn’t he just get rid of him when he became prime minister, then?’
‘It wasn’t as simple as that. Firstly, Menzies was well connected. He was close to the king and to most of the cabinet. Remember that at the time, Churchill’s position wasn’t secure. Plus, Churchill needed to maintain the perception of a united front against Nazism. So, instead, he formed the Special Operations Executive. It was almost the first thing he did after coming into office. The SOE was given special powers direct from Churchill. Their sole purpose was to defeat the Nazis.’
‘Wasn’t that SIS’s purpose too?’
‘Of course it was. But their ideologies were completely different. The SOE firmly held the view that Hitler’s Reich should be fought to the end. It supported an alliance with the USSR against the Nazis. The SIS on the other hand was nervous about such an alliance. It believed that Stalin was the true enemy and thought that Britain should extract itself from the war and leave Hitler and Stalin
to fight each other to a standstill. The two organisations had a simmering feud throughout the war.’
‘But what does that have to do with the peace group and Hess’s flight?’ asked Fiona.
‘It’s significant because it was the SIS who were involved in the plan to bring Hess to Britain. The SOE were kept in the dark for a very good reason.’
‘Why?’ asked Craig.
Brian Irving looked up from his notes. ‘Part of the plan was to replace Churchill.’
Craig and Fiona stared at Brian.
‘What? How could that have been possible?’ asked Craig.
‘Have you heard of the Royal Prerogative?’ Brian replied.
‘No.’
‘It’s an obscure piece of constitutional law and it’s no surprise that you haven’t heard of it. It’s never been invoked. It gives the monarch the right to remove a prime minister from office and replace him with someone of the king or queen’s own choosing.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. It exists.’ Brian referred to his notes. ‘The peace group also existed, and by my reckoning it had to include Lord Halifax and Sir Samuel Hoare. One of them would have been the replacement for Churchill. Sir Stewart Menzies was part of it, and it’s inconceivable that Lord Beaverbrook wasn’t involved, it would have needed his support to oil the necessary wheels. It’s also very likely that the Polish government in exile was in on the plan. And finally, of course it had to include the king. Menzies and the Duke of Hamilton had direct access to the king.’
Craig took a minute to absorb this before speaking.
‘Brian, when we spoke on the phone back in February, you emphasised that you dealt in facts. How much evidence is there to back this up?’
Brian smiled. ‘I have to be honest, most of it is circumstantial. But people have been convicted of murder on circumstantial evidence.’ He turned the pages of his notebook. ‘The events speak for themselves and those individuals’ political views are a matter of record. Your letter of safe conduct exists. But remember when I said that some public records are missing? Retained under the Official Secrets Act?’