Traitor's Gate

by Michael Ridpath

  ‘You’re a coward, Father.’

  ‘I’m what!’ Lord Oakford’s eyes blazed in fury. No one had ever called him a coward. He was self-evidently not a coward, which was why he was such an effective pacifist. For his son to accuse him of cowardice—

  ‘You’re a coward. There are brave men in Germany, friends of mine, who are willing to risk death to stop Hitler. They need your help. They know that it is inevitable Hitler will start a war, and when he does it will be a horrible one. You know that too – you know war is coming, that’s why you are in such despair. Well, do something about it. Take a risk too. It might not work, but it will be better than sitting back and letting Hitler destroy Europe unopposed. I thought you more than anyone would have the courage to act. I see I’m wrong.’

  ‘Your impertinence is insufferable. I will not listen to this.’ Lord Oakford scrambled awkwardly to his feet with his one good arm. ‘I’m going back. Don’t come with me. And I want you out of the house by luncheon!’

  ‘You’re running away, Father!’ Conrad called as he watched Lord Oakford hurry down the hill, the sleeve of his left arm flapping. Monty, after a plaintive glance at Conrad, loped after him.

  He had no idea how long his father’s black mood would last now it had been ignited. Past experience would suggest that it could be over in a day, but in this case Conrad thought that highly unlikely. A week was average, although a month was a possibility. Either way, his father would stick by his command that he leave the house by luncheon. Wearily, Conrad followed him down the hill into the wood.

  When he got back to the house, the atmosphere had already changed. Reggie passed him in the hall on his way out and glared at him. ‘You had to pick a fight with him, didn’t you? He’s been fine for three months; you show up and you set him off. I’m surprised you have the front to come here at all.’

  ‘Go to hell, Reggie,’ said Conrad wearily, and climbed the stairs to his room to pack.

  Ten minutes later there was a soft knock on the door. It was his mother, a frown firmly set on her forehead.

  ‘Oh, Conrad, did you have to?’ she said, sitting on his bed.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mamma. I didn’t do it on purpose, although I half expected it to happen.’

  ‘Do you always have to provoke him? The rest of the family steer clear of certain subjects. If you could only do that too he wouldn’t explode every time you came to visit and we would see so much more of you. I’d like that, Conrad.’

  Conrad smiled at his mother. She had been a stunning woman when she was younger. As a grown man, Conrad had seen photographs of her from that time in a new light. From his boyhood he remembered a maternal smile and the warm comfort of her embrace; the photographs showed a striking beauty with a full figure and big seductive eyes under long lashes. Now in her fifties, she had put on weight, but she still had an air of quiet vitality about her.

  ‘I would like it too, Mamma. But this time I really did need to talk to him about the war, the coming war. I needed him to listen.’ He told his mother all about von Kleist and Theo.

  ‘They make sense to me,’ his mother said. ‘I am amazed by how meekly my fellow countrymen put up with that monster. I’m glad there are some people in high places who will stand up to him. We must help them.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. But Father told me about the day he won his VC. And then he just became totally unreasonable.’

  ‘He told you about that?’ Lady Oakford said, her frown deepening. ‘No wonder he is upset. I didn’t think he would ever talk about that again.’

  ‘I can see why he doesn’t. And I understand why he wants to avoid a war.’

  ‘But isn’t this the best way to do that?’ Lady Oakford said.

  ‘I think so. And I had hoped to convince him, but he wouldn’t listen. In the end I called him a coward.’

  ‘You did what!’ Lady Oakford looked shocked.

  ‘He knows I’m right, Mamma, but that will just make him more upset. It will take a lot of bravery for him to admit to himself and to me that he is wrong about appeasement and Hitler should be got rid of. But now I’ll have to approach Lord Halifax myself. I believe he likes me well enough, but you know how grand he is. I’m not sure he’ll listen to me.’

  ‘I could write to him, if you like.’ Conrad was surprised to see his mother blush. ‘He’s such a cold fish it’s hard to tell, but I’ve always thought he had a bit of a thing for me.’

  Conrad laughed. ‘Mamma! Now there’s a thought. Thank you, it might help. Now, I’d better get Tyndall to take me to the station.’

  ‘Where will you be going in London? You’re welcome to stay at Kensington Square, of course.’

  ‘I think I’d better not,’ said Conrad. ‘It would just aggravate Father when he found out. I’ll stay at the club.’

  His mother rose and embraced him. ‘I’m glad to see you trying to do something.’ He felt dampness on his cheek. She pulled back, her eyes wet. ‘Oh, Conrad, I hope there won’t be another war with Germany,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I could stand it if there was.’

  The strange thing was she said it in German, a language she hardly ever spoke to him any more.

  In London, Conrad installed himself at his club. The first and most important person for him to approach was Lord Halifax. He knew he could rely on his mother to fire off a letter to him that evening, but he would have to wait until Halifax had received it before trying to contact him himself.

  Somehow Veronica tracked him down. There was a note waiting for him at his club telling him he should ring her when he arrived in London. This he did, and she suggested that they meet up at the Café Royal for cocktails.

  She was, of course, looking stunning, in a blue dress he didn’t recognize, pearls and the exquisite sapphire earrings that his parents had given her. But she left him unmoved.

  ‘You seem a little jollier than last time I saw you,’ she said, sipping her gin and it.

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘You’re not learning to love the Nazis, are you?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Conrad. ‘Things are getting worse. Much worse.’

  Veronica leaned back in her chair and smiled. She was an astute reader of human emotions, especially Conrad’s. ‘I know what it is.’

  ‘Really?’ said Conrad.

  ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Who?’ Conrad had no intention of discussing Anneliese with his wife. But he did offer her a cigarette and then a light.

  ‘Well?’ said Veronica, her eyes amused.

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘Do you want that divorce now?’

  Conrad was about to give his usual answer, but he stopped himself. Veronica noticed his hesitation but held her peace.

  Why not? thought Conrad. Why the hell not? His life would undoubtedly be better not being married to Veronica. And there was Anneliese. Perhaps one day, somehow, he would be able to get her out of Germany.

  ‘All right,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, darling!’ Veronica leaned over the little table and kissed him on the cheek. ‘But you will do the gentlemanly thing, won’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so. Although I have no idea how to go about it.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Diana told me all about it.’ Veronica grabbed her bag and rummaged in it. ‘Go and see this man,’ she said, handing him the card of E. S. P. Haynes, Solicitor. ‘He’ll sort it all out.’

  ‘Well, he’d better get his skates on. I’m going back to Berlin in a few days.’

  ‘Go and see him tomorrow, will you please, darling? Diana says he’s frightfully efficient.’

  Conrad frowned at his wife. ‘You seem very keen on all this. Are you working on one of your schemes? You think once we are divorced you can get Linaro to leave his wife, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, Conrad, you always assume I am so calculating.’

  ‘I wonder why,’ said Conrad. He felt sorry for the Linaro family. They stood no chance against Veronica.

  ‘Look! Here are Tom and Diana.’ />
  Conrad turned to see the handsome figures of Diana Guinness, as she was still generally known, and Sir Oswald Mosley making their way through the crowd, heads turning to follow them.

  ‘I must be going,’ Conrad said, downing his drink.

  ‘Oh, do stay and have a drink with them. Just one.’

  But the idea of talking to a fascist here in Britain, still a land of innocence and freedom, made Conrad’s stomach turn.

  ‘I’ll see your man tomorrow,’ Conrad said. He was about to add the word ‘darling’, but it stuck in his throat.

  The train cut through the South Downs as it sped its way northwards to London. Opposite Conrad sat Mae, a pretty but dull girl originally from Swindon who had moved to London to seek her fortune. She was reading a paperback; they had used up all their conversation before Redhill on the way down to Brighton the day before.

  Conrad had a hell of a headache. He had started drinking on the train down the afternoon before, and continued all evening, a lethal combination of whisky and champagne. Mr Haynes had insisted on champagne as being more emblematic of two lovers off to have an illicit good time. The hotel Mr Haynes recommended seemed to know the score; there was no need for a private detective, it was sufficient to give the chambermaid who brought them breakfast in the morning a memorably large tip. Mae had offered to earn her money in the traditional way, but seemed relieved when Conrad had declined. She was happy enough; she had started the latest Agatha Christie on the way down, and should have it finished by the time they reached Victoria.

  The night had been bizarre and idiotic, but it did make some sense. No journalist would find much of a story in the charade, whereas if he had taken on the role of plaintiff and cited Linaro as co-respondent in court the newspapers would have been full of it. Conrad wouldn’t have cared, he would be in Berlin, but it would have been unpleasant for Veronica and especially so for the Linaro family.

  The whole thing was so frightfully, dismally, seedily British.

  The worst of it all was, of course, Anneliese, the woman with whom Conrad would much rather have spent the night. If only Conrad had told Foley about Ewald von Kleist’s visit, then perhaps Anneliese would be on her way to England. Or at least be getting her documents together.

  But he couldn’t have done it. Von Kleist’s trip was just too important, more important than him or even than Anneliese. And he had given his word.

  His word. The word of an English gentleman. Did that really matter so much?

  After paying Mae, Conrad took a cab from Victoria Station back to his club, and turned his thoughts to how he would approach Lord Halifax, assuming he would have received and read his mother’s letter.

  But at the club, the porter had a telegram waiting for him: ‘SPOKE TO YOUR FATHER STOP HE PROMISES HE WILL ARRANGE TRIP STOP PLEASE SEND LETTER WITH DATES AND CODE FOR REPLY STOP LOVE MAMMA.’

  Conrad had to restrain himself from letting out a whoop. His mother had done it! Somehow she had persuaded his father to change his mind, and that while he was in the depths of one of his vilest moods. She had understood how important von Kleist’s trip was; despite her serene exterior it was always a mistake to underestimate her determination.

  He went through to the library and composed a quick letter, laying out the dates of the trip and suggesting a little code by which his father could let him know whom von Kleist would see. It was clever of his mother to remember that any letter sent to him in Germany would be liable to interception.

  Then he went to Thomas Cook’s in Piccadilly to book himself a flight back to Berlin for that afternoon. The divorce would have to wait.

  He stood waiting in the queue and thought about Klaus’s threat. There was no doubt he was taking a risk returning to Berlin. A big risk. As the lady in front of him argued about the cabin she had booked on the Queen Mary to New York, he considered turning around and walking out of the travel agent.

  But he couldn’t do it. Too much was at stake: too many brave men were relying on him. He would just have to hope that Klaus’s threats were bluster, and that his father’s status did provide some protection after all.

  Finally satisfied, the lady moved away and Conrad stepped forward. ‘I’d like to book a flight to Berlin. For today if possible.’

  23

  Conrad rang Anneliese as soon as he arrived back at his flat, and he could tell from her voice that she was as happy to hear from him as he was to speak to her. She suggested he come right round.

  After they had made love, they talked. Conrad told her about his trip to Brighton, which Anneliese thought very funny, although she did ask a number of penetrating questions about Mae. What they didn’t do was discuss the implications of a divorce.

  ‘I saw Foley before I left,’ Conrad said. ‘To try to persuade him to get you a visa.’

  ‘No luck?’ Anneliese asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I thought not. It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad he got my parents out.’

  ‘It does matter,’ said Conrad. ‘I...’ He paused. He didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t know how to say it. That he had had the chance to secure Anneliese’s freedom and he had chosen not to take it.

  ‘What is it, Conrad?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I could have told Foley about Ewald von Kleist’s visit to London. Then he might have got you a visa.’

  ‘No, you couldn’t,’ said Anneliese.

  ‘Yes, I could. If I had told him about their plot to get rid of Hitler he would have bitten my arm off. You’d be on your way to England.’

  ‘You couldn’t have told him. You gave your word. And the Gestapo might have found out about the trip and stopped it.’

  Conrad touched her cheek. ‘But you would be safe.’

  ‘No.’ Anneliese shook her head. ‘Listen to me, Conrad. As one who has done things she has deeply regretted to get people out of this damned country, I’m telling you you couldn’t tell Foley. You shouldn’t tell Foley. I wouldn’t want you to.’

  He pulled her over to him and held her.

  They stayed like that for several minutes, wrapped up in their own thoughts, in each other’s thoughts.

  Then she shuddered.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  She pulled away from him and sat up on the bed, her knees hunched up to her chin. ‘You know, I saw Klaus while you were away. The night before last. He came here.’

  ‘Why did you let him in?’ said Conrad feeling a surge of jealousy.

  ‘He’s Gestapo, what choice did I have?’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Conrad. ‘What did he want?’

  ‘He knows about us,’ Anneliese said. ‘I got the impression he’d been watching us. He tried to play it cool, but I could tell he was as jealous as hell. He warned me to stay away from you. He said you had been seen speaking to a British spy, so he must have seen you with Captain Foley. I said I didn’t believe him, but it scared me. He said he would always look after me, and that I could always go to him for help.’

  ‘Does he want to get back together with you?’

  ‘I’m sure he does, but he didn’t say it. I think he’s hoping that if I’m in enough trouble I’ll go back to him. But I won’t. Never.’

  Conrad stroked Anneliese’s hair. ‘You must be careful of him.’

  ‘So must you.’

  Conrad hadn’t intended to tell Anneliese about his confrontation with Klaus the day before he had left for London, but now he felt he had to.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

  ‘I didn’t want to scare you.’

  ‘Well I should be scared! We should both be scared.’ She jumped out of bed and went over to her window, looking down on to the street.

  ‘Can you see anyone?’ Conrad asked.

  ‘No. Wait, yes! No, it’s just a shadow from the tree. I don’t know... there could easily be someone hiding down there. Klaus will be bound to find out we are seeing each other sooner or later.’ She turned to Conrad, biting her lip. ‘Wh
at should we do? I’m frightened, Conrad.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be. He won’t hurt you.’

  ‘Yes, but he will hurt you. God, I dread to think what he might do to you.’ A tear ran down her cheek. ‘These damned Nazis. They go for everyone I love. Paul. My father. You. I couldn’t bear to lose you.’

  Conrad moved over to her and held her tight.

  ‘You should go back to London right away,’ Anneliese said.

  ‘I have to stay here in Berlin for a few more days,’ he said. ‘I need to help Theo and his friends. And I couldn’t just not see you.’

  He let her go and looked at her, standing naked by the open window, her skin a pale blue in the Berlin night. She was so beautiful.

  ‘It’s too dangerous,’ she said. ‘We must keep away from each other. At least for a few days. We must be very careful.’

  Conrad sighed. ‘All right. But it’s going to be difficult.’ He smiled at her. ‘And in that case we had better make the most of the time we have.’

  Anneliese kissed him. A moment later they were entwined on the bed.

  Just over a hundred miles away, in the city of Halle, Walter Schalke was preparing for bed. He was a little drunk – well, very drunk, having spent the evening at Wilhelmer’s bar down the road. The bedroom was a mess; dirty shirts and underwear lay on the floor, and the grimy sheets were unmade from the morning. After his wife had died, Walter had employed a housekeeper who had done a lousy job and annoyed the hell out of him. So he had sacked her. He was finding it harder than he expected to find a replacement at the rate he was offering. These women were so greedy!