Innocence To Die For

by Eidinow, John

  He walked round the well. Amelia’s mother – now that was an unpleasant surprise. Amelia was very sweet, but if Dinah no longer had to be water under the bridge, he must really do something about Amelia, avoid her getting caught up in his life.

  Leaving the square, he quickened his pace. In anticipation of seeing Rozalia, he moved Burenko, Dinah and his mother firmly to one side.

  ****

  ‘How is it you do this?’ He had bent low over Rozalia’s hand. ‘You are the only Englishman who does, apart from one or two drunks and artists, and you do it so naturally.’

  ‘I am not drunk and I leave art to my sister. I do it by sheer compulsion on seeing you – a substitute for my falling at your feet. I couldn’t embarrass you drinking champagne in the Ritz.’

  ‘By all means fall at my feet.’ She pointed to the ground by her neat crocodile shoes. ‘You would never embarrass me.’

  ‘I am at your feet. Even when I’m sitting beside you.’

  They drank champagne in silence for a moment, then she said, ‘You are happy tonight. I see you have taken a decision, a bold decision.’

  ‘I wish I could tell you about it, Rozalia. I would value your counsel.’

  ‘It concerns your mother, I think.’

  ‘It does.’

  ‘But not only her—’

  ‘You are a sorceress—’

  ‘And somehow protecting them. I see a diver on the edge of the high board. The decision to jump is taken but you have not yet jumped.’

  ‘My feet are on the very edge of the board.’

  ‘The water is deep and cold. Now, before you jump, you must make a sale for me. The little Delaunay. The client swears she will buy it, but only from the charming young man who described it for her so beautifully. Or was it the beautiful young man who described it so charmingly?’

  ‘Or the young man who charmingly described it as so beautiful?’

  ‘My client thought you were very knowledgeable,’

  ‘I had just read about Delaunay. It’s our university system–learn and regurgitate.’

  ‘A sale is a sale. The gallery must complete it before the Germans come.’

  ‘Have you thought what you and your father will do if they come?’

  ‘What should we do, Sergeant Peter?’

  ‘You must make a plan and then follow it. If you decide to leave London, know where you’re going and how you’ll get there; then go at once and go straight. If you wait, the mass of refugees will overwhelm you. The Germans will be dive-bombing to increase panic. Only take essentials: food, drink, a few practical clothes, cash, valuables you can carry. If you decide to stay, remember London will not be an open city like Paris. Churchill will make the Germans fight for every house. He’ll probably be in Downing Street with a machine gun and sabre. Prepare somewhere secure to shelter, food and water, a cache of valuables.’

  ‘How sombre you sound. The government tells us “Stay put”.’

  ‘They saw what happened in France. I think people will find “stay put” impossible when German tanks are on the move. You mustn’t find yourself caught among masses of desperate refugees. If I can, I’ll try to alert you. We’ll need a code word. How about “Napoleon”?’

  ‘“Napoleon”.’

  ‘Shall we dine?’

  ‘And not talk of war, Peter. You will continue my education in modern literature.’

  ‘You will continue my education in art.’

  ‘Not talking of war, did you know The Mansions’s very own mysterious colonel is back in business? New filing cabinets, visitors, official cars, wine delivered – from an establishment called the Dingo Club, according to the porter. Have you heard of it? The porter is full of it all. Will you be rejoining our colonel?’

  ‘Not if I can avoid it.’

  ‘You will still come and see the collection in the flat, have that coffee?’

  ‘Of course. With pleasure.’ He had a sudden unease, a prickle along the backbone. A pricking of the thumbs? ‘However, I must say this. For the moment, we must be seen to be simply business colleagues, nothing more.’

  The blue-grey eyes glowed under the long dark lashes. Something passed between them, as at a switch thrown. ‘We were to be more than just business colleagues?’ She drank some wine and a waiter came to refill her glass. Her eyes were smiling.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ He flushed and looked down. ‘I hope I haven’t embarrassed you.’

  She reached out and touched his hand, making the skin tingle. ‘Only pleased and flattered. Don’t be sorry. You may look up again.’ She waited for his return smile. ‘I understand. You are in a game with the Cheka. That pool is very deep and dark.’

  ‘NKVD.’

  ‘They are the old Cheka with a new name.’

  ‘How could you tell?’

  ‘I am a sorceress, you said. Your aura tells of your anxiety to protect me. I have known others who were involved. They too had your aura.’

  ‘Have you any advice?’

  ‘Listen.’ She had become grave, verging on grim. ‘You must understand you have encountered nothing like them. They believe their superior strength lies in their total rejection of common humanity; that decency, trust and love are only weaknesses to be exploited; that fear, hope of gain and greed will always make men act to order, as required; that violence is only the next step. They despise anyone who does not share their values. All this is also their weakness.’

  ‘I have to deal with them.’

  ‘Then understand they are most dangerous when they seem most normal. When they seem most reasonable, they are deceiving you. Never let down your guard.’

  ‘I’m most grateful. I won’t forget.’

  ‘If you wish my advice, I am ready at any time.’ She smiled. ‘As a business colleague, of course.’

  Before he took her to her taxi, he arranged to come to the gallery for the Delaunay sale and promised to help, if he could, with her summer exhibition. ‘Things have ground to a halt at headquarters, while our general moves out, and up, and we wait for a new appointment. I doubt if it will be such fun. Faces are very long.’

  ‘Business colleagues may shake hands.’ Her hand was feather-light in his but he felt the electric charge pass, tingling into his palm.

  ‘“Napoleon”,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget. “Napoleon”. I hope I’ll never call you with it.’

  ****

  ‘I think you should know that your former commander Colonel St John Ponsonby has put in a request for your return to his strength with immediate effect.’

  Catching him on his way out of “morning prayers”, Colonel ffoulkes had called Peter into his office. There was no sense of hurry. Only routine operational meetings were going ahead. Nothing more could be done until the new commander was in place and had his orders from the general. A radical shift in anti-invasion strategy was expected. They were marking time till then.

  ‘Sir, I feel I’m doing important work here, which fits my abilities. If possible, I would like to continue in this command.’

  ‘He seemed to be suggesting that the initiative had come from you.’

  ‘With respect, sir, there’s no question of that. As I said, I would like to continue here. I ran into him one evening and he mentioned my returning. I said I was under your command and was fully occupied.’

  ‘I’ve already said no.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘However—’ The colonel stopped and frowned at his diary. ‘Look, come back a bit later, when I’m less likely to be interrupted.’

  ****

  ‘Whisky?’ Colonel ffoulkes put his “In conference” sign on his door and took a bottle and two glasses from a glass-fronted cabinet that had seen generations of schoolmasters come and go. ‘Do sit. I was in Whitehall at the end of last week and heard that your father might be coming over to make a case for reinforcements. The C-in-C Middle East, Wavell, is desperately short of kit. Your father could be making the case direct to Churchill.’

  ‘I’v
e not heard from him, sir, but that’s par for the course. He’ll do a good job for Wavell. He’s very good at putting a case together.’

  ‘When we need every scrap of kit against invasion, I wouldn’t think even he’ll find it easy.’ The colonel sipped his whisky. ‘I imagine he’d like to discuss your mother’s unfortunate predicament with you. If he wants some time, just ask.’

  ‘That’s very good of you, sir. I know he’s very anxious, though I’m sure everything’s being done to get her out.’

  ‘I gather you’re exploring a … shall we say … an unorthodox approach.’

  ‘Under Special Branch control, yes, sir. Should I assume they’ve been in touch? I’ve been instructed strictly to keep it to myself.’

  ‘They spent some time with me. Wanted to know a bit about you and your work here. Won’t surprise you. Have to assume everything you tell Johnny Russian goes straight to Berlin.’

  ‘Special Branch were very clear on that, sir. What’s more, they’d like to take advantage of it.’

  ‘They think you’ve handled yourself well. We discussed what titbits you could safely feed in. Another? Fix me one.’

  As he went to the cabinet, Peter sensed the contriving of a pause, more hesitation than deliberation. ‘Special Branch have made it clear this contact might well lead nowhere, sir. That he could string me along, pick up what he can and very likely leave my mother where she is. Of course, Special Branch are hoping to get something on him. Still, my uncle Anselm thinks it’s worth a try.’

  The colonel had swung his chair round, his long legs stretched out in front of him, staring at his neatly shod feet. The building had settled down into its evening torpor; intermittent quiet conversations between the duty officers and orderlies had replaced daytime’s constant din, phones ringing, boots rattling along corridors, voices calling, doors slamming, typewriter bells pinging. ‘You’ve anticipated me. I wanted to be sure you knew where you stood with them—the SB.’

  ‘My uncle thinks we might have some sort of negotiation with him. With the Russian. Ask a quid pro quo, if I offer him something to take home. Obviously nothing of genuine value. Useful to us if possible.’

  ‘Briefing will take care of that.’ The colonel swung round and leaned forward over his desk, a man ready to face facts. ‘Look, Peter, what I’m about to say is nothing to do with our not trusting you. Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s to do with easing the burden on you. The fact is, you can’t continue in your current role while you’re dealing with this Russian. You simply hear too much. The risk of a slip is too real, not just for you, for anyone … anyone, in your position. You’re the best note-taker we’ve had, outstanding, but, and I’m truly sorry to say this, you have to be moved.’

  Peter’s heart sank. ‘I’m sure I could lock the relevant information away in a separate compartment, sir.’

  ‘So am I. Can’t risk it, though. Not with Jerry waiting to spring over the Channel. A period of quarantine is in order.’

  ‘With respect, sir, won’t a sudden move look suspicious? Odd.’

  ‘So we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t.’ With his left arm round his chest and his right forefinger on his lips, he looked past Peter for a long moment, then back at him. ‘After all, what could be more natural than our making use of your French?’

  ‘That would certainly fit, sir.’ Had the colonel got to his real point? Perhaps not quite. ‘De Gaulle’s French Legion?’

  ‘Some liaison, some reporting, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Would it be for long, sir?’

  ‘Only as strictly necessary.’ A man relieved, he sprang to his feet and went to the cabinet to refill their glasses, saying over his shoulder, ‘Of course, I want everything done to bring your dear mother home safely.’ He came back to his desk. ‘How soon are you seeing Johnny Russian?’

  ‘Ring him tomorrow, sir, and meet as soon as possible.’

  ‘Good.’ The colonel was back to his bright and crisp normality. ‘This is the order of play. Tomorrow morning, ring this number to get time and place for your briefing. It will be in central London during the day. Stay in town.’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘You’re down for duty here in the evening. I will clear that. You will then meet me at the Neville Club. I will introduce you to someone who will talk to you about the liaison job. From everything I know of you and been told, I believe it’s your cup of tea. Do you know the Neville?’

  ‘I know of it, sir.’

  ‘Not for a sergeant. Civilian clothes … 1900. By the way, when I’ve introduced you, I’ll be making myself scarce.’ He raised his glass. ‘I feel very much in loco parentis towards you, Peter, and I do think this is the right move. 1900.’

  ****

  It was getting on. He might as well eat in the night canteen. On the way, he dropped into the general office to ask the duty sergeant for a sight of the draft orders for the next week.

  ‘Aren’t you off? Didn’t see your name there.’

  ‘Just checking. Can’t be too careful when it’s all change.’

  Chapter Three

  Perhaps listening to a voice on the telephone makes one more alert to its music. Perhaps one should train oneself to suppress all feeling when speaking on the phone. Burenko must have been trained – or perhaps in Stalin’s Moscow you trained yourself as a matter of survival. The Russian’s voice was as flat and expressionless as an empty piece of paper, interestingly insistent on the initiative for a meeting being Mr Hill’s, unclear on why they might meet, uncertain as to how he might be free, though agreeing to the next but one evening. And where? Mr Hill was proposing …?

  The Looking Glass. Peter would meet him outside at 8.30: the trade counsellor would be sure to find it very agreeable. Agreeable and convenient.

  On the other hand, the lieutenant in Military Intelligence detailed to brief him sounded as if he’d been waiting all his life for this meeting. Peter knew him at once, from Cambridge – a junior research fellow in mediaeval history. They’d met: one or two parties, a ball or two, occasionally the Commonplace Society (papers and discussion on quiddities), the Moral Science Club, the Atreids. Buckets of charm, extraordinarily able, boisterous wit.

  He decided on civvies for the briefing: probably wouldn’t be back in the flat before the Neville. As he picked out a suit, he had a curious feeling that he’d seen the last of his uniform.

  ****

  If the hat-rack was any guide, ffoulkes’s advice had been sound: the Neville was not the place for a sergeant, except at the wheel of a staff car outside. The basilisk glare of senior officers’ caps in serried ranks, heavy with gold-braid, warned off lesser mortals.

  He turned from his study of the caps to a portrait of Marlborough in the field with his principal staff officer Cadogan, newly hung in the waiting hall. A voice murmured in his ear, ‘History repeats itself.’

  ‘Let’s hope so, sir.’

  ‘No “sir” here, Peter. Rule of the house. I hear the briefing went well. Follow me.’

  Peter followed Colonel ffoulkes through the jovially noisy bar into the Morning Room, and towards a civilian sitting in a corner.

  ‘This is the young man we mentioned, Peter Hill. Hill, this is Bruce Hendersley of the Diplomatic. What would you like to drink, Hill?’

  What was it about Hendersley’s features that made them so difficult to remember? Well brushed light brown hair, balding over the temples;; bushy eyebrows behind standard round spectacles; small rather sunken eyes, but bright enough; neatly trimmed moustache; full face but not chubby; middling height; middling weight; well cut double-breasted suit, not too smart. Normalcy. Normalcy’s normalcy. There, he decided, lay the problem – Hendersley’s being, seeming, indistinguishable from the mass of his fellow civil servants. Had he made himself so, deliberately?

  ****

  After ffoulkes had made his excuses and left, Hendersley suggested that they walk to their own club and dine there. ‘If that’s convenient. I think we’ll be able to t
alk more freely.’

  Once they were in the fresh air, Peter asked, ‘When we met last, did you know the colonel was planning to introduce us.’

  ‘In my line of work, the whole point is not to be taken by surprise, if you can avoid it. Shall we say a helpful coincidence?’

  ‘Your line of work?’

  ‘I didn’t tell you? Perfectly straightforward, you know. Political intelligence. The French desk at the moment.’

  ‘I see the Germans are lashing out at Vichy, contempt for the new constitution.’

  ‘Pétain’s national renewal doesn’t suit Hitler at all. Reconstruction to contribute to the German economy, yes. But not renaissance. Shall we go straight up? You’re my guest, of course.’ The table he’d reserved was almost hidden behind the serving station; convivial members thought it not very desirable.

  ‘Woolton’s plea for simple dining seems to have fallen on deaf ears here; the number of courses hasn’t changed since pre-war.’

  ‘The chef wouldn’t dare. Winston’s staff use the place as a canteen. When luncheon meat appeared on the menu, Downing Street must have been deafened by the uproar. The Chablis suit you? Now, you must be burning to know what this is all about. We have a confidential mission in mind – in France, the unoccupied zone, but for not too long – and we think you could be the man for it. We’re advised that you’re apt for acting alone; that you’ve shown initiative and self-reliance—’

  Bloody fortunate, more like it. “Inexperienced”, she said.

  ‘Your French is more than up to the task and you’ve current experience of France. Your written reporting is clear, accurate and concise. Those are the qualities this mission requires. Not heroics, though from what I’ve been told I’m sure you could produce those. A steady nerve, perhaps. Remaining calm in the face of certain provocation. Interested?’