Shadows of War

by Michael Ridpath

  ‘Do I have an appointment?’

  ‘No. And don’t make one. Just claim I told you you had one. It will sound like a typical army balls-up.’

  Conrad smiled. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Very good. Leave an address where we can get you at short notice. Between us, there is a good chance that we may be ordered to France in the next few days as reinforcements. If that happens, I want you back with the battalion right away.’

  Pall Mall, London

  Alston sipped his whisky and listened to the secret-service officer. They were meeting in Alston’s club, having decided a long time before that it was more discreet to meet openly. There was nothing suspicious about a Conservative MP having a quiet conversation with a senior member of SIS, whereas a clandestine meeting would be more remarkable.

  ‘De Lancey is coming to London tomorrow,’ the officer said.

  ‘But damn it, McCaigue! I thought you had arranged for him to be confined to barracks.’

  Major McCaigue shrugged. ‘His CO seems to have sent him here on an errand. There’s not much one can do about that, at least not right away.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘But isn’t this good news? I thought you had arranged a welcome for him, next time he came to town.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Alston.

  ‘We’ve discussed this,’ said McCaigue. ‘I can’t help you with that kind of thing, at least not directly. I can’t be seen to be conspiring with you, even by my colleagues.’

  McCaigue was Alston’s man inside the secret service. He had provided Alston with sound advice for several months now, part of which was that if the secret service was to be seen conspiring to launch a coup, any new government’s legitimacy would be questioned. So McCaigue had been very careful.

  ‘I understand,’ said Alston, embarrassed by his own squeamishness. ‘I’ll deal with de Lancey.’ All he needed to do was to tell Constance, and she would get Sullivan to take care of it. ‘We intend to make a move in the next week or so. Churchill is becoming more vulnerable by the day.’

  ‘Good,’ said McCaigue.

  ‘How do you think your colleagues will take it?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. Provided you can avoid it seeming like a coup, then I think they will go along with it. You know, “peace with honour”. And most of us are still more worried by the Soviets than the Nazis. I know I am. I don’t trust that Nazi–Soviet pact. Stalin just wanted half of Poland, and that was his way to take it. You wait until he wants the other half and see what happens then.’

  Alston knew that McCaigue’s main motivation wasn’t his loyalty to Alston or even the Duke of Windsor, but a deep conviction that the Bolshevik revolution of 1917 had just been the start of a long-term grab for power by the working classes. He loathed and feared Russia, or, to be more precise, the idea that had become embodied in the Soviet Union. McCaigue was fighting for civilization against communism. In that battle, it made much more sense to have the Nazis with you rather than against you.

  Alston could go along with that idea.

  ‘Have you heard about the arrests this morning?’ McCaigue asked.

  ‘What arrests?’

  ‘An American diplomat called Tyler Kent and a Russian woman, Anna Wolkoff.’

  ‘No, I hadn’t heard about them,’ said Alston.

  ‘Do you know them?’ McCaigue asked.

  ‘Isn’t Anna Wolkoff the manager of the Russian Tea Rooms?’

  ‘You don’t go there, do you?’ McCaigue asked with a hint of disapproval.

  ‘Just once or twice, but that’s all. It didn’t seem very discreet.’

  ‘It certainly isn’t that. And don’t go again. There will be more arrests.’

  ‘Ah.’ Alston sipped his whisky. ‘There is a friend of mine, Mrs Scott-Dunton – you probably remember she was in Holland last November. You helped tidy up after her then.’ Alston knew it was McCaigue who, on his own initiative, had arranged for suspicion for Millie de Lancey’s murder to fall on a German spy rather than Constance. ‘I’m afraid she spends quite a lot of time at the Tea Rooms, and she knows Mr Kent. She has been very helpful to me in various important ways over the last few months. It would be disastrous if she were arrested. It might undermine the whole plan.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said McCaigue. ‘She hasn’t exactly been careful, has she?’

  Alston didn’t like his tone. ‘I’m serious, McCaigue. It would be bad for all of us.’

  McCaigue smiled quickly. ‘Don’t worry, Sir Henry. I’ll see what I can do to protect her.’

  ‘On the other hand, what about Mosley?’ said Alston. ‘It might be convenient if he was arrested. The last thing we want is him taking advantage of the government in disarray to launch his own coup.’

  McCaigue grinned. ‘It would be convenient, wouldn’t it?’

  44

  Extract from Lieutenant Dieter von Hertenberg’s Diary

  21 May

  Saw the English Channel this morning! Blue sea in brilliant sunshine. There was haze to the north so we couldn’t see the white cliffs of Dover, but we are probably too far away here anyway. It’s remarkable that only eleven days ago we were crossing the border into Luxembourg. That’s 350 km! But I am so tired. We are all tired, including the tanks. But it turns out that 2nd Panzer hadn’t run out of fuel after all.

  The Allied armies are cut in two. Now – do we head north or south? The British Expeditionary Force is to the north, Paris to the south. Waiting for orders.

  I am immensely proud of what we have achieved. I wonder what Theo would think. From what I can tell, the intelligence he gathered helped the High Command come up with the plan we have just followed with such success. We are taking part in possibly the most glorious victory in our country’s history. As a German officer, how can Theo not be proud of his part in that?

  The French and the British must realize they have lost. Maybe now there will be peace. That must be a good thing.

  St George’s Hospital, Hyde Park Corner, London, 21 May

  As Conrad waited outside the entrance to the hospital, he was reminded of those times nearly two years before when he had stood outside St Hedwig’s in the Jewish quarter of Berlin, waiting for Anneliese. The uniform was different, but it was the same woman whose face lit up when she saw him. The same smile.

  She kissed him quickly, and led him over the road to the park. ‘I was worried you wouldn’t be able to come.’

  ‘I have a very understanding CO, thank God. I’m here on official business: talking to the War Office about equipment.’

  ‘How long until you have to return?’

  ‘A week is the maximum. Unless the battalion is sent to France, in which case I will have to rejoin them immediately. What have you got to tell me?’

  ‘Let’s wait till we are in the park.’

  They walked rapidly and in silence across Rotten Row. Only when they were a good distance from Knightsbridge did Anneliese talk.

  ‘Oh, Conrad. She did it! Constance killed your sister.’

  ‘I thought so,’ said Conrad, anger surging through his body. ‘How did you get her to admit it?’

  ‘She was showing off. About the secret mission she had been sent on to Holland by Alston.’

  ‘Did she say why?’

  ‘Not really. She said the trip had been a disaster and she had been forced to kill someone. She didn’t say who, but it can only have been your sister, can’t it?’

  ‘It must have been,’ said Conrad. ‘It’s hardly conclusive proof. I’m not even sure it would count as evidence.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Anneliese. ‘It was the nearest to a confession I could get.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Conrad. ‘You did well. Very well. At least now I know for certain.’

  ‘There’s more,’ said Anneliese. ‘Constance told me Alston’s plans for a new government.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘He thinks Churchill is unpopular and going to fall very soon. Halifax doesn’t have the guts to become Prime Minister.�
��

  ‘So who replaces Churchill?’

  ‘Lloyd George. Backed up by Alston and...’

  ‘And who?’

  ‘Your father.’

  ‘No!’

  Anneliese reached out and squeezed Conrad’s hand. The anger he had felt on hearing confirmation that Constance had killed his sister mixed with shock. Betrayal. Fear.

  ‘Are they going to make peace with Hitler?’ Conrad said.

  ‘More than that. They are going to put in place a regime that will become firm allies with Germany. They are going to bring the Duke of Windsor over from France to demand peace. They will force King George to abdicate and make the duke king again.’

  ‘The British people will never put up with that.’

  ‘There’s a newspaper campaign planned. Alston has friends in every part of the ruling class, according to Constance. It will seem like common sense, like a great escape from defeat. Or at least that’s the idea.’

  ‘It will never work.’

  ‘I’ve seen it work. So have you. In Germany. Hitler was voted into power by the people, remember? This will be different, because you British are different, but that’s why it will work. According to Constance and Alston.’ Anneliese looked up at Conrad. ‘Don’t be too quick to dismiss these things as impossible. That’s what we did in my country.’

  Conrad stopped. They were in the middle of a large green meadow, bordered by trenches that had been dug a couple of years before as protection from air raids. No one had ever used them.

  ‘What the hell is my father doing with Alston?’ Conrad said. ‘I can’t for a moment imagine he is a willing participant. Alston must have pulled the wool over his eyes somehow. Father is much too naive.’

  ‘Constance said that Lord Oakford is going to France to tell the Duke of Windsor to come back to Britain and reclaim his crown. Apparently he and Alston discussed it with the duke when he was here in February.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Conrad said. ‘I can just about believe that he might help Alston make peace with the Germans. But we already have a king and he’s called George, not Edward the bloody Eighth. If my father is trying to get the duke to come back that’s treason, pure and simple. And whatever else my father is, however stupid he is, he’s not a traitor!’

  ‘I can only say what Constance told me,’ said Anneliese.

  ‘I’ll talk to him now,’ said Conrad. ‘Tell him he shouldn’t be such a fool.’ Conrad turned on his heel and walked back towards the Knightsbridge underground station.

  ‘No, Conrad!’ said Anneliese. ‘No. Listen to me.’ She tugged on his sleeve, urging him to stop.

  Conrad turned to her. ‘Anneliese. I have to sort this out! Maybe Constance is making it up. Or she is confused.’

  ‘Conrad. Listen to me. Your father is involved. We don’t know how and we don’t know why, but Constance would have no reason to lie to me. She doesn’t know that I know him or you. But we have to assume that your father knows what he is doing. Which means that you can’t tell him that we know it too.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because he will stop you from doing anything about it. Your father is an idealist. If he thinks he is doing the right thing, he won’t let you get in his way. You know that, you’ve told me yourself about the arguments you’ve had with him.’

  ‘How could he stop me?’

  Anneliese shrugged. ‘I don’t know. What I do know is that you think you are safe in nice cosy Britain and you are not. All those horrible things that happen over the English Channel are coming here soon. Very soon.’

  ‘My father wouldn’t hurt me.’

  ‘This kind of thing tears families apart in my country. It will in yours too.’

  They were a few yards away from a bench and Conrad headed towards it. He sat down and leaned forward, his head in his hands. He felt Anneliese’s palm on his back.

  ‘I just can’t believe Father would betray his country like that,’ he said. ‘I know peace is important to him, but this is treason. He’s betraying everything he believes in. Everything I believe in. Everything!’

  ‘He probably doesn’t think it is,’ said Anneliese. ‘That’s the whole problem. He probably thinks he’s doing what’s right for his country. Alston and Constance think that too.’

  ‘When you told me just now you had proof that Constance had killed Millie, I thought I could finally go to Father and convince him that Alston was evil, that he was a traitor, that not only had he killed Millie but he was conspiring to lose the war and overthrow our king. I thought Father would listen to me, help me. I thought he was a good man and he would prove it to me. But now? Now I don’t know what to think.’

  Conrad blinked. He could feel tears springing to his eyes. He could see Anneliese had noticed, and he fought to control himself.

  Anneliese reached for his hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m sorry, Conrad.’

  Conrad sat up and took a deep breath. ‘All right. So what do we do?’

  ‘We tell someone,’ said Anneliese.

  ‘Tell someone that my father’s a traitor?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Anneliese.

  Conrad turned to her. Her familiar green eyes were looking into his. No irony, this time. No humour. Concern. Love even. Sincerity.

  ‘I can’t do it,’ he said.

  ‘You have to do it,’ Anneliese said. ‘This is bigger than you and me. You know that.’

  What about Mama? Conrad thought. What about Millie and Charlotte and Reggie?

  For a second he had forgotten Millie was dead. And Edward was dead. His family had been torn apart. More than that, it was as if a mortar bomb had landed right in the middle of it and exploded.

  ‘Do you know why I didn’t want to marry you when I came to London?’ Anneliese said.

  ‘No,’ said Conrad.

  ‘Because I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I felt worthless. I felt that what had happened in Germany had destroyed me. The only reason for me existing was to help my parents, and even they didn’t have much of a future. I felt that if I once was worthy of you, I wasn’t anymore. I loved you and I was absolutely certain that you would have a better life without me.’

  ‘But that doesn’t make any sense!’ Conrad said.

  ‘It made sense to me. It was as if I was carrying the evil of the Nazis inside me somehow, that it had infected me like some plague and that I had brought it with me to England. I didn’t want to infect you.’

  Conrad reached out his hand and stroked Anneliese’s hair.

  ‘Can you understand that?’ she said. Her eyes were steady, her jaw firm.

  Conrad thought of all Anneliese had suffered. Of her stoic misery in London. Of the confidence that he had always felt that she loved him really, and the frustration that she wouldn’t allow him to love her.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘But going to the Russian Tea Rooms, pretending to be some kind of Nazi myself, has made me feel better. I am worth something; I am doing something worthwhile. The world is on the edge of a thousand years of darkness. Don’t you feel it? If France surrenders, if Alston and your father create their puppet government, the Nazis will control Europe. They will control Britain. They will destroy the Jewish people. They will destroy civilization. There will be a new Dark Ages.’

  Conrad nodded. She was right.

  ‘Doing what little I can to prevent that has given my life meaning again. You must do what you can too. Even if it means betraying your father.’

  Conrad looked at Anneliese. She knew how important his father was to him; her own father meant everything to her. She knew him; she understood him.

  She was right.

  He stood up. ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘We need to tell someone. Someone who can actually do something about it.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Sir Robert Vansittart.’

  It turned out that that was much easier said than done. It was only a fifteen-minute walk across Green Par
k and St James’s Park to the Foreign Office, but once there it transpired that the Chief Diplomatic Adviser was busy. Conrad scribbled a note for the commissionaire to give to Mrs Dougherty, saying that he had information of national importance, and then he and Anneliese waited in the grand entrance hall of the Foreign Office.

  And waited.

  Eventually, two hours later, Conrad heard a familiar deep Ulster voice behind him. ‘Lieutenant de Lancey, would you be good enough to come with me?’

  It was Major McCaigue. Conrad introduced Anneliese and they followed McCaigue up to a small windowless office on the third floor that he must have borrowed.

  ‘Sir Robert asked me to see you at short notice,’ McCaigue said. ‘He thought I would be best able to deal with what you had to say.’

  With relief that someone in authority was willing to listen to him, Conrad explained everything that Anneliese had told him.

  Major McCaigue listened carefully.

  45

  Whitehall, London

  An hour later Conrad and Anneliese emerged on to Whitehall.

  ‘What now?’ said Anneliese.

  ‘I suppose we leave it to McCaigue.’

  ‘Do you trust him?’

  ‘I think so. But I’m not sure I trust those around him. The government. The “authorities”.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Van won’t see me. The “powers that be” seem to think I’m a Russian spy. The War Office is trying to get me confined to barracks.’

  ‘Major McCaigue seemed confident he could stop Alston,’ said Anneliese. ‘Captain Foley did a good job in Berlin.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Conrad. For a mild-mannered bureaucrat, Captain Foley had indeed been effective, springing Anneliese from a concentration camp and spiriting her and her family over to England, as well as hundreds, possibly thousands like her. ‘But somehow I think McCaigue is up against more serious opposition.’

  ‘Where are you going now?’

  ‘The hotel in Bloomsbury. I won’t stay at Kensington Square. I think you are right about Father; I don’t trust myself with him. And I have to ring up Veronica.’