by Jack Ludlow
‘Two different beasts, Mr Jardine, but let me explain. Young Garvin flew out of Prague with the goods and insisted on taking it not to the editor of his newspaper but to the proprietor, a fellow called Layton, and he spiked the story.’
‘Did he spike the little shit with it?’ demanded Cal.
Blinking at the vulgarity, Quex shook his head. ‘No, he bribed him to forget it with a senior post, which, I am told, had Vernon Bartlett spitting blood.’
‘If you spawn evil…’ Peter intoned, leaving the rest to the imagination of the others.
‘But Layton gave it to Sir Samuel Hoare, who in turn showed it to Chamberlain.’
‘So he got it!’ Quex nodded. ‘Then why did he sign that rubbish bit of paper at Munich?’
‘Don’t you see, Mr Jardine, he was the saviour of the nation?’
‘Destroyer, more like.’
‘Never,’ Sir Hugh said gravely, ‘underestimate how far a politician will go for a bit of short-term popularity. The PM was cheered by thousands when he came back from Munich and it went to his head. He quite forgot he is the leader of a nation of millions who think him a dupe.’
‘Who were these thousands?’
‘Those who think they have something to lose by war other than their lives. Comfort, houses, businesses, and that is allied to a deep fear of Bolshevism and the working classes. Anyway, according to my good friend Duff Cooper, who resigned in disgust, Chamberlain saw it and dismissed it as propaganda, then embarked on his shuttling to and fro by air to suck Hitler’s poison, with Mussolini as the convenient suppository.’
‘With the result that he has the Sudetenland.’
‘And will have all of Czecho soon.’
‘Poland?’
‘Will take the coalfields they have desired for so long only to lose them again. Once Hitler has Teschen, Danzig and the hundreds of miles of Silesian border they are doomed. Not that they think so — to hear them boast, a squadron of cavalry is a match for any tank.’
‘Which,’ Cal growled, ‘was perfectly obvious a year ago to anyone who looked at a map.’
‘Politicians are strange creatures. Chamberlain is now acting as if Munich was a deliberate policy to gain time to rearm, instead of what it really was, the worst piece of diplomacy our country has ever engaged in.’
‘What did you do about McKevitt?’
‘Treated him as a hero externally and a warning internally. No point in washing our dirty linen in public, but he has served to remind those who incline to ill discipline that the end result is unpleasant.’
‘What drove him?’
‘Ah, what else but that madness which afflicts Irishmen on occasions? He was sure those machine guns were going to the IRA and he set out to stop it by diverting them to the Jeunesses Patriotes.’
‘Who would have used them on their own government.’
‘A notion which did not bother McKevitt one bit!’ Quex snapped. ‘Then I became the target of his ambition, an affliction which progressively warped his judgement, I fear.’
‘He’s not unique in SIS?’
‘Sadly no; but anyway, now to business, because you cannot stay here until you are fully recovered. The Germans will move into Eger within days.’
‘I’m feeling pretty good,’ Cal said.
‘Your physician does not agree. What we are planning to do is employ an ambulance to get you both back home and your doctors will travel with you, all covered by diplomatic immunity.’
‘That’s a lot of money, sir.’
‘On the contrary, Peter, the doctors have no desire to be here when the SS arrive, both being social democrats. They and their wives, who will be designated as nurses, will be much happier domiciled in England and for that their services are free. Their children we will get out by normal channels.’
There was a pause to allow him to be smug. ‘And now we come to you, Mr Jardine.’
‘The Tower, I expect.’
‘An amusing and tempting idea, but not sound.’ There was another pause, to gather his thoughts. ‘You are the possessor of skills that are in short supply and, I might add, skills we are going to need very sorely in the coming years. It has occurred to me that having someone of your ability inside the tent might be better than having you running around outside.’
‘Are you offering me employment?’
‘Don’t pay him,’ Peter snapped, ‘he doesn’t need it.’
That got a thin smile. ‘There is a war coming, Mr Jardine, and we can do nothing to avoid it. I am too old to be entering such a cataclysm. Peter will prosper both through his brains and his judgement.’
That got a raspberry from Cal.
‘But you and your type are needed, Mr Jardine.’
‘Type?’
‘Killers. Or should I say imaginative eradicators of human vermin.’
‘You should look after General Moravec, he’s got some good people and he is, as I know to my cost, a wily old bugger.’
‘Already arranged; he will come to England when the Germans take the rest of the Czech lands.’
‘His agents?’ Cal was thinking of Veseli.
‘His to decide on.’ Quex stood. ‘Now I must go and seek to advise a government intent on adding to their foolishness.’
‘Not possible.’
‘Oh it is, Mr Jardine. They are talking about guaranteeing Poland’s borders.’
‘Vince, in my bag is a fortune in German marks. Could you do me a favour and take it to Prague and then fly home from there? Give it to Elsa Ephraim at the Jewish Emigration Centre and tell her it comes from the Reichsbank. She will be tickled to think she’s using their money to get her people to freedom.’
The last person to talk to was Corrie and she was very mature. ‘You’re not free to marry and I’m not willing to give up my career.’
‘So how do we stay in touch?’
She tapped her forehead. ‘Up here, Cal, up here, where there are good memories. And — who knows? — we are flotsam who gravitate towards war zones. We both like trouble, so I guess we will meet more often than you think possible.’
‘I hope you believe me when I say I want that.’
She bent forward and kissed him. ‘Take care, Doc.’
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