‘Then you know what it’s about?’
‘Oh, I have an inkling, but never mind that. You know I was rather worried Mr Eaton would arrive too late at the farmhouse.’
‘He did,’ Wilde said.
‘Really? I rather thought the affair was satisfactorily concluded and that everyone was safely delivered from the threat posed by Quayle.’
‘Then you knew about Quayle?’
‘Well, not specifically. We were pretty certain there was a Nazi agent in our midst, but identifying him was another matter. At first, we were hoping Cazerove would lead us to the fellow because he too was a traitor, but then he killed himself. After that we rather hoped you or Miss Hartwell would oblige.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me any of this? To warn me, as an agent of your principal ally?’
Templeman took a seat at the small table and settled back with his hands clasped behind his head. ‘Mr Wilde, forgive me, please. We behaved appallingly, and that is why I’m here – to apologise profusely. We were desperate, you see. We were pretty certain that someone had been feeding information to the enemy for months. We began to suspect Peter Cazerove, but he was too junior to have access to a lot of the secrets being relayed to Berlin, which meant there was someone else and they were working together. We kept tabs on Cazerove and fed him false information, hoping to flush out his confederate.’
‘The Dieppe raid, though, that wasn’t false information.’
‘Actually it was, because Cazerove didn’t know it was Dieppe – all he knew was that the target was northern France. The problem was the Germans knew we were up to something already, so they were on extra high alert all along that coast and, sadly for those involved, the raid on Dieppe was a debacle.’
‘Are you saying this has all been a case of “hunt the bloody mole”, Templeman?’
‘Up to a point. There were clearly other matters.’
Wilde wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. ‘Such as the rather unpleasant episode of lifting me off the street and drugging me.’
‘Yes, that was a rather extreme measure, for which again, I offer wholehearted apologies. In fact, I feel thoroughly ashamed of that. But you see, we had to find Harriet. She was so close to Peter Cazerove that we had doubts about her, too. How could we be certain which side she was on? We needed to keep her under surveillance. Either that or shut her up.’
‘Shut her up?’
‘We feared she had gone rogue, you see. Apart from anything else, we had to ensure the truth about the Duke of Kent’s flight didn’t come out. And other things. As a secret servant she has had access to confidential information.’
‘She hadn’t gone rogue – she was hiding because she thought she was the target. And she was right.’
‘Yes, I get that now.’
‘God, I could do with a coffee.’
‘Haven’t you been given anything?’ Templeman went to the door and barked an order, then returned.
‘You were talking about the Duke’s flight . . .’
‘Another matter for Winnie. It seems he has agreed to see you at the King’s request. Apparently, you visited Her Royal Highness the Princess Marina. Hardly diplomatic protocol, Mr Wilde, but it seems to have paid off. You obviously have a knack for getting your own way.’
The coffee arrived. It was piping hot and Wilde did not wait for it to cool. ‘Ah that’s better.’
‘Good. And I hope I have put your mind at rest on a couple of matters. I am sure you have many other questions and perhaps we could have some supper at my club and talk some more. For the moment, I’m afraid work calls.’
‘One thing before you go – what school did you go to, Lord Templeman?’
‘The same as you, Mr Wilde – Harrow. I joined the term your mother took you out and shipped you off to America.’
‘So Harriet was right, you weren’t at Athelstans?’
‘Good Lord, no. My father went there and hated every moment of it. He refused point-blank to send me there, despite the urgings of Grandpapa.’
‘But you know about the Athels?’
Templeman laughed out loud. ‘I suppose you’re thinking that both Cazerove and Quayle went there . . .’
‘And Coburg – and Harriet’s father taught there. Both she and Coburg are terrified of the Athels. They think they run this country and have people everywhere in the Establishment who could harm them. That’s who Harriet has been running from.’
Templeman shook his head. ‘Oh dear, poor Harriet. I know the Athels have a reputation for plots and conspiracies but it’s all nonsense. They couldn’t conspire their way into a tea-shop in Tunbridge Wells.’
‘But people are scared of them . . .’
‘Because of their pathetic secrecy, that’s all. Some people at Cambridge feel the same way about the Apostles. Plenty of people in the country feel the world is secretly run by the Freemasons. Bloody Hitler thinks it’s all a conspiracy of Jews.’
‘What about the link between Cazerove and Quayle?’
‘That was something else. It must seem obvious to you now, but for weeks, Quayle was informing against Cazerove, suggesting he and Harriet were the traitors, trying to throw us off the scent. I’m afraid it worked for a while. Anyway, I believe he did the decent thing at the end and shot himself, so that’s all settled.’
Wilde finished the coffee and poured himself a second cup. ‘But he must have had some sort of hold over Cazerove.’
‘Blackmail. I have an old friend from Athelstans, chap named Richard Smoake. As a lad he was chums with Walter Quayle.’
‘I think I’ve heard of him.’ He recalled Harriet saying he had bullied the young Cazerove.
‘Well, he knew both Cazerove and Quayle from Athelstans days. He’s in the FO and I called him last night. He told me all about Quayle and the way he has always worked – he used blackmail to subjugate people. God knows how many – it’s probably the way he secured secrets throughout government departments. Anyway, Richard Smoake is certain that Quayle had a homosexual liaison with Cazerove and has held it over him ever since. Quayle never cared a hoot who knew which way his own proclivities lay, but not everyone is so free of convention. Peter Cazerove’s family would have been scandalised if they ever discovered what he had done. He would probably have been disowned and disinherited. Anyway, talk to Harriet about it. You’ll probably find she either knows or suspects the truth.’
‘But the Athels?’
Templeman laughed. ‘A bunch of self-satisfied drinking pals, nothing more.’
*
Churchill was in silk pyjamas beneath silk sheets, his back supported by a bank of white pillows while he dictated a memorandum to a young secretary. As soon as he was finished, she hurried away. Churchill immediately turned his attention to his new visitor, standing alone and rather awkwardly just inside the door. An aide whispered a name in Churchill’s ear.
‘Ah, so you are the notorious Professor Wilde.’ The voice was gruff, measured and deep, the product of a lifetime of smoking and heavy drinking.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well, I must thank you for coming to see me, professor. Are you being looked after? Would you care for a drop of brandy?’
‘I have been given coffee, thank you.’
‘Good, good, well take that seat by my bed so I can get a good look at you. Dagger Templeman’s told me a thing or two about your exploits, of course, but I like to find out about people for myself. Are you sure I can’t tempt you to a beverage?’
Wilde found himself laughing at the absurdity of it all. He never drank in the morning. But this wasn’t just any morning, and he had not slept. ‘Well, sir, I think I could probably manage a small whisky.’
‘A small whisky? We don’t do small measures here, young man. You’ll have a large one or nothing.’
‘Then I’ll have to have a large one.’
Churchill bellowed. ‘Sawyers!’
The butler appeared in seconds. ‘Yes, sir.’
&n
bsp; ‘Whisky for this man.’ He turned back to Wilde. ‘Blend or single malt?’
‘Today I think I’ll go for the peatiest malt you have.’
The butler bowed. ‘Indeed, sir. Perhaps an Islay?’
‘Perfect.’
‘Now then,’ Churchill continued after his man had left the room. ‘I believe this has something to do with the Duke of Kent and some damned German fellow. So let’s take them in reverse order, shall we? I want to make myself quite clear from the outset: I will not meet your German. That said, I have read your memorandum and I am as appalled as any civilised human being could be.’
‘Did you believe it, sir?’
‘Every word. I have always known what Hitler’s criminal gang is capable of, which is why I spent so long in the wilderness decried as a warmonger and all the while urging the world to take action against him.’
‘Why will you not meet Coburg? I don’t like him. He has consigned thousands of innocent people to a nightmarish death – but he wants to gain some sort of redemption by broadcasting the truth of what is happening to the world. You are the man who can do this.’
Churchill stuffed a large half-smoked cigar in his mouth and began to relight it. ‘I will not treat with Germans, any Germans. I refused to meet Hitler’s deputy when he flew to Scotland last year and I will not meet your man. That is the end of the discussion. The question is, what do we do with the fellow and how do we get his testimony heard?’
The butler re-entered and handed Wilde a large Scotch.
‘Leave the decanter with us, Sawyers.’
A cloud of cigar smoke drifted Wilde’s way.
‘So let me tell you,’ Churchill continued. ‘I have made a decision. Herr Coburg will be interviewed by The Times newspaper. I have spoken to Robert Barrington-Ward and he has agreed to put one of his top men on the job. The article will run to no less than 2,000 words and will be accompanied by photographs of Coburg and pertinent extracts from his documents to give it authenticity. I believe these papers are presently in the possession of the OSS. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, Mr Churchill, that is so. And what will happen to Coburg?’
‘He will be interned for the duration and will face trial alongside the other Nazi criminals at the end of the war. The fact that he has fled Germany and has told this story will, of course, weigh heavily in favour of clemency. Does this satisfy you, professor?’
He supposed that under the circumstances it was probably the very best that could be hoped for. ‘Yes, sir. Of course, it would have added power to the testimony to have your name attached, but I quite understand your reasoning.’
‘No, you’re wrong, Mr Wilde. My name would merely have allowed Goebbels to sneer at Churchillian propaganda. Let Coburg tell his story in the starkest possible terms and leave it at that.’
‘And is there any direct action that might be taken to disrupt the transports? Bombing the railway lines . . . even the death camps themselves?’
‘It will be looked into, but I confess I am not hopeful. Poland is at the very extremity of our ability to strike at the evil empire. Now then, we come to the second part of your visit: the death of the Duke, which is inevitably linked to the first part. And so I am going to tell you the true facts behind his death and you will never repeat any of what I say outside this room.’
Chapter 44
It was a condition that Wilde could never accept. ‘I am sorry, Prime Minister, my allegiance is to America and President Roosevelt, sir. I can’t promise to keep secrets from my president.’
Churchill waved his hand dismissively, creating a swirl of smoke around him. ‘I wouldn’t ask you to keep secrets from your president. Franklin already knows all that I am about to tell you because I told him personally. That is why you were stood down from your investigation when you returned from Scotland.’
Wilde had not seen that coming, but it certainly explained Bill Phillips’s sudden change of heart. ‘Do Mr Phillips and Mr Winant also know these facts?’
‘They certainly do not. You will be one of very few people to know the truth. The King knows, of course, but the Duchess does not, and nor will she, for I have no intention of making her grief and suffering worse than it already is.’
Wilde waited. There was no point in pushing Churchill to go any faster than he was. The Prime Minister seemed to be weighing up his words. Ash from the tip of his cigar spilled across the bedding. At last he judged the moment.
‘Professor Wilde, I must tell you that the Duke of Kent was murdered by the Nazis on the express orders of Hitler. The motive was vengeance for the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich.’
‘Are you certain of this, sir?’
‘Of course I am certain. There is no doubt. A message to the effect that the plane would be brought down was delivered by hand to the British embassy in Stockholm half an hour after the Sunderland took off from a lake near the Palace of Drottningholm. This message was then relayed directly to me. Unfortunately, nothing could be done to warn the crew of the plane because they were observing radio silence.’
Reinhard Heydrich. A name to strike revulsion into the heart of all decent human beings. He was the murderous henchman of Himmler and one of Hitler’s most favoured acolytes. The ideal Nazi with a heart of iron. And, as Wilde now knew from the Coburg papers, he was also the leading light at a conference at Wannsee near Berlin in which the fate of Europe’s Jews had been sealed.
Two Czechoslovak agents parachuted in by the Special Operations Executive in London had attacked him in Prague on 27 May. They hurled an explosive device at his car, and Heydrich died of his injuries on 4 June. Hitler’s reprisals had been characteristically brutal.
A whole village had been razed to the ground, hundreds of men murdered and women despatched to Ravensbrück concentration camp. Even the children had been taken away, some to be brought up as Germans, others murdered.
It now seemed even that had not been enough. Hitler wanted to punish England, too, for sending the assassins into Prague.
‘Here, Professor Wilde, read this.’ Churchilll tossed a sheet of paper across the bed.
Wilde picked it up. It had a Sicherheitsdient heading in Gothic script, with the organisation’s Berlin headquarters address: Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse, 8. It was written in English and read:
To Mr Winston Churchill. Let it be known that Flight 4026, presently en route to the United Kingdom, will not arrive. Consider this retribution for your country’s part in the murder of SS-Gruppenführer Reinhard Heydrich, acting Reich Protector of Bohemia and Moravia.
It was unsigned.
‘Is that convincing enough for you?’
Wilde nodded. ‘It’s hard to argue with that, given that it arrived while the plane was in the air.’
‘Also,’ Churchill continued, ‘assassination by plane crash is an established technique of the Nazis. They even used it on their own man Fritz Todt when they wanted to replace him with Speer.’
‘How was the Duke’s plane brought down, Prime Minister?’
‘It is difficult to be certain, but there are three theories. The first is that the oxygen supply was tampered with. It had been planned to fly the plane at ceiling altitude and so, without oxygen, the pilot and other members of the crew would have suffered hypoxia, become drowsy and lost consciousness. The second is that some sort of time bomb was planted to go off soon before arrival in Scotland. Another thought is that a small explosive device might have released a gas into the cockpit to incapacitate the crew, but post-mortem examination has not borne this out. Unfortunately, the wreckage of the plane was so extensive that it has not yet been possible for the investigators to come to a conclusion as to cause. It does, however, seem that the oxygen canisters were empty, which must point to the hypoxia theory. One thing is certain: a Nazi saboteur was to blame.’
‘How would he or she have gained access to the Sunderland? Surely it would have been guarded for the whole of the Duke’s visit?’
‘That is a very good question
and one for which I do not have an answer. The obvious thought would be a traitor in our own secret services attached to the Stockholm mission – someone perhaps linked to the egregious Mr Walter Quayle.’
Wilde nodded. It was hard to argue with the Prime Minister’s version of events.
‘Are you satisfied now, professor? And do you understand why the Duke’s mission to Sweden must not be made public?’
‘I do, Prime Minister, and I am profoundly grateful to you for receiving me and taking me into your confidence . . .’
‘But? You are about to say but.’
‘But I do feel more should be done to put a stop to the extermination of the Jews. If not, then it is possible European Jewry will be wiped from the face of the earth.’
Churchill’s face took on its gravest attitude, the jowls dropped, even the cigar seemed to sag. Wilde was shocked to see tears in the man’s eyes.
‘I have spoken to your president about this,’ Churchill replied slowly, his voice yet deeper and gruffer, almost choking with emotion. ‘And we are agreed that for us to bring this to the fore while we are in a position to do precisely nothing would leave us looking desperately weak, and would play right into Hitler’s hands. But I have granted you The Times piece, and we will leave it at that for the present. Later, perhaps next year, who knows? Good day, professor.’
*
Coburg tried the bedroom door. It was locked. This space in the bishop’s old farmhouse had become a prison cell while he waited. There were half a dozen British guards outside, although he couldn’t see them. Harriet was somewhere else in the house with the bishop. Occasionally she came to see him to bring food and refreshment and to talk.
‘But what is to happen?’ he had pleaded on her last visit.
‘That is being decided, Rudi. Be patient. Your physical health is improving and your testimony will be broadcast to the world.’
‘I’m going mad. My nights are filled with serpents and horror. I can’t endure another one.’
She had taken him in her arms to comfort him, but he knew that she was repulsed by the film of cold sweat on his arms, his neck and face. He knew, too, that she was revolted by the knowledge of what he had done. Who wouldn’t be? After a few seconds she had pulled gently away. She touched his face with the back of her hand and smiled at him. ‘You will unburden yourself and you will be well again.’
A Prince and a Spy Page 36