Passenger to Frankfurt Read online

rather wearily back in his chair. 'We need you here, Ced ..,

  he said. There was gentle authority in his voice. 'You are i'e head of our Government--you must remain here. We have "it

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  trained agents�our own emissaries who are qualified for

  foreign missions.'

  ' 'Agents?' Sir George Packham dubiously demanded. 'What

  can agents do at this stage? We must have a report from

  �Ah, Horsham, there you are�I did not notice you before.

  Tell us�what agents have we got? And what can they

  possibly do?'

  'We've got some very good agents,' said Henry Horsham

  quietly. 'Agents bring you information. Herr Spiess also has

  brought you information. Information which his agents have

  obtained for him. The trouble is�always has been�(you've

  only got to read about the last war) nobody wishes to believe

  the news the agents bring.'

  'Surely�Intelligence�'

  'Nobody wants to accept that the agents cere intelligent!

  but they are, you know. They are highly trained and their

  reports, nine times out of ten, are true. What happens then?

  The High-Ups refuse to believe it, don't want to believe it,

  go further and refuse to act upon it in any way.'

  'Really, my dear Horsham�I can't�'

  Horsham turned to the German. '

  'Even in your country, sir, didn't that happen? True reports

  were brought in, but they weren't always acted upon. People

  don't -want to know�if truth is unpalatable.'

  'I have to agree�that can and does happen�not often,

  of that I assure you�But yes�sometimes�'

  Mr Lazenby was fidgeting again with his pipe.

  'Let us not argue about information. It is a question of

  dealing�of acting upon the information we have got. This

  is not merely a national crisis�it is an international crisis.

  Decisions must be taken at top level�we must act. Munro,

  the police must be reinforced by the Army�military measures

  must be set in motion. Herr Spiess, you have always been a

  great military nation�rebellions must be put down by armed

  forces before they get out of hand. You would agree with

  that policy, I am sure�'

  The policy, yes. But these insurrections are already what

  you term "out of hand". They have tools, rifles, machineguns,

  explosives, grenades, bombs, chemical and other gases�'

  'But with our nuclear weapons�a mere threat of nuclear

  warfare�and�'

  'These are not just disaffected schoolboys. With this Army

  of Youth there are scientists�young biologists, chemists,

  physicists. To start�or to engage in nuclear warfare in Eur-

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  ope--' Herr Spiess shook his head. 'Already we have had an

  attempt to poison the water supply at Cologne--Typhoid.'

  The whole position is incredible--' Cedric Lazenby looked

  round him hopefully-- 'Chetwynd--Munro--Blunt?'

  Admiral Blunt was, somewhat to Lazenby's surprise, the

  only one to respond.

  1 don't know where the Admiralty comes in--not quite

  our pigeon. I'd advise you, Cedric, if you want to do the

  best thing for yourself, to take your pipe; and a big supply

  of tobacco, and get as far out of range of any nuclear

  warfare you are thinking of starting as you can. Go and

  camp in the Antarctic, or somewhere where radio-activity will

  take a long time catching up with you. Professor Eckstein

  warned us, you know, and he knows what he's talking about.'

  Chapter 18

  PIKEAWAY'S POSTSCRIPT

  The meeting broke up at this point. It split into a definite

  rearrangement.

  The German Chancellor with the Prime Minister, Sir

  George Packham, Gordon Chetwynd and Dr Reichardt departed

  for lunch at Downing Street.

  Admiral Blunt, Colonel Munro, Colonel Pikeaway a?. Henry

  Horsham remained to make their comments wi

  more freedom of speech than they would have permitt :. themselves if the VIP's had remained.

  The first remarks made were somewhat disjointed.

  Thank goodness they took George Packham with them,'

  said Colonel Pikeaway. 'Worry, fidget, wonder, surmise--gets

  me down sometimes.'

  'You ought to have gone with them. Admiral,' said Colonel

  Munro. 'Can't see Gordon Chetwynd or George Packham

  being able to stop our Cedric from going off for a top-level

  consultation with the Russians, the Chinese, the Ethiopia s.

  the Argentinians or anywhere else the fancy takes him.'

  'I've got other kites to fly,' said the Admiral gruf

  'Going to the country to see an old friend of mine.' H^ looked with some curiosity at Colonel Pikeaway.

  'Was the Hitler business really a surprise to you, Pikeawa: .''

  Colonel Pikeaway shook his head.

  'Not really. We'v known all about the rumours of <"'" 156

  Adolf turning up in South America and keeping the swastika

  flying for years. Fifty-to-fifty chance of its being true. Whoever

  the chap was, madman, play-acting impostor, or the real

  thing, he passed in his checks quite soon. Nasty stories about

  that, too--he wasn't an asset to his supporters.'

  'Whose body was it in the Bunker? is still a good talking

  point,' said Blunt. 'Never been any definite identification.

  Russians saw to that.'

  He got up, nodded to the others and went towards the

  door.

  Munro said thoughtfully, 'I suppose Eh- Reichardt knows

  the truth--though he played it cagey.'

  'What about the Chancellor?' said Horsham.

  'Sensible man,' grunted the Admiral, turning his head

  back from the doorway. 'He was getting his country the

  way he wanted it, when this youth business started playing

  fun and games with the civilized world--Pity!' He looked

  shrewdly at Colonel Munro.

  'What about the Golden-Haired Wonder? Hitler's son?

  Know all about him?'

  'No need to worry,' said Colonel Pikeaway unexpectedly.

  The Admiral let go of the door-handle and came back and

  sat down.

  'All my eye and Betty Martin,' said Colonel Pikeaway,

  'Hitler never had a son.'

  'You can't be sure of that.'

  'We are sure--Franz Joseph, the Young Siegfried, the idolized

  Leader, is a common or garden fraud, a rank impostor.

  He's the son of an Argentinian carpenter and a good-looking

  blonde, a small-part German opera singer--inherited his looks

  and his singing voice from his mother. He was carefully chosen

  for the part he was to play, groomed for stardom. In his

  early youth he was a professional actor--he was branded in

  the foot with a swastika--a story made up for him full of

  romantic details. He was treated like a dedicated Dalai Lama.'

  'And you've proof of this?'

  'Full documentation,' Colonel Pikeaway grinned. 'One of

  my best agents got it. Affidavits, photostats, signed declaration,

  including one from the mother, and medical evidence as

  to the date of the scar, copy of the original birth certificate

  �f Karl Aguileros--and signed evidence of his identity with

  the so-called Franz Joseph. The whole bag of tricks. My agent Sot away with it just in time. They were after her--might
^ye got her if she hadn't had a bit of luck at Frankfurt.'

  'And where are these documents now?'

  157

  'In a safe place. Waiting for the right moment for a

  spectacular debunking of a first-class impostor�'

  'Do the Government know this?�the Prime Minister?'

  ''I never tell all I know to politicians�not until I can't

  avoid it, or until I'm quite sure they'll do the right thing.'

  'You are an old devil, Pikeaway,' said Colonel Munro,

  'Somebody has to be,' said Colonel Pikeaway, sadly.

  Chapter 19

  SIRSTAFFORD NYE HAS VISITORS

  Sir Stafford Nye was entertaining guests. They were guests

  with whom he had previously been unacquainted except for

  one of them whom he knew fairly well by sight. They were

  good-looking young men, serious-minded and intelligent, or

  so he should judge. Their hair was controlled and stylish,

  their clothes were well cut though not unduly old-fashioned.

  Looking at them, Stafford Nye was unable to deny that he

  liked the look of them. At the same time he wondered what

  they wanted with him. One of them he knew was the son

  of an oil king. Another of them, since leaving the university,

  had interested himself in politics. He had an uncle who owned

  a chain of restaurants. The third one was a young man with

  beetle brows who frowned and to whom perpetual suspicion

  seemed to be second nature.

  'It's very good of you to let us come and call upon you,

  Sir Stafford,' said the one who seemed to be the blond

  leader of the three.

  His voice was very agreeable. His name was Clifford Bent.

  'This is Roderick Ketelly and this is Jim Brewster. We're

  all anxious about the future. Shall I put it like that?'

  'I suppose the answer to that is, aren't we all?' said Sir

  Stafford Nye.

  'We don't like things the way they're going,' said Cliffc';f

  Bent. 'Rebellion, anarchy, all that. Well, it's all right as ;

  philosophy. Frankly I think we may say that we all seem "^

  go through a phase of it but one does come out the oti .'r

  side. We want people to be able to pursue academic care

  without their being interrupted. We want a good sufficiet "y

  of demonstrations but not demonstrations of hooliganism and

  violence. We want intelligent demonstrations. And what

  want, quite frankly, or so I think, is a new political par

  158

  Jim Brewster here has been paying serious attention to

  entirely new ideas and plans concerning trade union matters.

  They've tried to shout him down and talk him out, but he's

  gone on talking, haven't you, Jim?'

  'Muddle-headed old fools, most of them,' said Jim Brewster.

  'We

  want a sensible and serious policy for youth, a more

  economical method of government. We want different ideas

  to obtain in education but nothing fantastic or highfalutin'.

  And we shall want, if we win seats, and if we are able

  finally to form a government--and I don't see why we

  shouldn't--to put these ideas into action. There are a lot of

  people in our movement. We stand for youth, you know, just

  as well as the violent ones do. We stand for moderation and

  we mean to have a sensible government, with a reduction

  in the number of MP's, and we're noting down, looking for

  the men already in politics no matter what their particular

  persuasion is, if we think they're men of sense. We've come

  here to see if we can interest you in our aims. At the moment

  they are still in a state of flux but we have got as far as

  knowing the men we want. I may say that we don't want the

  ones we've got at present and we don't want the ones who

  might be put in instead. As for the third party, it seems to have

  died out of the running, though there are one or two good

  people there who suffer now for being in a minority, but I

  think they would come over to our way of thinking. We want

  to interest you. We want, one of these days, perhaps not so

  far distant as you might think--we want someone who'd

  understand and put out a proper, successful foreign policy.

  The rest of the world's in a worse mess than we are now.

  Washington's razed to the ground, Europe has continual

  military actions, demonstrations, wrecking of airports. Oh well,

  I don't need to write you a news letter of the past six months,

  but our aim is not so much to put the world on its legs

  again as to put England on its legs again. To have the

  right men to do it. We want young men, a great many young

  men and we've got a great many young men who aren't

  revolutionary, who aren't anarchistic, who will be willing to

  try and make a country run profitably. And we want some of

  the older men--1 don't mean men of sixty-odd, I mean men of

  forty or fifty--and we've come to you because, well, we've

  heard things about you. We know about you and you're the sor^ of man we want.' 'po you think you are wise?' said Sir Stafford.

  Well, we think we are.'

  159

  The second young man laughed slightly.

  'We hope you'll agree with us there.'

  'I'm not sure that I do. You're talking in this room very

  freely.'

  It's your sitting-room.'

  'Yes, yes, it's my flat and it's my sitting-room. But what

  you are saying, and in fact what you might be going to say,

  might be unwise. That means both for you as well as me.'

  'Oh! I think I see what you're driving at.'

  'You are offering me something. A way of life, a new

  career and you are suggesting a breaking of certain ties.

  You are suggesting a form of disloyalty.'

  'We're not suggesting your becoming a defector to any

  other country, if that's what you mean.'

  'No, no, this is not an invitation to Russia or an invitation

  to China or an invitation to other places mentioned in the

  past, but I think it is an invitation connected with some

  foreign interests.' He went on: ''I've recently come back

  from abroad. A very interesting journey. I have spent the last

  three weeks in South America. There is something I would

  like to tell you. I have been conscious since I returned to

  England that I have been followed.'

  'Followed? You don't think you imagined it?'

  'No, I don't think I've imagined it. Those are the sort of

  things I have learned to notice in the course of my career.

  I have been in some fairly far distant and--shall we say?--

  interesting parts of the world. You chose to call upon me to

  sound me as to a proposition. It might have been safer,

  though, if we had met elsewhere.'

  He got up, opened the door into the bathroom and turned

  the tap.

  'From the films I used to see some years ago,' he said,

  'if you wished to disguise your conversation when a room

  was bugged, you turned on taps. I have no doubt that I

  am somewhat old-fashioned and that there are better methods

  of dealing with these things now. But at any rate perhaps s could speak a little more clearly now, though even then 1 still think we should be careful. South America,' he went so'


  'is a very interesting part of the world. The Federation of- South American countries (Spanish Gold has been one name

  for it), comprising by now Cuba, the Argentine, Brazil, Peru,

  one or two others not quite settled and fixed but coming into

  being. Yes. Very interesting.'

  'And what are your views on the subject,' the suspiciouslooking Jim Brewster asked. 'What have you got to say about

  things?'

  'I shall continue to be careful,' said Sir Stafford. 'You

  will have more dependence on me if I do not talk Unadvisedly.

  But I think that can be done quite well after I turn off the

  bath water.'

  'Turn it off, Jim,' said Cliff Bent.

  Jim grinned suddenly and obeyed.

  Stafford Nye opened a drawer .at the table and took out a

  recorder.

  'Not a very practised player yet,' he said.

  He put it to his lips and started a tune. Jim Brewster

  came back, scowling.

  'What's this? A bloody concert we're going to put on?'

  'Shut up,' said Cliff Bent. 'You ignoramus, you don't know

  anything about music.'

  Stafford Nye smiled.

  'You share my pleasure in Wagnerian music, I see,' he

  said. 'I was at the Youth Festival this year and enjoyed the

  concerts there very much.'

  Again he repeated the tune.

  'Not any tune I know,' said Jim Brewster. 'It might be

  the Internationale or the Red Flag or God Save the King

  or Yankee Doodle or the Star-Spangled Banner. What the

  devil is it?'

  'It's a modf from an opera,' said Ketelly. 'And shut

  your mouth. We know all we want to know.'

  "The horn call of a young Hero,' said Stafford Nye.

  He brought his hand up in a quick gesture, the gesture

  from the past meaning 'Heil Hitler'. He murmured very

  gently,

  "The new Siegfried.'

  All three rose.

  'You're, quite right,' said Clifford Bent. 'We must all, I

  think, be very careful.'

  He shook hands.

  'We are glad to know that you will be with us. One of the

  things this country will need in its future�its great future,

  I hope�will be a first-class Foreign Minister.'

  They went out of the room. Stafford Nye watched them

  through the slightly open door go into the lift and descend.

  Ha gave a curious smile, shut the door, glanced up at

  the clock on the wall and sat down in an easy chair�to

  wait . . .

  His mind went back to the day, a week ago now, when

  he and Mary Arm had gone their separate ways from

  Kennedy Airport. They had stood there, both of them finding

  it difficult to speak. Stafford Nye had broken the silence

  first.

  'Do you think well ever meet again? I wonder . . ,'

  'Is there any reason why we shouldn't?'

  'Every reason, I should think.'

  She looked at him, then quickly away again.

  'These partings have to happen. It's--part of the job.'

  The job! It's always the job with you, isn't it?'

  'It has to be.'

  'You're a professional. I'm only an amateur. You're

  a--' he broke off. 'What are you? Who are you? I don't really

  know, do I?'

  'No.'

  He looked at her then. He saw sadness, he thought, in

  her face. Something that was almost pain.

  'So I have to--wonder . . . You think I ought to trust

  you, I suppose?'

  'No, not that. That is one of the things that I have leamt

  that life has taught me. There is nobody that one can trusc.

  Remember that--always.'

  'So that is your world? A world of distrust, of fear, of

  danger.'

  'I wish to stay alive. I am alive.'

  'I know.'

  'And I want you to stay alive.'

  7 trusted you--in Frankfurt . . .'

  'You took a risk.'

  'It was a risk well worth taking. You know that as well

  as I do.'

  'You mean because--?'

  'Because we have been together. And now--That is my

  flight being called. Is this companionship of ours which

  started in an airport, to end here in another airport? Y(

  are going where? To do what?'

  To do what I have to do. To Baltimore, to Washingto

  to Texas. To do what I have been told to do.'

  'And I? I have been told nothing. I am to go back i-~ London--and do what there?'

  'Wait.'

  'Wait for what?'

  'For the advances that almost certainly will be made to

  you.'

  162

  'And what am I to do then?'

  She smiled at him, with the sudden gay smile that he

  knew so well.

  "Then you play it by ear. Youll know how to do it,

  none better. You'll like the people who approach you. They'll

  be well chosen. It's important, very important, that we

  should know who they are.'

  'I must go. Goodbye, Mary Arm.'

  'Auf Wiedersehen*

  In the London flat, the telephone rang. At a singularly