‘Walter, one of my top agents had an unpleasant experience in Holland yesterday morning.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. He’s an Englishman. Actually he is half-German. Conrad de Lancey. Do you know of him?’
‘I’ve seen his file,’ said Schellenberg. ‘There wasn’t much in it.’
Canaris laughed. ‘No, I suspect there wasn’t. There was some unpleasant business with de Lancey last year involving documents relating to your chief’s ancestry. I didn’t believe any of it, of course, and I am not going to discuss specifics.’
‘Please don’t.’ The last thing Schellenberg wanted to be told was that Reinhard Heydrich was part Jewish.
‘We had some difficulties with de Lancey last year, of which Reinhard is well aware, and we dropped him. But when war broke out one of our officers reactivated him. If we manage him correctly, he could become a valuable source of information for us.’
‘I see.’
‘And now we come to the unpleasant experience. Our officer, Lieutenant Hertenberg, met de Lancey in Leiden yesterday. Afterwards, de Lancey was attacked by a man with a gun. De Lancey is a resourceful fellow and managed to overcome his attacker and kill him. Chased him off the roof of a university building, I believe. Our embassy in The Hague has been informed by the Dutch police that the man’s identification suggests he was a Dr Heinrich Fuhrmann from the University of Hamburg. They are saying it was suicide: he jumped. Needless to say there is no such man on the university faculty.’
‘I see,’ said Schellenberg quietly. ‘Could this Dr Fuhrmann be a British agent?’
‘Possibly,’ said Canaris. ‘Although it had occurred to us that he might have been working for you. No need to answer that, Walter. It would be perfectly understandable if given de Lancey’s activities last year you had assumed he was an enemy agent.’
‘And you are telling me de Lancey is one of yours?’
‘Yes. He is a bit of a loose cannon, but he is our loose cannon. And please reassure Reinhard that he hasn’t divulged any of the information he uncovered, or claims to have uncovered, about Reinhard’s family history last year. Which is a good thing, because I am sure he made it all up anyway.’
‘I understand,’ said Schellenberg. ‘I’ll pass that on.’ And he would, faithfully. He suspected that the sly admiral had outfoxed Heydrich on this one. Leave de Lancey alone and no nasty rumours about Jewish ancestors would emerge. That should work. And, frankly, that was fine with Schellenberg. He still had his hands full with Payne Best, Stevens, and the man who had planted the Munich beer hall bomb, Georg Elser, who was giving every indication of being the demented loner he claimed.
They emerged from the dark woods into an open green space, shrouded in grey curtains of fog.
‘Come on, Walter!’ called Canaris as he urged his horse into a canter. Schellenberg followed him into the bank of mist.
Mayfair, London
‘Why are we here, Freddie?’
Here was Erskine’s, a club on a side street in Mayfair. Freddie Copthorne was a member, but Alston had hardly ever been there. It was a bit young, a bit chaotic for him. And now Freddie had asked to meet him there for a drink.
Alston’s doubts about Freddie were increasing. He liked the man, everybody liked Freddie, and as a result his contacts among those British nobility who were suspicious of war were excellent, especially the younger ones such as Lord Brocket and Lord Tavistock. But Alston’s reputation was quietly rising in both Houses of Parliament. He didn’t really need Freddie anymore.
They were in the club’s tiny library — it wasn’t the sort of club where one went to read — and they were alone with a pink gin and a glass of beer.
‘I want to talk to you, Henry, and I wanted neutral territory on which to do it.’
‘This is hardly neutral territory. I’d say you were playing at home.’
Freddie ignored him. ‘Ever since we met that man Bedaux, I’ve been thinking.’
‘Yes?’ Alston refrained from warning Freddie against doing anything so dangerous.
‘I have concerns about what he was suggesting. About what we are doing.’
‘Concerns about stopping a world war?’
‘No. But concerns about how we do it.’
‘We’ve been through this before, Freddie. It’s perfectly clear. If the present government won’t make peace then we need a new government. The logic is inescapable.’
‘Yes. But do we need a new king?’
‘We need a government that Hitler will talk to. That may mean a new king.’
‘But should we really be talking to Hitler’s people now? Should we be talking to someone as shady as Charles Bedaux?’
‘Yes, Freddie, we should.’ Alston fought to control his impatience. ‘Because that’s the only way we will get peace.’
‘I’ve thought about it long and hard, Henry, and I think it’s treason.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘My loyalty is to my king, who is George VI, and to my country, which is at war with Germany.’
‘But you have to look more deeply than that, Freddie,’ Henry said. ‘Nothing is straightforward—’
Copthorne held up his hand. ‘Yes, it is. That’s my point. It is straightforward. I’ve been bamboozled by your ingenious arguments, Henry, and I’ve lost track of what is really important, which is beating the Hun. And serving my king.’
Alston didn’t like the look in Freddie’s eye; he had never seen such determination in his friend before. Alston’s instinct was it was dangerous. Time to drop him.
He leaned back in his armchair. ‘All right, Freddie. I understand. Perhaps we should leave you out of these discussions. You and I can meet socially, of course — I’d like to continue to do that — but I will ensure that you remain in the dark about what I am doing.’
‘No, Henry, it’s not that simple,’ Freddie said.
Alston smiled. ‘I thought you just said you liked things simple.’
Freddie took no notice of the dig. ‘You see, if I am right and what we have been discussing is treason, it should stop.’
‘Stop?’
‘Yes. I’m not suggesting that we should stop agitating for peace. But we shouldn’t negotiate with the German government behind our own government’s back. And we shouldn’t even mention the Duke of Windsor becoming king.’
Alston held Freddie’s gaze. He was deadly serious. But Alston was not going to be threatened by Freddie Copthorne. ‘No. I’m sorry, Freddie, but no. I will not abandon this country’s best hopes for peace because of your illogical scruples.’
‘If you don’t, Henry, then I shall be duty-bound to inform the authorities what we have been doing. What you have been doing.’
‘Is that a threat?’
‘I don’t know. I’m trying to tell you I’m not playing games. I will not be party to treason. And if I see treason I will stop it. I know right from wrong, and I know my duty.’
Lord Copthorne was sitting ramrod straight in his chair, his gaze unflinching. Alston could see he had chosen the role of stubborn Englishman and he was going to stick with it.
Alston knew that in his own way, Freddie was incorruptible. He had his principles and he kept to them. Until that moment his principle had been to support an alliance between Britain and Germany. But now he had dredged up what was for him a more important principle.
‘Whom will you inform?’
‘Winston.’