‘He’s an old man,’ said the Industrialist. ‘He must be eighty. He would need help.’
‘He’s seventy-seven,’ said Lord Oakford. ‘And he would have help. Henry and I would support him. And I suspect that there are some members of Cabinet who would serve in a government for peace?’ Oakford glanced at the Politician.
‘There are,’ said the Politician. ‘I would serve under him. And there are quite a few others.’
‘It would be difficult to make peace behind the Frogs’ backs,’ said the General.
‘Wait until the Germans attack them,’ said the Admiral. ‘They’ll give up in no time. France is much weaker than it was in 1914. No backbone.’
‘Shame Edward VIII isn’t still on the throne,’ said the General. ‘He would be the one to lead an honourable peace. I never understood why he had to abdicate just because his wife was divorced.’
‘Neither did I,’ said Alston, quietly.
‘I spoke to him when he was in London in February,’ said the Newspaper Proprietor. ‘With Henry and Arthur. Suggested he do a tour around the country campaigning for peace. He seemed keen, but I haven’t heard anything since he went back to France.’
‘It’s difficult for him,’ said Alston. ‘He can’t be seen to be usurping his brother. But if he was asked to step into the breach when his country really needed him, I’m sure he would.’
‘Absolutely,’ said the Newspaper Proprietor.
There was silence around the room. Alston sensed that the table had edged too close to treason. He knew they all wanted peace with honour, and they needed a way to achieve it that would fit with their idea of patriotism and duty to their country. It was Alston’s plan to give it to them.
‘Well, let’s hope we turn things around in Norway,’ he said. ‘And it’s the Germans who sue for peace.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said the General. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. They all knew it wouldn’t happen.
The Tiergartenstrasse, Berlin
Theo lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Next to him, Hedda slept, snoring gently, her fair hair spread out on the pillow. Her husband’s unit had been sent to Trier, ready to join Guderian and Dieter and a few hundred thousand other German soldiers on their drive through Luxembourg.
Theo had been distracted at dinner at Horcher’s with Hedda. Hedda had noticed — she really didn’t like being ignored. They had left early, and back at his apartment, Hedda had put everything into turning his attention towards her. The resulting sex had blown his mind.
But now his mind was recovering, and turning back to what Colonel Liss had said. Back in November, Theo had taken the decision to warn Conrad of the weakness in the French line. The enormity of what he had done had impressed him, even tormented him, in the following months. He told himself he wasn’t a traitor to his country, but sometimes he thought he was just fooling himself. How would he feel when German soldiers, including his own brother, ran into stiff opposition at Sedan because of his efforts? Especially his brother. The last time Theo had seen him at the family’s manor house in Pomerania, Dieter’s enthusiasm for General Guderian and the forthcoming battle in the Ardennes had known no bounds. Theo could hardly bear to look at him.
What Theo hadn’t considered was that Conrad’s message would fail to get through. He was confident that Conrad would have passed it on, but he now realized that his assumption that the British generals would act on it was optimistic. Conrad himself had pointed out how badly humiliated the British had been by believing in Major Schämmel before Venlo. Why should they believe Conrad now?
Because the weakness in the French lines should have been just as obvious to them as it had been to the Duke of Windsor. Perhaps they were confident that armoured divisions really couldn’t make their way through the woods and forests of the Ardennes.
If that’s what they thought, Theo knew they were wrong. The Wehrmacht had practised in the woods of the Eifel Mountains. They knew it could be done.
Dreadful though it was to him as an officer of the Wehrmacht, Theo still believed that a swift victory over France would be a disaster. Hitler would be firmly entrenched. Europe would become a National Socialist continent for years, decades, maybe even centuries to come.
He could not allow that. Even though he was risking his comrades’ lives, including that of his own brother, he somehow had to get a message to Conrad to tell the British what was about to happen. Conrad might be a lowly lieutenant, but Theo admired his resourcefulness.
Besides. It was the only thing he could think of.
38
Suffolk, 6–7 May
It was late. Conrad decided to take a stroll around the football field of the prep school in which he was billeted before turning in. He needed fresh air after the all-too-familiar boiled-cabbage-and-bleach smell. After returning to England from Spain, he had spent a grim six months as a teacher at another school about fifteen miles away. He thought he recognized this school as one a team he had been coaching had played at football. It had rained hard and his school’s side had lost 4–1.
The battalion was a mobile reserve, ready to rush to the site of a landing should the Germans decide to invade East Anglia, an eventuality which seemed to Conrad unlikely, but not impossible. The Royal Navy was the first British line of defence, supported by the RAF. It would be extremely difficult for German invaders to get through to the beaches all the way from northern Germany, out of range of air support.
It was a dark night. Although the moon was almost full, it was shrouded by thick cloud. Conrad thought again about how he could try to return to London to ask more questions. As far as he was aware, the CO had heard nothing yet about his last visit. Would this weekend be too soon to try his luck?
It was infuriating that he was stuck here in the wilds of Suffolk when he had been making such good progress in London. It looked highly likely Alston had killed Freddie Copthorne. And if Alston was willing to kill his own friend, then it was quite possible that he had arranged for Millie’s death through Constance. Then there was the question of Bedaux and the Duke of Windsor. Was there a link between them and Alston? And if there was a link, what were they planning? His father had admitted that he and Alston had had lunch with the duke in February.
He wished he could discuss all this with his father. Lord Oakford knew Alston well, and he had access to everyone in power in London. He could ask questions and get answers. If Alston had indeed arranged for Millie’s death, then Conrad should be able to rely on his father to help him. But Oakford and Alston were not just colleagues, they were friends, and Polly Copthorne hadn’t given Conrad absolute proof that Alston had killed her husband — certainly nothing that would persuade Lord Oakford that Conrad’s accusations weren’t fantasies.
If only his father trusted him! Conrad was certain that Lord Oakford would never do anything to betray his country or his son, but who knew what he might say to Alston in the mistaken belief that his fellow director was harmless? Lord Oakford was a fine man in so many ways, he was the man Conrad admired most in the world, yet he couldn’t trust him. It was so frustrating.
He would just have to rely on Anneliese and McCaigue. Anneliese was doing well; what McCaigue was up to, he had no idea.
‘Sir! Mr de Lancey, sir!’
He turned to see a lance corporal running towards him.
‘Yes, corporal?’
‘Message from Lieutenant Dodds, sir. Three Home Guard have wandered into a minefield. They need sappers to get them out.’
Conrad swore under his breath.