Although Dick reported the colonel’s praise to Charlotte, she could sense that he was already becoming bored with the job. Der Telegraf was selling almost as many copies as Der Berliner, and the senior officers in the three Western sectors were always happy to welcome Captain Armstrong to their messes. After all, you only had to whisper a story in his ear, and it would appear in print the following day. As a result, he always had a surplus of Cuban cigars, Charlotte and Sally were never short of nylons, Peter Wakeham could indulge in his favorite tipple of Gordon’s gin, and the barrow boys had enough vodka and cigarettes to run a black market on the side.
But Dick was frustrated by the fact that he didn’t seem to be making any progress with his own career. Although promotion had been hinted at often enough, nothing seemed to happen in a city that was already far too full of majors and colonels, most of whom were simply sitting around on their backsides waiting to be sent home.
Dick began discussing with Charlotte the possibility of returning to England, especially since Britain’s newly-elected Labor Prime Minister, Clement Attlee, had asked soldiers to come home as soon as possible because there was a surplus of jobs waiting for them. Despite their comfortable lifestyle in Berlin Charlotte seemed delighted by the idea, and encouraged Dick to think about requesting an early discharge. The next day he asked to see the colonel.
‘Are you sure that’s what you really want to do?’ said Oakshott.
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Dick. ‘Now that everything’s working smoothly, Schultz is quite capable of running the paper without me.’
‘Fair enough. I’ll try and speed the process up.’
A few hours later Armstrong heard the name of Klaus Lauber for the first time, and slowed the process down.
When Armstrong visited the print works later that morning, Schultz informed him that for the first time they had sold more copies than Der Berliner, and that he felt perhaps they should start thinking about bringing out a Sunday paper.
‘I can’t see any reason why you shouldn’t,’ said Dick, sounding a little bored.
‘I only wish we could charge the same price as we did before the war,’ Schultz sighed. ‘With these sales figures we would be making a handsome profit. I know it must be hard for you to believe, Captain Armstrong, but in those days I was considered a prosperous and successful man.’
‘Perhaps you will be again,’ said Armstrong. ‘And sooner than you think,’ he added, looking out of the grimy window on to a pavement crowded with weary-looking people. He was about to tell Schultz that he intended to hand the whole operation over to him and return to England, when the German said, ‘I’m not sure that will be possible any longer.’
‘Why not?’ asked Armstrong. ‘The paper belongs to you, and everybody knows that the restrictions on shareholding for German citizens are about to be lifted.’
‘That may well be the case, Captain Armstrong, but unfortunately I no longer own any shares in the company.’
Armstrong paused, and began to choose his words carefully. ‘Really? What made you sell them?’ he asked, still looking out of the window.
‘I didn’t sell them,’ said Schultz. ‘I virtually gave them away.’
‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Armstrong, turning to face him.
‘It’s quite simple, really,’ said Schultz. ‘Soon after Hitler came to power, he passed a law which disqualified Jews from owning newspapers. I was forced to dispose of my shares to a third party.’
‘So who owns Der Telegraf now?’ asked Armstrong.
‘An old friend of mine called Klaus Lauber,’ said Schultz. ‘He was a civil servant with the Ministry of Works. We met at a local chess club many years ago, and used to play every Tuesday and Friday — another thing they wouldn’t allow me to continue after Hitler came to power.’
‘But if Lauber is so close a friend, he must be in a position to sell the shares back to you.’
‘I suppose that’s still possible. After all, he only paid a nominal sum for them, on the understanding that he would return them to me once the war was over.’
‘And I’m sure he will keep his word,’ said Armstrong. ‘Especially if he was such a close friend.’
‘I’m sure he would too, if we hadn’t lost touch during the war. I haven’t set eyes on him since December 1942. Like so many Germans, he’s become just another statistic.’
‘But you must know where he lived,’ said Armstrong, tapping his swagger stick lightly on the side of his leg.
‘His family were moved out of Berlin soon after the bombing started, which was when I lost contact with him. Heaven knows where he is now,’ he added with a sigh.
Dick felt he had gleaned all the information he required. ‘So, what’s happening about that article on the opening of the new airport?’ he asked, changing the subject.
‘We already have a photographer out at the site, and I thought I’d send a reporter to interview...’ Schultz continued dutifully, but Armstrong’s mind was elsewhere. As soon as he was back at his desk he asked Sally to call the Allied Control Commission and find out who owned Der Telegraf.
‘I’ve always assumed it was Arno,’ she said.
‘Me too,’ said Armstrong, ‘but apparently not. He was forced to sell his shares to a Klaus Lauber soon after Hitler came to power. So I need to know: one, does Lauber still own the shares? Two, if he does, is he still alive? And three, if he’s still alive, where the hell is he? And Sally, don’t mention this to anyone. That includes Lieutenant Wakeham.’
It took Sally three days to confirm that Major Klaus Otto Lauber was still registered with the Allied Control Commission as the legal owner of Der Telegraf.
‘But is he still alive?’ asked Armstrong.
‘Very much so,’ said Sally. ‘And what’s more, he’s holed up in Wales.’
‘In Wales?’ echoed Armstrong. ‘How can that be?’
‘It seems that Major Lauber is presently being held in an internment camp just outside Bridgend, where he’s spent the last three years, since being captured while serving with Rommel’s Afrika Korps.’
‘What else have you been able to find out?’ asked Armstrong.
‘That’s about it,’ said Sally. ‘I fear the major did not have a good war.’
‘Well done, Sally. But I still want to know anything else you can find out about him. And I mean anything: date and place of birth, education, how long he was at the Ministry of Works, right up to the day he arrived in Bridgend. See that you use up every favor we’re owed, and pawn a few more if you need to. I’m off to see Oakshott. Anything else I should be worrying about?’
‘There’s a young journalist from the Oxford Mail hoping to see you. He’s been waiting for nearly an hour.’
‘Put him off until tomorrow.’
‘But he wrote to you asking for an appointment, and you agreed to see him.’
‘Put him off until tomorrow,’ Armstrong repeated.
Sally had come to know that tone of voice, and after getting rid of Mr. Townsend she dropped everything and set about researching the undistinguished career of Major Klaus Lauber.
When Dick left the office, Private Benson drove him over to the commanding officer’s quarters on the other side of the sector.
‘You do come up with the strangest requests,’ Colonel Oakshott said after he had outlined his idea.
‘I think you will find, sir, that in the long term this can only help cement better relations between the occupying forces and the citizens of Berlin.’