“Yes.” James smiled. He assumed it was someone he had met on a previous occasion.
“My name is Carter. Detective Chief Inspector Carter. Special Branch.”
The Special Branch of the British Police Force was responsible for matters of national security within Britain. It had been in existence since 1883 having originally been formed to combat the Irish terrorism of that time.
James was a little slow. His brain was still full of thoughts of Fiona and Magda. Divorce and divorce settlements. Child custody. “Yes?” Was his only response.
“May I have a word with you, Mister Blackstone? Somewhere at least off the street. I won’t take up too much of your time. And I assure you it is important.”
Mystified and at the same time intrigued, James led him to a nearby local pub that he sometimes used. It was in a nearby side street and he knew that it would be more or less empty at this time of the day. They sat in a secluded corner after James purchased two whisky and sodas from the bar.
It was Carter who spoke first. “I am sorry to ‘accost’ you in the street like that, Mister Blackstone, but I thought it best not to go to your office or home. The reason I am here is somewhat delicate.”
James waited for him to continue.
“You know a German lady called Magda Reinhard.” It was a statement, not a question. James suddenly felt apprehensive. He silently nodded in reply and the policeman continued.
“Would you care to tell me what you know of her?”
James had now developed butterflies in his stomach. Before he realised it, he had finished his drink. Carter’s was still untouched. He slid it across the table to James.
“Well Chief Inspector, I suppose I know many things about Magda. It might help me to answer your question better, if I know what the problem is. Is she is some sort of trouble?”
“Yes. A lot of trouble. However, I would prefer to hear what you know about her before I say anymore.” His look and tone said, Stop wasting time and talk!
Over the next half hour James told Carter everything he could, and answered all the questions he was able to. The policeman took few notes. James wasn’t stupid. To warrant him being questioned by a Chief Inspector, something serious must have happened. He knew that his relationship with Magda must be known. Whatever was going on, he would look bad if he tried to cover anything up.
Finally Carter appeared to be satisfied.
“Am I now allowed to ask what is going on?”
The policeman looked him in the eye, and a couple of seconds said, “The lady is a Russian spy.”
Later that evening, still in shock, James sat quietly in his study at home, alone, sipping a whisky and re-playing the earlier conversation through his mind.
According to Carter, Magda was a highly trained Russian intelligence operative who had been inserted into one of the German speaking areas of Czechoslovakia as a ‘sleeper’ just before it was absorbed into Germany in 1938. Her adoptive ‘family’ there had also been good communists under Moscow control. In 1940 she had moved first to Berlin, then later to the town of Dessau, the home of Junkers Aircraft. Her orders were to infiltrate the aircraft manufacturer and report on new developments, aircraft production numbers, and anything else that could be useful to Soviet intelligence.
Unknowingly, James had helped her to accomplish this.
Two days earlier, Magda had walked into the unassuming London headquarters of Britain’s MI6, and to the surprise of all there, had asked to see personally the head of the Soviet section, who she knew by name. She wanted to defect to Britain. Apparently the emotional and mental strain of the past couple of years had taken their toll. She could no longer carry on acting the part of the loving girlfriend of a decent and respectable British banker, who was in an unhappy marriage.
Carter had told him that she would be ‘debriefed’ by MI6 over a long period of time, after which she would be given a new identity and disappear.
James would never see her again.
The special branch officer had cautioned James to say nothing to anyone. He would be in touch in a few days. He left a badly shaken James sitting in the pub.
Five days later — it seemed like an eternity to James — Carter phoned. It seemed that James was highly regarded and trusted in Germany and in his home country, and was doing useful work for them both. The Germans were completely unaware of the true identity of Magda.
MI6 had decided that it was in nobody’s interest to reveal Magda’s spying activities. This would expose James’ unwitting part in them. They were going to ‘let sleeping dogs lie’.
James felt an immense wave of relief wash over him. The past five days had been hell. The least that would have happened to him would have been the sack from his job, followed by the cold shoulder from everyone he knew. The worst that could happen didn’t bear thinking about.
Chief Inspector Carter had the last word. He swore James to silence about the affair, reminded him of the Official Secrets Act, and sternly told him that if the matter should ever surface as a result of any disclosures by him at any time in the future, he would end up in jail.
An hour after this conversation, and after James sixth celebratory — or was it commiseration — whisky, he went to bed drunk!
The debated changes within the German Governing Council had now been made, and today was their first day under the new ‘regime’, even if it was quite similar to the old one.
There was still no appetite in Germany for an elected national government, for democracy, so the current Governing Council system would continue as before. The question had been asked within the Council what was to prevent a future, possibly inept or corrupt council, becoming self-perpetuating? Or even descending into totalitarian dictatorship?
There had been many hours spent debating this particular question. It seemed nobody had a complete answer. It was Foreign Minister von Altendorf who had summed up the situation at the last session.
Currently, new Council members were nominated and elected by, and with, the unanimous consent of the existing members. He saw no problem with this, provided existing members had a proven record of performing their duties efficiently and with integrity. And any member not pulling his weight could be dismissed from the Council by a majority decision of the remaining members. Unanimity was not required in this case.
The German Governing Council had, fortunately, continually made good decisions, and with the minimum of delay, for the good of Germany. They had developed a governing body over the past five years that was the envy of the world. The system was working. You do not fix something that isn’t broken.
He did however, have one suggestion. The political leader of Germany had traditionally bore the title of Chancellor. Von Altendorf thought it was the right time for this to be re-introduced and the President of the Governing Council to be named Chancellor.
The Council was aware that Field Marshall von Brauchitsch had always insisted that he was not a politician and only stayed within the Council at the urging of the other members.
Von Altendorf had looked directly at von Brauchitsch. “Walther, it was your courage in 1940 that saved Germany. Since that time you have guided this Council and our country to the point where we are the most prosperous, peaceful, and militarily strongest nation in the world. You are actually that extreme rarity, a consummate politician with integrity. I personally would like to see you as German Chancellor.”