The Quest

by Christopher Nicole

  “But the War Office is.”

  “Certain people in the War Office, yes.”

  “But surely Germany cannot, and can never again, harm us, or anybody?” Berkeley argued. “She has virtually no army, no navy, no air force; she’s up to her eyeballs in debt; she’s in such a state that their present government, as I understand it, is hastily signing non-aggression pacts with everyone who’ll play, for self-protection.”

  “That is the apparent situation, at present,” Shrimpton agreed. “However, it’s not how the German military see the situation. They are every bit as anxious for a re-match as the French were after 1871. We happen to know that relays of German soldiers, sailors, and airmen, are being sent to Russia to be trained in modern warfare. They may only be allowed a standing army of a hundred thousand men, but the time is coming, and quickly, when every adult male between the ages of twenty and forty in Germany will be virtually a professional soldier, even if only in the reserves. What they will then require is a leader. I am talking in a political rather than military sense; they have their own generals. They will need a prime minister or someone in a similar position, chancellor or whatever, who will take the risk of challenging the West and the Treaty.”

  “Anyone who did that would be begging for trouble.”

  “Do you really think so, Berkeley? Let’s see. The Americans have made it very plain they want nothing to do with Europe. Oh, they’re willing to lend us money, but military involvement is out. The French and ourselves are disarming so fast it’s hard to see us having an army at all, in ten years’ time, except around Buckingham Palace and in the colonies. We have already been required to scuttle more than half of our capital ships, and to guarantee not to build any more for ten years. The French ditto, and the Italians and the Japanese. The Italians are at least maintaining a useful army, but one very much doubts whether Mussolini would be interested in such a foreign adventure as invading Germany on behalf of the League. He has financial worries of his own.”

  “So what is your scenario for the next ten years?” Berkeley asked, interested despite himself.

  “I see a Germany becoming increasingly divided, four ways: the Centre, holding its own at the moment, but inclined to sway either way; the Army, apparently paralysed but as I have just said, secretly training and arming too, ready for its opportunity; the Communists, still convinced they can turn Germany into a Soviet satellite . . . and the Right, which includes a majority of Big Business, just as eager as the Army to regain control of events. It’s all going to come together while we twiddle our thumbs and do nothing.”

  “And you seriously think those stiff-necked generals who used to compose the General Staff would have any dealing, much less accept direction from, an ex-corporal? My dear Shrimpton, the Germans are simply not that democratic.”

  “You’re quite right. But the Army, to regain the power it had under the Kaiser, will have to have a political backing. Oh, Big Business will go along with them. But that won’t do. That’s not a party. There’s no way they can expect any support from the Communists. The Centre is entirely pacifist, or at least its leaders are. It is from the Right that the Army must seek its support. From men like Hitler. Who cares if he’s a snotty-nosed little ex-corporal? The generals will call the shots, and he’ll do what they tell him, if he sees a chance of legitimate political power. They can dump him whenever they’re ready. But the fact is that this book he’s written lays out a plan and a formula that we know is very dear to the heart of every German officer. They must be lapping it up. Because here is a man who is not only politically active, but is proving himself to be just about the most ardent patriot and military supporter one could ever have: and he has a party, already in being, small, to be sure, but with every prospect of growing if he gets sufficient help. One could say the prospect of the Army taking up Hitler would be the equivalent of adding sulphuric acid to a barrel of gunpowder.”

  “You could be right,” Berkeley said. “So what do you intend to do about it? If the Government won’t back you?”

  Shrimpton finished his drink. “Hitler must be got rid of, for a start.”

  Slowly, Berkeley put down his own glass. “I’m not sure I heard that. I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

  “This is a matter of life or death, and it could be a good many deaths.”

  “I’m sure. Did you come here to ask me to commit a murder?”

  “A political assassination. Not quite the same thing.”

  “It is to the police when they catch up with you. You have got to be out of your tiny mind. Anyway, I am retired. You retired me. Those days are done.”

  “Sadly, those days are never done, Berkeley. Your country needs you. And you are above all else the man for the job. Not only are you our most experienced field operative, but you know Hitler. You must have become quite friendly when last you were in Germany. You can get right up to him.”

  “And afterwards?”

  “That would be left to your well-known expertise of, shall I say, disposing of people who get in your way and then disappearing afterwards. I should say, of course, that as you are actually retired, this would be strictly a one off, and would carry a one-off payment. We are thinking of five thousand pounds. I’m sure you’ll agree that is a great deal of money, and we would see to it that it is tax free.”

  Berkeley stared at him. The man was perfectly serious. And presumably, by his lights, he was not asking anything preposterous, or even exceptional. Berkeley Townsend was the Government’s tame assassin, or he had been, down to two years ago. And five thousand pounds would provide two-thirds of the cost of the house Lucy wanted.

  But there was the point.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I am of course flattered by the fact that you have found no one to replace me. But I am now happily married, I am about to become a father, and I have my other children, of whom you once remarked it was time I started to take proper care. This I am now doing. As far as I am concerned, the past is the past.”

  Shrimpton leaned forward. “And as I have reminded you, it is always there.”

  “I see. You are threatening me.”

  Shrimpton leaned back again. “I am merely an officer doing his duty.”

  “So, if I refuse?”

  Shrimpton sighed. “It may be necessary to acquaint your charming wife with your past exploits. It may even be necessary to give the various European police forces sufficient material for one of them to require your extradition on a charge of murder.”

  “Do you not suppose that if that happened I would spill the beans as to my terms of employment?”

  “Do you not suppose we would deny it, and claim you were just trying to save yourself? Have you any documentary evidence to support anything you have ever done?”

  Berkeley glared at him. “Has it ever occurred to you that you, and your superiors, are a load of unspeakable scum?”

  “I am sure lots of people think of us that way, Berkeley. Our business is to maintain the security of the realm, which can only be done by using every means at our disposal, whether admirable or not. And we do reward our people. General Gorman virtually gave you carte blanche to roam around Europe killing people in your hunt for your daughter. I am now offering you five thousand pounds to carry out this job for us.”

  “And then?”

  “Complete and anonymous retirement.”

  “Until the next time you want someone killed.”

  “I will give you my word as an officer and a gentleman that we will never call on you again.”

  “Are you a gentleman, General? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Shrimpton considered, then shrugged. “It’s an opinion.”

  “Quite. But I don’t suppose you’d care to back up that assurance with documentary proof.”

  “You know I can’t do that. May I assume you are willing to consider the matter?”

  Berkeley went to the sideboard and poured two more drinks. He was, as he had been since he had first gone to work for Gorman
, caught in a cleft stick. Twenty years ago it had all been so romantic. Where he had thought his career had been ended by that Dervish spear, here was a whole new career opening in front of him. He would still be in the Army, but whenever on assignment he would be his own boss, make his own rules for the game, slip hither and thither like a will o’ the wisp. He had had no attachments, save Julia in the vaguest possible way, no responsibilities, save to his parents, who had always accepted that he would never be a conventional son . . . until that fateful day in the Carpathians when he had gone to the rescue of a beautiful red-headed woman, and launched himself into space.

  He had never again come down to earth. And his madcap career through space had involved so many lives. What did one more matter? He had not really taken to Hitler, anyway.

  While Lucy, utterly innocent, was now also exposed, at least to tragic disillusionment. But she could be protected, as could his children.

  He handed the glass to Shrimpton, who regarded him, calmly but with clear expectation.

  “I would like your assurance,” Berkeley said. “That in the event of anything happening to me, my pension will continue to be paid to my wife.”

  Shrimpton raised his eyebrows. “In addition to the five thousand pounds?”

  “Yes,” Berkeley said.

  “Well . . . very good. It will be irregular, but I’m sure we can manage it.”

  “Now let’s talk about the five thousand pounds,” Berkeley said.

  “Payment will be in advance. We know we can trust you, Berkeley.”

  “Make it a further five thousand when the job is done, and I’m your man,” Berkeley said.

  Duty

  “What did that man want?” Lucy asked, as the Daimler drove away.

  Berkeley stood on the step to watch it go. “Business,” he said. “I may have to go away for a while.”

  “Away? Now?”

  She was just starting to show.

  “It’ll only be for a brief while,” Berkeley told her. “Something has cropped up from a case I worked on a few years ago, and the Ministry would like me to look at this new evidence and tell them what I think it’s worth.”

  “Can’t they bring it here?”

  “You know what the Ministry is like, my dear. Everything is top secret. They are afraid to allow it out of the War Office. As I said, I’ll only be gone a little while. I’ll be back for the birth.”

  She accepted his decision, although she did not look very happy about it; since their marriage they had not spent a night apart.

  Fortunately, Berkeley reflected, the children were at school. He would be gone and returned before they even knew about it.

  Berkeley confided the situation to Lockwood, who gave a low whistle.

  “So we’re back in the field.”

  “We?”

  “Well, sir, I would say it should be fairly simple to get up close enough to Hitler to do him, but getting away afterwards is going to be tricky. You need a back-up to cause a diversion.”

  “I had thought of that. But, with all possible respect, Harry, don’t you think you’re a little long in the tooth for this sort of thing?”

  “I’m as fit as you are,” Lockwood said.

  “And Marie? And the children?”

  “They’re provided for. Anyway, what of Mrs Townsend? And your children?”

  “I have no choice.”

  “Then neither do I. I’m your man, remember?”

  Berkeley felt a glow of real warmth. He had no reason to expect such loyalty. But they had adventured together now for more than twenty years, their mutual support and complete knowledge of the deadly game they had played for so long giving them a strength far beyond that of any other two men, or group of men.

  “So, when do we leave?” Lockwood asked.

  “As always, Shrimpton has left everything to me, and doesn’t want to know. But it needs to be done as quickly as possible, before Herr Hitler gets himself properly organised.”

  “Who are we going to use on the ground?”

  “Frederika Lipschuetz.”

  “Without her knowing what we’re about?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But . . . as I recall, we weren’t exactly on the best of terms when last we saw her.”

  “That’s true. But while I was away she came here to see me. Did you see her then?”

  Lockwood shook his head. “I must have been out. She came here?”

  Berkeley nodded. “So she must have forgiven us, or she needed our help. Can’t hurt to find out what she wanted, even if events have rather passed us by since then.”

  “Do we know where to find her?”

  “I know how to find out. We’ll go down to town tomorrow.”

  “Gear?”

  “The two Brownings, and two spare magazines for each. We can’t risk more than that. As Hitler seems to be a strictly town person, we can’t pretend to be hunting.”

  “Even if we are,” Lockwood grinned. “Pity about the firepower.”

  “Hopefully,” Berkeley said. “It’ll only be a matter of one shot.”

  *

  “I thought you were retired,” Alicia grumbled, when he told her that he’d be going away for a few days.

  “I am. This is a one-off situation. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  She also did not look convinced, but the next day Berkeley and Lockwood caught the train to London. As Berkeley had requested, Shrimpton had opened a bank account for them in the city, and they were able to draw some funds. Berkeley installed Lockwood in an hotel while he paid a call on the Globe offices.

  “Berkeley Townsend,” remarked John Leighton. “I never expected actually to meet you.”

  “You’d be surprised how often I have been told that,” Berkeley said, shaking hands with the editor.

  “And what can we do for you?” Leighton asked, gesturing him to a chair before his desk, and no doubt recalling that the last time they had been associated, even remotely, it had not turned out very well for the newspaper.

  “I’m trying to contact a woman named Frederika Lipschuetz. She used to work for you. Perhaps she still does.”

  “She was your driver on that visit you paid to Germany a few years ago. Oh, yes, I remember that. However, she no longer works for us. After that fiasco we had to let her go.”

  “In what way was it a fiasco?”

  “My dear Colonel, two of our correspondents, so-called, getting involved in a riot in Munich and then another in Berlin, and being deported, well!”

  “I take your point,” Berkeley said. “Do you know what happened to the lady after you sacked her?”

  “She got another job, for some German rag. I think it’s called the Volkischer Beobachter. It really was a rag, got itself closed down for its anti-government position. But it opened again last February. I don’t know if Frau Lipschuetz is still working for it, but I imagine they’d know where she is now. Is it important?”

  “It could be.”

  “Well, good luck. You weren’t thinking of returning to Germany, were you?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. I rather like the place.”

  “Do you think they’ll let you in, having deported you once?”

  “The man they deported was named Smith, and was a reporter for the Globe. My name is Berkeley Townsend, and I know nothing of the Globe.”

  “Point taken. As long as you don’t actually run into the man who arrested you, eh? Well, I’ll wish you good fortune. Oh, by the way,” he added, as Berkeley stood up. “Have you ever heard of a chap called Savos? A Balkan gentleman.”

  “I know Colonel Savos,” Berkeley said. “In fact, you could call us old friends. I was in the Balkans during the War.”

  “Were you now? That’s interesting. Savos certainly claimed to know you.”

  “What did he want?”

  “Would you believe he wanted me to publish his memoirs. He claims to have had an exceptionally interesting life.”

  “I would say that is
quite true,” Berkeley said.

  “He came across as a bit of a villain,” Leighton suggested.

  “That’s because he is a bit of a villain,” Berkeley said. “But won’t that make his memoirs even more interesting?”

  “That’s a point. I shall certainly take the matter under consideration.”

  “I am actually on my way down to see him,” Berkeley said. “Shall I tell him to get in touch again?”

  “Yes. That might be useful.”

  “When he has the time,” Berkeley said.

  Leighton had given him an idea.

  “He could be useful,” Lockwood agreed, when Berkeley put it to him. “But . . . just how much do we know about his politics? I would say the regime in Serbia is pretty far right. Even Fascist. He could well be an admirer of people like Hitler.”

  “So we won’t tell him what’s involved until he’s committed.”

  “We have to have a reason.”

  “I have thought of one,” Berkeley said. “Anna. We shall tell him we’ve had a sighting of Anna. He’ll go along with that. He was very fond of Anna.”

  “You are going to claim Anna is in Germany?”

  “She could be. If she’s alive, she has to be somewhere. In the vice business, girls do get shunted around.”

  Lockwood pulled his nose.

  “He’ll go for it,” Berkeley asserted.

  *

  “Berkeley, my old friend,” Savos cried, hurrying forward for an embrace. “Martina, schnaps!”

  Martina waited long enough for an embrace herself, Berkeley being one of her favourite men, then poured the drinks.

  “It is good to see you,” Savos said. “So good. It is lonely, down here. The people are . . . how do you say?”

  “Stand-offish.”

  “That is exactly right.”

  “It’s an old English custom. You have to integrate.”

  “I understand. But it is difficult. Martina is only slowly learning the language. I speak it with an accent. They know we are different.”

  “You could try going to the local church.”

  “How can we do that? It is not our church.”

  “Hm. Difficult.” But secretly he was pleased. If the old devil was becoming restless . . . “I have news for you, from the Globe.”