By dusk, Graham was boarding Selwyn's destroyer from a bobbing whaler. Selwyn was not expecting him, but he led Graham below without a word, as if it were the most usual thing in the world to have visitors arrive by aircraft. AH around, the ships of Selwyn's flotilla were going dark as they rigged for night running.
"I'm going to agree to the meeting, and I want you there," Graham said when Selwyn had read Dieter's message. "I don't know what he's trying to pull, but I want to have it out face to face as soon as possible. The August first deadline suggests that something is going to happen on Lammas besides what we're planning, and it looks to me like William's safety is involved. They must know about the Wells affair, David."
Selwyn skimmed through the decoded message again, nodding several times as he read, then sat back in his chair with a sigh as he removed his glasses.
"I agree that it has to be investigated, but I'm afraid you're asking a lot. Even if I could leave my ship at a time like this—"
"I don't think you understand, David. I'm going to ask for your ship, too," Graham responded before Selwyn could finish. "I want the clout of a British warship behind me when I talk to Dieter, as well as your support and advice. You can reach the coordinates by Friday—we'll say Saturday, to be on the safe side. I'll make the arrangements with your flotilla leader before I leave in the morning. Besides, there's no other way to get that close to the French coast and be sure of coming out."
"If it's a trap, you won't come out, anyway," Selwyn said gloomily. "Dieter could have that whole sector crawling with U-boats and other unpleasant surprises by the time we get there."
"Yes, but if he's on the level, he could have it deserted, too. He doesn't know what kind of transportation I'd an-ange, David. He's probably expecting a fast torpedo boat or something of that ilk."
"Yes, but wouldn't a destroyer be a prize?"
"At least it could put up a fight if there were a double-cross."
Selwyn dropped his head into his hands and sighed. "All right. Gray. If you can get my boss to agree, I won't argue with you. You're calling the shots now. I'd hoped I'd never have to look at Dieter again, though. If Merilee were still alive, she'd die of shame to know what he's done."
"I'm certainly not condoning his actions," Graham replied. "I don't tmst him any more than you do. But there's something else you should be aware of."
"What's that?"
"There's more than one way to read that verse from Isaiah. The key idea is sacrifice. Now it's possible Dieter meant it to refer to himself—a willingness to help us, and William, even at the risk of his own life and those he's pretended to work with—but what if the verse actually refers to William himself? The subject of William as sacrifice has come up independently before."
Selwyn's face went as white and still as a waxen mask.
"What are you talking about?"
Graham told him about the FitzUrse recall and William's more recent parallel recollection of Becket.
"I haven't even mentioned that one to Alix yet," Graham concluded. "It only happened last night. After the discussion she and I had about the Hanged Man and everything, the whole thing begins to connect all too readily. I won't allow it. If anyone is going to die, it's going to be me, not William."
"If it's up to me, it isn't going to be either of you!" Selwyn retorted, but fully agreeing that they must confront Dieter.
Graham slept on a cot in Selwyn's cabin that night, for he did not wish to advertise his presence aboard ship any more than his unusual arrival already had. The next morning, Selwyn brought his ship alongside the one serving as flotilla leader.
and Graham transferred across by breeches buoy. The day was fine but hazy enough to make it difficult to spot approaching aircraft; the convoy spread across several square miles to the north and west. Graham could see Selwyn's ship dropping back to run half a mile behind and to the west as he followed a young midshipman up to the bridge.
This destroyer's skipper was the same Royal Navy captain who had called Graham to the Admiralty little more than a month ago. The man lowered a pair of field glasses and turned to raise one dark eyebrow in surprise as Graham gave formal salute. He took his time about returning it, blue eyes noting every detail of Graham's salt-stained battle-dress, beret, and the black polo sweater visible at the neck, in stark contrast to his own inmiaculate service dress uniform.
"So you're the mystery guest that Sunderland brought in last evening, colonel," he said with a slight smile. "I'd wondered. Back to your usual state of undress, I see."
"Yes, sir. I need another favor," Graham said without further prelude. "May we talk?"
Frowning a little, the man led him out of the enclosed portion of the bridge to an open platform in front that was still in plain sight of the bridge watch but out of casual earshot.
"I'm sorry, but I can't leave the bridge right now," the man murmured, raising his field glasses again and scanning the eastern horizon. "We're expecting a German raid. Can you keep it short and sufficiently vague that we don't try the patience of my junior officers inside?"
"I'll try, sir," Graham replied. "Put briefly, if not vaguely, I need to borrow one of your captains and his ship for the rest of the week."
"You need to borrow a destroyer and its captain for the rest of the week," the man repeated slowly, not lowering his glasses. "I assume you have someone particular in mind."
"I think you know who, sir."
The man let his glasses dangle from their neck strap and glanced at Graham sidelong, then laid both hands precisely along the metal rail in front of them.
"One would need a very good reason for granting such a favor," he said, looking out to sea again. "Ought one to assume that this has to do with—ah—the matter we discussed before?"
"The same, sir. And with the man who was responsible for having me 'out of battle-dress' that night, as I believe you put it." '
The other's features stiffened, but he only continued looking out to sea. This time, Graham had the distinct impression he was no longer worrying quite so much about a German raid.
"I see," the man said after a slight pause. "Is—ah— he involved in this?"
"Yes, sir."
"May one ask how?" This with a slight edge of ice.
"The—ah—other thing you arranged for me, sir," Graham said cautiously, hating the necessity of having to speak in shorthand. "He was there, at his own insistence, and things have progressed since then. I didn't start out to involve him, sir."
"I should hope you didn't," the other man muttered, the blue eyes glancing at him furtively as the fingers of one hand drummed on the metal rail in consternation. "What about this— future thing, then?" he continued- "He isn't going to be involved in that, is he?"
"I'll certainly try to prevent it, sir," Graham replied carefully. "With my own life, if necessary. I mean that. I have reason to believe he's in very grave danger unless something drastic is done. I need your destroyer—and its captain—to find out whether that's possible."
"Where do you want them sent?"
Graham handed him a folded piece of paper without a word. The man studied the coordinates and timetable for several seconds before slipping them into an inner pocket.
"You know, of course, that if anything happens, he'll have acted without orders and my name will never be mentioned. Officially, I can only send him close enough to continue there under cover of darkness—and he'd jolly well better be out of there by dawn."
"We're aware of that, sir."
"Very well. I'll have the new orders cut before you leave, provided the Jerries don't keep us too busy this morning. I assume another flying boat is coming to collect you?"
"Yes, sir, sometime after two."
"Humph. We'll see."
Graham just about determined that the long silence that followed was a dismissal, but then the man laid both hands on the rail and threw his head back to squint up at the sun, casting a faint smile in Graham's direction before putting glasses to the horizon again.
>
"Incidentally, Gray, how would you fancy having your captain and his ship sent back to flotilla HQ for a few days when you're finished?" came the low-voiced question. "He could get a train south from there and be home in a few hours. I beheve I might spare him until after the first if you think that might help."
Graham closed his eyes briefly and allowed himself a faint sigh of relief at the sheer offhandedness of it all. He had wondered how he was going to get Selwyn back to Oakwood for the Lammas working and had more or less resigned himself to his chief's absence until receipt of Dieter's message. Now this remarkable man had turned all of that around with a few well-chosen words.
"I think it might help a great deal, sir," he whispered. "And thank you very much."
By the time Graham returned to London that night, he had dodged several German air raids, both on the convoy and in the Sunderland, en route home. He found Ashcroft and Basilby working late when he checked in at his office, with no progress to report on their elusive Thulists, so he went on to his flat and poured himself a stiff drink before ringing William. He was astonished to learn that the prince's day had been hardly less eventful than his own.
"Bertie and I went to Portsmouth to inspect the ships and barracks, and we had a gigantic air-raid warning," William told him gleefully. "We had to wait in an underground shelter until the 'all-clear.' The raid never did happen, but I think we must have been a great trial to Bertie's security people. While they were all worrying about what would happen if a bomb fell near the King, Bertie and I were enjoying our cigarettes and making jokes!"
William was in such good spirits as he recounted his adventure, close to the action at last, that Graham could not bear to spoil it by intimations of danger that might never materialize. Graham shrugged off his own activities of the past thirty-six hours with vague hints of intelligence matters that were best not discussed over the telephone and left it at that. His impending absence over the weekend elicited no particular reaction from William other than the remark that perhaps they might dine together sometime early the next week, since William's Friday schedule was utterly impossible.
Graham could only conclude that the prince had taken his experience of last Tuesday totally in stride and felt no urgent need to talk more about it, for which Graham was exceedingly grateful. Much relieved, he rang off to get some much-needed sleep and spent Friday catching up on the week's more general war developments.
From his own experience in Selwyn's convoy, it was clear that Channel shipping raids had increased dramatically in the past few weeks. Enemy action had escalated all along the Channel coast, with Dover being especially hard hit. Jn an effort to seal off the major British ports of Plymouth and Portland as well as Dover and Portsmouth, the Luftwaffe stepped up their bombing strategy all along the southeastern seaboard, with mine-laying runs night after night along the Thames and Severn estuaries in particular. RAF reconnaissance continued to note the steady buildup of ships and other materiel in French ports for a possible invasion force. Reports leaked from agents close to the German high command confirmed that plans for See-lowe —Operation Sealion—were still going forward.
Graham's plans to stop Seelowe were still going forward, too, though he had not counted on having to take time out to deal with Dieter. Denton drove him to Oakwood early Saturday morning to advise Alix of developments. She, in turn, assured him that everything else about Lammas was going smoothly. By three, he and Denton were airborne and headed out over the Channel to hunt for Selwyn, with a different air crew from either of Graham's two previous flights.
Finding Selwyn's ship proved more difficult than Graham had envisioned, for the weather worsened the farther out they went. Low-roiling thunder clouds churned the air and made the flying very rough. Even when they sighted the destroyer, Graham feared he and Denton might never be able to board it. He asked about the possibility of parachuting down if all else failed, but the horrified looks on the faces of the Sunderland crew answered his query.
"You'd never make it, sir, even if you managed to get clear of the aircraft," one of the flight crew told him. "You'd drown before they could pick you up."
But their intrepid Sunderland skipper finally found a hole in the weather and set them down less than a quarter mile from the ship. He was in the air again before the whaler sent to fetch his passengers was even halfway back. He circled for several minutes to see them safely aboard, then signaled, 'Tlira," with his Aldis lamp before heading west for clearer skies. Graham spared a few seconds to watch the aircraft disappear into the twilight before followmg Selwyn and Denton below to the captain's cabin, thinking of Richard and Geoffrey.
The next hours seemed to crawl as the ship changed course and steamed east toward her midnight rendezvous, but they entered calmer waters. While Graham and Denton ate a meal washed down with mugs of steaming cocoa, Selwyn briefed them on the procedures that would be followed for making their German contact and then left them alone to catch a little sleep. He woke them at half-past eleven, taking Denton topside with him to escort their expected guest.
Graham left the lights off and watched through a spy slot in one shielded porthole until the small, pale blur of an inflatable dinghy had come alongside and disappeared from his line of vision. After securing the porthole, he turned on the lights and paced for several minutes, thinking about the German U-boat out there and the consequences if Dieter had set them up. As the tiny clock by Selwyn's bunk chimed the quarter hour, he sat warily in Selwyn's chair, at the head of the table. Soon he heard footsteps approaching.
Graham stiffened slightly, but he did not rise as Selwyn ushered in a man of similar height and build wearing a ski mask and dark oilskins that dripped on the pale-green carpeting. The newcomer paused just inside the door to stare at Graham, to give the room a cursory inspection, then pulled off the mask and continued on into the room, shedding his outer garments as he came. Graham caught just a glimpse of Denton taking up position outside as Selwyn closed the door behind them and leaned pointedly against it, arms crossed over his chest, pale eyes unreadable beneath his peaked naval cap. Dieter ran a hand nervously over close-cropped fair hair and tried a shallow smile.
"Well, David, you didn't tell me your second-in-conmiand had become so dour of late," he said with a slight Austrian accent, tossing his oilskins negligently on a chair and glancing back at Selwyn. "Why don't you offer me a drink and we'll sit down and discuss it like gentlemen?"
"You'll have to take that up with Gray," Selwyn replied. "In this particular operation, he's in charge. I'm only providing the meeting place."
Dieter, poised, aristocratic, and far younger looking than his fifty-plus years, raised one almost invisible eyebrow and pursed his lips.
"I see," he said after a moment. "So that's the way it's to be, is it?"
"Did you expect some other reception?" Selwyn retorted coldly.
As Dieter turned back to Graham, raising both palms in query, Graham tossed a pile of oversized photographs on the table between him and the German. Dieter's face went very still as he recognized his own image on the top print. After a few seconds, he signed and nodded, moving slowly toward the table and the chair at Graham's right.
"May I sit?" he asked, elegant hands resting lifelessly along the back of the chair.
Graham inclined his head. "If you wish."
"Thank you."
When Dieter had taken his seat, Selwyn came around and sat on Graham's other side, tossing his cap on an empty chair and unbuttoning his mac. Dieter offered a silver cigarette case around, and when refused, shrugged and lit up for himself, inhaling several long, steadying lungfuls of smoke. After a moment, he reached across and turned the top photo face down on the rest of the stack, his pale eyes touching both of them.
"I'm not proud of that," he murmured, breathing out smoke. "God knows, I'd hoped you'd realize that. It was the only way I could infiltrate Sturm."
"By killing an innocent mail in cold blood?" Graham asked.
Dieter took another
slow, careful pull at his cigarette and studied Graham over its top through narrowed eyes, nodding slowly as he exhaled. "That's right. The same way you undoubtedly killed the unfortunate Mr. Wells—in cold blood."
"What makes you think I had anything to do with Wells?" Graham said softly, refusing to rise to the bait. "As I heard it. Wells died in a car crash. Where did you hear otherwise?"
A grim smile flickered across Dieter's lips, but it did not light his eyes. "Let's not play games, shall we, Graham? I don't have all the facts because Wells never got to report what he found out at that meeting, but I know who was supposed to be there, and I know that your Duke of Clarence hosted it. I also know that you have been involved up to your eye teeth in whatever is going on. Sturm knows all of this as well. If you're interested, I can tell you what Sturm is planning for August first as a foil to what David's—pardon me— your group is planning. I can also tell you what plans Sturm has for your precious duke. Now, did you come here to listen to me, or did you come to moralize and make accusations?"
If Dieter had expected a reaction out of either of them, he was disappointed. Graham stared back unblinking for several seconds—though it was not for want of shock—then shifted his gaze slowly and deliberately to Selwyn, just as deliberately back to Dieter. As he had hoped, Selwyn was not giving any clues, either.
"Very well, we're listening."
Dieter inclined his head in mocking parody of Graham's earlier gesture, shifting indolently in his chair.
"Thank you. I shan't belabor you with justifications that you won't believe, anyway. Suffice it to say that I've done what I've done for a greater good which meets my own criteria of morality. I did not expect it to be complicated the way it has been."
He drew at his cigarette again, searching for words.
"Your concern, however, hes with the success of what you plan for Lammas and the fate of your Duke of Clarence," he went on. "Because of Wells's information—whether true or not—plus other intelligence which has been made known to Sturm from other sources since then, Sturm believes that Clarence is behind a powerful and concerted British effort to strike at the Führer magically on Lammas night."
Lammas night Page 34
