His voice warmed immediately. 'Hello there, my dear. I hope you're not ringing to say you won't be coming over for bridge or something. You hadn't forgotten? Eight-thirty?'
She had, but that didn't matter. She said, 'Of course not, Henry. It's just that I've got a little favour to ask and I wanted to speak to you privately about it.'
His voice deepened. 'Fire away, old girl Anything I can do '
'Well, I've heard from some Irish friends of my late husband and they've asked me to try and do something for their nephew. In fact, they're sending him over. He'll be arriving in the next few days.'
'Do what exactly.'
'His name is Devlin - Liam Devlin, and the thing is, Henry, the poor man was very badly wounded serving with the British Armv in France. He received a medical discharge and he's been convalescing for almost a year. He's quite fit now though and ready for work, but it needs to be the outdoor variety.'
'And you thought I might be able to fix him up?' said Sir Henry jovially 'No difficulty there, old girl. You know what it's like getting any kind of workers for the estate these days.'
'He wouldn't be able to do much at first.' she said 'Actually. I was wondering about the marsh warden's job at Hobs End. That's been vacant since young Tom King went off to the Army two years ago, hasn't it, and there's the house standing empty? It would be good to have somebody in. It's getting very run down.'
'I'll tell you what, Joanna, I think you might have something there. We'll go into the whole thing in depth. No sense in discussing it over bridge with other people there. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?'
'Of course,' she said 'You know, it's so good of you to help in this way, Henry. I always seem to be bothering you with my problems these days.'
'Nonsense,' he told her sternly 'That's what I'm here for. Woman needs a man to smooth over the rough spots for her.' His voice was shaking slightly.
'I'd better go now,' she said 'I'll see you soon.'
'Goodbye, my dear.'
She put down the receiver and patted Patch on the head and he trailed along at her heels when she went back upstairs. She sat at the transmitter and made the briefest of signals on the frequency of the Dutch beacon for onward transmission to Berlin. An acknowledgement that her instructions had been safely received and a given code word that meant that the business of Devlin's employment had been taken care of.
.
In Berlin it was raining, black, cold rain drifting across the city pushed by a wind so bitter that it must have come all the way from the Urals In the ante-room outside Himmler's office at Prinz Albrechtstrasse, Max Radl and Devlin sat facing each other, as they had been sitting for more than an hour now.
'What in the hell goes on?' Devlin said 'Does he want to see us or doesn't he?'
'Why don't you knock and ask?' Radl suggested.
Just then the outer door opened and Rossman came in, beating rain from his slouch hat, his coat dripping water. He smiled brightly, 'Still here, you two?'
Devlin said to Radl, 'He's got the great wit to him, that one, isn't it a fact?'
Rossman knocked at the door and went in. He didn't bother closing it 'I've got him, Herr Reichsfuhrer.'
'Good,' they heard Himmler say 'Now I'll see Radl and this Irish fellow.'
'What in the hell is this?' Devlin muttered, 'A command performance?'
'Watch your tongue.' Radl said, 'and let me do the talking.'
He led the way into the room Devlin at his heels, and Rossman closed the door behind them. Everything was exactly the same as on that first night. The room in half-darkness, the open fire flickering, Himmler seated behind the desk.
The Reichsfuhrer said, 'You've done well, Radl I'm more than pleased with the way things are progressing. And this is Herr Devlin?'
'As ever was,' Devlin said cheerfully 'Just a poor, old Irish peasant straight out of the bog, that's me, your honour.'
Himmler frowned in puzzlement 'What on earth is the man talking about?' he demanded of Radl.
'The Irish, Herr Reichsfuhrer, are not as other people,' Radl said weakly.
'It's the rain.' Devlin told him.
Himmler stared at him in astonishment, then turned to Radl. 'You are certain he is the man for this?'
'Perfectly.'
'And when does he go?'
'On Sunday.'
'And your other arrangements? They are proceeding satisfactorily?'
'So far. My trip to Alderney I combined with Abwehr business in Paris and I have perfectly legal reasons for visiting Amsterdam next week. The Admiral knows nothing. He has been preoccupied with other matters.'
'Good.' Himmler sat staring into space, obviously thinking about something.
'Was there anything else, Herr Reichsfuhrer?' Radl asked as Devlin stirred impatiently.
'Yes, I brought you here for two reasons tonight. In the first place I wanted to see Herr Devlin for myself. But secondly, there is the question of the composition of Steiner's assault group.'
'Maybe I should leave,' Devlin suggested.
'Nonsense,' Himmler said brusquely. 'I would be obliged if you would simply sit in the corner and listen. Or are the Irish incapable of such a feat?'
'Oh, it's been known,' Devlin said. 'But not often.'
He went and sat by the fire, took out a cigarette and lit it. Himmler glared at him, seemed about to speak and obviously thought better of it. He turned back to Radl.
'You were saying, Herr Reichsfuhrer?'
'Yes, there seems to me one weakness in the composition of Steiner's group. Four or five of the men speak English to some degree, but only Steiner can pass as a native. This isn't good enough. In my opinion he needs the backing of someone of similar ability.'
'But people with that sort of ability are rather thin on the ground.'
'I think I have a solution for you,' Himmler said. 'There is a man called Amery - John Amery. Son of a famous English politician. He ran guns for Franco. Hates the Bolsheviks. He's been working for us for some time now.'
'Is he of any use?'
'I doubt it, but he came up with the idea of founding what he called the British Legion of St George. The idea was to recruit Englishmen from the prisoner of war camps, mainly to fight on the Eastern Front.'
'Did he get any takers?'
'A few - not many and mostly rogues. Amery has nothing to do with it now. For a while the Wehrmacht was responsible for the unit, but now the SS has taken over.'
'These volunteers - are there many?'
'Fifty or sixty as I last heard. They now rejoice in the name British Free Corps.' Himmler opened a file in front of him and took out a record card. 'Such people do have their uses on occasion. This man, for instance, Harvey Preston. When captured in Belgium he was wearing the uniform of a captain in the Cold-stream Guards, and having what I am informed are the voice and mannerisms of the English aristocrat, no one doubted him for sometime.'
'And he was not what he seemed?'
'Judge for yourself.'
Radl examined the card. Harvey Preston had been born in Harrogate, Yorkshire in 1916, the son of a railway porter. He had left home at fourteen to work as a prop boy with a touring variety company. At eighteen he was acting in repertory in Southport. In 1937 he was sentenced to two years imprisonment at Winchester Assizes on four charges of fraud.
Discharged in January. 1939, he was arrested a month later and sentenced to a further nine months on a charge of impersonating an RAF officer and obtaining money by false pretences. The judge had suspended the sentence on condition that Preston joined the forces. He had gone to France as an orderly room clerk with an RASC transport company and, when captured, held the rank of acting corporal.
His prison camp record was bad or good according to which side you were on, for he had informed on no fewer than five separate escape attempts. On the last occasion this had become known to his comrades and if he had not volunteered to serve in the Free Corps, he would in any case have had to be moved for reasons of his own safety.
Radl wal
ked across to Devlin and handed him the card, then turned to Himmler. 'And you want Steiner to take this... this...'
'Rogue,' Himmler said, 'who is quite expendable, but who simulates the English aristocrat quite well? He really does have presence, Radl. The sort of man to whom policemen touch their helmets the moment he opens his mouth. I've always understood that the English working classes know an officer and a gentleman when they see one, and Preston should do very well.'
'But Steiner and his men, Herr Reichsfuhrer, are soldiers - real soldiers. You know their record. Can you see such a man fitting in? Taking orders?'
'He will do as he is told,' Himmler said. 'That goes without question. We'll have him in, shall we?'
He pressed the buzzer and a moment later, Rossman appeared in the doorway. 'I'll see Preston now.' Rossman went out, leaving the door open, and a moment later Preston entered the room, closed the door behind him and gave the Nazi Party salute.
He was at that time twenty-seven years of age, a tall, handsome man in a beautifully-tailored uniform of field grey. It was the uniform particularly which fascinated Radl. He had the death's head badge of the SS in his peaked cap and collar patches depicting the three leopards. Under the eagle on his left sleeve was a Union Jack shield and a black and silver cuff-title carried the legend in Gothic lettering, Britishes Freikorps.
'Very pretty,' Devlin said, but so softly that only Radl heard.
Himmler made the introductions. 'Untersturmfuhrer Preston - Colonel Radl of the Abwehr and Herr Devlin. You will be familiar with the role each of these gentlemen plays in the affair at hand from the documents I gave you to study earlier today.'
Preston half-turned to Radl, inclined his head and clicked his heels. Very formal, very military, just like someone playing a Prussian officer in a play.
'So,' Himmler said. 'You have had ample opportunity to consider this matter. You understand what is required of you?'
Preston said carefully, 'Do I take it that Colonel Radl is looking for volunteers for this mission?' His German was good, although the accent could have been improved on.
Himmler removed his pince-nez, stroked the bridge of his nose gently with a forefinger and replaced them with great care. It was a gesture somehow infinitely sinister. His voice, when he spoke, was dry leaves brushed by the wind. 'What exactly are you trying to say, Untersturmfuhrer?'
'It's just that I find myself in rather a difficulty here. As the Reichsfuhrer knows, members of the British Free Corps were given a guarantee that at no time would they have to wage war or take part in any armed act against Britain or the Crown or indeed to support any act detrimental to the interest of the British people.'
Radl said, 'Perhaps this gentleman would be happier serving on the Eastern Front, Herr Reichsfuhrer? Army Group South, under Field Marshal von Manstein. Plenty of hot spots there for those who crave real action.'
Preston, realizing that he had made a very bad mistake, hastily tried to make amends. 'I can assure you, Herr Reichsfuhrer, that...'
Himmler didn't give him a chance. 'You talk of volunteering, where I see only an act of sacred duty. An opportunity to serve the Fuhrer and the Reich.'
Preston snapped to attention. It was an excellent performance and Devlin, for one, was thoroughly enjoying himself. 'Of course, Herr Reichsfuhrer. It is my total aim.'
'I am right, am I not, in assuming that you have taken an oath to this effect? A holy oath?'
'Yes, Herr Reichsfuhrer.'
'Then nothing more need be said. You will from this moment consider yourself to be under the orders of Colonel Radl here.'
'As you say, Herr Reichsfuhrer.'
'Colonel Radl, I d like to have a word with you in private ' Himmler glanced at Devlin Herr Devlin if you would be kind enough to wait in the ante-room with Untersturmfuhrer Preston.'
Preston gave him a crisp Heil Hitler, turned on heel with a precision that would not have disgraced the Grenadier Guards, and went out Devlin followed, closing the door behind them.
There was no sign of Rossman and Preston kicked the side of one of the armchairs viciously and threw his cap down on the table He was white with anger and when he produced a silver case and extracted a cigarette, his hand trembled slightly.
Devlin strolled across and helped himself to a cigarette before Preston could close the case.He grinned. 'By God, the old bugger's got you by the balls.'
He had spoken in English and Preston, glaring at him, replied in the same language. 'What in the hell do you mean?'
'Come on, son,' Devlin said 'I've heard of your little lot Legion of St George, British Free Corps. How was it they bought you? Unlimited booze and as many women as you can handle, if you're not too choosy, that is. Now it's all got to be paid for.'
At an inch above six feet, Preston was able to look down with some contempt at the Irishman. His left nostril curled 'My God, the people one has to deal with - straight out of the bogs, too, from the smell. Now go away and try playing nasty little Irishmen elsewhere, there's a good chap, or I might have to chastise you.'
Devlin, in the act of putting a match to his cigarette, kicked Preston with some precision under the right kneecap.
.
In the office Radl had just come to the end of a progress report 'Excellent,' Himmler said, 'and the Inshman leaves on Sunday?' 'By Dormer from a Luftwaffe base outside Brest - Laville. A north-westerly course from there will take them to Ireland without the necessity of passing over English soil. At twenty-five thousand feet for most of the war they should have no trouble.'
'And the Irish Air Force?'
'What air force, Herr Reichsfuhrer?'
'I see,' Himmler closed the file 'So, things seem to be really moving at last. I'm very pleased with you, Radl Continue to keep me informed.'
He picked up his pen in a dismissive gesture and Radl said 'There is one other matter.'
Himmler looked up 'And what is that?'
'Major-General Steiner.'
Himmlei laid down his pen 'What about him?'
Radl didn't know how to put it, but he had to make the point somehow. He owed it to Steiner. In fact, considering the circumstances, the intensity with which he wanted to keep that promise surprised him. It was the Reichsfuhrer himself who suggested I make it clear to Colonel Steiner that his conduct in this affair could have a significant effect on his father's case.
'That is so,' Himmler said calmly 'But what is the problem?'
'I promised Colonel Steiner, Herr Reichsfuhrer,' Radl said lamely 'Gave him an assurance that... that...'
'Which you had no authority to offer,' Himmler said. 'However, under the circumstances, you may give Steiner that assurance in my name.' He picked up his pen again. 'You may go now and tell Preston to remain. I want another word with him. I'll have him report to you tomorrow.'
When Radl went out into the ante room, Devlin was standing at the window peering through a chink in the curtains and Preston was sitting in one of the armchairs 'Raining cats and dogs out there.' he said cheerfully 'Still, it might keep the RAF at home for a change Are we going?'
Radl nodded and said to Preston, 'You stay. He wants you. And don't come to Abwehr Headquarters tomorrow. I'll get in touch with you.'
Preston was on his feet very military again, arm raised 'Very well, Herr Oberst. Heil Hitler!'
Radl and Devlin moved to the door and as they went out, the Irishman raised a thumb and grinned amiably. 'Up the Republic me old son!'
Preston dropped his arm and swore viciously Devlin closed the door and followed Radl down the stairs. 'Where in the hell did they find him? Himmler must have lost his wits entirely.'
'God knows,' Radl said as they paused beside the SS guards in the main entrance to turn up their collars against the heavy rain. 'There is some merit in the idea of another officer who is obviously English, but this Preston.' He shook his head 'A badly flawed man Second-rate actor, petty criminal. A man who has spent most of his life living some sort of private fantasy.'
'And we
're stuck with him,' Devlin said 'I wonder what Steiner will make of it?'
They ran through the rain as Radl's staff car approached and settled themselves in the back 'Steiner will cope,' Radl said 'Men like Steiner always do. But now to business. We fly to Paris tomorrow afternoon.'
'Then what?'
'I've important business in Holland. As I told you, the entire operation will be based on Landsvoort, which is the right kind of end-of-the-world spot. During the operational period I shall be there myself so, my friend, if you make a transmission, you'll know who is on the other end. As I was saying, I'll leave you in Paris when I fly to Amsterdam. You, in your turn, will be ferried down to the airfield at Laville near Brest. You take off at ten o'clock on Sunday night.
Jack Higgins - Eagle Has Landed Page 14
