One claim of Cedric’s that nobody disputed that evening was that his housekeeper was a marvellous cook. The aroma of roast duck had penetrated to the room where drinks were taken and stimulated the guests’ gastric juices long before the dish arrived on the dining room table. Cedric announced over the watercress soup that he would not be returning to the main business of the evening until the coffee was served, so the conversation flitted from the delights and drawbacks of life in the country to the danger of muggings in London and New York to the latest horror stories of press take-overs.
But the time arrived when the raspberry gateau was taken away, the coffee-jug deposited in the centre of the round dining-table, and the liqueurs served. Cedric reached for his cigar-box.
‘Shall we return to Herr Hess?’ he suggested. ‘The Nuremberg Trials.’
‘November, 1945, to October, 1946,’ contributed Dick from his fund of facts, regardless of how smug he sounded.
Cedric went on, ‘You may imagine the shock his appearance caused when he was flown in. After four years and a few months in British hands, his physique was emaciated. We’ve already talked about his skull-like face and staring eyes. In view of his alleged mental instability, the question arose whether he was fit to stand trial. The British were asked to supply a report, so three eminent authorities were appointed to the task. An interesting trio: our friend, Brigadier Rees; Lord Moran, Churchill’s personal physician; and Dr George Riddoch, a consulting neurologist. They reported that Hess was technically a psychopathic personality, that he had a delusion of poisoning and other paranoid ideas.’ Cedric pulled some notes from his pocket. ‘We don’t all have infallible memories,’ he said with a sly smile at Dick, before starting to read: At the moment he is not insane in the strict sense. His loss of memory will not entirely interfere with his comprehension of the proceedings, but it will interfere with his ability to make his defence, and to understand details of the past which arise in evidence.
‘They wanted it both ways,’ commented Red.
‘Meaning precisely what?’ Jane demanded, determined not to let easy assumptions go unchallenged.
‘It’s obvious, love. He was sane enough to face the trial and be hanged or locked away for life, but if he said anything out of line, he was bonkers.’
She said without looking at him, ‘That’s simplistic in the extreme.’
‘Why do you think the Brigadier’s book was written? Eight doctors don’t go into print to show that a patient is abnormal without pressure from somewhere.’
‘It was published in 1947 – after the Nuremberg Trials were over.’
‘Yes, but it wasn’t written in 1947, was it? It was part of the cover-up. You can bet there were typed copies circulating in Nuremberg.’
Jane withdrew from the contest by turning to Cedric. ‘Tell us what actually happened at the trial.’
‘Well, there’s no doubt that Hess was the star turn, despite the presence of figures like Göring and Ribbentrop. His haggard, hollow-eyed look is the lasting image of Nuremberg. In court, he ignored most of the proceedings, switching off his earphones and preferring to read a book. Sometimes he said, “I remember nothing.” He had brought with him from England twists of paper containing scraps of food he alleged were used to poison him.’
‘Paranoia,’ murmured Jane.
‘His counsel claimed repeatedly that he was unfit to plead,’ Cedric went on, referring to his notes. ‘To quote, He knows neither events which have happened in the past nor the persons who were associated with him in the past. But the report from the English doctors was upheld, and indeed supported by the American and Soviet psychiatrists who examined him.
‘Then, sensationally, after weeks of legal argument, Hess decided to make a statement. He told the court he had feigned amnesia for tactical reasons, and he was fit to stand trial. That night, he submitted to questions from the American psychiatrist, Major Kelley. This is important, so forgive me for referring to my notes again. Major Kelley writes: He claimed that his memory now extended throughout his entire life, but on persistent questioning indicated that there were still a number of things on which he was not quite clear and for which his memory was still faulty.’
‘Like the real reason why he flew to Britain in 1941?’ suggested Dick.
‘That’s pure speculation, and you know it,’ said Jane, rounding on him as fiercely as she had on Red.
‘Fine, have it your way,’ Dick offered, with a shrug that left no doubt what he believed.
‘After that piece of drama,’ Cedric resumed, ‘Hess took no interest in the trial for months, until the opportunity came to make a final statement to the court. He launched into a long, rambling speech, castigating his co-defendants for making shameless utterances about the Führer, and comparing the proceedings to the pre-war Soviet show trials, when defendants were induced to accuse themselves in an astonishing way. He finished with an unreserved tribute to Hitler as the greatest son his country had brought forth in its thousand-year history, and said, “I do not regret anything.”’
‘Hardly the way to the judges’ hearts,’ commented Dick.
‘They found him guilty on two of the four counts,’ Cedric said. ‘Making preparations for war and, rather ironically, conspiring against the peace.’
‘After the way he treated the court, he was fortunate to get away with a life sentence,’ said Dick.
‘Depends how you look at it,’ Red remarked. ‘Some people might think the Nazis who were strung up got a better deal than Hess.’
‘What happened when he got to Spandau?’ Jane asked. ‘Did he remain unrepentant?’
‘Oh, yes. Still is, as far as I know. He was the most difficult of the prisoners there. Disliked work and exercise. Often refused to eat or get out of bed. Frequently complained that he was ill. The inside story has been written by the fellow you saw briefly in the BBC news story, Eugene Bird, who was the US Commandant in Spandau.’
‘The Loneliest Man in the World,’ said Dick, on cue.
‘Required reading?’ asked Don.
‘Obligatory.’
‘And the rest of that stack in the other room?’
‘Every one.’
‘I need more coffee. It’s going to be a long night.’
Jane leaned forward to prise more information from Cedric. ‘So if Hess’s memory was impaired, how can anyone know the truth about his mission? Did anyone else know what he was planning, or was it a spur of the moment thing?’
Dick said, ‘Have you any idea of the logistics of flying from Augsburg to Scotland in a Messerschmitt?’
Cedric took a sip of cognac. ‘Right. Let’s face it, this was one of the most audacious schemes of the entire war. It isn’t in the German temperament to trust to luck. According to Hess’s defence lawyer at Nuremberg, the decision to fly to Britain was taken as early as June 1940, immediately after the fall of France.’
‘Almost a year before it happened?’ said Jane.
‘Hess went to Willi Messerschmitt, found the most suitable aircraft and made over thirty flights from Augsburg. He had the Me 110 modified for solo flying, and had extra fuel tanks fitted. Meanwhile, secret moves were made to contact people in Britain.’
Cedric removed some documents from his pocket. ‘These are translations in photostat form of letters and memoranda written by Hess and his closest friends in the autumn of 1940. They are on public record in the National Archives in Washington, where the German foreign policy papers are held. Remember Karl Haushofer, Hess’s university professor? He’s involved in this delicate process, and so, more actively, is his son, Albrecht, who was closer in age to Hess. He was an academic like his father – intelligent, well-travelled, critical of many aspects of the Nazi system and, above all, committed to achieving peace.
‘Here’s Albrecht reporting on a two-hour meeting with Hess on 8 September 1940: I was immediately asked about the possibilities of making known to persons of importance in England Hitler’s serious desire for peace. It was quite clear that the continuance of the war was suicidal for the white race. Even with complete success in Europe, Germany was not in a position to take over inheritance of the Empire. The Führer had not wanted to see the Empire destroyed and did not want it even today. Was there not somebody in England who was ready for peace?’
‘Hitler’s serious desire for peace?’ repeated Jane with heavy irony.
‘Would you mind if I continued?’ Cedric mildly admonished her. ‘Albrecht comes up with a few names. He says, I am of the opinion that those Englishmen who have property to lose … would be readiest to talk peace. He mentions Sir Samuel Hoare, the British Ambassador in Madrid, and Lord Lothian, in Washington. Finally,… the young Duke of Hamilton, who has access at all times to all important persons in London, even Churchill and the King. Hess says he will consider the matter and send word in case Albrecht is to take steps. Interestingly, Albrecht records his strong impression that the conversation was conducted with the prior knowledge of the Führer.’
‘But that doesn’t necessarily mean Hitler knew about the plan to fly to Britain,’ Jane pointed out. ‘They were just discussing peace feelers.’
‘True.’
‘So Hess plumps for the Duke of Hamilton,’ said Dick. ‘Why Hamilton?’
It was Jane who supplied the answer. ‘We just heard. The Germans thought the idea of peace would appeal to the property-owning class.’
‘Which accounts for your invitation here,’ Red slipped in. ‘Our expert on the idle rich.’
Jane turned to Cedric. ‘Is that really why you asked me?’
He drew on his cigar and answered with circumspection, ‘It’s not the only reason. But let’s follow it through the way it happened, shall we? I ought to mention that Albrecht Haushofer was on familiar terms with the Duke. They’d met in Germany and in England on various occasions before the war. Albrecht had actually stayed at Dungavel House. Hess now asked Albrecht to make contact with the Duke. It was to be done discreetly, by letter, through a friend of the Haushofers, an elderly Englishwoman living in neutral Lisbon. Hamilton was to be invited to Lisbon to talk to Albrecht.’
He paused. ‘The plan misfired. The letter was intercepted by the British censor and passed to MI5. Hamilton wasn’t given a sight of it for many months, in fact until March 1941.’
‘They were vetting him,’ put in Dick.
‘Presumably. They suggested he made the trip to Lisbon with their blessing, to find out what it was all about, but he stalled. In effect, he was being recruited as an MI5 agent, and he asked for certain safeguards to be built into the arrangement. Besides, how would he explain his delay in answering the letter? It was still under discussion on 10 May, when Hess took off from Augsburg.’
Red was frowning as he asked, ‘Are you telling us Hess had nothing back from the Duke and still went ahead with the mission? That doesn’t strike me as good German organization.’
‘It may surprise you, then, that this was Hess’s fourth attempt to make the flight. He had been trying since December. Technical problems or bad weather caused him to turn back each time.’
‘It doesn’t square with all the preparation,’ Red persisted. Would the Deputy Führer of Germany fly into enemy territory and throw himself on the mercy of some guy he’d never even met?’
‘That’s what happened,’ murmured Jane.
There was an affirmative grunt from Cedric. ‘Red’s right. It’s naive to suggest that Hess didn’t have other information to act on. He had his own intelligence agency, the Verbindungsstab, sending back reports from Britain and other places. Anglo-German contacts were secretly maintained in several neutral countries besides Portugal. No, he wouldn’t have come without some strong signal from a British source. The indications are that it was an acutely sensitive one.’
‘We’re back to the brainwashing,’ said Red.
Cedric nodded. ‘I think MI5 did their best to scrub it from his memory at Mytchett Place.’
‘But you have a whisper who it was?’
Cedric eased his way around the question. ‘Consider what happened after Hess parachuted down. He gave a false name and asked to see the Duke of Hamilton. When it was fixed, he insisted on speaking to the Duke without anyone else present. According to the report that Hamilton later wrote for Churchill, Hess claimed that his arrival was proof of his sincerity and Germany’s desire for peace. He said Hitler was convinced that Germany would win the war, but he wanted to avoid unnecessary slaughter. Hess then asked the Duke to call together certain leading members of the Conservative Party to negotiate a peace, but the Duke told him there was only one party in Britain now, and that was the Coalition. Finally, Hess asked the Duke to contact the King, to secure a “parole” for him.’
‘At what point did Winston Churchill come into it?’ asked Dick. ‘Presumably he wasn’t on Hess’s list of leading Conservatives.’
Red laughed. ‘You’ve got to be kidding! The Nazis wanted Winnie out on his arse.’
‘A fair summary,’ Cedric agreed. ‘Hess made it clear that Hitler would not negotiate with Churchill. He counted on the right wing of the Party forcing Churchill out of office when they were offered a peace settlement.’
‘Where did things go wrong?’ asked Dick.
‘Right at the start,’ answered Cedric. ‘He was banking on the Duke of Hamilton’s help.’
‘He was on to a loser there?’ suggested Red.
Cedric shrugged. ‘It must have made sense from the German point of view. The Duke had been a Conservative Member of Parliament until just before the war and presumably knew the people in the Party who might favour a settlement.’
‘You told us Albrecht Haushofer was friendly with the Duke,’ Jane challenged him. ‘He must have believed he would fall in with the plan. He must have had some grounds –’
Red cut in: ‘It wouldn’t have mattered if the Duke wore a brown shirt and jackboots. He was useless to Hess once MI5 had intercepted that letter.’
Jane was galled by the interruption, but she had to admit that Red had seized on the vital point. His thinking was sharper than hers, and probably anyone else’s, and she was going to have to find a way of responding to him without rising to the bait every time. The mix of boorishness and dynamism, arrogant male chauvinism and sexual attractiveness was difficult for her to handle.
Cedric said evenly, ‘Shall we keep to the known facts? After his meeting with Hess, the Duke drove to Turnhouse Airport, phoned the Foreign Office and asked for Sir Alexander Cadogan, the top civil servant there, to motor out to Northolt and meet him on a matter of the utmost urgency. He wasn’t believed. The secretary who took the call believed it was a hoax. Then, by one of those curious quirks of history, Winston Churchill’s Private Secretary, Jock Colville, walked into the room and overheard the conversation. In minutes, Churchill was informed, and Hamilton was flying south to report to him in person.’
‘Mission aborted,’ remarked Red.
A silence settled over the empty coffee cups. Don fiddled with the edge of his moustache. Jane studied her finger-nails. Dick stared, frowning, into space.
Red leaned confidentially towards Cedric. ‘Are you going to tell them, or shall I?’