If anyone had breakfast that morning, it was not mentioned. Jane lingered in bed long after Red had gone, reflecting on what had happened. This was the first time she had treated a man as a stud, without a shred of emotional involvement. The few words that had passed between them had been to encourage each other. Rather to her surprise, she felt no adverse reaction after it was over. He had been good and she was satisfied, and no less independent for the experience.
Cedric appeared towards noon, enquired about hangovers and then suggested an al fresco salad lunch. ‘I’d offer you a pub meal,’ he informed his guests, ‘but I want to outline the plan of action, and we can’t run the risk of being overheard.’
So Dick and Red put up a trestle table on the sunny side of the clearing, and soon it was stacked with food from the fridge, a selection of meats, bread and salad, with two bottles of vin rosé and the last of the lager.
They were grouped around the table in an assortment of canvas chairs, with the exception of Cedric, who had wisely opted to entrust his weight to wicker. He leaned forward cautiously to say, ‘I take it that you all still want to work on the story?’
Jane told Cedric, ‘I think we’re all with you.’
‘You believe it now?’
Jane pointed to the wedge of Gruyère on the cheeseboard. ‘I believe it’s as full of holes as that.’
‘Ah. But you’re staying with it?’
‘To find out the truth.’
Cedric nodded amiably. ‘That’s good enough for me. No prizes for guessing what I want you to research, Jane.’
‘The far right of the Conservative Party in the first years of the war?’
‘Spot on. There were people openly advocating a deal with Hitler. The Marquess of Tavistock was one. Lord Halifax pressed the case in the War Cabinet itself. Follow up the names in the Haushofer correspondence – Sir Samuel Hoare and Lord Lothian.’
Jane frowned. ‘When you say “follow up”, do you mean compile dossiers, or what?’
Cedric shook his head. ‘I’m not looking for a rehash of Who’s who. Get me the stuff that has never appeared in print, Jane. Use your contacts on the Diary. Talk to the families. Get them to tell you what Grandad was up to in 1941.’
‘Heavy on mileage,’ Jane warned him.
‘My dear, leave me to worry about the expense.’
Interested glances were exchanged around the table.
‘Does that go for all of us?’ Red tentatively enquired.
‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I want you to work the patch you know: Berlin,’ Cedric told him. ‘Have another crack at Wolf Hess. Press him for chapter and verse.’
‘I already have.’
‘Try harder.’
‘Anything else?’
Cedric gave Red a long look across the table. ‘There is something, yes. What we are going to need is a line into Spandau Prison. If this story is to mean anything at all, we have to try it on the one man left alive who knows what happened.’
There was a moment’s stunned silence.
Red began to laugh. ‘You think we can speak to Hess?’
‘You can,’
‘For Christ’s sake, Cedric, Spandau isn’t an old people’s home. I can’t walk in there with a bunch of grapes and ask to see my Uncle Rudolf.’
Cedric made it plain that he was unamused and unimpressed. ‘One way and another, some three hundred people are hired to run that place. If you can’t find one of them willing to earn a few Deutschmarks on the side, you’re not the intrepid journalist I took you for.’
‘Yea, but how many of the three hundred ever get near to Hess?’
‘Find out.’
Dick was eager to come in. ‘Aren’t we overlooking something? Hess lost his memory at Mytchett Place. There’s no guarantee that it ever came back. He’s probably senile by now.’
Cedric said firmly, ‘My information is that he is not. Can’t you people see that this will make our story the biggest thing since Watergate? The authentic voice of Hess from inside Spandau confirming that he was in league with half the British establishment. Imagine the sensation that will cause.’
‘It’s a voice now,’ said Red, squaring up for the counter-offensive. ‘You mean you want him on tape? You wouldn’t like me to smuggle in a couple of TV cameras and Sir Robin Day while I’m at it?’
‘All we want is his confirmation that our story is true,’ Cedric responded. ‘Have you read that book I gave you last night?’
‘The Loneliest Man in the World? I haven’t got around to it yet,’ Red was forced to admit.
For the first time that weekend, Cedric barked out his annoyance. ‘What the hell have you been doing with your time? Do you think I flew you over from Berlin for the pleasure of your small-talk? So far as I’m concerned, that book is the Michelin Guide to Spandau. Eugene Bird was the American commandant of the place. Everything you want is in there: prison routine, numbers of staff, a description of the layout, pictures of the cell-blocks, even an aerial photo. Plus, of course, the only interviews with Hess in nearly forty years.’
‘Did the truth about the peace deal come out?’ asked Dick.
‘We wouldn’t be sitting here if it had,’ Red commented, quick to turn the fire on someone else.
‘True.’
‘Did Hess reveal anything of significance?’ asked Jane.
Cedric pondered the question. ‘His loyalty to Hitler has never wavered, even though he admits that his Führer would probably have stood him against a wall and shot him if he had flown back to Germany. He repeats ad nauseam that the flight was his own initiative.’
‘Is it important?’
‘It obviously is to Hess. He was shown photocopies of the Haushofer correspondence and he stressed that even his friends the Haushofers didn’t know what he was planning.’
‘What about his intentions when he got to Britain? Does he say much about that?’ asked Dick, joining in the conspiracy to coax Cedric into a more genial frame of mind.
‘The usual stuff about being an emissary of peace. He admits that it was a mistake to try to overthrow Churchill.’
‘Nothing about the people he planned to contact?’
‘No. He confirms that he had never met the Duke of Hamilton. There was no reply from Hamilton to the Haushofers’ feelers. Time was running out for a peace deal, because the Germans knew America might line up with Britain any time.’
‘Not to mention the fact that Hitler was about to attack Russia,’ put in Jane.
Cedric’s expression relaxed a little, as if somewhat reassured that his team was not entirely unreceptive. ‘Operation Barbarossa. Yes. Quite a lot is made of this in the book. For a long time, Hess insists that he knew nothing about Hitler’s invasion plan. Then, one evening in his cell when he has been reading through the manuscript of The Loneliest Man, he admits to Colonel Bird that he did know about Barbarossa. Later, he retracts the statement, but a day or two later, he wants it reinstated.’
‘Are you sure he isn’t gaga?’ asked Jane.
Cedric shook his head. ‘Colonel Bird describes him as a very intelligent man, well read, and with a most inquiring mind.’
Red cupped his beer-glass in his hands and stared into it. ‘Leave it with me,’ he said. ‘I’ll work on it.’
‘Discreetly,’ Cedric cautioned him. ‘And that goes for all of you. Be aware of the sensitive ground we’re about to disturb: over here, the security services and the establishment; over there, the most famous prisoner in the world, guarded by four nations. When Bird’s book was in preparation, the CIA got to hear about it. His home was put under twenty-four hour surveillance, his phone was tapped, he was placed under house arrest, interrogated for hours, asked to resign his job as commandant and flown to Washington to appear before a board of the State Department.’
‘Yet the book was published?’ said Jane in surprise.
‘Yes – with a signed statement from Colonel Bird that he was required to testify under oath.’
‘Heavily censored?’ asked Dick.
‘Bird states that his original manuscript amounted to 160,000 words. Anyone can do the arithmetic. The book is at least 50,000 words short. It’s still the only substantial account we have of life in Spandau.’
‘So watch out for the men with bulges under their jackets,’ said Red.
Dick looked up bleakly. ‘I suppose that leaves me the cantankerous old sod from MI5?’
Cedric reached for another chicken portion. ‘I’ll set up a meeting. I have a hunch about him.’
‘And after that?’
‘The Public Record Office,’ Cedric informed him with a reassuring beam. ‘We need cast-iron evidence. Documentation first; then corroboration from people who took part in the events of 1940 and ’41; and finally …’ He leaned back in his chair and beamed at Red. ‘… a word or two from old man Hess.’
When lunch was over and the table cleared, Cedric invited Red for a stroll along one of the woodland tracks. It was not to admire the trees. He told Red candidly that he was worried sick. ‘… . and if you want to know why, it’s because of you. When I picked you for this job, I didn’t have much choice. I needed a fluent speaker of German who knows Berlin, and that’s you. You’re a competent writer with a lively style. You’re also foolhardy, impetuous and you shoot off your mouth too much.’ Cedric paused, practically inviting a riposte from Red, but none came. ‘I knew that, of course. I knew I was taking a blind running jump with you. I tried to tell myself that your cocksure manner is an asset that you might even use to charm your way into Spandau. I just hope the charm works better over there than it has on me. I’m handing you the greatest assignment of my editorial career. If you blow it, Goodbody, so help me, I’ll see you never work on a newspaper again.’