Wilde was shown into a small ante-room on the ground floor of Number 10. He had been driven down to London with Eaton, but the MI6 man left him in Whitehall at the entrance to Downing Street. ‘I’m sorry, Wilde, you’ve got to do this yourself. I have other work.’
The journey had been strange. Wilde had a hundred questions to ask, but Eaton wasn’t answering any of them. ‘Not my place, old boy. I was just asked to pick you up and bring you down because I know you.’
‘But it was your place to despatch Quayle, was it?’
Eaton did not reply. Nor did he reply when asked how he knew that Wilde and Harriet had taken Coburg to the former bishop’s home or why he had arrived with a squadron of armed officers. Wilde badly wanted answers to these questions, but for the moment the important thing was that he had access to Churchill and that something could be done about Rudi Coburg and his testimony of Nazi atrocities in Poland. All other matters were subordinate and could wait.
Now, though, he had another, rather more trivial need: he badly wanted a coffee or, at the very least, a cup of tea, but no one had offered him anything as he awaited his audience with the great man.
The door opened and the immensely tall figure of Lord Templeman strode in. He smiled at Wilde and instinctively brushed the back of his hand across the port-wine stain on his brow. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘so very good to see you, Mr Wilde. I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you have been granted this audience with the great man.’
‘Then you know what it’s about?’
‘Oh, I have an inkling, but never mind that. You know I was rather worried Mr Eaton would arrive too late at the farmhouse.’
‘He did,’ Wilde said.
‘Really? I rather thought the affair was satisfactorily concluded and that everyone was safely delivered from the threat posed by Quayle.’
‘Then you knew about Quayle?’
‘Well, not specifically. We were pretty certain there was a Nazi agent in our midst, but identifying him was another matter. At first, we were hoping Cazerove would lead us to the fellow because he too was a traitor, but then he killed himself. After that we rather hoped you or Miss Hartwell would oblige.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me any of this? To warn me, as an agent of your principal ally?’
Templeman took a seat at the small table and settled back with his hands clasped behind his head. ‘Mr Wilde, forgive me, please. We behaved appallingly, and that is why I’m here – to apologise profusely. We were desperate, you see. We were pretty certain that someone had been feeding information to the enemy for months. We began to suspect Peter Cazerove, but he was too junior to have access to a lot of the secrets being relayed to Berlin, which meant there was someone else and they were working together. We kept tabs on Cazerove and fed him false information, hoping to flush out his confederate.’
‘The Dieppe raid, though, that wasn’t false information.’
‘Actually it was, because Cazerove didn’t know it was Dieppe – all he knew was that the target was northern France. The problem was the Germans knew we were up to something already, so they were on extra high alert all along that coast and, sadly for those involved, the raid on Dieppe was a debacle.’
‘Are you saying this has all been a case of “hunt the bloody mole”, Templeman?’
‘Up to a point. There were clearly other matters.’
Wilde wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. ‘Such as the rather unpleasant episode of lifting me off the street and drugging me.’
‘Yes, that was a rather extreme measure, for which again, I offer wholehearted apologies. In fact, I feel thoroughly ashamed of that. But you see, we had to find Harriet. She was so close to Peter Cazerove that we had doubts about her, too. How could we be certain which side she was on? We needed to keep her under surveillance. Either that or shut her up.’
‘Shut her up?’
‘We feared she had gone rogue, you see. Apart from anything else, we had to ensure the truth about the Duke of Kent’s flight didn’t come out. And other things. As a secret servant she has had access to confidential information.’
‘She hadn’t gone rogue – she was hiding because she thought she was the target. And she was right.’
‘Yes, I get that now.’
‘God, I could do with a coffee.’
‘Haven’t you been given anything?’ Templeman went to the door and barked an order, then returned.
‘You were talking about the Duke’s flight…’
‘Another matter for Winnie. It seems he has agreed to see you at the King’s request. Apparently, you visited Her Royal Highness the Princess Marina. Hardly diplomatic protocol, Mr Wilde, but it seems to have paid off. You obviously have a knack for getting your own way.’
The coffee arrived. It was piping hot and Wilde did not wait for it to cool. ‘Ah that’s better.’
‘Good. And I hope I have put your mind at rest on a couple of matters. I am sure you have many other questions and perhaps we could have some supper at my club and talk some more. For the moment, I’m afraid work calls.’
‘One thing before you go – what school did you go to, Lord Templeman?’
‘The same as you, Mr Wilde – Harrow. I joined the term your mother took you out and shipped you off to America.’
‘So Harriet was right, you weren’t at Athelstans?’
‘Good Lord, no. My father went there and hated every moment of it. He refused point-blank to send me there, despite the urgings of Grandpapa.’
‘But you know about the Athels?’
Templeman laughed out loud. ‘I suppose you’re thinking that both Cazerove and Quayle went there…’
‘And Coburg – and Harriet’s father taught there. Both she and Coburg are terrified of the Athels. They think they run this country and have people everywhere in the Establishment who could harm them. That’s who Harriet has been running from.’
Templeman shook his head. ‘Oh dear, poor Harriet. I know the Athels have a reputation for plots and conspiracies but it’s all nonsense. They couldn’t conspire their way into a tea-shop in Tunbridge Wells.’
‘But people are scared of them…’
‘Because of their pathetic secrecy, that’s all. Some people at Cambridge feel the same way about the Apostles. Plenty of people in the country feel the world is secretly run by the Freemasons. Bloody Hitler thinks it’s all a conspiracy of Jews.’
‘What about the link between Cazerove and Quayle?’
‘That was something else. It must seem obvious to you now, but for weeks, Quayle was informing against Cazerove, suggesting he and Harriet were the traitors, trying to throw us off the scent. I’m afraid it worked for a while. Anyway, I believe he did the decent thing at the end and shot himself, so that’s all settled.’
Wilde finished the coffee and poured himself a second cup. ‘But he must have had some sort of hold over Cazerove.’
‘Blackmail. I have an old friend from Athelstans, chap named Richard Smoake. As a lad he was chums with Walter Quayle.’
‘I think I’ve heard of him.’ He recalled Harriet saying he had bullied the young Cazerove.
‘Well, he knew both Cazerove and Quayle from Athelstans days. He’s in the FO and I called him last night. He told me all about Quayle and the way he has always worked – he used blackmail to subjugate people. God knows how many – it’s probably the way he secured secrets throughout government departments. Anyway, Richard Smoake is certain that Quayle had a homosexual liaison with Cazerove and has held it over him ever since. Quayle never cared a hoot who knew which way his own proclivities lay, but not everyone is so free of convention. Peter Cazerove’s family would have been scandalised if they ever discovered what he had done. He would probably have been disowned and disinherited. Anyway, talk to Harriet about it. You’ll probably find she either knows or suspects the truth.’
‘But the Athels?’
Templeman laughed. ‘A bunch of self-satisfied drinking pals, nothing more.’
Churchill was in silk pyjamas beneath silk sheets, his back supported by a bank of white pillows while he dictated a memorandum to a young secretary. As soon as he was finished, she hurried away. Churchill immediately turned his attention to his new visitor, standing alone and rather awkwardly just inside the door. An aide whispered a name in Churchill’s ear.
‘Ah, so you are the notorious Professor Wilde.’ The voice was gruff, measured and deep, the product of a lifetime of smoking and heavy drinking.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well, I must thank you for coming to see me, professor. Are you being looked after? Would you care for a drop of brandy?’
‘I have been given coffee, thank you.’
‘Good, good, well take that seat by my bed so I can get a good look at you. Dagger Templeman’s told me a thing or two about your exploits, of course, but I like to find out about people for myself. Are you sure I can’t tempt you to a beverage?’
Wilde found himself laughing at the absurdity of it all. He never drank in the morning. But this wasn’t just any morning, and he had not slept. ‘Well, sir, I think I could probably manage a small whisky.’
‘A small whisky? We don’t do small measures here, young man. You’ll have a large one or nothing.’
‘Then I’ll have to have a large one.’
Churchill bellowed. ‘Sawyers!’
The butler appeared in seconds. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Whisky for this man.’ He turned back to Wilde. ‘Blend or single malt?’
‘Today I think I’ll go for the peatiest malt you have.’
The butler bowed. ‘Indeed, sir. Perhaps an Islay?’
‘Perfect.’
‘Now then,’ Churchill continued after his man had left the room. ‘I believe this has something to do with the Duke of Kent and some damned German fellow. So let’s take them in reverse order, shall we? I want to make myself quite clear from the outset: I will not meet your German. That said, I have read your memorandum and I am as appalled as any civilised human being could be.’
‘Did you believe it, sir?’
‘Every word. I have always known what Hitler’s criminal gang is capable of, which is why I spent so long in the wilderness decried as a warmonger and all the while urging the world to take action against him.’
‘Why will you not meet Coburg? I don’t like him. He has consigned thousands of innocent people to a nightmarish death – but he wants to gain some sort of redemption by broadcasting the truth of what is happening to the world. You are the man who can do this.’
Churchill stuffed a large half-smoked cigar in his mouth and began to relight it. ‘I will not treat with Germans, any Germans. I refused to meet Hitler’s deputy when he flew to Scotland last year and I will not meet your man. That is the end of the discussion. The question is, what do we do with the fellow and how do we get his testimony heard?’
The butler re-entered and handed Wilde a large Scotch.
‘Leave the decanter with us, Sawyers.’
A cloud of cigar smoke drifted Wilde’s way.
‘So let me tell you,’ Churchill continued. ‘I have made a decision. Herr Coburg will be interviewed by The Times newspaper. I have spoken to Robert Barrington-Ward and he has agreed to put one of his top men on the job. The article will run to no less than 2,000 words and will be accompanied by photographs of Coburg and pertinent extracts from his documents to give it authenticity. I believe these papers are presently in the possession of the OSS. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, Mr Churchill, that is so. And what will happen to Coburg?’
‘He will be interned for the duration and will face trial alongside the other Nazi criminals at the end of the war. The fact that he has fled Germany and has told this story will, of course, weigh heavily in favour of clemency. Does this satisfy you, professor?’
He supposed that under the circumstances it was probably the very best that could be hoped for. ‘Yes, sir. Of course, it would have added power to the testimony to have your name attached, but I quite understand your reasoning.’
‘No, you’re wrong, Mr Wilde. My name would merely have allowed Goebbels to sneer at Churchillian propaganda. Let Coburg tell his story in the starkest possible terms and leave it at that.’
‘And is there any direct action that might be taken to disrupt the transports? Bombing the railway lines… even the death camps themselves?’
‘It will be looked into, but I confess I am not hopeful. Poland is at the very extremity of our ability to strike at the evil empire. Now then, we come to the second part of your visit: the death of the Duke, which is inevitably linked to the first part. And so I am going to tell you the true facts behind his death and you will never repeat any of what I say outside this room.’