It was a day or two later that Abe Kelso found himself back in the Oval Office with the President. It was a fine sunny morning this time, the atmosphere totally different.
‘Time to go, Abe,’ Roosevelt told him. ‘A week, no more. Winston’s agreed to see you. Listen to what he has to say, listen to all of them – Ike, Montgomery, Patton, the lot. All I’m seeking is your opinion, honest and un biased, about the way they all see the invasion of Europe.’
‘I’ll do my best, Mr President.’
Roosevelt fitted another cigarette into his holder. ‘This bombing of London, the Little Blitz. It seems to have run its course.’
‘That would appear to be so. There was never more than sixty or seventy planes at a time according to the War Department,’ Abe said. ‘Plenty of damage and people killed, but not on the old scale.’
‘That may be, but one report I had from our intelligence people suggests that the good citizens of London are getting rather impatient. They want to see some action. Always remember, the British have been at this war since 1939. Another thing – this Nazi rocket programme, the missiles we know they’ve been constructing. Get me a profile on that. I need to know what people are saying, but it’s your opinion I need.’
Abe smiled. ‘In other words, what the politicians and top brass over there are really thinking.’
‘Exactly.’ The President smiled. ‘On your way, Abe. I know I can rely on you.’
Crossing the coast of New England later that night in a Flying Fortress on its way to join the 8th Air Force in England, Abe made himself comfortable with the army blankets and pillows the crew had given him and accepted coffee from the young sergeant waist-gunner.
He went over again his conversation with Roosevelt. In fact, he went over it several times. He had to get it right, it was as simple as that. In any event, the prospect of meeting some of the most important people in the Allied war effort face-to-face filled him with joy, but also a kind of fear.
After a couple of hours, one of the pilots, a young lieutenant named Miller, came back with a thermos of coffee and sat beside him. The lieutenant filled two cups and gave him one.
‘Sorry, it’s not comfortable, Senator. You won’t be too familiar with military flying.’
Almost without thinking, Abe replied, ‘Maybe not me, but it’s in the family. My son was a fighter pilot with the British in the First War.’ He hesitated, then left Max out of the equation. ‘And my grandson’s a fighter pilot with the RAF now.’
‘With the RAF? Shouldn’t he be flying with us by now?’
‘Yes, he should, is the answer to that,’ Abe told him. ‘But he seems to be a fairly stubborn fellow.’
Miller laughed. ‘Fighter pilots are like that – a funny breed. Know what they call bomber pilots? Truck drivers!’
‘Actually, he flew bombers for a little while, too, in the Middle East. Sank an Italian cruiser.’
It didn’t register with Miller, who simply nodded and got up. ‘Good for him. Well, I’ve got work to do now, Senator. I’ll see you later.’
Abe sat there thinking about it as the Fortress droned on into the night, then hitched a blanket around his shoulders and went to sleep.
In Berlin, Max reported to Galland at Luftwaffe headquarters and found him in the canteen having sandwiches and beer. He looked up, genuinely pleased. ‘Good to see you, Max.’
‘I thought we should talk.’ Max sat down. ‘Now that our latest escapade over London has run its course, I’d like to return to 109s. The Junkers is all very well, but it’s not my cup of tea.’
‘Well, you took one to London fifteen times and brought it back in one piece.’
‘That’s not the point. Come on, Dolfo.’
Galland sat there looking at him, frowning slightly and then nodded. ‘I’ll make you my personal aide in the general area of the French coast. You’ll have your own ME109. What you do with it when my back is turned is your business. Is that acceptable?’
‘Perfectly.’
‘Good. I must go. By the way, I hear the Gestapo lifted Generals Prien and Krebs the other day, also Prien’s aide, Colonel Lindemann and some junior people.’
‘Why?’
‘The whisper is there was a failed bomb plot against the Führer. They were all members of that bridge club at the old Adler Hotel.’
‘So?’ Max said.
‘Doesn’t your mother play there?’
Max was thunderstruck. ‘I’m not certain.’
‘I think she’d be advised to go to another club,’ Galland said. ‘These are troubled times,’ and he turned and went out.
Max immediately tried Bubi at his office, but he was out, Trudi Braun said. He told her he wanted to meet him and would be in the Adlon Bar at six. She put the phone down and Bubi, the extension in his hand, replaced it.
‘Is this bad?’ she said.
‘It could be.’
‘Should you get involved?’
‘He’s my friend.’ He straightened his uniform. ‘I’m going to sound out the Reichsführer. Give me that report on French Resistance activity on the West Wall. It will give me an excuse to talk.’
She was worried now. ‘Be careful.’
Himmler examined the report and nodded. ‘Very thorough. All these terrorists will be instantly shot when rounded up. No exceptions.’
‘Certainly, Reichsführer.’
‘And now, I have to meet with the Führer in the Bunker. I just got the call.’
‘Anything in particular?’ Bubi Hartmann asked carefully.
‘I’m not sure although he is hardly pleased by that abortive attempt on his life the other day. Naturally my special unit arrested all involved. A bridge club, would you credit such a thing? They were all executed at once – Prien, Krebs, Lindemann and some junior officers and a couple of women.’
Bubi turned pale. ‘Firing squad, Reichsführer?’
‘Too honourable a way out for such scum. No, the Führer’s orders were clear. Execution with piano wire, the whole process to be filmed. Such a record has its uses,’ Himmler added. ‘And no, Colonel, your friend’s mother, the good Baroness, was not among them. At the moment, there isn’t enough proof.’
‘I see, Reichsführer.’
Bubi made for the door and Himmler called, ‘I’d advise you to consider your friendship with the Baron, Hartmann. You are valuable to me, but no one is indispensable.’
In the bar at the Adlon Max sat at his usual table, drinking cognac to steady his nerves. He was afraid, but not for himself, only his mother. How stupid she had been, how incredibly stupid. Hartmann came in and joined him, waving the waiter away.
‘Thank God you came,’ Max said.
‘The last time, Max. I can’t take chances any more. This is a very bad scene.’
‘Tell me.’
Which Bubi did in graphic detail. ‘So now you know.’
‘God in heaven, that they can do such things.’
‘They can, believe me. So, your mother must walk very carefully.’ He stood up. ‘We won’t meet like this again, Max. Himmler himself has warned me off.’
Elsa was in her suite, sitting on the couch by the fireplace enjoying a drink, when Rosa opened the door for Max.
‘My darling boy, how marvellous. Just in time for a cocktail.’
‘Never mind that. I’ve news for you. Your friends Generals Prien and Krebs? Colonel Lindemann and the others plus a couple of women, all members of your Adler bridge club? Does any of this mean anything to you?’
She was almost petulant. ‘I heard a whisper that there had been some difficulty.’
‘That’s one way of putting it. The difficulty was an attempt to blow up the Führer which, of course, failed. Your friends, the people I’ve mentioned, are all dead, Mutti, hung by the neck by piano wire and their sorry end filmed for Himmler’s files.’
She was visibly shaken. ‘That can’t be true.’
‘My good friend Bubi Hartmann has risked his own neck to warn me. The only reason Himmler hasn’t had you arrested is that he lacks solid proof.’
‘God damn him!’ Elsa said and there were angry tears in her eyes. ‘They can’t do this to me.’
The dressing-room door flew open and Rosa appeared. ‘Is everything all right, Baroness?’
Rosa’s eyes were swollen with weeping and Max said, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘They’ve arrested Heini again and sent him to Auschwitz,’ Elsa said.
‘Is that so? How could that be, Mutti? You just told me “they can’t do that to me”, wasn’t that your phrase?’
‘Damn you, Max.’
She hammered at his chest and he took her wrists. ‘Stupid, arrogant, vain. You think being Baroness von Halder is important? Not in the Third Reich. You think Goering will help you when you’re in a mess like this? Not in the Third Reich. You were always window dressing, Mutti, just like me. The Black Baron in flying clothes with all the medals.’
‘Max – please.’
‘I’ve had it. You carry on down this road, as I’ve said before, and you’ll take everyone with you.’ He turned to Rosa. ‘So they took your Heini? Never mind. The way my mother’s behaving, they’ll have you too before long. Perhaps even me.’
He walked to the door. Elsa called, ‘Max – listen.’
He turned. ‘And it was for this that we left Boston? It was to support the arrogance of a von Halder that I lost my brother?’
He opened the door and went out and she collapsed on the couch in tears.
Himmler’s Mercedes turned out of Wilhelmplatz and into Vosstrasse and drove towards the Reich Chancellery. Beneath that incredible building the Führer had had a bunker constructed. It was his underground headquarters protected by thirty metres of concrete, proof against any bomb the Allies could drop on Berlin.
The Mercedes drew into a car ramp and an SS sentry approached. That it was the Reichsführer, he knew full well, but Himmler had rigid standards so the sentry demanded his identification papers. He examined them and saluted and Himmler got out and went below.
Through dim lighting, endless corridors, the gentle droning of electric fans in the ventilating system, he finally came to a door manned by another SS sentry. He nodded, the sentry opened it and Himmler passed inside, to find Goebbels, von Ribbentrop, Martin Bormann and Admiral Canaris standing at what was called the General Map Table. He could hear the angry sound of the Führer’s voice from his private study.
‘What’s going on?’ Himmler asked Bormann.
‘He isn’t pleased.’
The door opened and Field Marshal von Rundstedt, Rommel and Field Marshal von Kluge emerged, the Führer behind them.
‘Go on, get out. Come back to me with common sense or not at all.’
They went out in confusion, Rommel looking grim, and Hitler turned to the others. ‘This map,’ he said. ‘The Channel, France. All they can talk about is where will the enemy land. Pas de Calais or Normandy, who cares? We will crush them on the beaches, isn’t this so?’
‘Naturally, my Führer,’ Bormann told him.
‘So, where the enemy will land, as I say, is irrelevant. Why can’t they come up with something useful, these clowns?’ He slapped his thigh and laughed. ‘Do you know what would be useful, gentlemen, really useful?’
They all stared nervously. It was Himmler who said, ‘What would that be, my Führer?’
‘For a bomb to fall on Eisenhower! He’s the leader, he’s the brain, good German stock, a worthy adversary. With him out of the way, they’d be in total disarray. Montgomery is a clown.’
‘You are right as always,’ Himmler said. ‘There are, of course, many ways to skin a cat. What a pity the Abwehr’s secret intelligence organization in England was totally destroyed.’ He glanced at Canaris. ‘There could have been an obvious solution, a simple assassination, but of course there’s nobody left to do it.’
Canaris looked haggard and Hitler said in an almost kindly tone, ‘Not your fault. The fortunes of war, Admiral.’ He turned to Himmler. ‘But what a pleasing prospect, Reichsführer. It lifts my heart to think of it.’
Later in his office, Himmler said to Bubi Hartmann, ‘So, I’ve told you what the Führer said. Tell me, is there anyone amongst your English agents who could accomplish such a task?’
‘I regret to say no one, Reichsführer. Can you imagine the security around Eisenhower? There is always the IRA, of course. We could approach them to arrange a contract killing.’
‘Nonsense,’ Himmler said. ‘They bungle everything, those Irish clodhoppers. Still, bear it in mind, Colonel.’
Back in his own office, he reached for the cognac again as he told Trudi all.
‘Kill Eisenhower?’ she said.
‘The ultimate fantasy.’ He toasted her. ‘To you and me, Trudi, the only sane people in a crazy world.’
In London, Abe moved into a suite at the Savoy. One of the first things he did was to trace Harry, which led him to a phone conversation with West.
‘I understand my grandson is your aide?’ Abe said.
‘In a manner of speaking, Senator, but it’s more complicated. He operates with a Special Duties Squadron, mainly because he has extensive experience flying enemy aircraft. Sometimes they fall into our hands and he’s our chief test pilot when that happens.’
Abe said, ‘Are you telling me I can’t see him?’
‘It’s not that. The fact is he isn’t here. He’s in Scotland. A Junkers 88S operating out of Norway put down there by mistake. Harry’s gone up to supervise the inspection. He’ll fly it down to what we call the Enemy Aircraft Flight at a special base, but it could be several days. I wish we’d known you were coming.’
‘Top secret. I flew over in a Fortress. Trouble is, I’m due back in six days. I’ve plenty to do. I’m seeing Winston and Ike and others, but Harry was a priority. I last saw him in November ’39, when he left for Finland.’
‘I know and it’s a damn shame. I’ll speak to him and see if we can hurry things along.’
‘One more thing. He still hasn’t transferred to the US Air Force.’
‘He doesn’t want to, Senator.’
‘Well, the President of the United States wants him to. There are those who take it as a slap in the face.’
West was angry and took a deep breath. ‘That annoys me considerably, Senator. Your grandson is famous for not claiming all his kills. He is, in my opinion, the RAF’s top scorer and the finest pilot I’ve ever known. You’ll have to excuse my anger, but the pressure comes from people in your Air Force, usually at high rank, who’ve done damn all. Your grandson is what, twenty-six years of age? Five years of combat flying. He shouldn’t be here, but he is.’
‘Thank God for it,’ Abe told him. ‘And get as angry as you like. I’ll have to go. I’ve an immediate meeting with Ike at Hayes Lodge.’
‘I hope we get a chance to meet,’ West said.
‘Oh, we will, you can count on it.’
The JU88S in Scotland had experienced bad luck. Bounced by a Mosquito over the North Sea, its instruments damaged and the navigator and rear gunner dead, the wounded pilot had gone down into heavy cloud cover and escaped. As he couldn’t see the Pole Star, he couldn’t navigate that way and in any event, his left arm was so badly wounded that it took everything he had to hang on to the column. When the coast came and he saw the lights of an airfield, he went down fast and landed on an RAF bomber station called Kinross. When they took him from the aircraft he was unconscious.
There was no question of flying the aircraft down to the south of England until at least minimum repairs had been made to the cockpit and instruments. An engineering officer and a top crew were supplied and Harry made a close inspection and told them what was needed.
He was in the mess that evening when West called. ‘How soon can you bring that thing down?’
‘Three days, maybe four.’
‘Could you make it sooner? Your grandfather’s here.’
It was quite a shock. Harry said, ‘Do you know for how long?’
‘Six days, which includes today. Look, Harry, just leave it. Fly back. I’ll find someone else.’
‘There is no one who has the expertise I have, you know that.’
‘He raised the question of you transferring to your Yankee friends, says Roosevelt thinks you should.’
‘Well to hell with him too,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll be back when I’m back, sir. I’ll be in touch.’
He stood at the bar in the officers’ mess, had a whisky and water and thought about it. The other officers tended to keep away, awed by the medals, the legend. Harry was oblivious to all that. He could have rushed back to London, so why not? The answer was simple. He was deliberately avoiding his grandfather. It was as if the old man was from another life, a life that had included Max and Mutti, but that life was in the past, a distant dream. Still, he would have to see him, no way round it.
He called to Jervis, the flight lieutenant in charge of engine repairs. ‘Come and have a drink, we need to talk.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Jervis, touched with glory, was delighted.
‘You said three or four days on the JU. Thing is, there’s a flap on. I’ve had Air Vice Marshal West on the phone and he wants it yesterday. Could you manage two days?’
‘Well, I’d need two teams and work nights, sir.’
‘I’m sure the Air Vice Marshal would appreciate it. By the way, once they see what you’ve accomplished when we deliver it to the Enemy Aircraft Flight, they’ll probably refuse to let you go. You’re a first-class aircraft engineer and I’m sure West will appreciate that when he sees my report.’
It was enough. Jervis couldn’t have been more pleased. ‘I say, sir, coming from you!’ He pushed his drink away. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go and get things moving. Two days you said, sir. Consider it done.’
‘And you’ll enjoy the Enemy Aircraft Flight,’ Harry said. ‘Consider that done.’
Abe worked his way through Churchill, Anthony Eden, Eisenhower, listening patiently. Even when generals like Patton and Omar Bradley were disagreeing they were worth listening to as well. He had an uncomfortable lunch with Montgomery at Broomfield House, when the Field Marshal made no secret of his belief that he and not Ike should be in supreme command.
He was even driven up to Norfolk to visit an American base from which B17s were engaged in daylight raids on Germany. The carnage had been terrible already, almost non-sustainable. Abe witnessed for himself some planes returning in the middle of the afternoon, one of them so badly damaged it had to pancake, skidding to the end of the runway and then exploding into fire. It was one of the most shocking experiences of his life and not improved by being told that five planes hadn’t made it back.
He had a drink in the officers’ mess before leaving and said to his host, a brigadier general named Read, ‘So young, those boys. I’ll tell the President what I’ve seen, you may be sure, but in a way I feel ashamed.’
A young major moved to the bar, his face strained and tired. On his left breast he had the usual wings and ribbons, but on his right he wore RAF wings.
‘This is Major Wood,’ Read said. ‘He was on the raid.’
‘RAF wings,’ Abe said.
‘Oh, sure. Woodsy flew Wellingtons and then Lancasters with RAF Bomber Command. Senator Abe Kelso, Major.’
Wood shook hands, then frowned. ‘Kelso? Would you by any chance know Harry Kelso?’
‘My grandson.’
The young man pumped his hand vigorously. ‘He’s the best. Right through the Battle of Britain, then Africa and sinking that Italian cruiser. He is still around, I hope?’
‘Wing commander now. Some sort of special duties.’
‘That’s wonderful. I mean, when a guy like that is still here, it gives us all hope.’ Wood smiled and moved away.
Read said, ‘I hadn’t realized, Senator. I’m surprised he hasn’t moved over.’
‘A long story, General.’ Abe smiled. ‘And now, I think I’d better get back to London.’
The following morning, Harry flew down to Surrey escorted by two Spitfires just in case anyone tried to shoot him down. Jervis took the navigator’s seat and Tarquin sat on the floor in his jump bag, Harry unzipping it so the bear’s head showed through.
‘He looks thoughtful,’ Jervis said.
‘So would you if you’d seen what he’s seen. He’s been flying since 1916.’
‘My God.’
The flight was uneventful. At the last moment, the Spitfires banked away and Harry landed, listened to the controller then taxied to a row of hangars and switched off. He and Jervis got out. Inside the hangars were a selection of Luftwaffe planes: an Arado, two ME109s, a couple of Storchs.
‘Plenty for you to get your teeth stuck into here,’ he told Jervis.
An RAF staff car rolled up and West got out. ‘Thought I’d pick you up.’
‘That’s good of you, sir. May I introduce Flight Lieutenant Jervis? I mentioned him in my daily dispatch yesterday.’
‘Excellent work, Jervis.’ West shook his hand. ‘I’m having you transferred to Special Duties. I’m putting you up to acting squadron leader. Do a good job and maybe we’ll make it permanent.’
Jervis stammered, ‘Thank you, sir.’ Harry waved at him and followed West into the car.
‘Your grandfather’s at the Savoy. I thought I’d drop you off.’
‘Very kind of you, sir. Have you met?’
‘Oh, yes. Nice man.’ West offered Harry a cigarette. ‘It’s getting more difficult to hang on to you, Harry, and the Air Ministry don’t want any trouble.’
‘I couldn’t care less,’ Harry said.
‘Awkward sod. Anyway, I’ll drop you off. Oh, and by the way, I’ve got a courier flight for you tomorrow. Kill two birds with one stone.’
‘And what would that be?’
West told him, then dropped him at the Savoy and Harry walked in with a bag in each hand. The concierge himself took them and handed them to a boy.
‘I think we’re full, Wing Commander.’
‘My grandfather’s here, Senator Kelso.’
The concierge beamed. ‘Of course, sir. Two-bedroomed suite, on the first floor. No problem.’
Abe, standing by the window of the sitting room of his suite, was enjoying a cigar and looking out over the Thames. There was a knock at the door.
‘Porter, sir.’
‘Come in, it’s not locked,’ Abe bellowed.
The door opened and the porter entered with the bags. ‘What’s this?’ Abe demanded and then Harry stepped in.
‘Hello, Abe,’ he said, just like the old days and it was as if the years had melted away.
Abe, overcome by emotion, flung his arms round him and wept.
A few minutes later, sitting by the window, he drank brandy to settle his nerves. ‘Dammit, Harry, this is unbelievable. My God, all those medals.’
‘Remember what Dad used to say? Nice bit of tin. Any news of Max and Mutti?’
‘No, my Swedish connection has dried up.’
‘I might be able to find something out.’
‘How could you?’
‘I work for a Brigadier Munro. He’s with SOE and very clued up in the intelligence field.’
‘I’ve heard of him. He’s heavily involved with Ike.’
‘He would be,’ Harry said. ‘The invasion. Munro drops agents into France all the time. I do flights for him. I’ll see what I can do.’
Abe nodded. ‘We’ve got a problem. The President wants you in the US Air Force and so does Ike.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Harry exploded. ‘I’ve had just about enough of this! What are they going to do, court-martial me?’
‘Harry, you’re being stupid.’
‘How come? I mean, do they think Max should transfer in from the Luftwaffe?’ He got up and took a deep breath. ‘Enough. I need a bath. What are you doing tonight?’
‘I’ve booked a table in the River Room.’
‘Excellent.’ Harry opened the jump bag and put Tarquin on the table. ‘There you go, Abe, doesn’t that take you back? Every flight I’ve done, he’s been there.’ He picked up his other bag. ‘I’ll use the spare room.’ As he opened the door he added, ‘I hear you’re flying down from Croydon to Southwick House with Ike tomorrow.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I’m the courier pilot.’
The River Room was busy early, but then everywhere in London was these days and when Abe and Harry arrived the head waiter came up at once.
‘I have a nice table for you at the window, Senator. For four, you said?’
‘That’s fine,’ Abe told him.
They were seated, he ordered champagne cocktails and Harry said, ‘Who are the others?’
‘Oh, I decided to check out your Brigadier Munro while you were in the bath. I told him you were dining with me and asked him to join us. He suggested bringing his niece, a Doctor Sobel. I understand you know her?’
‘Yes, we’ve met, but it was some time ago. Her mother was Munro’s sister, English. The girl’s father was an air force colonel last I heard.’
‘Not any more. He’s a major-general now and he’s been here for a month. He’s around Ike quite a lot.’
‘Well, good for him.’ Harry frowned. ‘I wonder what Munro’s up to?’
‘Does he have to be up to something?’
‘Oh, yes, it’s meat and drink to him.’
At that moment Munro arrived with Molly. He was in uniform, she wore an evening suit of a jacket and short skirt in some sort of brown crêpe. She had little make-up and her hair was tied back with a brown velvet bow.
Harry and Abe stood up and Munro said, ‘My niece Molly, Senator.’
Abe looked at her with considerable approval. ‘I know your father, and you, I understand, know my grandson.’
She smiled at Harry and shook hands. ‘How are you?’
‘In my prime.’
‘You always were.’
‘Last time I saw you, you looked tired,’ he said.
‘And now?’
‘Good enough to …’ he hesitated, ‘dance with and let’s do just that and leave the older generation to talk.’
The Orpheans were playing a slow foxtrot, ‘Night and Day’, and she moved into his arms. ‘Here we are again,’ he said.
‘And here you are covered in glory as usual.’
‘What about you? You were at the Cromwell, as I remember. Still there?’
‘Now and then. I’m a senior surgeon now.’
‘That’s great. You must be good.’
‘Oh, the war helps, you know how it is. I operate from a central unit and service several hospitals.’
‘Do you still work for Munro? Julie Legrande told me you were a sort of flying doctor to Cold Harbour.’
‘Now and then.’ She frowned. ‘You mean something more.’
‘That time you and I took a walk through town after lunch at the Garrick. I overheard dear old Dougal talking to you afterwards at the flat. He’d asked you to see what you could get out of me.’
‘Oh, damn,’ she said. ‘I’d make a rotten spy.’
‘That’s okay. I enjoyed the walk. Are you supposed to do the same thing tonight?’
‘If you must know, my uncle told me he was seeing you and your grandfather for dinner and I asked if I could come.’
‘Did you now? I wonder why?’
‘Don’t be a pig, Harry Kelso. You know damn well why.’
For a moment, she was close to tears and he was immediately contrite. ‘Okay, I’m sorry and I am a pig.’
The orchestra moved into ‘A Foggy Day in London Town’ and Molly inched closer. ‘How’s Jack Carter?’ he asked.
‘He’s fine. Major Carter now.’
‘Any man in your life?’
‘Yes, but he isn’t doing much about it.’
He held her even closer and at the table, Munro said to Abe, ‘I might as well tell you, Senator, the poor girl fell for the wretch the first time she met him.’
‘And I might as well tell you that suits me just fine,’ Abe said.
Molly and Harry sat down, the wine waiter poured champagne and the head waiter suggested the evening’s main dish, a haddock, potato and onion pie. They all took it.
‘That’s war for you, real food.’ Munro raised his glass. ‘To us and to hell with Hitler.’
‘Speaking of the Führer,’ Harry said, ‘do you have any news of Max?’
‘None that you’d like to hear. During the Little Blitz, he was a pathfinder flying a JU88S out of Chartres and also Rennes. I believe he made something like fifteen or sixteen raids.’
‘That must have been tough,’ Harry said calmly. ‘The South of England is no place for the Luftwaffe these days.’
There was a slight pause. Molly said, ‘Tough? Harry, he was bombing London. Did you know that over a hundred people died in a single tube station that was hit?’
‘The cruiser Orsini had a crew of eight hundred and twenty men,’ Harry replied quietly. ‘After I sank her, do you know how many they picked up?’
‘No,’ she said, in a small voice, and there was something close to fear on his face.
‘Seventy-two. So I killed seven hundred and forty-eight people.’ He shrugged. ‘Like they say, war is hell. A tube station, a cruiser … People die, Molly. We kill them. That’s what we do.’
Silence reigned for a few uncomfortable moments, before Munro hastily changed the subject. ‘You’re going down to Southwick tomorrow with Ike?’ he said to Abe.
‘That’s right, and Harry’s the courier pilot.’
‘Have you met Ike yet, Harry?’ Munro asked.
‘You know I haven’t, you old fox.’
‘Watch out. He’ll try to get you to join up.’ At that moment, the head waiter came over. ‘I’m terribly sorry, but they’ve phoned from Guy’s Hospital, Doctor Sobel. You’re wanted immediately.’
‘Oh, dear, here we go again. May I use your staff car, uncle?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’ll see you to the door,’ Harry said.
They went out of the entrance and the porter on duty said, ‘Brigadier Munro’s driver went across the road for a sandwich and a cup of tea, Wing Commander. I’ll go and get him.’
He hurried away and Harry and Molly walked after him and stood on the pavement in the main road. A camera shop was next door, and a photographer stood outside accosting passers-by in the fading light.
‘Isn’t it too dark?’ Molly asked.
The photographer heard and shook his head. ‘I use flashlight. Ready in twenty-four hours. One pound.’
‘I could be dead in twenty-four hours,’ Harry said.
‘That’s a terrible thing to say,’ Molly told him.
Harry took a white five-pound note from his wallet and unfolded it. ‘Two copies. One for the lady and one for me delivered at the reception desk of the Savoy within two hours. Name of Kelso. If you let me down, I’ll get my brother to bomb your shop.’
‘You’re a card, guv, and no mistake, but you’re on.’ They walked back to the Savoy and stood in the entrance and he took the picture once and again for luck. ‘I won’t let you down, guv.’
The staff car drew up and Harry opened the door for her. ‘It was nice seeing you again.’
‘Oh, you fool.’ She reached up and kissed him on the mouth. ‘I suppose you’ll go to hell your own way,’ and she got into the staff car.
Harry found Munro and Abe deep in conversation when he rejoined them. ‘What are you two up to?’ he said as he sat down. ‘Winning the war?’
‘No, the war is won, Harry,’ Abe told him. ‘Just a matter of time.’
‘What about the Führer’s secret weapons? The rockets and so on? We all hear the whispers. They’ve even got a great jet plane in development.’
‘Our estimate is that none of it will matter,’ Munro said. ‘We will win, there’s no doubt about that. Bloody battles to come both in Russia and Europe, but at the end stands victory.’
‘That’s a German slogan.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of that. More champagne?’
‘Better not. I’m flying in the morning.’
Abe said, ‘Brigadier Munro’s mentioned one item of news out of Berlin that isn’t too comforting. There was a bungled attempt on Hitler’s life. A number of officers and two women were arrested and executed. They were all members of the same bridge club.’
‘So what?’
‘The thing is, Elsa was a member of the same club.’
Harry turned very pale, his face like stone then snapped his fingers at the wine waiter. ‘I will have that other glass of champagne.’ He lit a cigarette and turned to Munro. ‘Tell me.’
When Munro was finished, there was a silence. Finally, Harry said, ‘Your contacts in Berlin are good?’
‘Very good. We even have people within the armed services who do what they can.’
‘And you’re sure my mother hasn’t been arrested?’
‘Definitely. Harry, she has a very high profile socially. She’s frequently in Goering’s company.’ He shook his head. ‘However, her association with the wrong people won’t go down well at Gestapo headquarters. From what I’m told, she’s no friend to the Nazis, but so far, her privileged position has protected her.’
‘But not for ever?’
‘I’d say she needs to take care.’
‘Well, let’s hope the shock of what’s happened gives her pause for thought,’ Abe said.
‘Yes, well, the only trouble with that is she never paused for a thought in her life.’ Harry was angry.
‘Just like you?’ Munro observed.
Harry laughed reluctantly. ‘Okay, Brigadier, okay. Still, I hope she’s learned a lesson.’
‘So do we all,’ Abe said.
At that moment, the head waiter appeared with a large envelope. ‘The photographer from the shop round the corner has delivered this, Wing Commander.’
‘Thanks.’ Harry opened the envelope and took out four prints. ‘He’s done me proud. I asked for two.’
It was a nice shot, the two of them with the entrance of the Savoy behind. ‘Take one for Molly, another for yourself. You can have the spare, Abe.’ Harry took out his wallet, measured the photo and called the head waiter again. ‘I’m sure you have some scissors. Cut that for me so it fits in the wallet.’
‘A pleasure, sir.’
Harry finished his champagne. ‘And so to bed. We’ve got to be up and ready for Croydon pretty early, Abe.’
‘I’m with you.’
The head waiter returned with the wallet and photo. ‘Many thanks.’ Harry fitted the photo inside. ‘You can tell Molly I’m wearing her over my heart, Brigadier. See you soon,’ and he got up and walked out.
In the little café in Westbourne Grove, Sarah and Fernando sat at the usual table.
‘Nothing much to report really,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a duty roster here for Special Duties pilots flying Eisenhower from Croydon to Southwick House. He’s using the landing strip there a lot these days. Backwards and forwards from London.’
‘This Wing Commander Kelso who flies him tomorrow,’ Fernando said. ‘Berlin wanted any mention of him, am I right?’
‘That’s so. You’ll see he’s permanently attached to the Courier Service, but there’s more to him than that. Special Duties stuff. As we’ve mentioned before, it all ties in with Tempsford and Tangmere and, of course, Cold Harbour.’
‘Good.’ He folded the papers and put them in his pocket. ‘So, now we eat.’
Croydon was thick with mist and heavy rain was falling as Abe waited in a rather bare Nissen hut and drank bad coffee. The Lysander, that squat and ugly high-wing monoplane, was on the apron being checked by two mechanics. Harry, in raincoat and boots, rather incongruously held an umbrella over his head as he talked to them. He turned and came in as a staff car drew up. The driver got out and opened the door for Eisenhower and a young major ran round from the other side. Harry went forward with the umbrella.
‘Well, thank you, son,’ Ike said and they walked to the Nissen hut.
‘Morning Abe,’ Ike said. ‘Is that coffee?’
‘The worst in the world but it’s hot.’
‘That’ll do me.’ He took the cup that a sergeant offered him. ‘One of my aides, Major Hill.’
Hill had pilot’s wings, a DFC and a Purple Heart. ‘A pleasure, Senator.’
‘Are we going anywhere?’ Ike asked, peering out at all that mist and rain. ‘What do you think, Major?’
‘I’m not sure. Better ask the pilot.’ Harry came out of the map room at that moment and Hill said, ‘Are we going? It looks like a wipe-out to me.’
Harry peered out. ‘No problem. Fog doesn’t mean a thing on taking off, Major, you should know that.’
Hill was annoyed. ‘Listen, we’re talking the Supreme Commander here. I don’t want some transport driver trying to make a name.’
‘Well, we’ll just have to do our best, Major, and adopt a more appropriate tone. I outrank you.’
Harry removed his raincoat and took a flying jacket from a peg. Ike turned, frowning, and Hill took in all the medals, the shoulder tabs and stammered, ‘I’m sorry, Wing Commander. I didn’t realize.’
‘Well, now you do.’
Harry pulled on his flying jacket and Ike said, ‘You’re American?’
‘Harry Kelso, sir.’
Ike held out his hand. ‘So at last we meet, Wing Commander, and it’s a privilege.’ He turned to Hill. ‘Senator Kelso’s grandson.’
Again, there was that look of awe on Hill’s face that people in the same trade so often showed on meeting Kelso. ‘You were in the Battle of Britain. You sank the Orsini.’
‘All in the day’s work, Major.’ Harry turned to Ike. ‘Heavy rain, but otherwise clear in the Southwick House area. A little bumpy, but I’ll have you there in forty minutes.’
‘That’s fine by me,’ General Eisenhower said.
It wasn’t a good trip. It was noisy, the heavy rain drumming against the canopy, and they dropped alarmingly in air pockets, but then there was Portsmouth over to the left, swallowed in rain, and Harry, as good as his word, landed at the airstrip right on time. A staff car was waiting.
As they walked to it, Ike said to Harry, ‘Back at four. That suit you, Wing Commander?’
‘Fine. They’re already putting a crew on the engine and we’ll refuel, though we don’t need it. Comes of being important, General. I’ll be here.’
‘No, you won’t. Come up to the house with us.’ Ike got into the staff car.
Fort Southwick was of nineteenth-century construction, with a maze of tunnels, and it was being utilized as Combined Underground Operations headquarters for Overlord. All signal traffic concerned with the coming invasion passed through it, and at its heart was the Naval Plotting Room. It was one of the best-kept secrets of the war.
Southwick House had been chosen as Overlord HQ because of its proximity to the Fort, and the Navy had subsequently been turned out and SHAEF had taken over. There were tents and caravans all over the ground to accommodate the vast numbers of personnel. Montgomery had a caravan, although he wasn’t there that day. Eisenhower had an enormous one alongside Pitymoor Lane. It was incredibly spacious, complete with a communications room, sitting and bedrooms and bathroom facilities.
He said to Abe, ‘We’ve got to talk,’ and turned to Hill. ‘Take the wing commander for a walk. Show him everything. We’ll see you for something to eat. Let’s say one o’clock.’
Hill did show Harry everything, one place of particular interest being what Hill called the Map Room. Two workmen were starting to put up in sections what was obviously going to be a vast wall map.
‘The French coast and general invasion area.’ Hill shook his head. ‘Poor devils.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Those workmen don’t know it, but when they finish, they won’t be allowed to leave here until after the great day.’
Harry laughed out loud. ‘They’ll be wondering which side they’re on.’
Later, in the canteen, they sat in the corner, had a cigarette and Harry drank tea. ‘See what a Brit I’ve become? Can’t stand coffee.’
‘You’ve been at it a long time.’
‘Finland, November ’39.’
‘Christ, five years.’
‘What about you?’
‘B17 pilot. Eleven missions, then took cannon fire in the cockpit. My left arm is only half-strength. I’ll never fly again. I’m lucky this job came along.’
‘What will you do when it’s over?’
‘I was in publicity in Hollywood before it started. I’ll go back and rejoin the work of fantasy. Maybe they’ll do flying movies, like they did after the First War. What about you?’
‘I never consider it. A long way to go yet.’
‘I understand.’
A moment later, an orderly appeared and asked them to join General Eisenhower and Abe in the dining room.
Over roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, Eisenhower said, ‘Wing Commander, I’ve got to be frank with you. The time has come for you to move to our air force, with the equivalent rank of lieutenant-colonel, naturally.’
Harry suppressed his impatience – this was Eisenhower, after all. ‘I’m very happy as I am, General. I’d like to finish what I started.’
‘I believe your grandfather has told you it’s the President’s wish, and it is also mine as your Supreme Commander. Now let’s finish our meal in harmony. The beef is really excellent.’
Later that night back at the Savoy, Munro phoned him. ‘How did it go with Ike?’
‘To use a grand old English phrase, he put the boot in. He’s given me a week to decide to transfer of my own choice. After that, I don’t have a choice. Do you know if Teddy West is around?’
‘I’ll see, but I can offer you something to take your mind off it for the next two days.’
‘Anything. What is it?’
‘I’ve someone very important to be picked up in France by Lysander operating from Cold Harbour. I don’t need you to fly the Lysander, but I do need you to shadow the mission in a Hurricane. The client is really very important. A big man in de Gaulle’s organization. Will you do it?’
‘My God, yes.’
‘If West approves, such a mission means you will be starting an official tour with my Special Duties Squadron and I think you are aware that such tours extend to sixty operations.’
‘I know that.’
‘I may just have saved your bacon.’ Munro rang off.
‘Everything okay?’ Abe asked.
‘I’m back on duty tomorrow. Special job. Sorry, but that’s the way it is.’
‘Will it be rough?’
‘I’ll be flying over there, but what the hell, I’ve been doing that for years. You’ll be going back the day after tomorrow anyway.’
‘True.’ Abe nodded. ‘I can’t tell you how much it’s meant to me to see you.’ He was very emotional. ‘I think I’ll go to bed.’
Harry switched off the lamps, lit a cigarette and looked out over the Thames in the half-light then turned and saw Tarquin peering at him out of the gloom.
‘Well, here we go again, old buddy,’ he said.