rather wearily back in his chair. 'We need you here, Ced ..,
he said. There was gentle authority in his voice. 'You are i'e head of our Government--you must remain here. We have "it
154
trained agents?our own emissaries who are qualified for
foreign missions.'
' 'Agents?' Sir George Packham dubiously demanded. 'What
can agents do at this stage? We must have a report from
?Ah, Horsham, there you are?I did not notice you before.
Tell us?what agents have we got? And what can they
possibly do?'
'We've got some very good agents,' said Henry Horsham
quietly. 'Agents bring you information. Herr Spiess also has
brought you information. Information which his agents have
obtained for him. The trouble is?always has been?(you've
only got to read about the last war) nobody wishes to believe
the news the agents bring.'
'Surely?Intelligence?'
'Nobody wants to accept that the agents cere intelligent!
but they are, you know. They are highly trained and their
reports, nine times out of ten, are true. What happens then?
The High-Ups refuse to believe it, don't want to believe it,
go further and refuse to act upon it in any way.'
'Really, my dear Horsham?I can't?'
Horsham turned to the German. '
'Even in your country, sir, didn't that happen? True reports
were brought in, but they weren't always acted upon. People
don't -want to know?if truth is unpalatable.'
'I have to agree?that can and does happen?not often,
of that I assure you?But yes?sometimes?'
Mr Lazenby was fidgeting again with his pipe.
'Let us not argue about information. It is a question of
dealing?of acting upon the information we have got. This
is not merely a national crisis?it is an international crisis.
Decisions must be taken at top level?we must act. Munro,
the police must be reinforced by the Army?military measures
must be set in motion. Herr Spiess, you have always been a
great military nation?rebellions must be put down by armed
forces before they get out of hand. You would agree with
that policy, I am sure?'
The policy, yes. But these insurrections are already what
you term "out of hand". They have tools, rifles, machineguns,
explosives, grenades, bombs, chemical and other gases?'
'But with our nuclear weapons?a mere threat of nuclear
warfare?and?'
'These are not just disaffected schoolboys. With this Army
of Youth there are scientists?young biologists, chemists,
physicists. To start?or to engage in nuclear warfare in Eur-
155
ope--' Herr Spiess shook his head. 'Already we have had an
attempt to poison the water supply at Cologne--Typhoid.'
The whole position is incredible--' Cedric Lazenby looked
round him hopefully-- 'Chetwynd--Munro--Blunt?'
Admiral Blunt was, somewhat to Lazenby's surprise, the
only one to respond.
1 don't know where the Admiralty comes in--not quite
our pigeon. I'd advise you, Cedric, if you want to do the
best thing for yourself, to take your pipe; and a big supply
of tobacco, and get as far out of range of any nuclear
warfare you are thinking of starting as you can. Go and
camp in the Antarctic, or somewhere where radio-activity will
take a long time catching up with you. Professor Eckstein
warned us, you know, and he knows what he's talking about.'
Chapter 18
PIKEAWAY'S POSTSCRIPT
The meeting broke up at this point. It split into a definite
rearrangement.
The German Chancellor with the Prime Minister, Sir
George Packham, Gordon Chetwynd and Dr Reichardt departed
for lunch at Downing Street.
Admiral Blunt, Colonel Munro, Colonel Pikeaway a?. Henry
Horsham remained to make their comments wi
more freedom of speech than they would have permitt :. themselves if the VIP's had remained.
The first remarks made were somewhat disjointed.
Thank goodness they took George Packham with them,'
said Colonel Pikeaway. 'Worry, fidget, wonder, surmise--gets
me down sometimes.'
'You ought to have gone with them. Admiral,' said Colonel
Munro. 'Can't see Gordon Chetwynd or George Packham
being able to stop our Cedric from going off for a top-level
consultation with the Russians, the Chinese, the Ethiopia s.
the Argentinians or anywhere else the fancy takes him.'
'I've got other kites to fly,' said the Admiral gruf
'Going to the country to see an old friend of mine.' H^ looked with some curiosity at Colonel Pikeaway.
'Was the Hitler business really a surprise to you, Pikeawa: .''
Colonel Pikeaway shook his head.
'Not really. We'v known all about the rumours of
Adolf turning up in South America and keeping the swastika
flying for years. Fifty-to-fifty chance of its being true. Whoever
the chap was, madman, play-acting impostor, or the real
thing, he passed in his checks quite soon. Nasty stories about
that, too--he wasn't an asset to his supporters.'
'Whose body was it in the Bunker? is still a good talking
point,' said Blunt. 'Never been any definite identification.
Russians saw to that.'
He got up, nodded to the others and went towards the
door.
Munro said thoughtfully, 'I suppose Eh- Reichardt knows
the truth--though he played it cagey.'
'What about the Chancellor?' said Horsham.
'Sensible man,' grunted the Admiral, turning his head
back from the doorway. 'He was getting his country the
way he wanted it, when this youth business started playing
fun and games with the civilized world--Pity!' He looked
shrewdly at Colonel Munro.
'What about the Golden-Haired Wonder? Hitler's son?
Know all about him?'
'No need to worry,' said Colonel Pikeaway unexpectedly.
The Admiral let go of the door-handle and came back and
sat down.
'All my eye and Betty Martin,' said Colonel Pikeaway,
'Hitler never had a son.'
'You can't be sure of that.'
'We are sure--Franz Joseph, the Young Siegfried, the idolized
Leader, is a common or garden fraud, a rank impostor.
He's the son of an Argentinian carpenter and a good-looking
blonde, a small-part German opera singer--inherited his looks
and his singing voice from his mother. He was carefully chosen
for the part he was to play, groomed for stardom. In his
early youth he was a professional actor--he was branded in
the foot with a swastika--a story made up for him full of
romantic details. He was treated like a dedicated Dalai Lama.'
'And you've proof of this?'
'Full documentation,' Colonel Pikeaway grinned. 'One of
my best agents got it. Affidavits, photostats, signed declaration,
including one from the mother, and medical evidence as
to the date of the scar, copy of the original birth certificate
?f Karl Aguileros--and signed evidence of his identity with
the so-called Franz Joseph. The whole bag of tricks. My agent Sot away with it just in time. They were after her--might
^ye got her if she hadn't had a bit of luck at Frankfurt.'
'And where are these documents now?'
157
'In a safe place. Waiting for the right moment for a
spectacular debunking of a first-class impostor?'
'Do the Government know this??the Prime Minister?'
''I never tell all I know to politicians?not until I can't
avoid it, or until I'm quite sure they'll do the right thing.'
'You are an old devil, Pikeaway,' said Colonel Munro,
'Somebody has to be,' said Colonel Pikeaway, sadly.
Chapter 19
SIRSTAFFORD NYE HAS VISITORS
Sir Stafford Nye was entertaining guests. They were guests
with whom he had previously been unacquainted except for
one of them whom he knew fairly well by sight. They were
good-looking young men, serious-minded and intelligent, or
so he should judge. Their hair was controlled and stylish,
their clothes were well cut though not unduly old-fashioned.
Looking at them, Stafford Nye was unable to deny that he
liked the look of them. At the same time he wondered what
they wanted with him. One of them he knew was the son
of an oil king. Another of them, since leaving the university,
had interested himself in politics. He had an uncle who owned
a chain of restaurants. The third one was a young man with
beetle brows who frowned and to whom perpetual suspicion
seemed to be second nature.
'It's very good of you to let us come and call upon you,
Sir Stafford,' said the one who seemed to be the blond
leader of the three.
His voice was very agreeable. His name was Clifford Bent.
'This is Roderick Ketelly and this is Jim Brewster. We're
all anxious about the future. Shall I put it like that?'
'I suppose the answer to that is, aren't we all?' said Sir
Stafford Nye.
'We don't like things the way they're going,' said Cliffc';f
Bent. 'Rebellion, anarchy, all that. Well, it's all right as ;
philosophy. Frankly I think we may say that we all seem "^
go through a phase of it but one does come out the oti .'r
side. We want people to be able to pursue academic care
without their being interrupted. We want a good sufficiet "y
of demonstrations but not demonstrations of hooliganism and
violence. We want intelligent demonstrations. And what
want, quite frankly, or so I think, is a new political par
158
Jim Brewster here has been paying serious attention to
entirely new ideas and plans concerning trade union matters.
They've tried to shout him down and talk him out, but he's
gone on talking, haven't you, Jim?'
'Muddle-headed old fools, most of them,' said Jim Brewster.
'We
want a sensible and serious policy for youth, a more
economical method of government. We want different ideas
to obtain in education but nothing fantastic or highfalutin'.
And we shall want, if we win seats, and if we are able
finally to form a government--and I don't see why we
shouldn't--to put these ideas into action. There are a lot of
people in our movement. We stand for youth, you know, just
as well as the violent ones do. We stand for moderation and
we mean to have a sensible government, with a reduction
in the number of MP's, and we're noting down, looking for
the men already in politics no matter what their particular
persuasion is, if we think they're men of sense. We've come
here to see if we can interest you in our aims. At the moment
they are still in a state of flux but we have got as far as
knowing the men we want. I may say that we don't want the
ones we've got at present and we don't want the ones who
might be put in instead. As for the third party, it seems to have
died out of the running, though there are one or two good
people there who suffer now for being in a minority, but I
think they would come over to our way of thinking. We want
to interest you. We want, one of these days, perhaps not so
far distant as you might think--we want someone who'd
understand and put out a proper, successful foreign policy.
The rest of the world's in a worse mess than we are now.
Washington's razed to the ground, Europe has continual
military actions, demonstrations, wrecking of airports. Oh well,
I don't need to write you a news letter of the past six months,
but our aim is not so much to put the world on its legs
again as to put England on its legs again. To have the
right men to do it. We want young men, a great many young
men and we've got a great many young men who aren't
revolutionary, who aren't anarchistic, who will be willing to
try and make a country run profitably. And we want some of
the older men--1 don't mean men of sixty-odd, I mean men of
forty or fifty--and we've come to you because, well, we've
heard things about you. We know about you and you're the sor^ of man we want.' 'po you think you are wise?' said Sir Stafford.
Well, we think we are.'
159
The second young man laughed slightly.
'We hope you'll agree with us there.'
'I'm not sure that I do. You're talking in this room very
freely.'
It's your sitting-room.'
'Yes, yes, it's my flat and it's my sitting-room. But what
you are saying, and in fact what you might be going to say,
might be unwise. That means both for you as well as me.'
'Oh! I think I see what you're driving at.'
'You are offering me something. A way of life, a new
career and you are suggesting a breaking of certain ties.
You are suggesting a form of disloyalty.'
'We're not suggesting your becoming a defector to any
other country, if that's what you mean.'
'No, no, this is not an invitation to Russia or an invitation
to China or an invitation to other places mentioned in the
past, but I think it is an invitation connected with some
foreign interests.' He went on: ''I've recently come back
from abroad. A very interesting journey. I have spent the last
three weeks in South America. There is something I would
like to tell you. I have been conscious since I returned to
England that I have been followed.'
'Followed? You don't think you imagined it?'
'No, I don't think I've imagined it. Those are the sort of
things I have learned to notice in the course of my career.
I have been in some fairly far distant and--shall we say?--
interesting parts of the world. You chose to call upon me to
sound me as to a proposition. It might have been safer,
though, if we had met elsewhere.'
He got up, opened the door into the bathroom and turned
the tap.
'From the films I used to see some years ago,' he said,
'if you wished to disguise your conversation when a room
was bugged, you turned on taps. I have no doubt that I
am somewhat old-fashioned and that there are better methods
of dealing with these things now. But at any rate perhaps s could speak a little more clearly now, though even then 1 still think we should be careful. South America,' he went so'
'is a very interesting part of the world. The Federation of- South American countries (Spanish Gold has been one name
for it), comprising by now Cuba, the Argentine, Brazil, Peru,
one or two others not quite settled and fixed but coming into
being. Yes. Very interesting.'
'And what are your views on the subject,' the suspiciouslooking Jim Brewster asked. 'What have you got to say about
things?'
'I shall continue to be careful,' said Sir Stafford. 'You
will have more dependence on me if I do not talk Unadvisedly.
But I think that can be done quite well after I turn off the
bath water.'
'Turn it off, Jim,' said Cliff Bent.
Jim grinned suddenly and obeyed.
Stafford Nye opened a drawer .at the table and took out a
recorder.
'Not a very practised player yet,' he said.
He put it to his lips and started a tune. Jim Brewster
came back, scowling.
'What's this? A bloody concert we're going to put on?'
'Shut up,' said Cliff Bent. 'You ignoramus, you don't know
anything about music.'
Stafford Nye smiled.
'You share my pleasure in Wagnerian music, I see,' he
said. 'I was at the Youth Festival this year and enjoyed the
concerts there very much.'
Again he repeated the tune.
'Not any tune I know,' said Jim Brewster. 'It might be
the Internationale or the Red Flag or God Save the King
or Yankee Doodle or the Star-Spangled Banner. What the
devil is it?'
'It's a modf from an opera,' said Ketelly. 'And shut
your mouth. We know all we want to know.'
"The horn call of a young Hero,' said Stafford Nye.
He brought his hand up in a quick gesture, the gesture
from the past meaning 'Heil Hitler'. He murmured very
gently,
"The new Siegfried.'
All three rose.
'You're, quite right,' said Clifford Bent. 'We must all, I
think, be very careful.'
He shook hands.
'We are glad to know that you will be with us. One of the
things this country will need in its future?its great future,
I hope?will be a first-class Foreign Minister.'
They went out of the room. Stafford Nye watched them
through the slightly open door go into the lift and descend.
Ha gave a curious smile, shut the door, glanced up at
the clock on the wall and sat down in an easy chair?to
wait . . .
His mind went back to the day, a week ago now, when
he and Mary Arm had gone their separate ways from
Kennedy Airport. They had stood there, both of them finding
it difficult to speak. Stafford Nye had broken the silence
first.
'Do you think well ever meet again? I wonder . . ,'
'Is there any reason why we shouldn't?'
'Every reason, I should think.'
She looked at him, then quickly away again.
'These partings have to happen. It's--part of the job.'
The job! It's always the job with you, isn't it?'
'It has to be.'
'You're a professional. I'm only an amateur. You're
a--' he broke off. 'What are you? Who are you? I don't really
know, do I?'
'No.'
He looked at her then. He saw sadness, he thought, in
her face. Something that was almost pain.
'So I have to--wonder . . . You think I ought to trust
you, I suppose?'
'No, not that. That is one of the things that I have leamt
that life has taught me. There is nobody that one can trusc.
Remember that--always.'
'So that is your world? A world of distrust, of fear, of
danger.'
'I wish to stay alive. I am alive.'
'I know.'
'And I want you to stay alive.'
7 trusted you--in Frankfurt . . .'
'You took a risk.'
'It was a risk well worth taking. You know that as well
as I do.'
'You mean because--?'
'Because we have been together. And now--That is my
flight being called. Is this companionship of ours which
started in an airport, to end here in another airport? Y(
are going where? To do what?'
To do what I have to do. To Baltimore, to Washingto
to Texas. To do what I have been told to do.'
'And I? I have been told nothing. I am to go back i-~ London--and do what there?'
'Wait.'
'Wait for what?'
'For the advances that almost certainly will be made to
you.'
162
'And what am I to do then?'
She smiled at him, with the sudden gay smile that he
knew so well.
"Then you play it by ear. Youll know how to do it,
none better. You'll like the people who approach you. They'll
be well chosen. It's important, very important, that we
should know who they are.'
'I must go. Goodbye, Mary Arm.'
'Auf Wiedersehen*
In the London flat, the telephone rang. At a singularly