Well after midnight an usher came and escorted the patient guest to the second floor of the mansion, to the Prime Minister’s room. He tapped, then opened the door, and found himself in the presence of the pale young secretary, Mr. Martin. “The Prime Minister is having a shower,” said that functionary. “He will be out very soon.”
Lanny had started looking at more portraits when the door of the bathroom was thrown open and there emerged what he found an extraordinary spectacle—the governing head of the British Empire, clad in the costume he had worn at the moment of his emergence upon earth and nothing else, not even a towel. Lanny had thought he looked like a large cherub in evening dress, and assuredly he looked still more like it when stark naked. His skin was white, slightly tinged with pink, and his flesh formed immense folds.
He didn’t show any sign of embarrassment, but said a casual “Hello,” and then to his secretary: “You may go to bed, Martin.” The young man said: “Good night, sir,” and departed, and Churchill addressed his visitor: “Take off your coat and make yourself as comfortable as you can in this damnable climate. Will you have a drink?”
“No, thanks,” said Lanny. He took off his coat gladly.
“Make yourself at home,” said the host. He had his own way of saying the last words—“a–tome.” “I suppose a man can get used to this muggy weather, but I thank God I don’t have to.”
“You forget that I have recently come from Algiers.”
“Oh, yes. I suppose that is worse. Well, Budd, I trust we don’t have to go on with the ‘Prescott’ business while we are alone.”
“I doubt that there are any dictaphones, Mr. Prime Minister.”
The great man let his globular form down into a soft chair and remarked: “Let me see, how long since we had our talks at Maxine Elliott’s house?”
“Five years and several months. You may not remember, but you were quite positive that you had been laid on the political shelf to stay.”
“Yes, yes, to be sure! We seldom foresee what life is going to do with us. Did you?”
“Oh, God! Surely not!”
“The President tells me you have been doing very fine work for him. I congratulate you. Do you mind if I bother you with a lot of questions?”
“Not at all, Mr. Churchill.” With Englishmen, you use the title once, and, if you are a social equal, once only.
XII
So began a merciless inquisition which lasted two hours. Churchill knew exactly what he wanted to ask, and it was everything concerning the enemies he was facing. Pétain, Laval, Darlan, Benoist-Méchin, Pierre Pucheu, Fernand de Brinon, Paul Marion, Joseph Barthélemy—he had met them just before the Franco-German armistice, when he had been trying to persuade them to hold out. What were they doing now and what was the state of their minds? And the people in North Africa—Lemaigre-Dubreuil and General Noguès and the rest of the Army crowd. And whether or not those who were in sympathy with the Allies dared reveal it. Lanny was free to tell about the vegetable-oil magnate and about General Béthouart and his group, and what the Arabs had said, and the Jews, and others he had met. He reported, without naming names, that he had friends from the old days who had whispered to him of the spread of the underground movements.
“Surely you don’t think they can do anything against the German milit’ry power!” exclaimed the Prime Minister.
“Not at present. But if ever you put an army on those shores, you will find the partisans of great help in cutting communication lines and handicapping the enemy. The job at present is to get them organized and trained; to get the tools to them and teach them the know-how. Our own Army is doing that, and I suppose yours is also.”
“Of a certainty; but that is some time in the future.” He said it “few-chah,” and went on to add that milit’ry hist’ry showed that a hostyle population could inflict much damage upon an invader.
Then he wanted to hear about Hitler and Göring and Hess. Lanny’s knowledge was a year old, but even so it might be important, and he had to tell in detail how he had managed to keep the friendship and confidence of these Nazis. The Prime Minister called them “Nah-zies,” and didn’t care if they didn’t like it. Lanny told how he and Hess had experimented with spiritualist mediums and astrologers, and how he had managed to persuade the Number Three Nazi that there was a large group of Englishmen sympathetic to the Neue Ordnung and making plans to oust Churchill and put in a Prime Minister willing to work out terms of peace. “Apparently,” said the American, “your B4 was playing the same game with Hess.”
“Quite so,” said the cherub in the overstuffed chair. He had reached for one of his cigars and lighted it, and if there was any spectacle in the world more comical than an immense naked cherub puffing a big dark cigar, the son of Budd-Erling had never beheld it.
“I am told,” continued Lanny, “that your B4 wrote letters in the name of Ivone Kirkpatrick and the Duke of Hamilton and others, and that Rudi fell for them completely. The Governor—I mean the President—told me that you gave them a good wigging for it.”
There was a gleam in those bright blue eyes. “It was an outrageous violation of the rights of Englishmen.”
“But it worked,” said Lanny with a grin. “I rather guessed that B4 was paying the Germans off for those two agents of yours who were lured to the Dutch border and kidnaped just after the outbreak of the war. No doubt the Nazis would be glad to swap them for Hess.”
The Prime Minister gave a grunt expressive of agreement. “The President tells me you got into a jam with our people over that episode. I’ll be glad to straighten it out for you.”
“Thank you, sir. You understand, I was under a pledge not to mention my connection with the President; so when your agents questioned me about my dealings with the enemy, I was helpless. They were perfectly right in their judgment that I knew too much.”
“Or that you knew too many,” chuckled the enemy of all collaborators.
“There is another detail about this Hess matter which may interest you, Mr. Churchill. The man who brought me a message from Hess just a few days before his flight to Scotland came to my London hotel and gave me the name Branscome. I suppose he made that name up for the occasion. Naturally I was interested in him and took a good look so that I’d know him the next time. And it happened. I saw him last night in a restaurant in New York.”
“The devil you say! Did you speak to him?”
“I very carefully kept out of his sight and phoned the F.B.I. to get on his trail. This morning I went to see them and told them about the fellow. They’ve found out where he is staying and are keeping after him.”
“Good for you! Your F.B.I. has been extraordinarily successful in preventing sabotage so far. Very capable men, and we give them all the help we can.”
XIII
They talked about spies and saboteurs for a while, and then Lanny thought it a good occasion to bring up a subject he had thought of while motoring to Washington. Said he: “There is something I should like to suggest in connection with Hess, Mr. Churchill—if it’s not too late in the night.”
“By no means. What is it?”
“May I ask, did you get any important information out of him?”
“Not very much. He is a fanatic, and nothing could make him weaken. But we had already got together a pretty good dossier on all those blighters.”
“This is what occurred to me: that it might be worth while to let me have a talk with him and see what I could get.”
“You really think he would talk to you?”
“He made me his confidant in several important matters; and now he has been a prisoner for more than a year and must be pretty lonely. I can’t doubt that he’d be glad to see an old friend.”
“But he would know that we would never let you see him unless we were certain that you were against him.”
“It would be my idea to frame up a little drama. Let me be taken to him in the middle of the night, in pretended secrecy. I’ll tell him that I have bribed the jailer. I think I could ge
t away with that. He knows that my father is a rich man, and he doubtless thinks that I am, too.”
“By Jove! That might get us something! What would you give as your purpose in seeing him?”
“I could tell him that I have a message from the Führer. Bear in mind that I have a code that I use with these men. Hitler gave me the name ‘Siegfried’ to use if I wished to send him a secret message; and I gave Hess the name ‘Kurvenal’—you may remember the character in Tristan who is called ‘the truest of the true.’ Imagine that I should have the jailer smuggle in to Hess a bit of tissue paper with the name ‘Kurvenal’ written on it, rolled, let us say, into a pellet and hidden in a slice of bread. Rudi would be thrown into a state of great excitement and would be ready for a frank talk when I came into his cell, or whatever he sleeps in.”
“What would you expect to get from him? All his information is more than a year out of date.”
“Even so there might be secrets that have not yet come to light. I have one idea that may sound fantastic, but I keep thinking about it in spite of myself—that I might get some message from Rudi to be delivered to the Führer, and by this device I might have another go in Germany.”
“Would you dare try that?”
“The President thinks I should not. He has the idea that because I had an interview with Stalin the Nazis must surely have decided that I am a phony. I agreed with that for a time, but now I’m not so sure. Hitler’s Intelligence service is by no means perfect. I have proved that more than once. And if I found that he had learned of my passing through Russia, I believe I could convince him that I had gone there in his interest, to pump Stalin and bring back a report on the possibility of a deal. Hitler made one in 1939, and why might he not consider another in 1942?”
“He’d jolly well be glad to in his present fix!”
“Exactly. Hitler gave me messages to take to the collaborators in Britain and France and America; and what more natural than that I should have been looking for some of the same stripe in Moscow? The Nazis must know of some, and I might find out from Hess who they are. Wouldn’t that be worth while?”
“Good God, yes!”
“And that’s only one of many possibilities. I am fascinated by the idea of coming to my old friend the Führer with a message from his fidus Achates.”
“My information is that Hitler raged at Hess for his folly in taking the flight—plain idiocy.”
“I don’t doubt that. But he must know perfectly well that no matter how misguided it was, Rudi had no thought but to serve his adored master and protect him from having to fight a war on two fronts. And now if I should come to him with a message from the friend’s heart—and possibly with a talisman, or some password that Rudi would give me, something that would convince Hitler I had actually talked with him—wouldn’t the Führer’s heart be touched? It might even be possible for you to cause a rumor to start, after I had left England, that it had been discovered that I had bribed a jailer and had got in to talk with Hess. I wouldn’t want it in the press, but you could find a way to let it become known in one of your prison camps for German officers. You may be sure that the Nazis have some spy lurking on the outside of such camps to pick up stories, and they wouldn’t miss that one.”
“Look here, Budd,” said the Prime Minister. “Is this the scenario of a cinema you are telling me?”
The P.A. replied: “The whole war is the scenario of a cinema, Mr. Churchill. My guess is that it will furnish plots for many thousands of them before mankind loses interest in these events. And be sure that you will be in them.”
“Get out!” exclaimed the pink-and-white cherub. “None of your treacle!” Then, as Lanny took the advice seriously and got up, he held out his hand and said cordially: “Come and see me when you find yourself in London. I’ll think all this over in the meantime.”
9
Treasons, Stratagems, and Spoils
I
For the first time Lanny exercised the privilege of calling his Chief on the telephone. He called the White House at eight in the morning, when he judged that F.D.R. would be having his breakfast in bed. He said to the operator: “I would like to speak to the President; the name is Traveler.” He wondered what would happen next, and was taken by surprise when, a few seconds later, he heard the voice of his friend. “Hello, Presidential Substitute!”
“Did you have a good sleep?” ventured the caller.
“The best in some time. I wish you could keep it up.”
“I will if you say the word.”
“No, I’m afraid somebody might have his feelings hurt.”
“What do you want me to do next, Governor?”
“Can you come back in a week or ten days?”
“With pleasure.”
“It’s a date. And by the way, Alston should be in New York in a day or two—he’s been out West. Have a talk with him. He may have suggestions.”
“I’ll do it.”
“So long, Traveler.”
That was that; and Lanny, who was still in bed himself, had his bath and ate his breakfast, and then dressed and went down to his car. Such a pleasant thing to be a married man again, and to have somebody to come home to and to tell about your adventures, if only part of them! On that six-hour drive—heavy traffic slowed him up—Lanny thought about what he was going to say to Laurel, and then about what he was going to say to Rudolf Hess if he should meet him, and then, a truly serious question, what he would say to Adolf Hitler if he should meet him.
Lanny had phoned, and Laurel was awaiting him with happiness she did not try to hide. He was free to tell her about the dinner at the White House, for there were no war secrets in that. Also he could tell about Churchill in the “altogether,” though not about the topics they had discussed. He persuaded her to dress and have dinner out with him. He would take her to a roof garden and hope they wouldn’t run into any more German spies. She protested that she looked too awful, and you couldn’t hide anything in summer. But he insisted that women were getting bolder about such matters, and she, who called herself emancipated, could help to set the fashion.
II
Next morning he went down to the F.B.I. office and listened to a report on the mysterious Mr. Branscome, who was now bearing the name of Hartley. He had been watched closely and appeared to be just enjoying New York night life; he had only a few personal acquaintances, harmless persons so far as the watchers were able to learn. He had a three-room apartment and stayed in it most of the day, and what he was doing there was something the F.B.I. wanted very much to know. They were trying to find a plan to get him out of the way for a couple of hours so that they could enter the place and investigate. The agent, quiet in manner, but determined, fixed a pair of gray eyes upon his caller and said: “We are hoping, Mr. Budd, that you may be willing to give us a bit of help in this matter.”
“What do you have in mind, Mr. Post?”
“We should like you to run into this man again—by accident, as you will pretend—and recognize him and renew the acquaintance and see if he will give you his confidence. At the least you could take him for a drive or something and keep him out of the way for a while.”
Lanny did not answer at once; he was thinking what to say. The agent went on to point out that Branscome alias Hartley had every reason to assume that Lanny was a German agent or sympathizer, and he might be glad of someone to talk to. If he declined to renew the acquaintance, he might give some reason, and that might be a clue. If he showed fear or embarrassment, a desire to get away, it might indicate that he had dropped his treasonable activities; on the other hand, it might indicate that he was up to something especially dangerous.
Lanny said: “Your request embarrasses me, Mr. Post. I am not free to do what you ask, and I am not free to explain why. I can only tell you that when I met this German agent in England I was not just amusing myself. I was under orders, and I am still under them.”
“Could you possibly get permission to do this?”
“I
don’t think I ought to ask permission, for it would indicate a lack of appreciation of the importance of my own work. I have connections which I am not at liberty to jeopardize. If I were to meet a German agent, and soon afterward he were to be arrested, I should be drawing suspicion upon myself. In certain contingencies that might cost me my life; and while a soldier is prepared to sacrifice his life in wartime, there are others who are ordered to stay alive.”
“I can understand, Mr. Budd. Your position and your father’s position make it possible for me to guess something about your work. But suppose I could pledge that under no circumstances will we arrest this Englishman?”
“But what good could it do you to find out about him if your hands were tied by such a promise?”
“One thing leads to another, and there might be many advantages we could gain. If the man is doing anything important, he will have associates, and we might be able to find out who these persons are. We might uncover a whole chain of activities so far away from the original clue that not even Hartley would suspect that he was involved. Another thing, we might make it possible for Hartley to make good money, so that he would be very well content with the results of his friendship with you.”
“You mean trying to buy him?”
“No, that might give everything away. I mean that you might introduce him to certain persons of wealth who sympathize with his peculiar ideas, and he would know how to get money out of them without any more than a hint from you.”
“How do you happen to know that I know such persons?” inquired the P.A.
The other smiled a quiet slow smile—he was from somewhere in the South, as his accent revealed. “You know this game very well, Mr. Budd, and you must not take offense that we made sure what sort of person we were dealing with.”
Lanny smiled the quick smile which was characteristic of him. “Some day when the war is over, you must let me see that dossier. It would give me an amusing half hour.”