If there were grievances these were caused more by Czech insensitivity rather than anything approaching oppression, though discrimination in official jobs was rampant. He had noticed a certain haughtiness about the Czechs, who saw themselves as both more gifted and upright than others and that would rub particularly hard up against those with a German background.
Quite apart from employment, there was also the fact that the German children were taught in their own language, not Czech, while added to that there was bound to be a certain amount of friction caused by the local bureaucracy, which was naturally staffed by the national majority and tended to favour Czechs over Germans in disputes.
But that did not disbar the aggrieved from a right of appeal to a higher court in Prague, where their sensitivities were accorded equal rights with their opponents. Reading it, Cal Jardine thought they might have a moan, but, rabid Nazis apart, the Sudetenlanders would regret it if they ever got Hitler and his kind of government.
The briefing absorbed, there was shopping to be done to replace what he had left in La Rochelle, the kind of sturdy footwear and hard-wearing clothes that would stand constant and possibly outdoor use, as well as a couple of books. A visit to Stanfords in Long Acre provided maps of Czechoslovakia as well as a guide book, and he also bought two canvas holdalls, one green, the other beige, then went to work to scuff them up a bit so they looked well used.
If folk taking a mid-morning stroll wondered at an individual playing football with such items in St James’s Park, before dropping them into the duck pond for a thorough soaking, they were too British to enquire.
The bags, once dried out, he had fitted with stiffener boards at the base in matching material, which, with a little glue, would serve as false bottoms. In these he and Vince could hide Snuffly Bower’s passports and papers; they would go in under their personal passports but carrying nothing that was not necessary.
Whatever they used to travel had to be light; the only quick way into Prague, and one which, unlike the Paris-to-Prague express train, did not cross German territory, was by aeroplane from Le Bourget, just outside the French capital, and the airlines were damned fussy about luggage weight.
After several unreturned phone calls from Lizzie he decided it was time to write to her and bring some kind of closure to their relationship and that was hard to get right. He had no desire to make her homeless but she was occupying a prime town house, far too spacious for one person and an abode he would certainly never live in again.
That he intended to sell, and give her enough to buy the lease on a flat in Mayfair or Belgravia, she could choose. There was no question that he would provide for her financially but that had to be both reasonable and agreed, which he would rather do amicably than through solicitors and she had time to think about everything as he was off on his travels again.
The letter signed, he left the envelope at the desk to be posted. Then it was off to the Savoy Grill, one of the two books he had bought in hand, to tie up any loose ends and buy Peter a lunch he certainly felt he owed him from La Rochelle.
As usual, as he crossed the panelled dining room to join him, passing the mirrored pillars, several sets of eyes noted his arrival and followed him; if there was one thing that never seemed to fade it was the notoriety of his being a killer. Odd that for once, after composing his letter to Lizzie, it made him feel euphoric, not angry, and instead of glares being aimed at interested female glances they got winning smiles.
Peter waited for Cal to be seated before speaking, and was discreetly quiet when he did so. ‘As far as I know your name is still not in the frame for what happened in La Rochelle.’
‘Where you saved my bacon,’ Cal replied with a beaming smile that actually surprised his companion. He took a menu and the wine list and surprised him even more. ‘So perhaps we should push the old boat out. Call it a reward for all that labouring you did on that barge in the harbour.’
‘I still feel a twinge in my lower back from that toil, Cal, and it has done nothing for my golf swing. I have concluded I was not born for honest toil.’
‘Have you found out anything at all?’ Cal asked, his head buried in the wine list.
Peter had rehearsed the answer, determined to ensure that Cal saw there was a high degree of uncertainty in what had emerged from the enquiries of his boss, with the added caveat of the need to protect a service of which he was now part.
What did emerge made absolute sense of the delay in talking to the man Quex had mentioned, which led Peter to think there must have been suspicions about the fellow prior to what had so recently occurred.
‘It has been narrowed down to those who had access to the intelligence from Brno, then run that against their known affiliations and interests etcetera. No proof, of course, there never can be, but our eye has alighted on the fellow who runs the Central European Desk.’
‘Named?’
‘Sorry, old chum, no can do for reasons of security, but I can tell you he’s an Ulsterman and staunch Unionist, with all the neuroses that go with that patrimony.’
‘I take it he is now being watched?’
‘Monitored, but discreetly, and I am going to have a chat with him myself in a day or two.’
‘Monsieur?’ asked the sommelier.
‘A half of the Chablis Fourchaume to start and a bottle of the 1920 Richebourg.’
‘I say!’ Peter responded, before seeking to curtail his response; he did, after all, want the sommelier to think he drank wine of that quality all the time. ‘Must say you seem rather cheerful, old boy.’
‘With good cause, Peter; I have just initiated a formal separation from my wife. Not a divorce, she won’t agree to that, but I feel as if I have broken some evil spell which has been cast on me for many years.’
‘She’s still a fine-looking filly.’
‘Feel free, Peter, I’ll give you her number if you like.’
‘Too dangerous, old boy, whatever you say. I don’t want to end up as another notch on your bedpost.’
There was a bitter tone to the reply, in contrast to Cal’s initial light mood. ‘The notches there are not mine, Peter, they are all of them hers.’
No doubt because a change of subject was politic, Peter pulled an envelope from his inside pocket.
‘These are the names of our operatives in both Prague and Berlin, plus a code to effect an introduction. I know you want to stay out of their orbit, but it might be necessary to invoke their aid and they do have the means to get to me quickly, or you out in a hurry, if that is required. Usual drill, old boy, memorise and destroy.’
‘Am I allowed to share these with Vince?’
‘So you are taking the estimable fellow with you?’ Peter asked, with just a slight trace of pique that such a fact had been kept from him till now.
‘I have to trust someone, Peter, and since I can’t trust your lot-’
‘All right, I get your point.’
Cal passed over the book, of which he had another copy, a collection of short stories by Chekhov, handy because in Russian literature there was the constant use of obscure letters in names and place designations that made it hard for anyone to get a handle on, quite apart from the fact that as a means of sending coded messages, without a copy of the book it was near-impossible to decipher. There was no requirement to explain; they needed to be able to communicate outside normal channels.
‘Usual drill, Peter, story number first, page number in that story second, then the line and the letter reading right to left. I will let you know my location by telegram on arrival and only use it if absolutely necessary. Stories are worth a read too and short enough for you not to nod off. Now, shall we order?’