McCorquodale and Macallister might have pleaded guilty to if things had gone the other way, let’s say.
But . . . since Herr Major Gehrd Schild no longer exists, for our purposes, that is a hypothetical question.
And, in any case, our concern is only with what Otto Schild did next, Fred – eh?’
Now he was being tested. But he didn’t know enough yet. ‘What did he do?’
‘He was seconded to co-ordinate Abwehr Division III personnel, in support of the Gestapo and the civil police in certain investigations in Germany,’ Clinton answered him suavely. ‘So what do you think that involved, then?’
With teacher’s help, suddenly the test wasn’t so difficult. ‘He drew Professor Schmidt’s name from the hat – ?’ Even as he asked the question it became unnecessary. ‘How did you get on to him, sir?’
‘I didn’t. Gehrd Schild – I beg your pardon! Otto Schild now . . . he got on to me – ’ Clinton watched him ‘ – now are you beginning to add two and two, eh?’
‘Yes – ’ That wasn’t quite true, because the information was coming to him too fast now, as he tried to marry it to what David Audley had told him.
And already, as he thought about it, there was a bone sticking in his throat; but he couldn’t work out the dates and the timing ‘ – he didn’t go to Colonel Colbourne – ’
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‘Precisely.’ Clinton almost looked pleased. ‘The truth is that the Abwehr knew about Professor Schmidt’s little game from way back, is what he told me. But Canaris sat on the information. Or, rather, he didn’t sit on it, we have reason to suspect – he fed it to a man named Rosseler – Rudolf Rosseler . . . who worked for the Russians. And that’s how the Russians got on to Professor Schmidt – this is what Schild came to tell me: that Moscow had been after Number 16 for months, you see?’
Fred saw. And saw also that once Clinton had known that, after Schild had learnt that the British were also hot on the trail of Professor Schmidt’s Romano-German archaeologists, then Schild had a new master.
And then the Brigadier would have realized at last that TRR-2’s misfortunes weren’t just bad luck, but treason.
But all this brought him to what he still couldn’t quite believe, even though it must be true. ‘The Colonel, sir –
Colonel Colbourne? Levin was his man – ?’
‘Gus Colbourne?’ The nuances of the Brigadier’s range of facial expressions were as indiscernible as ever. But this time he almost looked sad. ‘Gus Colbourne is another of our casualties, I’m afraid. Maybe not as final as poor de Souza . . . but, for our purposes . . .
final, I’m afraid – ’ he took the responsibility to the gunner colonel quickly. ‘ – Gus belongs to you, Tommy – ?’
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‘Yes, sir.’ Colonel Stocker took his dismissed predecessor on the chin, for the benefit of his newly-appointed adjutant. ‘These are early days yet, major.
We’ve got a lot of checking still to do. But for my money, Colonel Colbourne is no traitor.’
‘Sir – ?’ It galled Fred that a gunner was bemusing a sapper.
‘Of course, we shall never be able to clear him absolutely. And, for this war ... of the Brigadier’s – ’
Stocker steadfastly didn’t look at Clinton ‘ – we can only use men who have no mark against them – who are utterly above suspicion, major. So he has to go. But it’s a pity, all the same.’ Stocker watched him digest this ultimate disqualification, until all its implications had been assimilated. ‘We don’t know the full story yet, major . . . although Colonel Colbourne has been very frank with us, so we do have the beginings of it, I think. And we have to talk to our people in Palestine before we can draw the picture with any certainty . . .
from Bum-Titty Bay in ’43.‘
Bum-Titty – ? Suddenly Fred was hideously back in the Teutoburg Forest, gaping at RSM Levin, not at the gunner colonel. ‘ P-P-Palestine, sir?’
‘Haifa. On the beach at Haifa, major.’ The fact that Stocker understood his astonishment, and sympathized with it, didn’t make his slow smile more acceptable.
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‘Colbourne and RSM Levin went up there – Major Colbourne and CSM Levin then – to a leave-camp, after El Alamein . . . which was well-deserved, after what they’d achieved in the desert, between them.’ He gave Fred a slow nod. ‘“Bum-Titty Bay” – all those pretty Jewish girls in swim-suits on the beach . . . and most of them were already in the Haganah, of course.
And some of them were in the Irgun Tzvai Leumi – in the ETZEL . . . which is already killing our men out there, in the cause of an independent Jewish state.’ The nod steadied. ‘And ... it seems possible that one particularly beautiful girl named Rachel may have picked up Company Sergeant-Major Levin, as she picked up other Jewish officers and senior NCOs. And, if she did, then it’s tolerably certain that she introduced him to a man whom we know as “Ze’ev”, who is a link-man between ETZEL and the Soviet Union. Because the Russians are strong supporters of what is already being called “The State of Israel”. Not because they like Jews, but because they see us as supporting all the Arab states, against the Jews.’ His lips twisted as he spoke, but he watched Fred just as sharply as Clinton had ever done as he did so. ‘What ETZEL thinks
“Ze’ev” is doing is getting them arms and ammunition.
But what we think is that he’s also taking orders from Moscow. And in ’43 Colbourne was marked down for special assignments in Europe, because of his record in the desert. And Levin had been his right hand, through dummy4
thick and thin, in operations in Syria and Iraq, long before El Alamein. So they were a winning team already.‘
God! thought Fred. Syria and Iraq . . . and Palestine –
they were all a far cry from the Teutoburg Forest!
Almost the only thing which united them was that they had all once been parts of the Roman Empire, almost –
almost two thousand years ago, when both were trouble-spots!
‘We know that “Ze’ev” has made other deals, you see, major: Russian arms in exchange for treason – and the promise of air-lifted material, from Czechoslovakia and Bulgaria, through an airfield somewhere in Syria, where the locals have been bought off – Druse, probably ... we don’t know for sure.’ Nod. ‘But once Levin was committed ... because “Ze’ev” would have fed him with true horror stories of what was happening in Germany and Poland – even before he arrived here in Germany Stocker looked sidelong at Clinton as he spoke.
‘Yes.’ Clinton accepted the look. ‘Levin was a damn good warrant officer – almost the perfect warrant officer, I would have said: brave and intelligent. And he knew King’s Regs to the last letter of the small print.’ He threw the look at Fred. ‘So maybe he argued himself into splitting what belonged to the King of England from what he thought was due to the Promised dummy4
Land . . . But, thanks to Gehrd Schild, that’s one thing we’ll never know now, Fred.’
And perhaps there were some things it was better not to know? thought Fred. But then he remembered Amos de Souza. ‘So what do we know?’
The wind gusted between them, smelling only very slightly of hot engine oil and aircraft fuel. And he knew that it had been blowing over them fitfully all the time while they had been testing him, even though he hadn’t noticed it until now . . . just as he knew, beyond certainty, that they were both relaxing as he hardened his heart, as they had both long ago hardened theirs to the loss of all those simplicities of their old war, which Professor Schmidt and Number 16 had tried in vain to avoid, and which had killed Amos de Souza and Number 21 in failing to do so. And RSM Levin, too.