Hubbold nodded slowly. All at once he looked uneasy, embarrassed. David wondered whether he, too, had been shocked by yesterday’s events, was going to say something unplanned. But instead he said, ‘There’s a problem with one of our files. One of the secret files I’m cleared for. The Canadian one. I found a document that didn’t belong there, to do with South African military assistance to Kenya. It was in the wrong file.’
David thought, I put it there, the Sunday before last, when Hubbold came down to Registry. He stared at his superior. Hubbold said, ‘You had that file for last week’s meeting. Did you notice whether the Kenya paper was there?’
‘No. It wasn’t one I needed to consult.’ He managed to speak steadily. ‘I remember it though, it’s a few weeks old, isn’t it?’ To his relief, Hubbold just nodded his white head thoughtfully.
‘Yes, it would have passed through a number of hands. I’m checking with the people in this department who had it. But I haven’t come up with anything. Ten to one that girl of Dabb’s misfiled it.’ He frowned. ‘But I don’t see how the Kenya file would have got into her possession. It’s restricted, but not top secret. You’re friendly with her, aren’t you?’ he added.
‘Quite friendly.’ David’s heart thudded in his chest so hard he feared Hubbold might hear it.
‘D’you think she’s up to the job? You know how scatty women can be.’
‘I’ve no reason to think not.’
Hubbold seemed to slump a little in his chair. ‘I’ll have to tell the Permanent Secretary. There’ll be an investigation. He’ll keep it internal, he won’t want those MI5 clowns clumping around in here.’ He shook his head. David thought, he’s frightened this will be a black mark before he retires. Hubbold stood up, smiled ruefully. ‘Well, thank you. Obviously, keep this between ourselves.’ He went out.
David sat staring at the door for a moment, then reached for a cigarette. This could get serious. For the first time he had been careless. He felt danger closing all around. And Carol, what about Carol? Was he going to end up taking her to the bottom, too?
He got an interdepartmental messenger to take a note to Geoff. Could he meet him after work for a drink, outside the office at five? A reply came back, yes, certainly.
When he left the building the fog was quite thick, cars and buses moving at a crawl, the office workers crowding out of their buildings, then quickly disappearing into the murk. He waited on the steps of the Dominions Office, and after a minute Geoff appeared, pipe in mouth, dressed like David in dark coat and bowler hat, looking tired and, as he always did, somehow rumpled. ‘Let’s take a turn around Trafalgar Square,’ David said. ‘I’ve got some news.’
Geoff looked at him. ‘So have I.’
They walked up Whitehall, moving slowly along with the crowd. David thought of the Jews, all those trapped, frightened people, crammed together somewhere while London commuters went home as usual. In the distance the chimes of Big Ben sounded.
In Trafalgar Square the traffic was almost at a standstill. A newsvendor on the corner called out, ‘Evening Standard! Railwaymen threaten new strike.’
Geoff said, ‘Let’s see if we can get across into the square. It’s a bit quieter there.’ An old man passed them, hunched over, coughing in the sharp tang of the fog: a dreadful hacking noise.
They crossed the road with care, choosing a point where the traffic had come to a halt. They passed in front of a stationary bus, the engine rattling. Passengers stared wearily out of the condensation-smeared windows. A small boy in a school cap stuck his tongue out at them cheekily.
There were few people on the big concrete island in the centre of Trafalgar Square. Nelson’s Column was virtually invisible. They began walking round the broad circle of pavement, beside the crawling traffic. Geoff said, ‘There’s some bad news from Ben Hall at the mental hospital.’
‘About Frank?’
‘Yes. We had word this afternoon that – well, he’s tried to hang himself.’
David stopped. ‘Oh, God.’
‘He didn’t succeed. He tried to use a picture hook in a wall, but it wouldn’t take his weight.’ Geoff sighed. ‘Let’s keep walking. Frank’s been taken to a room where he can’t harm himself. A padded cell and a straitjacket, I’m afraid.’ Geoff’s face twisted with distaste.
‘Poor bloody Frank.’ David took a deep breath. ‘What happens now?’
‘Frank’s going to have to be got out. They want us both involved. They’re looking at the practicalities. It could mean another trip to Birmingham, David, at very short notice.’
‘Jesus.’ David looked at his friend. ‘Listen, I’ve a problem.’ He told Geoff about the paper he had misfiled. ‘Hubbold’s going to have to set an investigation in train.’
‘Is there anything to lead them directly to you?’
‘No. Several people have had the file. But we’ll all be questioned. When they don’t get an answer they’ll bring the security people in. Hubbold doesn’t want that, but they’re bound to do it before too long.’
Geoff halted. His pipe had gone out. He chewed on the stem. They were beside the plinth where one of the colossal bronze lions stood guarding Nelson’s Column. It reared up, a wall of sooty wet granite. On the other side of the pavement the traffic was moving slowly again. Geoff said, with a tight smile, ‘It’s getting pretty difficult, isn’t it?’
David nodded.
‘Well, we always knew it might.’
‘That’s not all. Sarah found herself in the middle of a riot yesterday. The police were leading a group of Jews away, and a few people sat down in the street in front of them. Sarah did, too. Some Jive Boys joined in and it got out of control.’
Geoff nodded. ‘Our people have heard the deportations hadn’t gone smoothly everywhere.’
‘It was worse than that. People were killed. Including a woman Sarah knew.’
‘Good God! Was she arrested?’
‘No. Some of the Jews escaped, and a couple of them helped her get away. Students. But she’s pretty shaken up. Her friend who was killed – her husband’s been told she had a heart attack in the street, they’re hushing it up. But they won’t let it drop. The trail might lead to Sarah.’ He paused, then said, ‘I’m a risk now, Geoff.’ The wild thought had come to David, maybe the Resistance could help Sarah and him to disappear, maybe get them out of the country with Frank. Before his deepest secret, that he was a half-Jew, was discovered.
‘It’s not your fault,’ Geoff said.
‘Some of it is,’ he answered bleakly. ‘Misfiling that paper.’
Geoff stopped and took his arm. ‘Stop blaming yourself for everything. That’s your biggest weakness, you know that, it always has been.’
‘What the hell are we going to do?’
Geoff’s face set doggedly. ‘Find a telephone box. And tell Jackson.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
EARLY ON TUESDAY MORNING Gunther was woken by a telephone call from Gessler’s office, ordering him to present himself there in person at eight. As he dressed he hoped they could move forward now, get Muncaster safely to Senate House.
He had a few minutes to spare, and he switched on the television for the news. There had been no further announcements about the Jews since Sunday. An item about the Russian war was showing; a British reporter broadcasting from a V3 base somewhere on the North Volga; one of the enormous rockets stood on a launching pad a little way off. There was a countdown in German and then the V3, belching fire from its base, shot into the sky with a low, deep rumbling. The camera followed the rocket, as it became a dot and vanished. The reporter said, ‘This rocket is headed for a Russian town somewhere in Western Siberia. Faced with such a sight, one has to ask, how can a race even as obstinate and fanatical as the Russians survive such a continual onslaught?’