‘Of him only,’ Steiner replied automatically.
‘Of course it would require the right man to pull it off which is where Liam Devlin comes in,’ Carter added.
‘Devlin?’ Steiner shook his head. ‘Nonsense, Devlin is one of the most remarkable men I have ever known, but even he couldn’t get me out of this place.’
‘Yes, well it wouldn’t be from here. We’re moving you to a safe house in Wapping. St Mary’s Priory. You’ll be given the details later.’
‘No, I can’t believe it. This is some trick,’ Steiner said.
‘Good God, man, what profit would there be in it for us?’ Munro demanded. ‘There’s a man at the Spanish Embassy here in London called Jose Vargas, a commercial attache. He works for your side on occasion for money. Operates via his cousin at the Spanish Embassy in Berlin using a diplomatic pouch.’
‘He works for us, you see, also for money,’ Carter said. ‘And they have been in touch, indicated their interest in pulling you out and requesting more information as to your whereabouts.’
‘And we’ve told him what he needs to know/ Munro put in. ‘Even your new home at the Priory.’
‘So, now I understand/ Steiner said. ‘You allow the plan to proceed, Devlin comes to London. He will need help, of course, other agents or what have you and at the appropriate moment you arrest the lot.’
‘Yes, that is one way,’ Munro said. ‘There is another possibility, of course.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘That I simply allow it all to happen. You escape to Germany…’
‘Where I work for you?’ Steiner shook his head. ‘Sorry, Brigadier. Carter was right. I’m no Nazi, but I’m still a soldier _ a German soldier. I’d find the word traitor difficult to handle.’
‘Would you say your father and others were traitors because they tried to remove the Fuhrer?’ Munro asked.
‘In a sense that’s different. Germans trying to handle their own problem.’
‘A neat point.’ Munro turned and said, ‘Jack?’
Carter went and knocked on the door. It opened and the MP appeared. Munro got up. ‘If you’d be kind enough to follow me, Colonel, there’s something I’d like you to see.’
As far as Adolf Hitler was concerned there was to be no possibility of an honourable death for a traitor. No officer convicted of plotting against him met his end at the hands of the firing squad. The punishment was statutory, death by hanging, usually from a meat hook and often piano wire was employed. Victims frequently took a long time to die, often very unpleasantly. The Fuhrer had ordered all such executions to be recorded on film. Many were so appalling that even Himmler had been known to walk out of the showings, sick to the stomach.
The one which was being shown now in the large stockroom at the end of the corridor was flickering and rather grainy. The young Intelligence sergeant, anonymous in the darkness behind the film projector, was using the white painted wall as a screen. Steiner sat on a chair alone, Munro and Carter behind him.
General Karl Steiner, carried in by two SS men, was already dead from a heart attack, the only good thing about the entire proceedings. They hung him to the hook anyway and moved away. For a little while the camera stayed on that pathetic figure, swaying slightly from side to side, then the screen went blank.
The projectionist switched on the light. Kurt Steiner stood, turned and moved to the door without a word. He opened it, went past the MP and walked down the corridor to his room. Munro and Carter followed. When they went into the room, Steiner was standing at the window gripping the bar and looking out. He turned, his face very pale.
‘You know I really think it’s about time I took up smoking again, gentlemen.’
Jack Carter fumbled a cigarette out of a packet of Players and gave him a light.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ Munro said, ‘but it was important you knew that Himmler had broken his promise.’
‘Come off it, Brigadier,’ Steiner said. ‘You’re not sorry about anything. You wanted to make your point and you’ve made it. I never thought my father stood much of a chance of survival, whatever I did. As far as Himmler is concerned, keeping promises is a low priority.’