‘And what do you think now?’ Munro asked.
‘Ah, so we come to the purpose of the exercise? Will I now, in a white-hot rage, offer my services to the Allies? Allow myself to be spirited off to Germany where I assassinate Hitler at the first opportunity?’ He shook his head. ‘No, Brigadier. I’ll have some bad nights over this. I may even ask to see a priest, but the essential point remains the same. My father’s involvement in a plot on Hitler’s life was as a German. He wasn’t doing it to advance the Allied cause. He was doing it for Germany.’
It was Carter who said, ‘Yes, one sees that.’
Steiner turned to him. ‘Then you must also realize that for me to do what the Brigadier suggests would be a betrayal of everything my father stood for and gave his life for.’
‘All right.’ Munro stood up. ‘We’re wasting our time. You’ll be transferred to St Mary’s Priory in the New Year, Colonel. Your friend Devlin hasn’t a hope of getting you out, of course, but we’d love him to try.’ He turned to Carter. ‘Let’s get moving Jack.’
Steiner said, ‘One thing, Brigadier, if I may?’
‘Yes?’
‘My uniform. I would remind you that under the Geneva Convention I am entitled to wear it.’
Munro glanced at Carter who said, ‘It has been repaired, Colonel, and cleaned. I’ll arrange for you to have it later today together with all your medals, naturally.’
‘That’s all right then,’ Munro said and went out. Carter took out his packet of cigarettes and a box of matches and laid them on the locker. ‘You mentioned a priest. I’ll arrange for one if you like.’
Til let you know.’
‘And a supply of cigarettes?’
‘Better not. This one tasted terrible.’ Steiner managed a smile.
Carter went to the door, hesitated and turned. ‘If it helps at all, Colonel, it was apparently a heart attack your father died of. I don’t know the circumstances…’
‘Oh, I can imagine them well enough, but my thanks anyway,’ Steiner answered.
He stood there, hands thrust into the pockets of his robe, quite calm, and Carter, unable to think of anything else to say, stepped into the corridor and went after Munro.
As they drove through the fog along Tower Hill, Munro said, ‘You don’t approve, do you, Jack?’
‘Not really, sir. An unnecessary cruelty in my opinion.’
‘Yes, well, as I told you before, it’s not a nice war. At least we know where we stand with friend Steiner now.’
‘I suppose so, sir.’
‘As for Devlin – if he’s mad enough to try, let him come whenever he wants. With Vargas tipping us off on every move he makes we can’t go wrong.’
He settled back in the seat and closed his eyes.
It was actually New Year’s Day when Devlin finally arrived in Berlin. It had taken him two days to get a seat on the Paris Express from Madrid. In Paris itself, his priority, thanks to Schellenberg, had got him on the Berlin Express, but 617 bombers of the American 8th Air Force operating out of England had inflicted severe damage on the Frankfurt railway marshalling yards. This had necessitated a rerouting of most rail traffic from France or the Netherlands into Germany. The weather was bad in Berlin, the kind of winter that couldn’t make up its mind, a thin snow changing to sleet and driving rain. Devlin, still wearing a suit more apt for Portugal, had managed to procure a raincoat in Paris, but he was freezing and quite miserable as he trudged through the crowds in the railway station at Berlin.
Use Huber recognized him at once from his file photo as she stood at the barrier beside the security police. She had already made arrangements with the sergeant in charge and when Devlin appeared, bag in hand, his papers ready, she intervened at once.
‘Herr Devlin? Over here please.’ She held out her hand. ‘I am Use Huber, General Schellenberg’s secretary. You look awful.’
‘I feel bloody awful.’
‘I have transport waiting,’ she said.
The car was a Mercedes saloon with an SS pennant conspicuously on display. Devlin said, ‘I suppose that thing makes people get out of the way fast?’