‘I had heard of him,’ I said.
‘I did most of my research at the Public Records Office. As you know, few files dealing with intelligence matters are immediately available. Some are on a twenty-five-year hold, some fifty…’
‘And exceptionally sensitive material, a hundred years,’ I said.
‘That’s what I have here.’ She held up the folder. ‘A hundred-year-hold file concerning Dougal Munro, Kurt Steiner, Liam Devlin and others. Quite a story, believe me.’
She passed it across and I held it on my knees without opening it. ‘How on earth did you come by this?’
‘I checked out some files concerning Munro yesterday. There was a young clerk on duty on his own. Got careless, I guess. I found the file sandwiched in between two others, sealed, of course. You have to do your research on the premises at the Records Office, but since it wasn’t on the booking-out form, I slipped it into my briefcase.’
‘A criminal offence under the Defence of the Realm Act,’ I told her.
‘I know. I opened the seals as carefully as I could and read the file. It’s only a thirty-page resume of certain events – certain astonishing events.’
‘And then?’
‘I photocopied it.’
‘The wonders of modern technology allow them to tell when that’s been done.’
‘I know. Anyway, I resealed the file and took it back this morning.’
‘And how did you manage to return it?’ I asked.
‘Checked out the same file yesterday. Took the Munro file back to the desk and told the duty clerk there’d been an error.’
‘Did he believe you?’
‘I suppose so. I mean, why wouldn’t he?’
‘The same clerk?’
‘No _ an older man.’
I sat there thinking about it, feeling decidedly uneasy. Finally I said, ‘Why don’t you make us some fresh tea while I have a go at this?’
‘All right.’
She took the tray and went out. I hesitated, then opened the file and started to read.
I wasn’t even aware that she was there, so gripped was I by the events recorded in that file. When I was finished, I closed it and looked up. She was back in the other chair watching me, a curiously intent look on her face.
I said, ‘I can understand the hundred-year hold. The powers that be wouldn’t want this to come out, not even now.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘Can I hang on to it for a while?’
She hesitated, then nodded. Till tomorrow if you like. I’m going back to the States on the evening flight. Pan Am.’
‘A sudden decision?’
She went and got her raincoat. ‘That’s right. I’ve decided I’d rather be back in my own country.’
‘Worried?’ I asked.
‘I’m probably being hypersensitive, but sure. I’ll pick the file up tomorrow afternoon. Say three o’clock on my way to Heathrow?’
‘Fine.’ I put the file down on top of my coffee table.
The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the half-hour, seven thirty, as I walked her to the door. I opened it and we stood for a moment, rain driving down hard.
‘Of course there is someone who could confirm the truth of that file,’ she said. ‘Liam Devlin. You said in your book he was still around, operating with the Provisional IRA in Ireland.’
‘Last I heard,’ I said. ‘Sixty-seven he’ll be now, but lively with it.’
‘Well, then.’ She smiled again. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.’
She went down the steps and walked away through the rain, vanishing in the early evening mist at the end of the street.
I sat by the fire and read the file twice, then I went back into the kitchen, made myself some more tea and a chicken sandwich and sat at the table, eating the sandwich and thinking about things.
Extraordinary how events coming right out of the blue can change things. It had happened to me once before, the discovery of that hidden memorial to Steiner and his men in the churchyard at Studley Constable. I’d been researching an article for an historical magazine. Instead, I’d found something unlocked for that had changed the course of my entire life. Produced a book which had gone round the world from New York to Moscow, made me rich. Now this – Ruth Cohen and her stolen file, and I was filled with the same strange, tingling excitement.