‘With the IRA?’
‘The bombing campaign. They were always having a go, the hard men, those who’d blow up the Pope if they thought it would help the cause. Nineteen thirty-six, there was an active service unit who set a bomb or two off in London. You know the sort of thing? Women, kids, passers-by? I was used as an enforcer in those days and the men at the top wanted it stopped. Lousy publicity, you see.’
‘And this is when you knew Wapping?’
‘A friend from my youth in County Down. Friend of my mother’s actually.’
‘Who is this friend?’
‘Michael Ryan. Ran a safe house. Not active at all. Very deep cover.’
‘And you took care of this active service unit?’
‘There were only the three of them.’ Devlin shrugged. ‘They wouldn’t be told. After that, I went to Spain. Joined the Lincoln-Washington Brigade. Did my bit against Franco till the Italians took me prisoner. Eventually the Abwehr pulled me out/
‘And this friend of yours in Wapping, this Ryan -I wonder what happened to him?’
‘Still in deep, old Michael, I should imagine. He wouldn’t want to know any more. That kind of man. Had doubts about the use of violence. When the Abwehr sent me to Ireland in forty-one I met a friend of his in Dublin. From what he told me I know for a fact the IRA didn’t use Mick during their bombing campaign in England at the beginning of the war.’
‘Could this be of any use?’ Schellenberg suggested.
‘Jesus, General, you’ve got the cart running before the horse, haven’t you?’
Use came in with an orange-coloured book. ‘I’ve found it, General, St Mary’s Priory, Wapping. See, right on the edge of the Thames.’
Schellenberg and Devlin examined the map. ‘That isn’t going to tell us much,’ Devlin said.
Schellenberg nodded. ‘I’ve just had a thought. Operation Sea Lion, nineteen forty.’
‘You mean the invasion that never was?’
‘Yes, but it was thoroughly planned. One task the SD was given was a comprehensive survey of London. Buildings, I’m talking about. Their usefulness if London were occupied.’
‘You mean which place was suitable for Gestapo Headquarters? That sort of thing?’
Schellenberg smiled amiably. ‘Exactly. There was a listing of many hundreds of such places on file and plans, where obtainable.’ He turned to Use Huber. ‘See what you can do.’
‘At once, General.’
Devlin sat by the window, Schellenberg at his desk. They lit cigarettes. Schellenberg said. ‘You said last night you preferred to proceed with the notion of Vargas being a traitor.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So what would you do? How would you handle it?’
‘Easy _ a stroke of genius hit me at the height of the bombing, General. We don’t tell Vargas I’m going.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘We extract what information we need. In fact, we probably have enough already. Then, once a week, Rivera asks for more information on your behalf. Steiner’s regime at the Priory, the guard system, that sort of thing, only I’ll already be in London. Now, Walter, my old son, you’ve got to admit that’s good.’ Schellenberg laughed helplessly, then got up. ‘Very good – bloody marvellous. Let’s go down to the canteen and have a coffee on it.’
Later, Schellenberg called for his Mercedes and they drove to the Tiergarten and walked around the lake, feet crunching in the light powdering of snow.
There’s another difficulty,’ Devlin said. ‘The Special Branch managed to hunt me down when I was in Norfolk. A little late in the day as it happened, but they did and one of the things that helped was the fact that as an Irish citizen I had to be entered on the aliens’ register by the local police and that required a passport photo.’ ‘I see. So what are you saying?’ ‘A complete change in appearance – a real change.’ ‘You mean hair colouring and so on?’ Devlin nodded. ‘Add a few years as well.’ ‘I think I can help there,’ Schellenberg said. ‘I have friends at the UFA film studios here in Berlin. Some of their make-up artists can achieve remarkable things.’ ‘Another thing _ no aliens’ register this time. I was born in County Down which is in Ulster and that makes me officially a British citizen. We’ll stick with that when it comes to false papers and so on.’ ‘And your identity?’