And then, at dinner in London in January 1939, they were introduced to a Major Werner Keitel, a military attache at the German Embassy. For several months, Lavinia enjoyed a passionate affair with him and he was frequently a visitor to Shaw Place for he was a Luftwaffe pilot and shared Lavinia’s love of flying. She kept a Tiger Moth at the time, housed in an old barn, using the South Meadow as an airstrip. They frequently flew together in the two-seater biplane, covering large sections of the south coast and Keitel had been able to indulge in his interest for aerial photography.
Shaw never minded. Lavinia had had relationships before although he himself had little interest in women. The Keitel thing was different, however, because of what it led to.
‘Well, we know where we are with him,’ Devlin said of Shaw. ‘He’s the kind who used to have children transported to Australia for stealing a loaf of bread.’
Schellenberg gave him a cigarette. ‘Werner Keitel was an Abwehr agent employed at the time to select deep cover agents. Not the usual kind at all. A war was coming, that was obvious, and there was much forward planning for Sea Lion.’
‘And the old sod’s place was perfect,’ Devlin observed. ‘The back of beyond and yet only forty-five miles from London and this South Meadow to land a plane on.’
‘Yes. Keitel, according to his report, found it amazingly easy to recruit both of them. He supplied them with a radio. The sister already knew Morse code. They were expressly forbidden to engage in any other activities, of course. Keitel, by the way, was killed in the Battle of Britain.’
‘Did they have a code-name?’
Use, who had been sitting quietly, produced another sheet from the file. ‘Falcon. He was to be alerted by the message: “Does the Falcon still wait? It is now time to strike.” ‘
Devlin said, ‘So there they were. Waiting for the great day, the invasion that never came. And what’s the situation now, I wonder?’
‘As it happens, there is some further information available,’ Use told him. ‘We have an article here which appeared in an American magazine.’ She checked the date. ‘March nineteen forty-three. The British Fascist Movement, it’s called. The journalist got an interview with Shaw and his sister. There’s a photo.’
Lavinia was sitting on a horse, a scarf around her head and was far more attractive than Devlin had expected. Shaw stood beside her, a shotgun under his arm.
Schellenberg read the article quickly and passed it to Devlin. ‘Rather sad. You’ll see there that like most of his kind he was detained without trial for a few months under Regulation i8B in nineteen forty.’
‘Brixton Prison? That must have been a shock,’ Devlin said.
‘The rest is even more sad. The estate sold off, no servants. Just the two of them hanging on in that decaying old house,’ Schellenberg said. ‘It could be perfect, you know. Come and have a look at a map of the Channel.’ They went to the map table. ‘Here. Cap de la Hague and Chernay. Used to be a flying club. It’s used as a landing strip for emergencies only by the Luftwaffe. Refuelling, that sort of thing. Only half a dozen men there. It’s perfect for our purposes because it’s only some thirty miles from the Chateau de Belle Ile where the Fuhrer’s conference takes place.’
‘How far to our friends in Romney Marsh?’
‘One hundred and fifty miles, most of it over the sea.’
‘Fine,’ Devlin said. ‘Except for one thing. Would the Shaws be willing to be activated?’
‘Couldn’t Vargas find out?’
‘Vargas could drop the lot of us, as I told you. This would be exactly what British Intelligence wanted. The chance to pull in everyone they could.’ Devlin shook his head. ‘No, the Shaws will have to wait till I get there, just like everything else. If they’ll do it, then we’re in business.’
‘But how will you communicate?’ Use demanded.
‘They may still have that radio and I can handle one of those things. When the Abwehr recruited me to go to Ireland in forty-one I did the usual radio and Morse code course.’