“Yes.” The man gave his phone number. “We’ll speak later, then.” Vandam hung up. Forged sterfing-it fitted: this could be the breakthrough. Sterling was no longer legal -ender in Egypt. Officially Egypt was supposed to be a sovercign country. However, sterling could always be exchanged for Egyptian money at the office of the British paymaster general. Consequently people who did a lot of business with foreigners usually accepted pound notes in payment. Vandam opened his door and shouted along the hall. “Jakes!” “Sir!” Jakes shouted back equally loudly. “Bring me the file on forged banknotes.” “Yes, sir!” Vandam stepped to the next office and spoke to his secretary. “I’m expecting a package from the paymaster. Bring it in as soon as it comes, would you?” “Yes, sir.” Vandam went back into his office. Jakes appeared a moment later with a file. The most senior of Vandam’s team, Jakes was an eager, reliable young man who would follow orders to the letter, as far as they went, then use his initiative. He was even taller than Vandam, thin and black-haired, with a somewhat lugubrious look. He and Vandam vere on terms of easy formality: Jakes was very scrupulous about his salutes and sirs, yet they discussed their work as equals, and Jakes used bad language with great fluency. Jakes was very well connected, and would almost certainly go further in the Army than Vandam would. Vandam switched on his desk light and said: “Right, show me a picture of Nazi-style funny money.” Jakes put down the file and flicked through it. He extracted a sheaf of glossy photographs and spread them on the desk. Each print showed the front and back of a banknote, somewhat larger than actual size. Jakes sorted them out. “Pound notes, fivers, tenners and twenties. ” Black arrows on the photographs indicated the errors by which the forgeries might be identified. The source of the information was counterfeit money taken from German spies captured in England. Jakes said: THE KEY TO REBECCA 97
“You’d think they’d know better than to give their spies funny money.” Vandam. replied without looking up from the pictures. “Espionage is an expensive business, and most of the money is wasted. Why should they buy English currency in Switzerland when they can make it themselves? A spy has forged papers, he might as well have forged money. Also, it has a slightly damaging effect on the British economy if it gets into circulation. It’s inflationary, like the government printing money to pay its debts.” “Still, you’d think they would have cottoned on by now to the fact that we’re catching the buggers.” “Ah-but when we catch ’em, we make sure the Germans don’t know we’ve caught ’em.” “All the same, I hope our spies aren’t using counterfeit Reichmarks.” “I shouldn’t think so. We take Intelligence rather more seriously than they do, you know. I wish I could say the same about tank tactics.” Vandam’s secretary knocked and came in. He was a bespectacled twenty-year-old corporal. “Package from the paymaster, sir.” “Good show!” Vandam said. “If you’d sign the slip, sir.” Vandarn signed the receipt and tore open the envelope. It contained several hundred pound notes. Jakes said: “Bugger me!” “Tbey told me there were a lot,” Vandam said. “Get a magnifying glass, Corporal, on the double.” “Yes, sir.” Vandam put a pound note from the envelope next to one of the photographs and looked for the identifying error. He did not need the magnifying glass. “Look, Jakes.” Jakeslooked. The note bore the same error as the one in the photograph. “nat’s it, sir,” said Jakes. “Nazi money, made in Germany,” said Vandam. “Now we’re on his trail.”
Ileutenant Colonel Reggie Bogge knew that Major Vandam, 98 Ken Follett
was a smart lad, with the kind of low cunning one sometimes finds among the working class; but the major was no match for the likes of Bogge. That night Bogge played snooker with Brigadier Povey, the Director of Military Intelligence, at the Gezira Sporting Club. The brigadier was shrewd, and he did not like Bogge all that much, but Bogge thought he could handle him. They played for a shilling a point, and the brigadier broke. While they played, Bogge said: “Hope you don’t mind talking shop in the club, sir.” “Not at all,” said the brigadier. “It’s just that I don’t seem to get a chance to leave m’desk in the day.” “What’s on your mind?” the brigadier chalked his cue. Bogge potted a red ball and lined up the pink. “I’m pretty sure there’s a fairly serious spy at work in Cairo.” He missed the pink. The brigadier bent over the table. “Go on.” Bog.ge regarded the brigadier’s broad back. A little delicacy was called for here. Of course the head of a department was responsible for that department’s successes, for it was only well-run departments which had successes, as everyone knew; nevertheless it was necessary to be subtle about how one took the credit. He began: “You remember a corporal was stabbed in Assyut a few weeks ago?” “Vaguely.” “I had a bunch about that, and I’ve been following it up ever since. Last week a General Staff aide had his briefcase pinched during a street brawl. Nothing very remarkable about that, of course, but I put two and two together.” The brigadier potted the white. “Damn,” he said. “Your shot.” “I asked the paymaster general to look out for counterfeit English money. Lo and behold, he found some. I had my boys examine it. Turns out to have been made in Germany.” “Aha!” Bogge potted a red, the blue and another red, then he missed the pink again. “I think you’ve left me rather well off,” said the brigadier, scrutinizing the table through narrowed eyes. “Any chance of tracing the chap through the money?” THE KEY TO REBECCA 99