The Best of Our Spies (43 page)

‘No more than twenty-five, I’d say.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. They had to bring him in here, he was so bad. Didn’t have time to get him to the military hospital.’

‘You don’t say!’

‘Surgeon operated on him straight away. They’ve had to remove both of them.’

‘He won’t be prolonging the master race then!’

‘We shouldn’t laugh really. There’ll be hell to pay when they find out who did it. Probably one of the prostitutes who hang around there.’

The other nurse lowered her voice. ‘Or the resistance.’

It was a monumental effort of will for her to remain at work for the rest of her shift. When she finished at six she returned to the guest house on a long route that kept her well away from the abandoned building.

She lay still and wide awake on the bed until she heard the landlady stir at eight o’clock. Already packed she went down and explained that she had received some bad news. Her aunt in Amiens was gravely ill and she had to go to see her immediately.

Grateful that she had so many aunts around France, she pressed a week’s rent into the landlady’s outstretched palm.

The Germans were checking everyone’s papers at the bus station, but hers passed a quick inspection.

When you have to escape from somewhere, get on the first bus or train out. Don’t wait for a preferred destination. Do not look around a station as if you are unsure of where to go. They look out for people behaving like that. You can plan where you go next on the journey. When you are queuing for a bus, try to get behind a family or an elderly person. The guards will be relieved to deal with someone straightforward. It is a good idea to act slightly annoyed at the delay, but blame other passengers, not the guards. If the situation allows, pretend you recognise someone on the bus or in a queue as your pass is inspected. It will make you appear more credible.

She couldn’t remember which side had told her that, probably a bit of both.

A bus was about to leave for Lens and her priority now was to get out of Lille.

ooo000ooo

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

London
October 1944

‘It just does not feel right to me, Edgar. I am afraid that I don’t see how we can help you. I’m sorry, but you have to understand that it’s a mess out there and I cannot see how this is going to help anyone.’

A silence ticked away the seconds in Major Newby’s office in the mews house off Portman Square. Major Edgar had listened to what he had said and had yet to respond. He was sitting in a low chair in the corner of the room, still wearing his coat and trilby and staring intently at Newby through his hands, which were held together as if in prayer, his fingertips touching.

Newby was unnerved by the silence and felt obliged to break it.

‘Look, Edgar. You have to agree that we did all that we could to help. We sent her out there, we linked her up with the resistance – we did all that you asked. We...’

‘I simply feel,’ interrupted Edgar, ‘that if we allow him to go over in a supervised and, above all, controlled manner, then hopefully he’ll get it out of his system. He can meet the people she knew, see where she lived, ask a few questions and then realise that he is never going to find her. If he goes over on a semi-official visit, so to speak, then we can control what happens. What we don’t want is him rampaging around the French countryside, shouting her name from every hilltop. We want him to realise that it is a hopeless task. Of course, we can stop him doing that while the war is still on and he’s in the Navy. But once it’s all over, then there’s nothing to stop him going over there and causing all manner of problems.’

Major Newby walked over to the window and had to bend down to be able to look out of it. An unlit pipe was in his mouth, bouncing up and down as he spoke.

‘As I said, it is a bit of a mess over there, Edgar. You chaps had promised us that when she was no longer needed we would be able to get a warning to the resistance group. That never happened, did it, Edgar?’

‘No it didn’t, but then we didn’t know that she was just going to disappear – and from what we gather from the boys at Bletchley, neither did the Germans. Something probably spooked her and off she went. Wherever she is, my guess is that it is an awfully long way from the Pas de Calais, so he’s not going to find her.’

‘As I say, Edgar – it is a bloody mess out there. Gestapo moved in on her little group as she moved out. There are only two of them left now and I don’t think that they are going to welcome Quinn with open arms.’

‘Do they suspect that she was a German spy?’

‘No. They have enough on their minds as you will find out. They are just suspicious, but I think that they are suspicious of everything, to be frank.’

Newby turned round to face Edgar.

‘And you say that he’s being a bit difficult?’

‘That’s a recent development. Up to a week or so ago he was as good as gold, in the circumstances. Remarkably so, actually. Took it much better than we could have hoped, to be honest. We have looked after him, of course; nice desk job at the Admiralty, promotion, comfortable flat. But something happened at the end of September. Don’t know what, maybe the enormity of it all just dawned on him. But something made him snap, in rather dramatic circumstances, as it happens. Read this.’

From a thin briefcase Edgar had produced a sheet of paper, covered in dense type. He handed it to Newby.

Belgravia Police Station

202–206 Buckingham Palace Road

Crime Report

My name is Neville Priest and I am a police constable with eighteen years’ service in the Metropolitan Police. I am currently based at Belgravia Police Station in Buckingham Palace Road.

On Wednesday, 27 September 1944, I was on a routine patrol in Pimlico Road. I was on the south side of the street, heading in a westerly direction towards Chelsea Bridge Road. The weather conditions were unremarkable: there had been some light drizzle around lunchtime, but visibility was clear.

At around 4pm I was alerted by a passer-by to a commotion that was coming from a street on the other side of Pimlico Road. I made good haste to the scene of the disturbance, which I discovered to be halfway along Passmore Street.

Upon arriving at the scene I saw that a small crowd numbering approximately seven persons had gathered outside number 25 Passmore Street, which is a residential building. I observed that a long ladder was on the pavement along with two empty buckets and a pool of water. A gentleman approached me to explain that he was a window cleaner who had been retained by the owner of number 25 to clean the windows of the house. He had placed his ladder against the small first floor balcony and gone to collect water. When he returned, he found that a man had used the ladder to climb onto the balcony and had then thrown the ladder down to the pavement.

I then observed that a man in his mid-twenties wearing a Royal Navy uniform was on the balcony. His uniform was in a dishevelled state and he appeared to be distressed. I noticed that his Royal Navy cap was on the pavement. He was holding on to the wrought iron railings to the side of the balcony and appeared to be trying to climb onto the ledge.

I asked him what he was doing and he shouted that he wanted everyone to get out of the way as he was planning to jump from the balcony and did not want people to get hurt when he did so. I urged him not to jump. The window cleaner, who I now know to be a Mr David Osbourne, thereupon shouted abuse at the man and said he would sue him for damage to his ladder. Mr Osbourne also told the man that he should go ahead and jump, but from that height he was unlikely to do much damage to himself.

I told Mr Osbourne that were he not to desist he would find himself under arrest. A lady in the crowd asked the man on the balcony why he was up there. The man started shouting in an incoherent manner. He did, however, keep repeating the phrase ‘why didn’t she tell me?’ At this point I asked a young man in the crowd to go and find other police officers. I asked the man on the balcony to come down and he replied in an abusive and offensive manner which I do not intend to repeat verbatim in this statement. He then shouted ‘It’s not Normandy – they are all lying. Edgar is the biggest liar.’ He repeated this a number of times and I was able to write it in my notebook.

The balcony railings must have still been wet from the earlier rain because the man slipped as he moved along them.

I noticed that he was crying now and after a while he climbed down from the railings and sat on the floor of the balcony, holding his head in his hands. At this point three Canadian army officers passed by and with their assistance I was able to place the ladder against the balcony and climb up. The man did not acknowledge my presence; he was just staring ahead and not responding to anything that I said. I was able to escort him through the doors of the balcony into the house. At no time did I form the impression that the man was acting under the influence of alcohol. By this time assistance had arrived and I was able to arrest him for breach of the peace and take him to Belgravia Police Station.

Upon searching him at the police station we discovered that he was a Lieutenant-Commander Owen Quinn of the Royal Navy, based at the Admiralty. The matter was then referred to Inspector Page who I understand liaised with the Admiralty. I am told that the man was released without charge that evening.

Neville Priest (Police Constable)

Addendum to above report

With reference to the very thorough report by PC Priest: I was informed that a Royal Navy officer was in custody at the station and I rang the Admiralty. Within twenty minutes two gentlemen presented themselves at the station and said that they had come to take Quinn away. I told them that this was a police matter. At this point one of the men used my telephone to call Scotland Yard. Within five minutes I received a call from a senior officer at Scotland Yard telling me to do as the men asked and release Quinn without charge. I was informed by the men that Quinn had recently lost his wife in an air raid and was under some pressure. I was asked to instruct PC Priest not to discuss this incident further and was told that I myself should regard the matter as closed. Quinn was released into the gentlemen’s custody at a quarter to six that evening.

Frank Page (Inspector)

Newby finished reading the statement and handed it back to Edgar, knowingly nodding his head as he did so.

‘Poor chap. I rather see what you mean, Edgar. And you say that you have no idea what may have triggered this off?’

‘None whatsoever. As I say, he’d seemed to have taken the whole business terribly well once he found out what was going on. We gave him some pills at the time to calm him down and I can only surmise that they must have been working. Whether he was relying on them and then stopped taking them, I just don’t know.’

‘And I presume you were one of the two gentlemen who turned up at the police station?’

‘Indeed. Carted him off to a safe house in Surrey. Didn’t say a word. Stared out of the window the whole way there. Doc then pumped him full of something that sent him to sleep for the next twenty-four hours. Calmed down a good deal when he woke up, quite apologetic, actually. Desperate to find her, though. Has to go to France – that kind of thing. Before it is too late he kept saying; not sure what he meant by that. If I told him once I told him a dozen times, “you are not going to find her, Quinn”, but he wants to go. So as I say, let him go out there, get it out of his system.’

Newby walked back to his desk and toyed with a pouch of tobacco and a box of matches.

‘And any idea as to what caused this behaviour?’

‘Told us he had run out of his tablets and thought he could cope. Doctor gave him another batch and he promised to take them. Seems to be more or less back to normal, apart from this obsession with going to France to find her. One of our psychiatrist chaps came to have a look at him and said we need to let him get it out of his system. Quite bonkers.’

‘Who, Quinn?’

‘No, Newby. The psychiatrist. So that’s where we are. Apparently if we send Quinn on a trip to France then he’ll be as right as rain.

‘I am prepared to sanction him going out there, but it does have to be controlled. Nicole is in France pretty much most of the time now, looking after the SOE agents we sent out there, finding out what has happened to those who disappeared – the genuine ones that is, Edgar – so I would remind you that this is a sensitive situation. I ought to tell you that the FTP leadership are hopping mad about all this. They suspect that we may have put a German spy in their midst, so they may want their pound of flesh.’

‘Meaning what, precisely?’

‘Ideally, they would like to get their hands on Nathalie, or whatever her real name is. Failing that, you may want to consider giving them... someone else? Would certainly help us if we could get them off our backs for a while. If you could offer up some other sacrificial lamb, that would help. The atmosphere is pretty vengeful out there, I can tell you. Can’t say that I blame them. Have a think about it.’

A thought occurred to Major Edgar. ‘I think I may have just the right person for them. In time.’

‘Very well then. Quinn can go out there, for what it is worth. I will tell Nicole to meet up with him and she can take him to meet the surviving two members of the group. Let him wander around and realise he is not going to find her. With some luck, he’ll appreciate that it is a hopeless situation. As you say, let us hope that he gets it out of his system. One thing occurs to me though, Edgar.’

‘What is that?’

‘It is not exactly in your interests for him to find her, is it?’

‘Meaning?’

‘What is going to happen if he does find her, Edgar? Are you going to put her on trial? Let the whole world know what happened? I doubt it.’

It was Edgar’s turn now to walk over to the small window. He had to go down on his haunches to be able to peer through it. Sacks of coal were being hauled off the back of a lorry in the courtyard below and two dogs were fighting over an empty sack.