Seaforths eyes watered. The thick fug of cigarette smoke blown about by the electric fans on the wall made him feel sick, but he swallowed the bile rising in his throat, determined to see everything and to try to understand everything he saw. No detail escaped his notice the codebooks and documents littering the desks lit up by the green reading lamps; the map of the Atlantic on the far wall with different-coloured pins showing the up-to-date location of the convoys crossing to and from America; the stand of locked-up Lee-Enfield rifles just inside the entrance to the room.
What are you looking at? asked a hostile voice close to his ear. It was Thorn. Seaforth had been so absorbed in his observation of the Map Room that he had momentarily forgotten his companion. But Thorn had clearly not forgotten him. He was staring at Seaforth, his eyes alive with suspicion.
Everything, said Seaforth. This is the heart of the operation. Of course Im curious.
Curiosity killed the cat, said Thorn acidly.
Mr Thorn, Mr Seaforth. If I could just see your passes? A man in a dark suit had appeared as if from nowhere. Good. Thank you. If youd like to come this way. The Prime Minister will see you now.
They passed through an ante-room, turned to their left, and suddenly found themselves in the presence of Winston Churchill, dressed not in a bathrobe but in an expensive double-breasted pinstripe suit with a gold watch chain stretched across his capacious stomach. He was wearing his trademark polka-dot bow tie and a spotless white handkerchief folded into a precise triangle in his top pocket. It was the Churchill that was familiar from countless Pathe newsreels and photographs, except for the stovepipe hat, and that was hanging on a stand in the corner. Without the hat he seemed older the wispy strands of hair on his head and the pudginess of his face made him seem more a vulnerable, careworn old man than the indomitable British bulldog of popular imagination.
He got up from behind his kneehole desk just as they came in, depositing a half-smoked Havana cigar in a large ashtray that contained the butts of two more.
Hello, Alec, he said, shaking Thorns hand. Good of you to come sorry about the short notice. And this must be the resourceful Mr Seaforth, he went on, fixing a look of penetrating enquiry on Thorns companion, who had hung back as theyd entered the room, as if overcome by an uncharacteristic shyness now that he was about to meet the most famous Englishman of his generation.
Eagerness and then timidity: Thorn was puzzled by the sudden change in Seaforth, who seemed momentarily reluctant to go forward and shake Churchills outstretched hand. And then, when he did so, Thorn could have sworn that Seaforth grimaced as if in revulsion at the physical contact. But Churchill didnt seem to notice, and Thorn realized that it could well be the cigar smoke that was causing Seaforth discomfort. He was well aware how much Seaforth hated tobacco, and the sight of his subordinates nauseated expression had been the only redeeming feature for Thorn of Seaforths recent inclusion at strategy meetings in the smoke-filled conference room back at HQ.
I dont need you, Thompson, said Churchill. For a moment, Thorn had no idea whom the Prime Minister was talking to, until he turned to his right and realized that another man was present in the room. It was Walter Thompson, Churchills personal bodyguard, sitting like a waxwork in the corner, tall and ramrod straight. Without a word, Thompson went out and closed the door behind him.
Drink? asked Churchill, crossing to a side table and mixing himself a generous whisky and soda. By God, I need one. I hate being down here with the rest of the trogs, but Thompson and the rest of them insist on it when the bombing gets bad, so I dont suppose Ive got too much choice. Id much prefer to have been up topside watching the battle. Seems like Goerings thrown everything hes got at us today, but the brass tell me weve weathered the storm so far, at least. You know, I dont think Ive been as proud of anyone as Ive been of our pilots these last few weeks. Tested in the fiery furnace day after day, night after night, and each time they come out ready for action. Extraordinary!
Churchill looked up, holding out the whisky bottle. Thorn accepted the offer, but Seaforth declined.
Not a teetotaller, are you? asked Churchill, eyeing Seaforth with a look of distrust.
No, sir, said Seaforth. I just want to have all my wits about me, thats all. Im expecting some difficult questions.
Are you now? said Churchill, raising his eyebrows quizzically as he resumed his seat and waved his visitors to chairs on the other side of the desk. Well, it was certainly an interesting report you sent in, he observed, putting on his round-rimmed black reading glasses and examining a document that hed extracted from a buff-coloured box perched precariously on the corner of the desk. Lots of nuts-and-bolts information, which I like, but most of it saying how well prepared Herr Hitler is for his cross-Channel excursion, which I like rather less. We knew about the heavy build-up of artillery and troops in the Pas-de-Calais, of course, but the number of tanks theyve converted to amphibious use is an unpleasant surprise, and wed assumed up to now that most of their landing craft were going to be unpowered.
Theyve installed BMW aircraft engines on the barges, said Seaforth. They seem to work, apparently.
So I see. Five hundred tanks converted to amphibious use, said Churchill, reading from the document. Its a large number if they can get them across, but thatll depend on the weather, of course, and whos in control of the air, and we seem to be holding our own in that department, at least for now, at any rate.
There are the figures for Luftwaffe air production in the report as well on the last page, said Seaforth, leaning forward, pointing with his finger.
Yes, said Churchill. Again far higher than we expected. But to be taken with a pinch of salt, I think. Goering would be likely to exaggerate the numbers for his masters benefit. He put down the report, looking at Seaforth over the tops of his glasses as if trying to get the measure of him. Your agents report is basically a summary of what was discussed at the last Berghof conference, with a few opinions of his own thrown in for good measure. Is that a fair description, Mr Seaforth?
Hes verified the facts where he can, said Seaforth.
But hes an army man working for General Halder, whos another army man, said Churchill. Hes not going to have inside information about the Luftwaffe.
He knows one hell of a lot for an ADC, and a recently promoted one at that, Thorn observed sourly. It was his first intervention in the conversation.
Hes verified the facts where he can, said Seaforth.
But hes an army man working for General Halder, whos another army man, said Churchill. Hes not going to have inside information about the Luftwaffe.
He knows one hell of a lot for an ADC, and a recently promoted one at that, Thorn observed sourly. It was his first intervention in the conversation.
Too good to be true? Is that what youre saying, Alec? asked Churchill, looking at Thorn with interest.
Too right I am. The source material was nothing like this before. Now its the Fuhrer this, the Fuhrer that. Its like were sitting round a table with Hitler, listening to him tell us about his war aims.
My agent didnt have access before to Fuhrer conferences, Seaforth said obdurately. Now he does.
Whys he helping us? asked Churchill. Tell me that.
Because he hates Hitler, said Seaforth. A lot of the general staff do. And he has Jewish relatives hes angry about whats happening over there.
How well do you know this agent of yours?
I recruited him personally when I was in Berlin before the war. He felt the same way then he loved his country but hated where it was going. I have complete confidence in him.
As do his superiors, judging from his recent promotion, observed Churchill caustically. He was silent for a moment, scratching his chin, looking long and hard at the two intelligence officers as if he were about to make a wager and were considering which one of them to place his money on. Betrayal is something Ive always found hard to understand even when its an act committed for the best of motives, he said finally. Its outside my field of expertise. But we certainly cannot afford to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if we do choose to regard the animal with some healthy scepticism. So, let us assume for a moment that what your agent says is true and that Hitler is ready and determined to come and pay us a visit once hes got all his forces assembled-
He thinks Hitler doesnt want to, said Seaforth, interrupting.
Thinks! Thorn repeated scornfully.
Hitler said as much at the conference, said Seaforth, leaning forward eagerly. He wants to negotiate-
A generous peace based broadly on the status quo, said Churchill, finishing Seaforths sentence by quoting verbatim from the report. And that may well be exactly what he does want, he observed equably, picking up his smouldering cigar and leaning back in his chair. The Fuhrer thinks he is very cunning, but at bottom the way his mind works is very simple. Hes a racist he wants to fight Slavs, not Anglo-Saxons. But the point is it doesnt matter what he wants. We cannot negotiate with the Nazis however many Messerschmitts and submersible tanks they may have lined up against us. Do you remember what I called them when I became Prime Minister four months ago a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime? Churchill had the gift of an actor his voice changed, becoming grave and solemn as he recited the line from his speech. But then he smiled, taking another draw on his cigar. Grand words, I know, but the truth. We must defeat Hitler or die in the attempt. There is no hope for any of us otherwise. And so the strength of his invasion force and his wish for peace cannot change our course.
Abruptly the Prime Minister got to his feet. Thorn nodded his approval of Churchills policy, but Seaforth looked as though he had more to say. He opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind.
Thank you, gentlemen. Reports like this one are invaluable, said Churchill, tapping the document on his desk. If you get more intelligence like this, I shall want to see you again straight away. Both of you, mind you I like to hear both points of view. And you can call my private secretary to set up the appointment so we dont have delays going through the Joint Intelligence Committee hell give you the number outside. My predecessors made a serious mistake in my opinion keeping the Secret Service at arms length. It takes a war, I suppose, to inject some sense into government.