End of Spies by Alex Gerlis (popular ebook readers .txt) 📕

‘What happened?’

‘As far as Charles can gather, Stephens was lured to a bar by a man who told him he knew where das Frettchen was. Clearly, he failed to take the right precautions: he had some Americans waiting on the street outside the bar, but he ought to have had cover inside and also made sure they were watching the back of the place. When the Americans found him in the yard behind the bar, he’d been stabbed to death. One doesn’t want to criticise a dead man, but I can’t believe he was quite so… incautious.’

‘It’s the end of the war, sir.’

‘What do you mean, Prince?’

‘I experienced it myself, sir, on my last mission – both in this country and in Germany. On my previous missions, when the war was still going on, my alertness and concentration were constantly operating at one hundred per cent. Not once did I relax or take my eye off the ball. But when the war ended, I reckon my concentration level dropped slightly, and maybe it was the same with this chap Stephens.’

‘It sounds as if you’re interested…’

‘We’ve not said yes as such, sir.’

‘Let me tell you something first about Charles. I mentioned I was at school with him?’

‘You did, sir.’

‘We were quite close chums actually: same year, same form and house – for a while we even shared a dorm. We’ve remained friends. Charles was a bit different from a lot of us: not terribly ambitious, and not sporty at all, bullied quite a lot when he first went there. He loved nature and was forever going on rambles and finding all these insects. Matron used to get furious. For a while his ambition was to be a country vet, but I don’t think his science was quite up to it, and he ended up working at his uncle’s stockbroking practice in the City. He wasn’t terribly happy there, so he joined the army, which I suppose is one way of seeing nature. Look, are either of you two going to have this last biscuit?’

It was already in Gilbey’s hand, and he eagerly bit into it as his guests shook their heads.

‘Good enough career, and well placed when the war started. Was never going to make colonel, but his French is decent so he went to work for the SOE. It had two main sections covering France: RF, which was linked to de Gaulle, and F section, which Charles worked for, the non-Gaullists. The point I’m trying to get to is that the war has been a bloody strain for him, and I’m afraid it’s all got on top of him now. He was responsible for sending over dozens of agents, and many of them didn’t make it. Now that the war’s over, he’s beginning to find out what happened to many of them – a number of them were betrayed, tortured, killed… it’s dreadful. Of course, Charles is no exception. I’ve sent over agents and lost some of them, and nearly lost others, like you, Prince.’

‘And Hanne too.’

‘Of course! It’s a bloody strain, but we all react differently. Charles has taken it very badly, and I think losing Stephens like that was the final straw. On top of it all, his son was killed at El Alamein in late ’42 – he was in the Eighth Army – and Charles had what I suppose was a bit of a breakdown: not one of those where you shout at neighbours and then end up in one of those awful hospitals, but still, he’s not coping awfully well. So he’s asked me to help, and just as the SOE owes a debt of honour to its dead agents, so Charles and I have a responsibility to each other.’

‘Couldn’t someone else at the SOE take over the case?’

‘They could, but for better or worse, Charles thinks they’d see that as a sign of weakness and it would count against him. He wants to stay in the forces for a few more years and doesn’t want to blot his copybook. So we’ve come up with a perfectly plausible tale that I too have an interest in the Ferret and have asked to take the lead on it, and the SOE seem happy enough with that. Charles meanwhile has gone off to Scotland to have a good rest. This file here is everything we know on the Ferret – description, dates, places, the deaths of the agents. You need to get over to Munich as soon as you can. I think with you two on the case, we ought to have this wrapped up in a week or two.’

Gilbey stood and walked over to the window, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. ‘Europe’s changing by the day; it’s increasingly hard to know what to make of it, to be frank with you. The Soviets seem to know what they’re doing, and the Americans too, but I’m really not sure we do. There’s certainly a role for MI6 over there: we need to know who’s who, who’s on whose side, where the power is – the usual meat and drink of intelligence – but I fear we’ve not adapted to that new world as yet. We’ve been a bit slow off the mark. You two going out there could be useful for me – help me to establish contacts and start some kind of network. And the place is still teeming with Nazis: we’ve rounded up a number of the more prominent ones, but there are still thousands of nasty types we need to get our hands on. I believe this could be our way in, so to speak.’

‘I’m confused, sir. Do you want us to find this chap whose name we don’t know, or set up a network for you?’

‘Your mission would be to find the Ferret, Prince. But what I’m saying is that that ought to give you an entrée into the world of escaping Nazi war criminals, which would be useful