Codeword Golden Fleece (7 page)

Marie Lou, on the other hand, was quick to perceive that no normal country house-party would have brought such a number of womanless men together, and she felt at once that the gathering must have something to do with the imminence of war. The scenes in Vienna the night before and the excited, news-hungry crowds that she had seen in Warsaw that morning were still fresh in her memory.

The Polish officers on either side of her and Major Bauer opposite were all striving to secure her attention. She was polite to the Germans and to all appearances enjoying a mild flirtation with the other two, but actually her smiling acceptances of their compliments were almost automatic. She had long since learned that men love to show off before a beautiful woman, and that an occasional exclamation of apparent interest will keep them talking endlessly about themselves and any field of endeavour in which they have achieved personal success. Jaljusz, the tall, fair man on her right, was a famous horseman who had won cups for jumping at half a dozen international horse-shows; Josef, a smaller, dark-haired man on her left, who said he came from Southern Poland, was an Air Force officer and one of the crack airmen of his country. In competition with their rather boyish boastings, the stolid German opposite seemed to have no personal triumphs to offer, so he confined himself to occasional aggressive pronouncements about the greatness of Adolf Hitler and the reflected glory which shone on all who were privileged to work for him.

But all three might have saved their breath as far as making an impression on Marie Lou was concerned. Twenty-four hours earlier she had been dining alone with her dear Richard at ‘
Die Drei Hussaren
’ in Vienna, carefree and happy, hardly conscious of the clashing wills of great sections of the human race which now threatened to engulf them all in one vast maelstrom of blood, tears and death.

The position had not perceptibly worsened since, and around her were a score of people all chattering unconcernedly, intent only upon the rich dishes placed before them and the contents of the tall flagons of cool wine. Yet, now she was terribly conscious that all of them and every soul she knew and cared for were standing on the edge of the abyss.

If war came, how would it affect her nearest and dearest? Everyone said this would be a young man’s war, so Richard would not be involved, at all events to begin with; besides,
food would be important, and he would be needed at home to get every possible ounce out of the estate. Fleur was still only a schoolgirl. How Marie Lou thanked God now that she had never had a son. Greyeyes was too old to be accepted in any fighting service, and Simon would never pass the doctors. The United States would almost certainly remain neutral, so that let Rex out. She heaved a mental sigh of relief as she thought how incredibly lucky she was at this time when nine out of ten women all over Europe stood in grave danger of having to part with a husband, a lover, a son, or at least some man they loved dearly.

But was she really going to be so lucky after all? None of these men she loved were stay-at-homes by nature. Not even Simon, who always pretended that he was a born coward. Not even Richard, although he often swore that he would rather spend the rest of his life at home than anywhere else in the world. No question of neutrality would ever stop Rex from fighting for England in a struggle such as this, if he could possibly find a way to do it. And Greyeyes? Would he be content to work for the Red Cross and take cigarettes to wounded men in hospital? Of course not. She knew well that he spent an hour every morning of his life practising special exercises, taught him long ago by a Japanese, which kept his slender limbs as flexible and strong as steel, and he was still one of the finest shots in Europe. Age would prove no bar to him, and before the war was a week old he would be in it. Not in uniform perhaps, but engaged in some secret, deadly, dangerous business where subtle trickery, high courage and quick wits could serve Britain better than bayonets and guns. And the others would become his willing helpers, just as so often in the past.

She sighed again, this time almost audibly, although she knew in her heart that if England were to face grave peril she could never wish that the swords of her four Modern Musketeers should lie rusting in their scabbards. The blond Jaljusz had just concluded an anecdote at which she knew instinctively she was expected to laugh, so she turned the dazzling battery of her big, violet eyes up to his face, and converted the sigh into a little moue of amazement. A moment later the Baroness caught her glance and the long double line of men stood up as she left the table with her hostess and the buxom Anna Lubieszow.

Half an hour later, as the men began to make up tables for cards in the big lounge, de Richleau tapped Richard on the
arm and, presenting him with one of his long Hoyo de Monterreys, said softly:

‘I’ve quite a lot I want to talk to you about, and the night is fine. Let’s smoke a cigar together while we take a stroll in the garden.’

‘And I’ve plenty to say to you,’ Richard replied in a low but aggrieved voice. ‘You let me in for a pretty party by saying I was a British M.P. That black-haired, monkey-faced harridan nearly caught me out a dozen times.’

‘Nearly, but not quite.’ The Duke smiled. ‘Fortunately, my dear fellow, I happen to know that you are not such a fool as you like your friends to believe, and that I can always count on you to pull through somehow when a little harmless duplicity is required.’

Richard, whose natural good nature never remained ruffled for long, grinned back, completely mollified, and the two old friends passed out on to the terrace.

The night was warm but dark, as the moon was not yet up, and patches of cloud veiled all but a few clusters of stars. When their cigars were lit de Richleau turned and led the way along the terrace towards the wild garden to the left of the house. He did not speak until they were well away from the buildings and pacing slowly down one of the twisting walks which zigzagged through the best part of an acre of flowering shrubberies, then he said:

‘I told you before dinner that the outbreak of hostilities is now virtually certain and that it will take place within a few days—if not hours; but what I did not dare to tell you then, for fear of walls having ears, is that the result of the first round, and, as a consequence of it, possibly the fate of the whole civilised world for hundreds of years to come, is being secretly arbitrated upon and will, I fear, be definitely “rigged” in Hitler’s favour by that bunch of crooks with whom we have just been dining.’

‘The devil!’ exclaimed Richard, after emitting a low whistle. ‘But, if that’s really so, why on earth aren’t you on your way to London, to let your friends in Whitehall know what’s going on?’

‘Because I might make matters even worse if I gave them the wrong impression, and I still have no definite proof that Mack and Co. are actually prepared to sell us out.’

‘But you know beyond all question that they are negotiating with our potential enemies behind our backs—surely it’s up
to us to get that information to our own Government at the earliest possible moment?’

The Duke took a long pull at his evenly burning cigar, then said slowly: ‘I’m not altogether certain of that, Richard. Chamberlain is an honest man, but he’s a fool; also, I’m convinced that he would seize on any straw which would be just enough to satisfy his conscience in an attempt to do another deal with Hitler. It’s not that he’s a coward, but that he believes himself to be a man with a mission—the preservation of world peace. If he were told that the Poles were trying to do a deal with the Nazis he would probably consider that let us out of our obligation to go to the Poles’ assistance in the event of war, and would tell them so in the hope that they would then give in over Danzig.’

‘Well, perhaps that might not be so bad as it sounds. If ever anyone had a good case, Hitler has it over Danzig. A new deal on those lines would give us another six months at least, perhaps a year, to prepare; and by that time we’d be in a far better state to face the real showdown.’

‘I entirely agree, but the devil of it is that we don’t know how far Mack is prepared to give way to the Germans. If it’s only Danzig, well and good, but if this deal involves the Corridor as well and other frontier rectifications in Silesia, that will be a very different matter. We know what happened to the Czechs, and we dare not allow the same thing to happen here. The Poles are a nation of thirty-five million people, and first-class fighters at that. If it is a choice of another few months to rearm, against Poland’s becoming a German province, like Czechoslovakia, before the party even starts, we had far better face the music now.’

‘Yes, I quite see that,’ Richard agreed; ‘but you haven’t told me yet what you’ve found out up to now.’

For the next few minutes de Richleau gave a short résumé of events since the arrival of General Mack and his friends at Lubieszow, then Richard said:

‘It doesn’t look too good, does it? From what you say I haven’t a doubt that Mack is prepared to sell us out, but if nothing is definitely settled yet there’s still a chance that Hitler may refuse to pay his price and that he’ll decide to dig in his toes and fight. And if that happened after you had tipped off Whitehall and Chamberlain had decided that he was justified in ratting on the Poles there would be a ghastly mess.’

‘Yes, even a few days’ delay in our coming in, if the Poles do fight, might prove disastrous; because, if we failed to declare war on Germany at once, they might feel that it was hopeless to try to fight the Nazis on their own and throw in their hand after the initial clashes on the frontier. Then Hitler would have Poland in the bag with scarcely a shot fired.’

‘If only we could find out how far Mack is prepared to go,’ Richard mused.

For a further ten minutes they talked on round the subject, then suddenly the Duke laid his hand on Richard’s arm, bringing him to a halt.

As they stood there in the close, warm darkness between two groups of high bushes, they could hear the approach of footsteps and the murmur of voices. A moment later they could distinguish the clear, precise voice of General Count von Geisenheim, speaking in German, and then the rather high-pitched voice of General Mack.

With a little grimace of regret, de Richleau dropped his cigar and put his foot on it; then he swiftly turned up the silk lapels of his dinner-jacket so that they should hide his white dress shirt. Richard quickly followed suit, and they stood there straining their ears to catch the words of the slowly approaching couple on the far side of the bushes.

‘I know that, but I cannot help it,’ von Geisenheim was saying.

‘The Luftwaffe absolutely insist?’ demurred General Mack.

‘Absolutely. Air power will be the dominant factor in all future wars, and, if the campaign is to be rendered as short and bloodless as possible, it is essential that your air force should be grounded from the very beginning. All the other matters which we have discussed openly in conference these past days are of comparatively small importance compared with this. And, after all, what are the lives of a few score airmen weighed against the thousands of troops you would lose if we were compelled to inflict a major defeat upon your army before you could decently advise your Cabinet to ask for an armistice?’

Mack grunted. ‘There is much truth in that. All right, then, say that I agree to give you the order of battle and dispositions of our air force, will the Fuehrer give a definite undertaking that he will maintain me in office, by force of arms if need be, and allow me, as
Grossgauleiter
of the new Protectorate of Poland, to select my own Cabinet, consisting entirely of Poles?’

‘He will make you
Grossgauleiter
, yes. But whether he would agree to your Cabinet being exclusively composed of Poles, I do not know. I think he would at least require German representation.’

That I will not have.’ Mack’s voice was harsh and determined. ‘With even one Nazi in my Cabinet I should not be the master—and on that I insist.’

‘We have little time, but if you are absolutely adamant on this point…’ Von Geisenheim’s voice faded away as the two men passed out of earshot.

‘Well, now we know,’ murmured Richard.

De Richleau nodded. ‘It is clear now that Mack is placing his personal ambition before all else. He evidently realises that, if his Government gave way to the Nazis, it would fall, so he does not even intend that they should climb down over Danzig. Instead, he is planning to pose as one of Poland’s heroes by defying Hitler, while secretly stabbing his country in the back; his price being supreme power as Hitler’s Viceroy directly the war with Poland is over.’

‘In other words, he means to eat his cake and keep it too. The swine! Just think of those poor devils of Polish airmen!’

‘Yes, if he is prepared to see his own air force annihilated before they have even had a chance to give battle he is capable of anything. Having sunk to that, he will make a deal with the Nazis anyhow—even if Hitler refuses to agree to his having the Polish Cabinet for which he asks.’

‘Hitler will agree,’ said Richard with sudden bitterness. ‘He’d be mad not to. What is a promise to Hitler? Of course he’ll agree, knowing perfectly well that Mack will be in no position to do a damn’ thing if he chooses to change his mind afterwards. The thing is, what the hell are we to do?’

‘Now we know where we are one of us must get this information back to London at the earliest possible moment.’

‘It shouldn’t be difficult to pinch a car. I can easily collect Marie Lou. We’d have to leave the baggage, but we’d be in Warsaw before morning.’

The Duke shook his head. ‘No good, my friend. If any or all of us did a moonlight flitting, Mack and Co. would immediately smell a rat. Every policeman in Poland would be turned on to hunt for us, and we’d never get out of the country. Besides, Lucretia is not due back till Sunday night, and we can’t leave her stranded here. No, at the moment, none of them suspects
that we are on to their game, and our only chance is to use that. Somehow, you and Marie Lou have got to leave here first thing tomorrow morning, perfectly naturally. But we have to produce a thumping good excuse for this sudden curtailment of your visit, and this is not the sort of place where you can walk down to the village and send yourself a telegram.’