Dominion (77 page)

They stepped from the cliff path out onto the promenade; it was small, less than a hundred yards long and perhaps two hundred and fifty wide. There were no lights, only the
half-moon to guide them, but their eyes were accustomed to the dark now and they saw the promenade was deserted. On the landward side there was a high concrete wall, and behind that a little
grassed area sloped gently up to a large building they had been told was the White Horse Hotel. There were no lights on there. Gunther saw there was a gap in the concrete wall where a steep paved
path, perhaps a hundred yards long, led up to the coast road. On the other side of the path was another concrete wall and beyond that the cliffs began again, startlingly white.

Steps led down from the promenade to the beach, a strand of pebbles. Nearby a high stone groyne sloped gently down into the sea. In the dark lee of the groyne, a tiny light flashed three times.
A pencil torch. It was the prearranged signal; the other three SS men were already there. Gunther sighed with relief.

Gunther, Syme and Kollwitz walked down the steps onto the beach. The big round pebbles scrunched beneath their feet; there was no way of avoiding the noise. Borsig and Hauser and Kapp stepped
away from the groyne to meet them. They were also dressed in heavy black camouflage. Kapp smiled, a brief flash of white teeth – he was enjoying this. ‘
Heil Hitler
,’ he
said quietly. In Berlin, Goebbels had just commanded that Hitler’s name was to continue to be used as the National Greeting for all time. Nonetheless, Kollwitz added quietly, ‘And
Heil Himmler
.’

‘All quiet?’ Gunther asked.

‘Yes. We walked along the path from Saltdean. When we got out of the car we saw a woman with a dog walking along the cliffs, looking out to sea. Probably Resistance. But she wouldn’t
see or hear us on that Undercliff path. We’ve been here half an hour; no sign of anyone.’

‘Too cold for lovers,’ Kapp murmured.

Gunther nodded. Nobody in their senses would come here on this bitter night. He shivered in the breeze from the sea, a little stronger here. The tide was well in, the thin line of gently hissing
white surf surprisingly close. He glanced at his watch. Five past eleven.

Syme was also looking out to sea. He said, ‘Any chance the sub could see us from out there?’

‘They’re a mile out,’ Kollwitz answered. ‘I’d guess all they can see of this through a periscope is the dark gap in the cliffs. Besides, if they did see us take
Muncaster’s people they’d cut and run, they wouldn’t want to cause a major diplomatic incident.’

Borsig said, ‘We’ve found something. Come and look at this.’

He led them down the side of the groyne. Near the surf they saw a large, humped shape, covered with a heavy grey tarpaulin. Borsig and Kapp lifted the cover; underneath was an upturned rowing
boat. ‘That’s big enough for six. There are oars underneath. This is the boat they’re going to use,’ Kapp said, triumphantly.

‘Yes.’ Gunther looked back up the beach, to the path where the British party would descend onto the noisy pebbles.

Borsig said, ‘If three of us get under the boat, and the other three crouch down behind it under the tarpaulin, between the boat and the groyne, when they arrive they’ll walk right
into our hands.’

Gunther nodded, then smiled. ‘Yes, it’s ideal. Who goes under?’

‘You and Syme and Kapp,’ Borsig suggested. ‘Kapp and Syme are the thinnest, and if you dig away some of the pebbles you’ll get a view of them coming down, then you can
give the command signal. We’ll all hear them coming, once they’re on the beach, so when they arrive at the boat I suggest you knock on the side and we push it over onto them, you from
below and us from behind. They’ll be completely startled. Then we all jump out and grab them, one each, before they can move.’

‘Yes. Yes, that sounds right.’ Gunther looked at Borsig and Kollwitz. ‘You’ve planned ambushes before.’

‘Yes. In the East.’

‘I have too, in the Gestapo. But only in cities, usually against civilians. I’ll be guided by you.’

‘Thank you. Now, let’s lift the boat up.’

‘It’ll be a bloody cold wait,’ Syme observed.

Kollwitz answered. ‘This is nothing. Try waiting in ambush in the Russian winter.’

They took off the tarpaulin and lifted the boat. It was big and heavy but Borsig and Kollwitz lifted it easily enough. Kapp and Syme slipped under, moving the oars that had been placed under the
boat to one side. Gunther felt his muscles protest as he lay down and scrabbled underneath.

‘I’ll give the side of the boat a kick as a signal,’ he said. ‘It’s heavy. You three push hard.’

Gunther dug away at the pebbles until he managed to make a small space between them and the bottom of the boat, enough for him to see through if he lay flat on his stomach. He looked up towards
the path to the beach, a dark gap in the promenade. Under the boat it was pitch dark and there was a strong smell of seaweed. Already Gunther’s feet felt like ice. Next to him Syme shifted
his bony form, an elbow digging into his ribs. Always some part of Syme had to be twitching or moving. Gunther said, ‘Keep still, for God’s sake. They’ll hear the pebbles if you
move about.’

‘All right. Sorry.’

Gunther took off his watch to lay it next to his face. The luminous dial read 11.45. Three quarters of an hour to go until Muncaster’s party arrived.

T
HAT AFTERNOON, FOLLOWING
the meeting with Bert, David went downstairs, back to the empty lounge. Jane, sitting at her desk in the hall, gave him an
anxious smile as he passed.

He sat in an armchair and looked out of the window. What was he going to do? Sense and decency and old, bone-deep affection told him he belonged with Sarah. But would she have him now? And it
was Natalia who offered him excitement, the chance of something new. More than that, she was someone who understood his past, his true origins.

After a while he went back upstairs, to the room he shared with her. He turned the handle, but the door was locked. He had a feeling Natalia was in there, but there was no sound, no answer to
his knock. Then Sarah’s door opened and she stood there, looking at him.

‘Sarah.’

She turned and went back into her room, but left the door open. He followed her in. She sat on the bed, looking at him bleakly. ‘Please don’t say you’re sorry again. I
don’t think I could stand that.’

He closed the door and stood with his back to it. ‘What else can I say?’

‘Nothing.’ She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

‘About my being Jewish. I had to keep it quiet after 1940. All the more after Charlie came along—’

‘You should have told me, David. It would have been a shock, a surprise, I’m not pretending otherwise, but it wouldn’t have made any difference. And I could have supported
you.’ She looked at him. ‘But that was just the start of the lies.’ Her eyes bore into his. ‘Whatever love you felt for me ended when Charlie died, didn’t
it?’

‘No. But somehow his dying just – pulled us apart. I don’t know why. And then, when I joined the Resistance – I felt guilty for lying to you again, and that just made it
all worse.’ He put two fingers to the bridge of his nose, squeezed hard. ‘I was a spoiled child and I’m a selfish man.’

She answered quietly, ‘You believe in duty, self-sacrifice. I always admired you for that. But I don’t want you to stay with me out of duty. And I don’t know if I could ever
trust you again.’

He thought of his other secret, the last one. Natalia. She hadn’t guessed about that. Poor Sarah, even now she didn’t see it all. He took a deep breath. ‘You haven’t said
if you still love me.’

‘I don’t think that’s enough any more.’

He closed his eyes. She sighed, then stood up. ‘David, we mustn’t discuss this now. That’s what I wanted to say. Jane’s worried. Whatever happens afterwards, now we have
to concentrate on getting through tonight. We owe it to the others.’

‘Duty.’ David smiled, a sad twitch of the mouth.

‘Yes, duty. And now I think you should go.’

He left the room. Natalia’s door was still locked. So he went back down to the lounge and sat once more staring out at the empty street. It struck him then that for the first time in their
relationship Sarah was in charge.

At eight o’clock Jane called them down for dinner. Sarah had been lying on her bed, reading an Agatha Christie novel to try to keep her mind off everything. She took a
deep breath and steeled herself to go downstairs. The other four – David, Frank, the Scotsman and the woman with the Slavic accent – were already sitting round one of the tables. Bert
was with them, reading a copy of the
Daily Express
. As Sarah approached Ben said jokingly that their next meal would be American food, on the sub.

Jane had made a beef stew, with potatoes and Brussels sprouts, tasteless like all the food Sarah had eaten in the hotel but hot and filling. Bert looked up from his paper. ‘It says here
Goebbels is calling a conference of all the senior army officers. Himmler and Heydrich aren’t invited. Looks like divisions among the Nazis are really starting.’

‘And they’re reportin’ that in the
Express
?’ Ben said, surprised. ‘Beaverbrook’s paper. Normally they cannae tell us enough about how strong and united
our German allies are.’

‘Well, this government wants Goebbels to stop the Russian war. Even Mosley knows it’s unwinnable.’

‘Do you think that could actually happen? Some sort of civil war in Germany?’ Frank asked.

David had been quiet, but now he looked up. ‘Yes. Hitler held all the reins of power himself. There was always the risk everything would fall apart when he died. He said the Third Reich
would last a thousand years and people believed him, but what Empire has ever lasted that long? Even the Roman Empire didn’t. A few hundred years, that’s the most any Empires have, and
many a lot less.’

‘Like the British Empire,’ Ben said quietly.

‘Yes.’ There was sadness in David’s answer, even now.

Ben asked Bert, ‘I suppose there’s still nothing in the paper about the Jews?’

‘No. But the word I’ve heard is that plans to deport them to the Isle of Wight and then on to Germany are cancelled indefinitely now.’

‘But Goebbels and Himmler both hate the Jews, as much as Hitler did. That’s the one thing those bastards are united about.’

‘The British government are waiting to see what happens,’ Natalia said. ‘If Germany breaks down, and Britain wants to move closer to the Americans, better to have the Jews
alive. A bargaining counter. Pawns. The fog was an excuse to cancel the transports, it came at the right time.’

Sarah looked at her. She didn’t like Natalia, she thought her hard and cold. So she was surprised when she went on to say, with feeling, ‘For now they’re abandoned in those
detention camps. They must be so cold in this weather, so cold.’

Jane had come in with a tray, heavy with large bowls of steamed pudding and custard. As she served them she said, ‘They’re not the same as us, they don’t have the same loyalty
to England.’

Bert glared at his wife. ‘I thought you’d got that nonsense out of your head years ago, woman. When have the Jews ever been disloyal to this country? And saying they’re not the
same as us – you mean they haven’t got pure English blood?’

‘No. I’m sorry, I just . . .’ Jane’s words tailed off.

‘I’ve nae English blood,’ Ben said, stressing his Glasgow accent, trying to lighten the tone.

Bert said, ‘Sorry, I should have said British, not English—’

‘Dinna worry,’ Ben laughed. ‘I don’t lose sleep over what mix of blood I’ve got. Though a Scot Nat would’ve been at you fast enough for saying English not
British. Worrying about blood and ancestry, that’s what’s got Europe intae all this shit.’ He looked pointedly at Jane.

‘I’m sorry. I’m glad they’re not being deported. That’s bad.’ Jane looked at Natalia. ‘And you’re right, the poor beggars must be cold out in
those barracks or wherever they’re being held. It’s just – I was brought up disliking Jews.’

Natalia said, ‘It’s colder still where they get sent to, in the East. Though they’re not cold for long.’

Frank looked at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I believe the rumours they kill them in extermination camps are true.’ Natalia looked at David. A look passed between them. He met her eye. And then Sarah knew, she knew that David
had told Natalia he was Jewish and she saw in their faces exactly what lay between them. She looked down quickly at her plate but she couldn’t pick up a spoon, couldn’t eat. She stood
abruptly. ‘I don’t feel very well. I’m going upstairs.’

David said, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I feel sick. I think it’s just nerves, giving me a bit of a gippy tummy. I’ll be all right if I lie down for a bit.’

The last secret. The end. Sarah wished she could have run out of the hotel, back to London, back to Irene and her mother and father. She thought of her empty house, had a
sudden horrible vision of Charlie there as a tiny, lonely ghost, wandering lost through the empty rooms. She cried and cried, but silently so that the others wouldn’t hear.

To her surprise, perhaps because she was so exhausted, Sarah fell asleep. When Ben knocked on her door it was dark. He told her they were to go downstairs for a last briefing.
It was almost ten o’clock. They gathered in the office behind the counter. David gave Sarah a smile, but she couldn’t return it. Frank and Ben, noticing, exchanged glances. Natalia was
watching David and Sarah carefully, her face expressionless. Sarah thought, she’s worried there’ll be some sort of outburst between us. But there mustn’t be, I have to hold
on.

Bert and Jane reported that everything was still quiet in Rottingdean, the rendezvous was still on. The weather forecast said it would be clear and cold. Then Bert went to a safe on the wall and
brought out two pistols. Sarah shuddered at the sight of them. They made her think of her father, the pistol he would have carried in the Great War. Bert handed one to Ben. Natalia said, ‘You
know I have one already?’

‘Yes.’ Bert looked at David. ‘You can handle a gun?’