Traitors' Gate (52 page)

The central windows, which he judged to be those of the hall and the rooms on either side of it—in one of which he had seen Sabine—were immediately above the pit in which lay the dead end of the tunnel. It was a drop of fifty feet, and even if he could lower her and himself they would then be in the eighteen feet deep pit instead of on the embankment. As her bedroom was on the other side of the tower and looked out on Water Lane, it would be pointless to come down from the window there. By swinging like a pendulum on a rope from the window of the room in which he had seen her, it might be possible to land on the embankment instead of in the pit, or the attempt might be made from a window of one of the flanking tower rooms—if he could get her to it. But even then it would mean a drop of thirty feet and take at least ten minutes for the two of them to accomplish. It was the thought of the time factor which made him rule it out. With one sentry within fifty yards, and two others walking their beats with an uninterrupted view of the tower, it was almost a certainty that they would be spotted. More out of curiosity than anything else he asked the Governor:

‘Are the sentries here issued with ball cartridge?’

Colonel Faviell laughed. ‘Good gracious, no! We’ve had plenty of air raids, but at least we have no cause to fear a seaborne assault by the enemy. There is little point in their being here really, now the Jewels have gone; but it is tradition that we should have them, and tradition dies hard.’

In spite of this reassuring reply, Gregory still felt that the odds on being caught, if they came down from a window, were so big that as an escape route it was not worth further consideration. They returned to the King’s House, where the Governor gave him tea; then, having thanked him for a most interesting afternoon, Gregory made his way back to the West End.

Next morning he rang up the Tower to confirm that Sabine was still too ill for her interrogation to be continued, and asked
that when she was better he should be notified by a message to the War Room; then he telephoned M.I.5 to inform Colonel ‘Himmler’ of the situation. After that, as it was a Sunday, he rang up Sir Pellinore to suggest that since Sabine was no longer his guest they should resume their Sunday night suppers, and the Baronet said he would be pleased to see him.

At Carlton House Terrace that evening, as soon as Gregory had been provided with a glass of sherry, he told his host of his visit to Sabine, and that she had sent a message conveying her most abject apologies for her shocking abuse of Sir Pellinore’s hospitality and her hope that, as she had been inspired by patriotic motives, he would not think too badly of her.

‘Queerest apology I’ve ever had,’ grunted Sir Pellinore. ‘And I don’t want any more like it. Still, shows the wench has good manners. That’s more than many young people have these days. Can’t help bein’ sorry for her, in a way. Confounded nuisance though. You and I are bound to be dragged in at her court martial, and made to look a pair of fools. Fine kettle of fish your idiocy has landed us in.’

Gregory gave the ‘soft answer that turneth away wrath’ and changed the subject.

During the meal their talk, as usual, ranged over the battle-fronts. The previous Sunday night Lancasters had carried out a terrific raid on Le Creusot, practically eliminating the great munition works there that French collaborators had been running at full blast for the benefit of the Germans. The Admiralty had announced a great increase in the strength of our Fleet, the two great new battleships
Anson
and
Howe
now being in commission, and that since the beginning of the war we had accounted for no less than 530 enemy submarines. The Germans were still hurling their troops against Stalingrad but the attacks showed signs of weakening. Moscow claimed that some of the German divisions had lost up to seventy per cent of their effectives; and it did really begin to look as if the all-important city on the Volga would succeed in holding out through the winter. On the past two nights the R.A.F. had bombed Genoa, causing great havoc among wharfs and shipping. As the port was Rommel’s principal supply base, these actions were clearly designed to assist operations in North Africa; and General Montgomery’s offensive had started well,
some points in the enemy’s main defences having been penetrated.

They took their port up to the library, and when they had settled down there Gregory told Sir Pellinore the story, as disclosed by Sabine, of her plot with Ribbentrop. The older man listened with the greatest interest, then exclaimed:

‘Strap me! What a lot these Nazis are! Just think of Anthony Eden, sayin’ he had a mistress, lettin’ her shield a German spy, then go as a spy with him to the Fatherland in the hope of making John Anderson look a fool in front of Churchill. Berchtesgaden must be a regular thieves’ kitchen. It’s the gel who’s got the raw end of the deal, though. And it’s worse for her than it would be for a man. Prison plays the very devil with women’s looks. She’ll be prematurely old and no good for anything by the time she comes out.’

‘That won’t be the case if I can help it.’

‘Eh? What d’you mean by that?’

‘I’m planning her escape.’

The Baronet’s blue eyes bulged. ‘You’re joking!’

‘I’m not. I was never more serious in my life.’

‘Then you’re crazy. You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.’

‘I tell you I am planning her escape. And what is more I need your help.’

Sir Pellinore sprang to his feet. ‘God in Heaven, man! Is it likely! You’re drunk! Barmy! Off your rocker!’

‘I’m as sane as you are.’

‘Then you’re pulling me leg, and I don’t like it. I can take a joke, but this has gone far enough.’

‘It has hardly started yet,’ Gregory replied calmly. ‘I assure you that I am in deadly earnest. I mean to do my damnedest to get Sabine out.’

‘But damn it all! You can’t have realised the implications. To make such an attempt would be treason.’

‘I know that; but I hope to escape being tried for it.’

‘You would be, if you were caught. And you will be. You can’t get prisoners out of a place like the Tower. It’s not some tin-pot little concentration camp.’

‘I know.’ Suddenly Gregory smiled. ‘Yesterday afternoon the Resident Governor kindly took me all over it.’

‘My God, you must be made of solid gall! All the same, if
you had reconnoitred the place for a month you wouldn’t be any better off. To make such an attempt would be madness. It couldn’t possibly succeed.’

‘Probably you are right. But that remains to be seen. I am simply telling you that I mean to have a crack at it.’

Sir Pellinore sat down again, and tried sweet reason:

‘Now look here, Gregory. You really must try to get your feet down on the earth. Naturally, havin’ had an affaire with this young woman you’re very distressed about her. I understand that. You’d be a cad if you weren’t. But she is accused of having aided the enemy, and if you try to help her to escape you’ll be betraying your own country.’

‘I admit that it may look like that. But, after all, she is no longer a danger to us; and if she did get away she has no information of importance she could take with her.’

‘That’s true; but it wouldn’t make your case any better.’

‘Not if I’m caught; but I hope I won’t be.’

‘My dear boy, you positively must not take this risk. Your having been in love with the gel is no justification for it. You are not yourself. Your mind is being unduly influenced by your feelin’s for her.’

‘You are quite wrong about that,’ Gregory sighed. ‘It is Erika I am in love with. As I told you when I was last here, I have queered my pitch with her through insisting that I must do what I can for Sabine. But please put it right out of your mind that my intentions in this matter are dictated by sentiment. To use an outmoded phrase, it is “an affair of honour” or, if you prefer a more modern one, it boils down to “cutlet for cutlet”.’

Sir Pellinore nodded morosely. ‘You mean that because she got you out of clink in Budapest you feel that it’s up to you to get her out of clink here. Sound enough reasoning in its day, but not accordin’ to modern ideas. The age of chivalry is past.’

‘More’s the pity. Anyhow, I am going to attempt a damsel-rescuing act, and you are going to help me.’

‘By God, I’m not!’ Sir Pellinore was on his feet again. ‘If you are berserk enough to try this thing I can’t stop you. But I’ll not touch it. No, not with a barge pole!’

‘Yes, you will. I’m not asking you to hold the ladder, or anything of that sort. In fact, I’ll take special pains to ensure that you are not involved; but you have got to pull some strings
to clear the way for me, and get me some highly secret information.’

‘I’ll see you in hell first!’

‘There is no need to be rude.’ The more violently agitated the handsome old man became the more quietly determined his lean-faced junior seemed to become. Holding up a protesting hand, he went on. ‘Do please sit down again and take it easy. Like it or not, you are going to listen to me for ten minutes while I tell you the basis of the plan I’ve formed, and what I want you to do.’

Sir Pellinore would not sit down. He poured himself another dock glass of port, tossed it straight off, and began to stride restlessly up and down the room. Like an active volcano, while listening to Gregory he occasionally rumbled protests:

‘Impossible! Hell’s Bells, you can’t be serious! They wouldn’t tell me that; why should they? You’d be playin’ with dynamite. No, no; you’d never pull it off! This is the maddest scheme I’ve ever heard of. They’d never stand for it! But just think of the risk! It’ll be the finish of you. Finish of me too, like as not. The very thought of the gamble we’d be takin’ makes me shudder.’ Yet gradually his objections became less vehement, and at length he said:

‘God alone knows what will come of this. Still; suppose I must do as you wish. That wench is mighty lucky to have a man of your calibre feel under an obligation to her. Odds still are though that she’ll spend the next seven years in prison. If she does it’ll be because you’ve failed. Can’t say I’d lose much sleep over that as far as she’s concerned; but if you really make a mess of things they might hang you.’

‘If I do they may hang her too—or shoot her; which comes to the same thing. The French shot Mata Hari in the last war, and the Germans Nurse Cavell. This time the Boche are just butchering out of hand any of our women agents whom they catch connected with the resistance; and your friend at M.I.5 seems to think the Home Office are taking the view that we are overdue in staging a few reprisals.’

‘The devil they are!’ Sir Pellinore halted in his tracks. ‘If that’s the case your urge to play knight errant is much more justifiable. But the way you propose to set about it sends cold shivers down my spine. ‘I’ll do what you want, but I greatly fear we’ll both have cause to rue it.’

They talked on for another hour. With great reluctance Sir Pellinore gave Gregory some of the secret information for which he asked, and promised to do his best to get for him the still more secret particulars, knowledge of which was essential to the success of his plan.

A little before eleven Gregory walked across the Park to do his tour of duty in the War Room. The officers on the staff there were under no obligation to maintain secrecy about where they were employed and habitually used the official paper for their correspondence; so during the night, on a sheet of the blue vellum headed ‘Offices of the War Cabinet’, he wrote a note to Colonel Kasdar. It ran:

I have visited the Baroness Tuzolto in prison and she gave me a message for you. In the circumstances I feel that it would be inadvisable for me to call at your Embassy or for us to be seen together in any public place. I should therefore be glad if you would call upon me this evening any time between six o’clock and midnight at my private address—272 Gloucester Road, S.W.7
.

In the morning, on his way home, he dropped the letter in at the Moldavian Embassy.

That evening he described to Rudd the man he was expecting and told him that if anyone else called he was ‘not at home’. Then he shook a cocktail, which he hoped his visitor would arrive to share with him, and sat down to wait with far from easy feelings. It was, he knew, quite on the cards that, fearing a trap, the Moldavian Military Attaché might not come; and, if he did, great subtlety and tact would be required to win him over. Sir Pellinore had been difficult enough; Colonel Kasdar might well prove more so, and if he could not be induced to play, the plan that Gregory had evolved would prove unworkable.

Half-past six came, seven, half-past and eight. Gloomily Gregory sat down to a cold meal that could easily be pushed aside. In twenty minutes he had finished it. Nine o’clock struck, and he began to fear that Kadar did not mean to come; but at a quarter-past, footsteps sounded outside on the landing and Rudd showed in the tall, dark Colonel.

Gregory greeted him cordially, mixed him a whisky and
soda and said, ‘I expect the Baroness will have told you that it was I who brought her from Budapest to England.’

‘Yes, so,’ the Moldavian replied. ‘Der Café Royal we dine at, ja. There she haf you point out to me.’

‘Fine. Your having the low-down about me already should ease the wheels between us quite a lot.’

‘Excuse, please, my English am not var good.’

‘If you would prefer, we will talk in French or German,’ Gregory suggested. ‘I am quite fluent in both.’

The Colonel’s swarthy face lit up with a smile. ‘Let us use German, then,’ he said in that language. ‘For us Moldavians it is our second tongue.’

‘By all means,’ Gregory smiled back. ‘What I was saying was, that since the Baroness has told you that we serve the same interests, that will make it much easier for us to understand one another without beating about the bush.’

‘She did not say that.’ A swift glint of suspicion showed in the Moldavian’s yellow-flecked eyes. ‘She led me to suppose that when she met you in Budapest you were there on a secret mission for the British.’

‘That is true. But didn’t she also tell you that my sympathies are Fascist, and …’ Gregory added the lie unblushingly ‘… that before the war I had many friends among the high-up Nazis?’