Bitter Field Read online

  ‘So you might need cash in Germany, as well?’

  ‘I shouldn’t, but you never know. I like to think if I end up there, people will act from principle, not for money.’

  ‘Take it from Monty Redfern, Cal, if you think like that you will be sadly disappointed.’

  ‘I know it’s a lot to ask for.’

  ‘It’s too much to ask for, Cal.’ Sensing the disappointment he was quick to explain. ‘You I trust, and I mean that with my life, but these crooks in Whitehall would promise the moon to get what they want, then say it’s cheese when the time comes to pay. I deal with them already, my boy, and I know that what I say is true.’

  ‘I could try and get some kind of guarantee,’ Cal replied, wondering what kind of sum Peter Lanchester could get committed in the kind of arrangement they had discussed, or indeed, whether he could get any committed at all.

  Cal said that without the faintest idea of how he might achieve such a thing. The only matter on which he was certain was this: that if he needed sudden large sums of money while abroad, and his experience told him he might, the Government machine moved too slowly to oblige, quite apart from the fact that there was no way of keeping such transactions secret from the kind of people who had already got him and Peter Lanchester into trouble; getting funds from HMG could be fatal.

  It was with obvious caveats that he outlined what he hoped would happen with SIS and Monty softened somewhat; he was happy to match any sum already committed as long as he had assurances that Cal would be in a position to reimburse him. If he sensed the assurances he was given were speculative he had the good grace to keep that to himself and he did have one possible solution.

  ‘Look, in Prague, you go see Elsa. She knows how to contact me, and if the need is a good one – and she will have to be convinced – then maybe we can do something.’

  ‘I’d still like the documentation.’

  Monty nodded. ‘That’s easy, I’ll have Marita do the letters and, because it will make you safer, I will send cables to Germany and Czechoslovakia to say that a representative of mine might call to do some personal business.’

  ‘I won’t be travelling under my own name,’ Cal said, pulling out the same details he had given to Snuffly Bower, ‘and as well as your letters I need you to use your clout to get visas for Czechoslovakia and Germany.’

  Monty shook his head and took the proffered list. ‘God alone knows why you do these things, Cal, but if it is any help, I am glad you do.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  He returned to the Goring to find two messages, one from Peter Lanchester asking him to be at the Savile Club at seven that evening, with the added information that it was important. There was no explanation as to why but it was not a summons he thought he should ignore, which was not entirely the case with the second one.

  That was from his wife, a slightly irritable missive to say she knew he was back in London and why had he not called – no doubt someone spotted him at the Goring. Among the many reasons that might make people like Monty Redfern wonder why he did what he did, Lizzie Jardine had to be numbered as a possible part.

  She was a wife he could not live with, a woman who, because of her staunch Catholic upbringing, would not countenance divorce but who, nevertheless, did not see her religion as being a bar to either infidelity or making him miserable.

  He could not look at any note from her without the recurrence of the very unpleasant memory which had blighted, probably, both their lives, certainly his own. On his surprise return from the Teschen region he had found his wife in bed with a lover. Still in uniform, still armed with his pistol, he had pulled it out and put a bullet in the man’s left eye.

  That had made the Jardines a true cause célèbre. Quite naturally he had been arraigned for murder, which led to a trial at the Old Bailey. What had surprised society more than the act was the fact that he had been acquitted, it being termed a crime of passion. To this day Cal knew wherever he went he attracted both comment and interest, not least from women, who saw him not only as a good-looking man, but also as a dangerous but enticing prospect.

  ‘Lizzie.’

  ‘Darling, you are being cruel again.’

  That voice, that tone. ‘I only got back yesterday.’

  ‘Am I allowed to know from where?’

  ‘Somewhere that you would find extremely boring.’

  ‘If I was with you I might not be bored.’

  ‘Lizzie, if you were with me you would be throwing the crockery at the walls after twenty-four hours. Bored no, furious yes.’

  ‘That is mean.’

  ‘No, my darling, it is true.’

  Such events had happened too often; the usual pattern was a night out with Lizzie in which she would introduce him to all her louche, and to Cal’s mind, tedious friends, the kind of people reported in the society columns of the daily newspapers as though what they did – basically the same thing night after night – was of interest. It always ended in tears, too often in the morning.

  ‘Binkie Forrester is having an end-of-the-month bash tonight and I have no one to take me.’

  ‘Have you already told the poor bugger who was down to escort you to find another partner, or are you waiting for me to weaken?’

  ‘You sound as though you don’t believe I can be without a man on my arm.’

  ‘I’ve never known you struggle.’

  ‘Plllleeeease?’

  How many P’s and L’s had she managed to get into that request?

  ‘I have an appointment tonight already.’

  The voice was sharper. ‘When?’

  He should have lied; why was he too weak to lie? ‘Seven.’

  ‘I will be ready at nine, do not be a beast and leave me to go to Binkie’s alone. It would be too shaming.’

  ‘I’m damned if I will,’ Cal said, to a phone which had already hit the cradle at the other end.

  ‘Going on somewhere, old boy?’

  It was hardly surprising Peter Lanchester asked this; Cal was in full evening wear, black tie, starched shirt with pearl studs, tuxedo and highly polished court shoes. If he noticed the glare he got in return he managed to ignore it. Earlier, with a whisky in his hand, Callum Jardine had been adamant that his wife would go to hell, a resolve that had weakened as the time came to dress, partly because a couple more drinks had been consumed.

  He looked around the well-appointed lobby of the Savile Club where he had been met, all highly polished panelling, sparkling chandeliers, and on the stairs that led to the public rooms, deep red carpet. If anything, the sense of plenty seemed to deepen his irritation.

  ‘This your club?’

  ‘No,’ Peter replied before turning to the porter. ‘Please tell Sir Robert that I will take our guest straight out to the courtyard.’

  ‘Don’t I even get a drink?’

  ‘There are drinks waiting for us.’

  Peter turned and made his way past the bottom of the stairs to a door which led out on to a flagstoned courtyard, entirely enclosed by the upper storeys of the building, Cal following. Being the time of year, though it was not sunlit, there was sufficient residual illumination from the sky to see clearly and warmth from the day to make the atmosphere pleasantly cool.

  In one corner sat a table with two chairs, topped with glasses and bottles, as well as a club servant standing by to pour and serve, and by the time Peter’s mysterious knight joined them both men had drinks in their hands. Seeing him emerge, Cal observed a tall fellow in a navy-blue three-piece suit, soft-collared shirt and nondescript tie, with a strong handsome face.

  ‘Sir Robert Vansittart,’ Peter intoned, having introduced Cal.

  Vansittart took a drink from the club servant before politely dismissing him and he then addressed Cal in a deep bass voice, his eyes taking in his attire. ‘I hope asking you to meet with me has not inconvenienced your evening?’

  There was a terrible temptation to bark that he could keep him here all night if he wanted until Cal realised he
was in danger of being brusque to no purpose. Whoever this man was it was nothing to do with him that Lizzie Jardine was a minx and he was too weak to resist her wiles, so he answered in a soft negative.

  ‘Peter has told me a great deal about you.’

  ‘Then given he sees me as a violent thug I am surprised you have not come wearing some kind of protective clothing.’

  Vansittart threw back his head to laugh and by doing so created an immediate and relaxed atmosphere for both of them. He then surprised Cal by softly saying Peter’s name in such a way that he moved away from them and went to stand far enough off for them to talk without being overheard, which led to an immediate enquiry from his guest as to why.

  ‘A necessary precaution, Mr Jardine, to ensure security. Please do not think that I do not trust our mutual friend because I do, but what I am about to say to you I cannot risk being overheard by a third party who might at some future date be asked to repeat under oath what we will talk of. To do so would put the person in a very invidious position and do little for my own. Shall we sit down?’

  They did so and there followed one of those pauses a man employs to gather his thoughts and ensure that he is going to produce them in the right order. ‘First of all, I would like to say that if you and I were to discuss the personality of Chancellor Hitler we would find ourselves in full agreement.’

  ‘I would like to put a bullet in his brain.’

  ‘Then perhaps not in full agreement, but I have watched his rise to power with some trepidation and from what Peter has told me you would share my view that he is a man determined on disturbing the peace of Europe. You will understand that matters are very febrile at the moment, with the Nazi Party Rally about to commence and the very real fear that the Führer will up the tension in Central Europe.’

  ‘Can I ask, Sir Robert, what is your position?’

  Vansittart produced a slight self-deprecating smile. ‘You’re sure I have one?’

  ‘Fairly certain.’

  ‘I was until the beginning of this year the Permanent Undersecretary at the Foreign Office and as such I advised Lord Halifax and through him the Cabinet. I’m afraid that in that capacity I rather upset the PM, who promoted me to be his Chief Diplomatic Advisor.’

  No slouch, then, Cal thought; this man had been the top civil servant at his department. That opinion received an immediate cold douche.

  ‘As such, that leaves Mr Chamberlain free to ignore anything I say.’

  ‘Did the Foreign Secretary share your concerns when you were advising him?’

  Vansittart saw the merit in the question. ‘Lord Halifax has the reputation of being soft on Nazi Germany, having been much lampooned in cartoons after what was supposed to be a private visit a year past, which somehow got turned into something more official by leaks to the press from the PM’s office.’

  There was a pause to let the import of that sink in; the idea of a prime minister undermining his own cabinet colleague was a startling one to Cal, but only, he realised, because he had never thought about it. In truth, knowing his fellow humans as he did, and politicians being that, he should not have been surprised.

  ‘Let it suffice to say that Lord Halifax has a different view to that with which he is credited, and even if I am not in my previous place, he listens with great attention to my advice and not just because of the mauling he received in the press. It is common to describe politicians as fools but they are often far from that, Mr Jardine. He saw what needed to be seen upon his visit.’

  Vansittart took a long sip of his gin and tonic, Cal suspected to again gather his thoughts. ‘Peter tells me you have always wanted to know who it was who formed the group that facilitated and paid for your services in getting those weapons to Ethiopia.’

  ‘He was always very reluctant to oblige.’

  ‘It might save a great deal of time if I tell you I was one of the people who coordinated matters, many times, within these walls and in strict defiance of Government policy and my own responsibilities.’ He produced a slow smile as he looked around the enclosed courtyard. ‘If they could speak we would all end up in the Tower.’

  Cal nodded; this man fitted the impression of what had been needed to smooth the progress of the buying and shipping of arms to the Horn of Africa, a combination of money and real political clout. He doubted he was one of the money men, but he could make things happen in other ways.

  ‘You will know that the nation’s policy towards Germany under our present government is, to people like us, a troubling one. The prime minister holds one view, while officials like myself hold one that is wholly contrary to that.’

  ‘Not all officials, I would hazard.’

  The slight shake acknowledged that. ‘There are many who do not, but understand this: the policy of appeasement has one aim, and that is the maintenance of peace in Europe and the avoidance of another bloodbath. I must tell you that the aim of those who oppose the present policy is exactly the same.’

  ‘Though the method would not be.’

  ‘No, but I was present at the writing of the Treaty of Versailles, Mr Jardine, and I am of the opinion, as are many others, that Germany has grievances from that document that require to be addressed, as does Mr Chamberlain. Where we fundamentally disagree is that such changes should be considered while Hitler or anyone like him holds power and seeks redress by either bluster or force.’

  ‘Then you have two problems, the first that Hitler does not bluster, he gambles, the second being that Chamberlain is prime minister.’

  ‘Chamberlain gambles too.’

  ‘Dangerous when there can be only one winner.’

  Cal had said that rather sharply; he felt he was being treated in too condescending a manner regarding matters that any thinking person could arrive at without a lecture. Not that such truly angered him; he was dealing with a man who marshalled his thoughts and opinions as a matter of course and spoke in the careful language of diplomacy and bureaucracy, which had to be measured to ensure he was completely understood.

  ‘The PM is a man not without a certain degree of vanity.’

  ‘Is there such a man?’

  That made him laugh again and shake his head. ‘It is the level of that sinful quality which causes trouble.’

  ‘Are you saying Mr Chamberlain has an excess of it?’

  ‘He is convinced that his political genius can find a way out of what seems an intractable problem, and added to that he is as devious as a fox circling a hen coop, which, if you will forgive an extension of the metaphor, would serve to describe his Cabinet.’

  ‘Who could stand up to him if they wished?’

  Vansittart shook his head. ‘Every person at the Cabinet table is there as a personal appointee of the PM and every one of them has striven all their political lives to get their feet under that table. Regardless of their private doubts the leaving of a cabinet position is too awful to contemplate for many, and for those seeking Chamberlain’s chair akin to political suicide.’

  ‘Anthony Eden too? He resigned.’

  ‘Do not think he surrendered the Foreign Secretary’s job with either good grace or easily. Anthony was always a thorn in the Chamberlain side, not least for his popularity with the public, quite apart from the fact that he was seen as a more fitting representative of the nation than the man above him.’

  ‘Not just as the Glamour Boy?’

  ‘He is lucky in his good looks, of course, but he has a fine mind. Given those qualities, his popularity with the public, the fact that he was appointed by Stanley Baldwin and does not agree with the PM’s policy of appeasement, while representing himself as a potential successor, Neville took great pleasure in engineering his resignation.’

  ‘Engineering?’

  ‘That is what you do with a rival for your office …’ He paused to smile. ‘With a civil servant like myself you kick them upstairs.’

  ‘I can’t say I feel sorry for the man. After Spain, and what has been allowed to happen there, Eden does
not stand too high in my estimation either. I doubt the non-intervention policy would have been half as effective with his efforts, which virtually handed the nationalists all the aces in the pack. If there was a time to stand up to Italy and Germany it was there.’

  ‘It would be interesting to discuss the Iberian Peninsula with you, given Peter tells me you were active there, but not at this time, because matters in Central Europe are more pressing. So I will now tell you something that Peter could not. We have had emissaries from Germany, people of various standing, who have tried to pass on to the Government that there are many groups who are as worried as we are about the direction in which Hitler is heading.’

  ‘With good cause.’

  ‘Unfortunately the Government has paid no attention to them.’

  ‘What about the people you …’ Cal had to pause himself to find the right word, ‘coordinated?’

  ‘Naturally we took their views more seriously, but whatever we have in terms of ability to act does not include political power, nor is there the slightest prospect of that changing, given the PM commands a solid majority in the House of Commons.’

  Tempted to mention what František Moravec had told him in Prague about Hitler’s generals, Cal reasoned it would add nothing to be told that Britain was not the only place such tales were being spread; besides, Vansittart probably knew.

  ‘Do you mean the Government or Chamberlain?’

  ‘In some senses they are the same thing. Each time some emissary arrives the PM listens politely to what he is telling us, then refers the information to our Berlin embassy for a view, and unfortunately we have, in our ambassador there, a man, if you will forgive the vulgarity, so enamoured of Hitler it would not surprise me to find him kissing his bared posterior.’

  Cal grinned. ‘Maybe sometime we should discuss the meaning of the word “vulgarity”.’

  ‘Every time noises are made about opposition to Hitler, Sir Nevile Henderson insists we ignore them as having no basis and that to give them credence upsets the German Government. Given that is right in tune with the views of the prime minister, such dismissals are then used to persuade the Cabinet of their lack of value.’