The only speculation was the location of the safe that contained the details of Hitler’s invasion plan – they would have to be kept under lock and key – which was assumed to be in Konrad Henlein’s own suite on the first floor.

Everything being, of course, in German, Cal spent as much time translating for Vince as he did examining the documents himself. The Londoner was swift to one conclusion.

‘They must have a bloke on the inside, guv, and he’s got to be close to the boss man, not just one of the hotel staff. If you’ve read it right this practically tells you what this Henlein bloke had for breakfast.’

‘They must have the place under permanent surveillance too, Vince. You don’t compile all this without you can watch them day and night, which makes me curious. How come the Heinies haven’t spotted they are being clocked?’

‘Heinies?’

‘That’s what Henlien’s men are called, and every other Sudeten German now, I shouldn’t wonder, even if they are dead against him.’

‘Maybe his lot are thick.’

‘They’d have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to suspect they are being watched by Czech security, and there’s another thing. Moravec says that he cannot trust everyone in his own department.’

‘So how many folk know about a file like this lot?’

‘That’s right, and if they do, would they go so far as to betray the secret? That means it’s possible the likes of Henlein will be aware that this file we are looking at exists.’

‘He must be well on guard for somebody trying to break in to his bit of the hotel.’

‘I think that’s what Moravec is going to ask us to do.’

‘An’ I’m thinking we shouldn’t touch it with a bargepole.’

Cal had a map open now and was fingering the route to Cheb from Prague, as well as the distance to the German border, which even at a generous estimate could not be more than half an hour.

‘There is another alternative. Old Henlein must be nervous, ready to run if he thinks he’s going to be arrested. He’s not going to leave something like that behind, is he, and it’s not going to be in his house.’

‘You think he could be spooked into doing that?’

If Cal was smiling at the thought when he looked up, such a feeling was not replicated in Vince’s expression and it was not necessary to say why. They were two strangers in the country and on the face of it they had no means of bringing about what was being discussed.

‘I don’t know yet, but having seen all this, I can’t think that Moravec does not have something like that in mind.’

‘One that keeps him clean and might get us in deep shit.’

‘You’re not suggesting we don’t give him a hearing, Vince?’

‘I might,’ Vince sighed; he knew his old company officer too well, knew when an idea had taken hold that excited him. ‘But I’d be wasting my breath.’

‘And this might be too good an opportunity to turn down. Cast-iron evidence of what Hitler is up to is just what we need, and those plans do just that.’

Once everything was tidied away and Vince had gone back to his own room, Cal sat down with the laborious task of composing another telegram to Peter Lanchester, this time outlining what he thought was on offer.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Peter Lanchester’s ‘chat’ with Noel McKevitt had not started well and ended badly, though he had noticed on entering the Ulsterman’s office that there was a strong smell of drink on his breath. His eyes also had that slight glaze which comes from a too-liquid lunch and perhaps it was that which led to a surprising loss of control from a man so well known for the lack of passion in his demeanour.

There had been a seemingly interminable discussion of Brno and what he had observed there, tedious because Peter had nothing to say which he suspected McKevitt did not already know, but eventually it led to where it was clear he wanted to go, even if he said he was no longer concerned: had Peter found out the identity of the fellow who had illegally bought those weapons?

‘You didn’t question anyone at the arms factory?’ McKevitt asked, for the first time slightly querulous when the answer was negative.

‘That was not my brief, Noel, and besides, given we surmise that the End User Certificate was known to be false by the managers, I doubt asking questions would have got me very far. They would have just clammed up, while I was not inclined to seek out and interrogate your source.’

‘Not your brief,’ was the response, accompanied by a slight frown. ‘You were given this job by Quex himself—?’

A sharp interruption was necessary. ‘I do think that is a question you should put directly to him, Noel.’

‘Would it be breaching any confidentiality to tell me what the parameters were? For instance, was your mission to stop the shipment or just to track it?’

‘As you know,’ Peter responded, prevaricating, ‘it had already left Brno when we were alerted to the transaction.’

‘Which makes me wonder, Peter, if the man we pay a stipend to there is either as quick or as loyal as we would hope. We should have known about this deal before it was concluded.’

The idea that the fellow’s loyalty might be to the country of his birth was not one to raise; it may well be he had done the minimum instead of the maximum.

‘I’m curious, Noel, where this is leading. I am happy to talk to you about Brno, even if there’s not much to say, but I am less so to discuss an operation with anyone not directly connected with it. It would, in fact, be a breach of both confidence and protocol.’

‘Do you not see, Peter?’ McKevitt replied, rather pedantic in the way he used that expression. ‘We have been made to look like fools.’

‘We cannot be certain of that; there’s no evidence those weapons ever got out of France.’

Maybe it was the drink, maybe the way he was being stalled, but the man lost some of his habitual detachment.

‘Christ, we would be a poor Secret Intelligence Service if we relied on evidence. You have admitted you were in La Rochelle on the trail of those bloody machine guns. One phone call to the French would have put the kibosh on any attempt to get them through France, never mind out of the country. Why was that call never made?’

The temptation to ask if he had made any calls around the same time was so hard to resist.

‘Now if you did not do that,’ McKevitt continued, ‘there had to be a motive for it, and I am curious as to what that could be. I am also curious, Peter Lanchester, why a few days after your return from this particular cock-up you are in receipt of a telegram from Prague?’

‘That is none of your business.’

‘Anything to do with Czechoslovakia is my business and the list of such telegrams and the recipients lands on my desk as a matter of course. What I want is the contents.’

Peter stood up. ‘Have you never heard of Chinese walls?’

The tone of the response was icy. ‘I’ll give you Chinese walls, or maybe they’ll be prison walls. I am not a man to mess with, Lanchester, as you may find out, and don’t be sure that there is anyone, however high and mighty, who can protect you. There’s something going on that I should know about and I intend to find out what it is. Maybe you would like the weekend to think that over.’

‘We are all here on sufferance, Noel, including you, but I will pass on to Quex your concerns as to how he runs SIS.’

There was pure devilment in what Peter said next and he had no knowledge of what Quex had been up to.

‘And while you are busy monitoring the telegram traffic from Prague don’t be surprised to find there are certain communications between London and France that are also under surveillance, by the Deuxième Bureau if not by us. I’m wondering if a request to them for certain information would go unacknowledged.’