‘Where’ve you been?’

‘I wanted some fresh air, our room’s so stuffy. Is something the matter?’

‘I’m not sure… Bartholomew’s called: something’s up. We’re wanted immediately at the FSS place on Via San Lazzaro.’

Fifteen minutes later, they were in an office in the Field Security Section, the two of them looking at each other, stunned, before Hanne glared at Bartholomew in an almost accusing manner.

‘Look, I’m sorry – I’m as surprised at this as you are. Please understand this is London’s decision, not mine. You know how it is, orders are orders.’

Prince held up the telegram once more, he and Hanne reading it at the same time, both shaking their heads angrily as they did so.

LONDON, TUESDAY

FOR: RP/HJ, TRIESTE – THROUGH BARTHOLOMEW

BE ADVISED OF NEW ORDERS: OPERATION TO ARREST STEINER TO CEASE FORTHWITH. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES IS HE TO BE APPREHENDED. INVESTIGATION INTO KESTREL LINE TO END NOW. PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE RECEIPT IMMEDIATELY AND RETURN TO LONDON. STOP.

GILBEY

‘It’s ridiculous: if we let Steiner go, then the same will apply to the others… Carter and Palmer, bloody traitors… And Bormann, what about if he’s there?’ Prince looked on the verge of tears.

‘But if we don’t acknowledge receipt, there’s nothing to stop us going ahead and arresting Steiner and the others, is there? We could just say we didn’t see it until it was too late.’

‘I’m afraid it’s not as easy as that, Hanne.’ Bartholomew looked awkward, loosening his tie as he spoke.

‘Why’s that?’

‘Because I’ve already told London we’ve seen it.’

Chapter 25

England, December 1945

‘Good try, Jenkins, but I’m afraid what you ask is completely out of the question.’

Tom Gilbey stared long and hard at the overweight American sitting opposite him in his office in St James’s. He barely knew Joseph Jenkins, so had asked Sir Roland Pearson to join him. In his role as Churchill’s intelligence adviser, Pearson had enjoyed many dealings with Jenkins during the war, though neither man would have chosen the word ‘enjoyed’ to describe their encounters.

Joseph was a senior liaison officer in London for the Office of Strategic Services, the American version of MI6. Except that it seemed he no longer was. He’d been the one to request the meeting, and he began it by looking quizzically at Sir Roland.

‘I thought you’d been sacked, Roly?’

Pearson bristled, not least at the presumption of the American in calling him ‘Roly’. Jenkins was not in one of the limited categories of people he permitted to use that name.

‘I was most certainly not sacked. Mine was a personal appointment by Winston Churchill, so when he left Number Ten, I quite properly tendered my resignation. In fact I had always intended to leave once the war was over.’

‘And now you’re working for Mr Gilbey here?’

‘Not for, with: I’m working with Tom. I was also at school with Tom.’ He emphasised the word as if he was instructing the American in the correct use of a preposition.