LITMIR.BIZ

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are they?’

      ‘Colonel Moravec and fourteen of his intelligence officers. We chartered a Dutch plane for them. They left Prague just before the Germans arrived, with the cream of their files and all the money they could lay their hands on.’ Dansey permitted himself a prim smile. ‘Which happened to be quite a substantial sum. SIS handled the operation through Gibson and the embassy.’

      Michael felt himself beginning to sweat. What Dansey had told him seemed to have no bearing on Kendall and Hase.

      Dansey took off his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. ‘Neither Z nor SIS has much interest in Czech communists at present. They’re a disorganized rabble with little access to useful information; they’re too far away for us to control with any degree of certainty; and in any case they’ll always give Moscow right of way over London. But Moravec naturally sees them from another angle. He’s spent half his career fighting the Bolsheviks and of course he wants to know what they’re doing in his own country.’

      ‘Do you mean we were just going through the motions to oblige Moravec?’

      ‘Precisely. That was the sole purpose of the exercise. Your godfather and I knew the Deuxième Bureau would have to transfer its headquarters abroad sooner or later. Moravec had two choices – London or Paris. The Hase business was designed to woo him over here. Now he’s here, he’ll find it very difficult to move on.’ Dansey restored his glasses and looked directly at Michael. ‘Which means, of course, that we have achieved our real goal – direct access to A-54.’

       A-54?

      Michael knew he was now expected to ask who or what was A-54. But Dansey’s reply was unlikely to be very informative: either he would yet again have the pleasure of reminding Michael of the need-to-know principle; or his answer would lead to a bewildering vista of further questions that would leave Michael no better informed than he had been in the first place.

      Michael mulishly decided to say nothing. He pulled out his case and lit a cigarette with a great show of concentration. As he looked up, exhaling a cloud of smoke, he caught an unfamiliar expression on Dansey’s face, just before it vanished.

      On another man’s face it might have been a smile of approval.

      Dansey stood up; and Michael obediently followed suit.

      ‘So, Stanhope-Smith, from now on you may leave Czechoslovakia to SIS and the Deuxième Bureau. In the meantime—’

      ‘But, sir, what about Kendall? I recruited him and I do feel to some extent responsible. And it was my idea that he took his son.’

      Dansey clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. ‘You and I no longer have any responsibility for the Kendalls. You didn’t compel Captain Kendall to take the job. He knew there were risks: he must take the consequences.’

      ‘We could at least alert Gibson and the embassy. And what about—’

      ‘Stanhope-Smith,’ Dansey snarled with a ferocious hiss of sibilants, ‘will you be quiet? I want you to spend the rest of your valuable time this morning compiling a brief political and economic analysis of Poland, using the material in the B files. By brief, I mean about five hundred words. And make it not only succinct but simple enough for even a politician to understand. If it helps you, imagine you’re writing for the eyes of our revered prime minister. I want it on my desk by lunchtime.’

      ‘Poland?’ said Michael dully. His mind was still full of the Kendalls.

      ‘Yes, Poland. It may interest you to know that, according to A-54, Poland will be Hitler’s next target.’

      On the evening of 15 March, twelve SS officers moved into the Hotel Palacky and the Kendalls moved out.

      Most of the officers were young. They tipped well, smiled a lot and went out of their way to be pleasant to the other guests. Hugh secretly thought they looked rather heroic.

      Later that evening Madame Hase came to their room unexpectedly; most people, both staff and guests, were watching Hitler’s imperial entry into Prague. She was flushed with excitement and looked happier than Hugh had ever seen her.

      ‘You must leave the hotel at once. The staff will have registered your arrival with the police. Checking on foreign visitors is one of the first things the Gestapo will do.’

      Alfred Kendall shrugged. ‘Does it matter? Britain’s not at war with Germany. My papers are all in order. I’ve a perfectly legitimate reason for being here.’

      ‘Fool!’ Madame Hase drew herself up to her full height of five foot two. ‘Half the staff in this hotel are Nazis. If they weren’t before, they will be now. Servants talk, my friend, and my name is bound to come up. Have you never heard of guilt by association?’

      Her urgency infected Kendall and Hugh. While Kendall paid their bill, she helped Hugh pack; they were out of the hotel within ten minutes of her arrival.

      She directed the taxi across the river to Mala Strana, a part of Prague that lay just south of the castle; Hugh had never been there. On the way, she explained that she could not take them to her home – that would be too dangerous. They would go to the house of one of her cousins; the cousin was away but the servants knew her and would do whatever she asked.

      The house came as a surprise to Hugh. It was built round a cobbled courtyard and covered an area of roughly the same size as the entire apartment block where Dr Spiegel lived.

      There were only two servants, an old man and his wife, who grudgingly agreed to open up a few rooms for Madame Hase and her guests. The palace had been shut up since the previous autumn. The furniture was shrouded in dustsheets and cobwebs. Candles were the only form of light available, which made the huge rooms seem still larger.

      They ate an impromptu supper in a dining room whose ceiling was so far away that it might just as well not have been there. Scratches and rattles came from the walls.

      ‘Rats,’ said Madame Hase. ‘One gets used to them in an old barn like this.’

      Shortly after the meal, Hugh was sent to bed. He lay there, trying not to listen to the sounds behind the skirting boards and wondering whether there were many more communists like Madame Hase.

      They spent the whole of the next day at the palace. In the afternoon, Jan and Bela arrived in the butcher’s van at the tradesmen’s entrance. They joined Kendall and Madame Hase in a large room that had been a library before part of the ceiling collapsed. It was not a comfortable place to sit but its windows covered the whole of the courtyard, including the great entrance gates, and it had the additional advantage of a small staircase which led down to a side entrance. As Madame Hase said, they could not afford to be careless.

      Without consulting Kendall, she sent Hugh to sit in the anteroom before the library. Kendall stood in the doorway and watched as she settled him down on a tiny chair upholstered with dusty velvet. Opposite them was a grimy, twelve-foot-high mirror. Their reflections swam in the murky world behind the glass. For an instant Hugh’s eyes met his, and then looked away. Kendall felt an inexplicable sense of loss; since it was inexplicable, he ignored it.

      As if by prearrangement, the four adults veered away from the easy chairs around the smouldering fire and sat round the table in the centre of the room. Above their heads a chandelier creaked and tinkled faintly in the draught.

      Kendall tried to seize control of the meeting. ‘We must review the situation,’ he began. ‘Events have moved so quickly that—’

      ‘Perhaps I should do it, Alfred,’ Madame Hase interrupted. ‘I am the only person here who is fluent in both English and Czech.’

      Kendall winced. It was the first time she had called him by his Christian name. He was both offended and thrilled by the careless intimacy it implied. He was the natural person to chair this meeting; but, on the other hand, Madame Hase was the cousin of the Slovakian countess whose husband owned this immense place.

      Madame Hase briskly reviewed the military and political situation.

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