ground, roads and bridges have been torn up. There’s death everywhere, like a pall over the earth. The cities are crawling with typhus and black pox, and there are more firing squads than queues for food.”
“The Germans?” Hall reminded him.
Chetwin sighed. “Pouring in guns and money.”
They all knew what that meant. If the Mexican armies crossed the Rio Grande the United States would mobilize all its forces to defend itself. There would be nothing left of men, munitions, or passion to consider what was happening in the rest of the world.
“How close?” Shearing asked.
Chetwin shook his head. “Not close enough,” he answered the question they had not asked. “I told Washington everything I could, short of giving them our decoded messages. They’ve got explanations for half of it, and don’t believe the rest. Nothing will persuade them that Germany is seriously behind the arming of Mexico, or the projected building of a Japanese naval base on their Pacific coast.”
Shearing pursed his lips. “You know the kaiser, Chetwin. Is he serious about the ‘yellow peril,’ or is it just one of his ramblings?”
Hall jerked his head round. “You know the kaiser? Personally?”
“Yes, sir,” Chetwin replied. “I spent a little time in the court in Berlin, before the war.”
Did Matthew imagine it, or was there a faint, quite different discomfort in Chetwin as he answered? Something in his eyes had changed. His looks were no longer direct in exactly the same way as though he were guarding an emotion, something in which he felt a vulnerability.
Matthew watched more closely, his attention personal as well as professional. Chetwin had been John Reavley’s friend, and in a sense enemy also. Unquestionably he had known him well. If he had been in the court in Berlin, not only had he apparently known the kaiser himself, he could have known Reisenburg. He was a man of acute intelligence and profound political knowledge, and possibly personal connection to the British royal family as well. John Reavley had believed him willing to use any methods, ethical or otherwise, in order to obtain the ends he believed in. That was the cause of their original quarrel.
The possibilities careering through his head made his stomach lurch as if he might be sick. He couldn’t say anything. Dare he trust Shearing? Who else could he turn to for help? Hall would think him a lunatic. All he would achieve would be the loss of his own job, not only crippling him so he had no access to information with which to prove the Peacemaker’s identity, or to block his future plans, but even to prevent any good he could do in his work with America. That was a measure of the Peacemaker’s brilliance: His enemies were isolated from each other by distrust.
Hall and Chetwin were talking about the kaiser, his personality, his erratic mixture of desire to be liked by his cousins George V of Britain and Nicholas of Russia, and his terror of being surrounded by enemies who intended war against his country. He veered between intimate, almost passionate friendship, and then outraged attack.
“I’ve no idea whether he will do it,” Chetwin was considering. “Since he got rid of Chancellor Bismarck, he’s about as predictable as the English summer. Last year was sublime, but I’ve seen snow in June.”
Matthew listened as Chetwin told the rest of what he had seen, recounting his discoveries in Washington as well, but all the time his mind was racing over the possibilities of Chetwin’s own complicity in German plans to have Mexico invade the United States, in the promise of regaining its old territories in the southwest, the price for keeping America out of the European War.
If Chetwin were the Peacemaker, then Germany already knew that British Intelligence had their code. Perhaps all the information gained was doubly compromised. What if it were the most magnificent double bluff in the history of espionage? It was not impossible. The uses of such a deceit were almost endless. Nothing they believed now was real!
As soon as the interview was over he was obliged to return to his own office and reconsider all his information in this light. Most of the ammunition used by Britain was purchased from America, all of it, of necessity, coming by sea. Sabotage was rife, loss to submarine warfare was a growing threat.
It was late afternoon before he had an opportunity to speak alone to Kittredge.
“I’ve heard Chetwin’s report from Mexico,” he said casually, stopping by Kittredge’s desk. “It’s as bad as we thought, possibly worse.”
Kittredge looked up from the sheets of paper he was studying. He was thin and dark, in his early thirties, a man from the Peak District of Derbyshire, used to wild hills and the steep-streeted villages in his childhood, then the sudden intellectual liberties of university. He had not lost the keen edge of idealism, nor the richness of provincial accent.
“What do you know about Chetwin?” Matthew asked.
“Don’t you trust him?” Kittredge looked surprised.
“Of course I trust his honesty, or we couldn’t use him,” Matthew replied. “I’d like a second view on his judgment.”
Kittredge considered for a moment or two before replying. “Well, of course he speaks fluent German, but you know that, or you wouldn’t have sent him into Mexico posing as a German. Did you know that before the war he was engaged to a German girl? Countess or princess, or something.”
Matthew guarded his surprise. “No. I imagine Shearing knew, but he didn’t mention it to me. Why didn’t he marry her?”
“Sad business,” Kittredge replied. “She died. Fever, or something. Don’t know exactly what. He was very cut up about it. Beautiful girl, apparently. In her early twenties.”
“But Chetwin must be nearly fifty!”
Kittredge shrugged. “What difference does that make? He’s very well connected. One of his sisters is very beautiful, married to some descendant of Queen Victoria, and they all get along very well. And of course at his age he has proved his capacity to make a career and earn the respect of his countrymen. Without the war, he could have run for Parliament, or found a pretty decent job in the diplomatic service. Anyway, he was the one she wanted. It was a match of passion on both sides, and her family was quite agreeable. He got along very well at the court in Berlin. He has great wit and charm, you know, and he’s a marvelous raconteur.” He smiled a little self- consciously. “They say the Irish have the gift of the gab, and can charm the birds out of the trees, but I’ve yet to see anyone beat the Welsh. And for all his sophistication at times, Chetwin’s heart is in the valleys of Wales. The music of his own language is always there.”
“Does he speak Welsh?” Matthew was finding more surprises than were comfortable. He should have known these things.
“Oh certainly!” Kittredge raised his eyebrows. “He’s no Englishman!”
Late that evening Matthew was sent for to the office of Dermot Sandwell, a senior cabinet minister with special responsibilities toward the intelligence departments.
“Come in, Reavley,” he invited, waving an arm in the general direction of one of the large leather chairs in his office. It was a beautiful room decorated in cool earth colors and there were exquisite watercolor paintings on the walls. Matthew had been here once or twice before, and knew they were scenes of South Africa, by the artist and humorist Edward Lear. He was always hoping for an opportunity to look at them more closely, but he had been here only on the gravest business, and from the expression on Sandwell’s abstemious face with its vivid blue eyes, this occasion was every bit as grim as the others. He was standing near the window toward Horse Guards Parade, the curtains drawn now.
Matthew did not accept the invitation to be seated. “Good evening, sir,” he acknowledged.
Sandwell regarded him closely. “How are you? You look tired. I believe you have a brother on the Western Front. Heard from him lately?”
“Yes, sir. He’s quite well, thank you.”
“Good. I suppose you’re inundated with stuff at SIS? I imagine you know as well as we in the cabinet do just how serious the situation is? Africa, Gallipoli.” He winced as he said the second name. “The Balkans. There’ll be an Italian front before long, I should think. France and Flanders are only part of it. I’m afraid the war is spreading across the world.”
“Yes, sir.” There was nothing for Matthew to say.
Sandwell jerked himself out of his thoughts and stared at him with sudden focused intensity. “Reavley, what I am about to say to you must not be repeated to anyone. Do you understand me?”
