Dominion

Geoff halted. His pipe had gone out. He chewed on the stem. They were beside the plinth where one of the colossal bronze lions stood guarding Nelson’s Column. It reared up, a wall of sooty wet granite. On the other side of the pavement the traffic was moving slowly again. Geoff said, with a tight smile, ‘It’s getting pretty difficult, isn’t it?’

David nodded.

‘Well, we always knew it might.’

‘That’s not all. Sarah found herself in the middle of a riot yesterday. The police were leading a group of Jews away, and a few people sat down in the street in front of them. Sarah did, too. Some Jive Boys joined in and it got out of control.’

Geoff nodded. ‘Our people have heard the deportations hadn’t gone smoothly everywhere.’

‘It was worse than that. People were killed. Including a woman Sarah knew.’

‘Good God! Was she arrested?’

‘No. Some of the Jews escaped, and a couple of them helped her get away. Students. But she’s pretty shaken up. Her friend who was killed – her husband’s been told she had a heart attack in the street, they’re hushing it up. But they won’t let it drop. The trail might lead to Sarah.’ He paused, then said, ‘I’m a risk now, Geoff.’ The wild thought had come to David, maybe the Resistance could help Sarah and him to disappear, maybe get them out of the country with Frank. Before his deepest secret, that he was a half-Jew, was discovered.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Geoff said.

‘Some of it is,’ he answered bleakly. ‘Misfiling that paper.’

Geoff stopped and took his arm. ‘Stop blaming yourself for everything. That’s your biggest weakness, you know that, it always has been.’

‘What the hell are we going to do?’

Geoff’s face set doggedly. ‘Find a telephone box. And tell Jackson.’

Chapter Twenty-Five

EARLY ON TUESDAY MORNING Gunther was woken by a telephone call from Gessler’s office, ordering him to present himself there in person at eight. As he dressed he hoped they could move forward now, get Muncaster safely to Senate House.

He had a few minutes to spare, and he switched on the television for the news. There had been no further announcements about the Jews since Sunday. An item about the Russian war was showing; a British reporter broadcasting from a V3 base somewhere on the North Volga; one of the enormous rockets stood on a launching pad a little way off. There was a countdown in German and then the V3, belching fire from its base, shot into the sky with a low, deep rumbling. The camera followed the rocket, as it became a dot and vanished. The reporter said, ‘This rocket is headed for a Russian town somewhere in Western Siberia. Faced with such a sight, one has to ask, how can a race even as obstinate and fanatical as the Russians survive such a continual onslaught? ’

Gunther grimaced. He knew that however much damage the rocket might do to some Siberian city, the Russians had dispersed their war production over dozens of sites scattered across the immensity of the Siberian forests, many beyond even V3 range. He crossed to the window and looked out. The fog had cleared overnight. On the opposite side of the street was a newsagent. Outside the door there stood a wooden figure of a little beggar boy with polio, both legs in calipers, his painted face sad. He held up a sign saying, Please Give. There was a slot in the top of his head for people’s donations. Gunther had seen polio victims, dragging themselves painfully along the London streets. Far better, he thought, to end such a child’s suffering with a quick, painless injection.

At Senate House Gessler was in his office. He looked angry today, spots of red in his cheeks. He glared at Gunther, then said brusquely, ‘That lunatic Muncaster tried to hang himself last night.’

‘Why would he try to kill himself now? I thought he had been very quiet all the time he was there. Was it because we came? Or the other visitors perhaps?’

‘Who knows why lunatics do anything?’ Gessler’s brow creased with fury. ‘Apparently he’s refusing to talk at all now. Not a word. Won’t even confirm the names of his visitors. I’d get it out of him soon enough. But we’ve got a problem with that Dr Wilson. He’s become obstinate; our friends at the Home Office have asked him to turn Muncaster over to us but he won’t, says he can’t just transfer someone so ill for interrogation. If he is to be questioned he wants it to be under hospital supervision.’

Gunther frowned. ‘Why is he doing this?’

‘British obstinacy and self-assertion, I think.’

‘Yes. That still rears its head from time to time.’

‘The problem is that Wilson has gone to this cousin who works for the junior Minister of Health, Church. He spoke to him yesterday and he’s backing Wilson.’

‘I thought the Health Department was full of eugenicists now. Isn’t Marie Stopes advising them on sterilizing lunatics?’

‘Yes, and the Duke of Westminster’s in charge of the Ministry. Beaverbrook put him in to show social issues aren’t a priority for this government, but though he’s one of us, he’s stupid and old. And that Department’s still full of pre-war do-gooding types. Berlin are working on it, but they’ve told me they’re going to have to be careful. It may take some days. If what we want gets Mosley’s Home Office and the Health Department involved in a Whitehall turf war, the British government are going to get curious about why we want Muncaster.’

‘And time is something we don’t have.’

Gessler banged his fist on the desk in temper, making the pens and inkstand jump. Gunther noticed the papers on his desk were piled untidily now. Gessler was losing control of himself. ‘I know that, damn it! But they won’t listen. And they won’t tell me why Muncaster is so important, they won’t say what this damned secret is that he has. Can’t I be trusted after all these years?’ He glared at Gunther as though it were his fault. Gunther wondered if it was the frustrations of the case that were making his superior so anxious, or whether it was the worrying news from Germany he had spoken of yesterday.

Gessler leaned back, bringing himself back under control. He waved a hand impatiently. ‘We must just carry on as best we can.’

‘Have we learned any more about Muncaster’s other visitors?’

‘We’ve got identities and descriptions, but the names are false. The nurse who took them in to Muncaster says he was given the same false names. He just took them to Muncaster and left them. Apparently he told Wilson, “You don’t question that class of people.” The porter confirmed they had what he called “posh” accents.’

Gunther shook his head wearily. He felt a spasm of contempt for Gessler’s inability to keep his temper like an adult.

‘Wilson says Muncaster is to stay locked up securely under his personal supervision. He doesn’t realize what we could do to him if he goes on fooling about with us,’ Gessler added viciously.

But Gunther also knew how the British jealously guarded what was left of their independence. This wasn’t Poland. Gessler had turned to stare out of the window, his face full of surly anger. He changed the subject abruptly. ‘Goebbels is to make a big speech today, thanking Britain for taking the steps it has with the Jewish problem. He’ll say he hopes for closer links with Britain, new developments in foreign policy.’

‘He’s getting Britain on his side for the succession.’

‘I know. New developments on foreign policy, what can that mean? Talks with the Americans? The Russians?’

‘I don’t know, sir,’ Gunther said worriedly. ‘I wish I did.’

Gessler was silent for a moment. Then he asked, ‘How did it go with Syme last night?’

‘Oh, I think he is in our pocket.’

‘Good.’

‘He said his superintendent has told him to go on working with us. He knows there will be rewards.’

‘That inducement came from me.’ Gessler squared his shoulders, back in control again. ‘Right, I want you to send Syme to Oxford today, get the names of the people in that photograph. We’ve got a car ready for him. He’ll have to go alone, it has to be a wholly Special Branch enquiry. He’s waiting downstairs, brief him before he leaves.’