any case, he’s stuck on an island – where can he go? All being well, this chapter of the war will be closed in a few days’ time and we’ll finally be able to breathe easier.
‘And what about Ratoff?’
‘We’re keeping our options open.’
‘If he reads the documents, he’ll think he’s in danger.’
‘Let’s just wait and see how he plays it. Ratoff’s not a very complicated man.’
Miller swirled the brandy in his glass.
‘Do the others know the situation?’
‘The few who are left.’
‘And the politicians?’
‘I’m confident I’ve managed to frighten them off. I gave them the Walchensee gold story. Our young secretary of defense didn’t know whether to cry or piss himself when I told him. You only have to mention the Jews and they start shitting themselves.’
‘But something’s wrong.’ It was a statement, not a question. Miller knew his successor; he had guessed from Carr’s expression and the way he talked that all was not well. It would not be the first time Carr had come to him for guidance or support but he was a man who could not bear to admit to mistakes.
Carr spoke crisply and precisely. ‘There’s a young woman in Reykjavik, the sister of one of the boys who disturbed the excavation. Apparently the boy told her over the phone that there were armed troops and a plane on the glacier – Ratoff extracted that much from him. She’s given our men the slip twice now, and is being assisted by an American from the base, an ex-boyfriend. Presumably she went to him because of what her brother said about soldiers. They’re currently somewhere on the base but I’m assured that the area has been secured and the base commander is cooperating. They won’t get far.’
Neither man spoke for a while.
‘The operation was a necessity of war,’ Miller said at last. ‘We had to clean up after the politicians. Always have done.’
‘I know – though I’m more inclined to put it down to temporary insanity. It was bedlam in the last months of the war.’
‘That’s not to say that we shouldn’t have gone into Russia. Patton was right about that.’
‘They hesitated.’
‘And we lost half of Europe.’
Miller topped up their glasses. Brandy was one of the few luxuries he still permitted himself. The doctors had told him he did not have long. Not that he cared; he had reconciled himself to dying a long time ago and would welcome it when the time came.
‘It’s not our job to write history; that’s for others to do,’ he said.
‘No, our job has always been to wipe the slate clean and rewrite it,’ Carr replied. ‘History’s all lies – you know that and I know that. There have been so many cover-ups, so many fabrications; we’ve told the truth about lies and lied about the truth, taken out one thing and substituted another. That’s our job. You told me once that the history of mankind was nothing more than a register of crimes and misfortunes. Well, it’s also a register of carefully constructed lies.’
‘You sound tired, Vytautas.’
‘I
Miller took another sip of brandy. It was his favourite label, an exclusive French cognac, and he savoured it lingeringly before letting it slip down his throat.
‘The brothers told me that the winter of ’45 was unusually hard,’ he remarked. ‘The snow didn’t melt on the slopes above the farm until July. I searched the area with a small party at the time but we found no trace of a crash. The fuselage must be fairly intact under the ice, which means the bodies must be too. They’ve been deep frozen for more than half a century.’
He paused.
‘I envy that animal Ratoff. I’ve been looking for that plane all my life and now that it’s finally been found I’m too old to see it. When will it reach Argentina?’
‘Ratoff says four days, though that could change. There’s bad weather forecast for the area – a storm’s expected within the next twenty-four hours. You can always come to South America if you feel up to it.’
But Miller was far away. He was thinking of the layers upon layers of snow and ice he had spent so many years fruitlessly probing. The glacial accumulations, winter after winter, blizzard after blizzard, burying the frozen casket ever further from the world.
‘I’ve often thought it would probably be best for us if the glacier held on to the plane for ever, so we wouldn’t have to worry about it any more. It would be best for everyone.’
‘Maybe. Sometimes I think that damn plane is the only reason we established a base in Iceland. Sometimes it seems that important.’
Silence fell on the small room again.
‘About the sister? Can’t we let it go?’ Miller asked eventually.
‘Not until the transport’s airborne. After that it won’t matter.’
‘So all she need do is lie low for a few days and she’ll be out of danger?’
‘Something like that.’
Miller took another mouthful of brandy.
‘Who over here knows about the discovery then?’ he asked.
‘You and me. The defense secretary who’s under the impression that the matter involves Jewish gold. A handful of individuals at the company. The others are all dead and buried.’
‘And soon we’ll be joining them.’
‘It’s ancient history; few people apart from us know what the plane really contains. These new young men don’t appreciate the situation. They’re too naive to understand the need for secrecy. They don’t care if the plane’s story gets out. They might even try to exploit it for other purposes, God help us. They’re fanatics. We mustn’t drag this out – the longer the recovery takes, the more likely it is there’ll be a leak.’
‘When you talk of fanatics…’
‘I mean I can’t be sure what they’d do if they knew the role the plane played.’
‘It’s too bad we don’t have the astronauts to deflect the world’s attention this time around.’ Miller smiled wryly.
‘Poor Armstrong. He never had a clue what he was doing in Iceland,’ Carr remarked.
‘He took another giant step for mankind there.’
Miller abruptly changed the subject. Carr had checked his watch and he had the sense that he would soon be leaving.
‘I got to know the Icelanders a little when I was stationed over there in ’45. A baffling nation. They live on this rocky outpost of Europe in the far north of the Atlantic. It’s dark most of the year round and for centuries they lived in dwellings little better than holes in the ground; rocks and peat sods were the only building materials they had to hand. When I was there they were just beginning to emerge from the ground, just starting to build themselves proper houses. Yet despite all that they were a cultured people. Take those brothers, for example – they’d read Milton in Icelandic translation. Knew every word. They’d learnt long passages of
‘What’s your point?’
‘There aren’t that many Icelanders in the world. Let’s not reduce their numbers unnecessarily.’
‘I assure you we won’t.’
Miller looked down at the glass in his hand.
‘If I can’t make it to Argentina, will you send him home to me?’
‘As I see it, nothing has changed since we last went over the procedure. It’s only right that he should come back to you.’
‘I keep thinking about the temperatures. It can’t have got above freezing up there in fifty years. If he wasn’t
