frogmen were different. Everyone hung on their every word. It was funny really. Giorgio was the only person that understood what a farce the whole bloody war was. We both fought on both sides. He had a German medal and an American medal.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ I said.
‘Yes, I saw him presented with a German Eagle Order of Merit with star.’
He picked up his drink and sipped at it. ‘He was a fabulous underwater man.’ He drank some more. ‘Kill him, I couldn’t have killed him. You can’t imagine a trapeze man pushing another trapeze man off the wire, could you? Well, it’s like that.’
‘Tell me about the period immediately before V.E. Day,’ I asked him.
‘You know my real name, so you have read the court martial?’ asked Tomas.
‘It doesn’t give a clear idea,’ I said.
‘Loveless was a big man with the Germans,’ Tomas said. ‘People said that when the Germans won the war they’d make Loveless the Prime Minister of England. When Loveless said to me that it was all up, I knew it was all up. It was his idea to go to Hanover. I wanted to go farther south to the sector where the Americans were advancing, but Loveless said if we went to Hanover we wouldn’t have to worry any more, so I went. There was a Wehrmacht Archive Unit in Hanover and Loveless had got permission to examine certain of the documents.
‘He went to the Archives and photographed the “Weiss List”.’ I nodded, hoping that Tomas would explain further.
‘It was about the size and shape of a paper-back novel. It had thick grey card covers. Inside were the names of British Nationals and their addresses. They were in alphabetical order. Between each section there were plain pages with pink ruled lines for additions. Each name was that of a person who would actively assist the Germans when they invaded Britain.’
I said, ‘Did Loveless think that these people would be best to negotiate a German surrender through?’
‘Perhaps you are not following the story,’ said Tomas. ‘Loveless didn’t give a damn about the Germans and the sort of surrender that they were likely to get.’
Outside it was blowing a Force 5 and in the warm, well-lit cabin it was easy to think that we were back again in that world of 1945.
Tomas poured himself another drink and shouted to Augusto to cut the engine revs, and told me that we were just wasting fuel. We agreed that Augusto was a bright boy and that the Portuguese were natural sailors, and Tomas took a generous throatful of H.K.’s firewater and continued.
‘Loveless photographed the “Weiss List” (it was called that as an antonym for black list) and buried the prints in a garden in a badly bombed part of Hanover. We were held in a German prison for some time. The lights were on all the time, day and night, everything was white, tiles shining like false teeth and slamming doors that would echo like a thunderclap and the constant jangle of bunches of keys that the warders carried. Now and then the spyhole in the cell would flip open and the psychiatrist or the quack would be spying on you and you knew he was writing everything down and attributing reasons. They thought everyone was nuts except themselves. Apart from the odd eyeball the prisoners seldom saw a sign of any other human life. But now and again I would hear Loveless’s voice asking the guard some foolish question in order to let me know that he was still there. I finally got a chance for a short talk with Loveless when the R.N. sent two C.P.O.s to escort us back to the U.K. He was a Commander R.N.; they were very impressed and got us cabins on the Harwich ferry. Loveless told me that he intended to go into the witness box and reel off the name of every Englishman on the “Weiss List”.’
‘That must have made him popular,’ I said.
‘They didn’t want that at
‘A deal?’ I said.
‘That’s right,’ said Tomas. ‘He was told that if he pleaded guilty he would be sentenced to death but that it wouldn’t be carried out. They would declare him mentally sick.’
‘Why did he believe that?’
‘That’s what I asked him,’ said Tomas. ‘I make it a point of honour never to trust anyone.’ If he intended it as a joke he gave no sign; I nodded. ‘After sentence,’ Tomas went on, ‘the President of the court martial signs the sentence of death, seals it and it’s conveyed to the prisoner. But before sentence can be carried out the confirming officer examines the proceeds of the trial and ensures that no irregularities or illegalities have occurred. As you know a court martial isn’t like a civil trial. Most of the people present have never had legal training or even seen a trial before. It’s a shambles.’
‘Luckily I’m in no position to contradict your first-hand experience,’ I said, ‘but continue about this deal.’
Tomas said, ‘One of the things the confirming officer checks is the mental health of the prisoner. Under Section Four of the Lunacy Act of 1890, a J.P. and two medical certificates are all a confirming officer requires to
‘And Loveless believed that this would happen to him if he pleaded guilty?’
‘He did; you see, someone brought his daily medical reports and let him burn them. He was told that they would post-date others to show a symptom of mental trouble.’
‘You didn’t ask for the same treatment?’ I asked.
‘No,’ said Tomas, ‘the officer preparing my summary of evidence before the trial mentioned the “Weiss List”, but I pretended that I didn’t know what he was talking about.’
‘Was Loveless tried before you?’ I asked.
‘Yes, he pleaded guilty, was sentenced to death and came down to his cell. They weren’t ready to start my hearing, but next day they began. Then that night, the night of the first day of my trial, it happened.’
‘What happened?’ I asked.
Tomas wiped his hands on a handkerchief with a dozen darns in it, sipped his drink and eased his shoulders back on the pillow as though about to doze off. I went closer and leaned across him.
‘What happened?’ I said again. Tomas had his eyes closed, he winced from the pain either of arm or memory.
He said very quietly, ‘I heard Loveless screaming, he was shouting, “help me Bernie, help me,” and then there were the footsteps and jangle of a guard running and I heard a low voice that I think was the chaplain, I couldn’t hear what he said. Then I heard Graham’s voice again. It was high-pitched and more distinct than the others. “They’re going to hang me, Bernie,” he shouted, then he shouted “help me” again. There was a jangle of keys and a door clanged and it was all quiet.’
‘Did you shout to him?’ I asked.
‘No,’ said Tomas. ‘I’ve thought about it, perhaps every day of my life since. But what could I say — “I told you so”, or “hold on I’m coming”, or “it’s all for the best” — what could I have shouted at him?’
‘That’s right,’ I said, ‘there wasn’t much you could say, they hanged him anyway.’
Somehow I knew it was all true.
46 Little else to give
Tomas and I sat looking at each other for a long time. When I finally said it I let it come as casual as can be. ‘So when you came out of prison you took a trip to a suburb in Hanover and bought a spade?’
‘I’d have needed more than a spade,’ said Tomas. ‘When I got back there I went to the house where Loveless had buried the “Weiss List”. The whole place was one great twelve-storey block of workers’ flats.’
‘So how did you get it?’
‘You make me laugh,’ said Tomas. I found it difficult to believe. ‘Don’t you realize even now that we have been outsmarted by a man who is cleverer than both of us put together?’
‘Go on,’ I said.
‘One man has access to that “Weiss List”, to the only copy that remains in existence. One man went to a lot of trouble to get it and even more to putting it somewhere where only he can get it.’ He paused; after a long silence he said, ‘The papers are inside a German Naval meteorological buoy[33] on
