stroke of genius hit me at the height of the bombing, General. We don't tell Vargas I'm going.'
'I don't understand.'
'We extract what information we need. In fact, we probably have enough already. Then, once a week, Rivera asks for more information on your behalf. Steiner's regime at the Priory, the guard system, that sort of thing, only I'll already be in London. Now, Walter, my old son, you've got to admit that's good.' Schellenberg laughed helplessly, then got up. 'Very good - bloody marvellous. Let's go down to the canteen and have a coffee on it.'
Later, Schellenberg called for his Mercedes and they drove to the Tiergarten and walked around the lake, feet crunching in the light powdering of snow.
There's another difficulty,' Devlin said. 'The Special Branch managed to hunt me down when I was in Norfolk. A little late in the day as it happened, but they did and one of the things that helped was the fact that as an Irish citizen I had to be entered on the aliens' register by the local police and that required a passport photo.' 'I see. So what are you saying?' 'A complete change in appearance - a real change.' 'You mean hair colouring and so on?' Devlin nodded. 'Add a few years as well.' 'I think I can help there,' Schellenberg said. 'I have friends at the UFA film studios here in Berlin. Some of their make-up artists can achieve remarkable things.' 'Another thing _ no aliens' register this time. I was born in County Down which is in Ulster and that makes me officially a British citizen. We'll stick with that when it comes to false papers and so on.' 'And your identity?'
'Last time I was a war hero. A gallant Irishman who'd been wounded at Dunkirk and invalided out.' Devlin tapped the bullet scar on the side of his head. 'This helped the story, of course.'
'Good. Something like that then. What about method of entry?'
'Oh, parachute again.'
'Into England?'
Devlin shook his head. 'Too chancy and if I'm seen, it's bound to be reported. No, make it Ireland like last time. If they see me there, no one gives a bugger. A stroll across the border into Ulster, the breakfast train to Belfast and I'm on British soil.'
'And afterwards?'
'The boat. Belfast to Heysham in Lancashire. Last time, I had to take the other route from Larne to Stranraer in Scotland. The boats get full, just like the train.' Devlin grinned. 'There's a war on, General.'
'So, you are in London. What happens then?'
Devlin lit a cigarette. 'Well, if I keep away from Vargas, that means no help from any of your official sources.'
Schellenberg frowned. 'But you will need the help of others. Also weapons, a radio transmitter because without the ability to communicate...'
'All right,' Devlin said. 'So a few things are going to have to be taken on trust. We were talking about my old friend in Wapping earlier, Michael Ryan.
Now the odds are good that he's still around and if he is, he'll help, at least with suitable contacts.'
'Such as?'
'Michael ran a cab and he worked for the bookies on the side. He had a lot of underworld friends in the old days. The kind of crooks who'd do anything for money, deal in guns, that sort of thing. That IRA active service unit I had to knock off in London back in thirty-six _ they used underworld contacts a lot, even to buy their explosives.'
'So, this would be excellent. The help of your IRA friend and the assistance, when needed, of some criminal element. But for all you know, your friend could no longer be in London?'
'Or killed in the Blitz, General. Nothing is guaranteed.'
'And you're still willing to take a chance?'
'I reach London, I assess the situation because I have to do that however clever the plan looks that we put together here. If Michael Ryan isn't around, if it simply looks impossible, the whole thing, I'm on the next boat back to Belfast and over the
'I don't understand.'
'We extract what information we need. In fact, we probably have enough already. Then, once a week, Rivera asks for more information on your behalf. Steiner's regime at the Priory, the guard system, that sort of thing, only I'll already be in London. Now, Walter, my old son, you've got to admit that's good.' Schellenberg laughed helplessly, then got up. 'Very good - bloody marvellous. Let's go down to the canteen and have a coffee on it.'
Later, Schellenberg called for his Mercedes and they drove to the Tiergarten and walked around the lake, feet crunching in the light powdering of snow.
There's another difficulty,' Devlin said. 'The Special Branch managed to hunt me down when I was in Norfolk. A little late in the day as it happened, but they did and one of the things that helped was the fact that as an Irish citizen I had to be entered on the aliens' register by the local police and that required a passport photo.' 'I see. So what are you saying?' 'A complete change in appearance - a real change.' 'You mean hair colouring and so on?' Devlin nodded. 'Add a few years as well.' 'I think I can help there,' Schellenberg said. 'I have friends at the UFA film studios here in Berlin. Some of their make-up artists can achieve remarkable things.' 'Another thing _ no aliens' register this time. I was born in County Down which is in Ulster and that makes me officially a British citizen. We'll stick with that when it comes to false papers and so on.' 'And your identity?'
'Last time I was a war hero. A gallant Irishman who'd been wounded at Dunkirk and invalided out.' Devlin tapped the bullet scar on the side of his head. 'This helped the story, of course.'
'Good. Something like that then. What about method of entry?'
'Oh, parachute again.'
'Into England?'
Devlin shook his head. 'Too chancy and if I'm seen, it's bound to be reported. No, make it Ireland like last time. If they see me there, no one gives a bugger. A stroll across the border into Ulster, the breakfast train to Belfast and I'm on British soil.'
'And afterwards?'
'The boat. Belfast to Heysham in Lancashire. Last time, I had to take the other route from Larne to Stranraer in Scotland. The boats get full, just like the train.' Devlin grinned. 'There's a war on, General.'
'So, you are in London. What happens then?'
Devlin lit a cigarette. 'Well, if I keep away from Vargas, that means no help from any of your official sources.'
Schellenberg frowned. 'But you will need the help of others. Also weapons, a radio transmitter because without the ability to communicate...'
'All right,' Devlin said. 'So a few things are going to have to be taken on trust. We were talking about my old friend in Wapping earlier, Michael Ryan.
Now the odds are good that he's still around and if he is, he'll help, at least with suitable contacts.'
'Such as?'
'Michael ran a cab and he worked for the bookies on the side. He had a lot of underworld friends in the old days. The kind of crooks who'd do anything for money, deal in guns, that sort of thing. That IRA active service unit I had to knock off in London back in thirty-six _ they used underworld contacts a lot, even to buy their explosives.'
'So, this would be excellent. The help of your IRA friend and the assistance, when needed, of some criminal element. But for all you know, your friend could no longer be in London?'
'Or killed in the Blitz, General. Nothing is guaranteed.'
'And you're still willing to take a chance?'
'I reach London, I assess the situation because I have to do that however clever the plan looks that we put together here. If Michael Ryan isn't around, if it simply looks impossible, the whole thing, I'm on the next boat back to Belfast and over the
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