CHAPTER 31 : WAIT AND SEE
London, the White's club, March the 15th, 1938, 12h25
White's, home to many whispered secrets
As befitted the quiet dignity of Sir Hugh Sinclair, head of the British intelligence service, his club was exclusive without being too aristocratic and socially visible without being overtly conspicuous. White's was convivial, in a Conservative, High Tory kind of way. It was like a bubble out of time, safe from the vulgarity of an era where people were now judged according to their usefulness instead of their merits. It was a pocket universe of grunted hellos, deep leather armchairs and quietly unfolded newspapers.
As always when he entered his superior's club, Stewart Menzies thought of an immobile Titanic, forever moored to its Londonian street, and yet about to sink with all hands, legacy of a bygone era which had collided with crueler and younger times.
A bit depressed, aren't we ? Menzies scolded himself.
Still, the image of a Titanic remained. Of a few Titanics to be more precise, as there was a lot to be depressed about. Sinclair - or "Quex" as his agents called him affectionately - had run the SIS like a tight ship, every agent a family member (sometimes quite literally), but this ship too was about to flounder and capsize. The head of the British intelligence was ill, and to Menzies it was clear that he was suffering from his aching body as well as from his growing disillusion about the current government's decisions.
Well, ours not to question why, ours but to do or die, thought Menzies.
No sooner had he entered the club's hall that an employee came to pick up his coat, hat and umbrella. March had been wet and cold, and it only added to the general gloom that hovered around the SIS headquarters. People were disenchanted about the direction the SIS and England were taking. They were saddened by Quex's worsening condition and inevitable departure. To top it off, they were angered and anxious to hear there were attempts, from John Simon's MI-5 notably, to use the Admiral's illness to take control of the Secret Intelligence Service, which only added to Menzies' burden.
"Good morning, sir Stewart" said the reception employee, giving Menzies a few messages that had been delivered for him. He pocketed them smoothly, even though they probably contained no bigger secret that a few invitations to cricket games and friendly dinners.
I wonder if old Quex receives professional messages here ? suddenly thought Menzies. It would be against the rules, of course, but the Admiral made the rules.
While he was not exactly a regular member yet, Menzies' tall and elegant silhouette was already a common feature at White's, and of course the staff made a point to treat him as if he came every day. The club's other members had a complex hierachy of modulated grunts and hellos, which depended on what degree of intimacy they had with Menzies and how many times they had seen him a week. The whole system was entirely incomprehensible to foreigners, and as a matter of fact to most Britons themselves, but it was the beat that rythmed the social life of the upper echelons of the British society. And it was Menzies' job to make sure such a society would never be the forgotten relic of a bygone era.
As he entered the dining room, Admiral Sinclair rose to greet him, a forced smile on his face. He had picked up a table by a window to get what meager light that bleak March day would give London.
Good God, he doesn't look well at all thought Menzies, alarmed to see how emaciated his boss looked. But he knew the Admiral was not one to like self-pity, or any form of pity in fact, as long as he was on the receiving end of it. He wanted to look brave, Menzies knew how brave he indeed was, and that meant for the junior SIS director to be efficient and businesslike even if his heart was heavy to see his old mentor gradually brought down.
The two men sat down and ordered food as if it was a somewhat unpleasant formality to be done with as quickly as possible. The choice of the wine required more time, as this would sweeten the tedious and bitter issues they had to discuss. In one of his cunning ways of making oblique references, Admiral Sinclair settled for a sweet, late harvest Gewürtz-Traminer.
Both men used the time that passed before they were served their first course to deal with the personal news. Of course, sensitive topics were carefully sidestepped. Neither Sinclair's health nor Menzies' divorce were discussed, as both men thought some things were best left unsaid. Polite enquiries were made about children, relatives, acquaintances and colleagues. Small talk was traded about the weather and the cricket season. Around them, by some sort of tacit agreement, the other dining members had given their table a wide berth, so that they could talk more freely. Even though no one would ever admit to, everyone had more than an inkling as to what the two men's job was. In other countries, their meeting would have been the cause of many hushed and frantic conversations, but here in England it was considered an entirely private matter, and thus not a suitable topic for gossip. If the British high society desired gossip anyway, they had the Prince of Wales and his paramour Mrs Simpson to provide them with an ample portion thereof.
With dessert being served, it was time to switch to more serious conversation.
"Isn't Gewürtz-Traminer a remarkable wine ?" asked Sinclair, rhetorically. "How curiously ironic that such a problematic region as the Rhine can produce such sweet and delectable wines, on both banks. I sometimes wonder if there is a link. If there is, I'm afraid we are in for remarkable vintage in years to come, don't you think, Stewart ?"
"I'd say things certainly look like it, Sir. France and Germany both seem to have been on the warpath lately - again"
"And it's not going to stop, mark my word, Stewart. The French have pushed Ribbentrop in the ropes now, and I'm not sure they will stop before the man and his master are down. Not that I'd regret it too much if that was to happen, mind you. I remember that upstart Champagne dealer all too well, when he was the Reich's disastrous ambassador to the Court of St James". At the thought of the pompous Ribbentrop being sacked, Sinclair couldn't help but smirk.
Ah, but do we want to bet on France instead of Germany now ? he wondered.
As often, as always, Great Britain had ambivalent feelings about its closest continental neighbor. It was seen as both the junior partner and the dangerous rogue, a nation weakened by the Great War bloodshed and at the same time aspiring to acquire immense power at England's expense. Except that this time, it may be at Germany's. And while it had always been Britain's position to side with the weaker side in every diplomatic dispute on the Continent, Sinclair found it harder to recommend it this time.
It's Nazi Germany, by Jove, not the almost likeable Imperial Reich ! That frightening little corporal certainly isn't Willy the Kaiser thought Sinclair.
Whoever thought it would do England any good to have her Majesty's government side with the likes of Hitler, Ribbentrop or Goebbels was, in Sinclair's quite informed opinion, the happy owner of a completely superfluous brain. Unfortunately, Her Majesty's current government seemed to fit that description lately, and he could do precious little about it. As news about his deteriorating health was now official, Prime Minister Baldwin and his cronies had begun to cut Sinclair off the loop, out of feigned concern for the distinguished admiral's health, of course. The government wanted younger men, like the Oxford and Cambridge young dons Menzies had recruited lately. Bright lads, sharp minds, of course, but not exactly the kind Sinclair felt comfortable running the country's intelligence service with.
So these days the Cabinet summoned for Menzies whenever they needed SIS input, which allowed them to get the same amount of information while keeping the intelligence service under the heel. Not that Sinclair blamed Menzies, of course. Stewart Menzies had all the qualities of a future great SIS director - just not quite yet. He still needed that kind of trial to learn the hardest lesson of all, which was that while you were supposed to help the government protect the country, sometimes in the intelligence business you also had to protect the country from the government - or at the very least you had to be aware Her Majesty's government wasn't always worth two bob.
Interior and Industry Minister Sir John Simon keeps an eye on the SIS
"So, Stewart, tell me. Tell this terrible old man what these terrible old men at Whitehall are up to these days ?" he asked, with a sly smile.
"The Prime Minister asked for a general intelligence briefing this morning" answered Menzies. "Going through every item across the threatboard, basically. Naturally the Franco-Italo-German conundrum has been at the core of my briefing - and of their preoccupations"
"Naturally" encouraged Sinclair. One week before, taking every diplomat by surprise, Austria had declared it wanted to form a military alliance with Italy. Italy being allied to France, that meant Vienna was now ready to dance to Paris' tune.
Well, at least to hum the opening bars of the Marseillaise with them, corrected Sinclair.
"You'll be interested to know the government has ordered another series of discreet 'probes' near French ports, like the ones we did with HMS Torque last summer, to see what the French and Italian navies are preparing in the Med"
"I see. Well, stands to reason, doesn't it ? See into it, Stewart, the lads did a smashing job last time. And do you think the Italians are actually preparing something ?"
"The Italian navy has undergone a lot of reorganization. Our contacts say they're weeding the Fascist hardliners out. Same for the wop air force. Same for the Army, even more so since Field Marshal Badoglio has never been a friend of Fascism and has taken direct control of the reorganization. The Blackshirts, of course, are livid - but leaderless, as there are too many high-level Fascists pulling ranks. They have been running around like so many headless chicken, causing all kind of trouble in Italian cities. They don't realize that's exactly what de Gasperi wants for the coming elections. And his French protectors agree, of course."
"Protectors, yes. Among other things, I guess. What about them, precisely ? I only get sanitized memos these days, Stewart. Simon and Whitehall go over my head and yours and tell middle-management they should not 'burden' me with too much work. I swear, 'burden' me ! Do I look a man who should not be 'burdened' ?"
Yes thought Menzies, who felt immensely saddened. But he couldn't say that of course. Instead he dutifully laughed at the assertion and side-stepped the isue to focus on the Admiral's first question.
"The French navy has redeployed to La Rochelle, Brest and Cherbourg. They clearly leave Mediterranean operations to the Italians, like we did with them in 1914. Their army and air force are still concentrated along the Rhine, fielding new tanks, and new planes. I had our own people take a look at some blueprints we managed to get hold of from the Bréguet and Bloch offices"
"Good initiative, that. And ?". Even if technical proficiency wasn't exactly his forte, Sinclair liked to learn about foreign weapons - especially new ones. One could say he collected such reports as others collected stamps or butterflies, as a simple pastime between more arduous tasks.
"The Bloch crates are basically on par with our Hurricanes, and will be inferior to the new planes the Supermarine chaps are designing. The French Air Force visibly expects more from Dewoitine's new batch of fighters. The Potez and Bréguet planes worry me more. You see, they were initially designed to be long-range escort fighters, but they have now been adapted to a much, much more preocuppying role." said Menzies, wincing. "Assault bombers."
"I see. Gearing their air force for offensive operations, eh ? What about their army ?"
"Things are going much more slowly there, but we're getting intriguing and equally worrisome signals. Better tanks roll out of the SOMUA and Atelier des Moulineaux production lines. Their infantry is being issued rapid-fire rifles, and submachine guns begin to replace rifles. There have been quiet inquiries to carmakers Renault and Citroën to issue standardized trucks to the French Army. And they're rocking the boat at the Ecole de Guerre, getting rid of the deadwood"
"Increasing their offensive capacities all over the board, then. What about Germany ?"
"I am afraid they have the opposite problem. Their army and air force have always been geared towards offensive operations, and now they find themselves strategically on the defensive. They lack fighter squadrons to protect their borders, they have more tanks divisions than anti-tank regiments, and their navy is ill-equipped to face a strong French-Italian presence in the North Sea. To add icing to the cake, their High Command is in deep turmoil after the firing of not one but two of their highest-ranking Field Marshals - over sexual scandals, no less."
"So to sum it up if things go awry we could see an essentially defensive army attack an essentially offensive one, both in the process of deep reorganization ? That could be messy, Stewart. What about Germany, politically ?"
"As I said, Ribbentrop is in disgrace after having lost Italy and Austria on his watch, in just one week."
"How terrible" said Sinclair, his voice dripping with polite hypocrisy while he tried unsuccessfully to contain a smile.
"It is said that one of his senior aides, name's Martin Luther of all things, has his eyes upon von R's job. You can imagine the cloak and dagger atmosphere in their Ministry, with other Nazi bigwigs watching. In other but closely related news, the SD and the Abwehr are blaming each other for France's diplomatic coup. Canaris and Heydrich are jumping up and down at the Reich Chancellery, each of them telling Hitler he should disband the other's outfit."
"I trust you're still lending the Abwehr a helping hand with that. We Admirals have to stick together" said Sinclair with a wry smile.
"I have been instructed...to hedge our bets on this matter" said Menzies, cautiously. He knew he should have kept quiet about that, but in his years of service he had always felt he couldn't lie to Quex, not even ny omission.
Of course thought Sinclair, somberly digesting the news. Let's ditch both senile Admirals overboard to make room for the young, bright and oh-so malleable minds
"Stewart my lad, listen up, and listen good. Baldwin and Company might think they're smart enough to juggle with all these balls, but I know better. And so do you, Stewart. You have to play the Abwehr against the SD no matter what they say. You. Have. To"
"Admiral, ours not to question why, ours but to...." said Menzies, trying to elude the subject with the Tennyson quote that for some reason kept popping up in his mind.
"Not to me, please, Stewart !" interrupted Sinclair, raising his hand to silence his deputy. He was showing irritation for the first time. "Ours IS to question why ! Why, who, how, where, and what for, and Lord Alfred Tennyson be damned. Else, some of our lads get stuck with the 'do or die' part, and we won't have done the damn job the damn government pays us for !"
Duly chastised, Menzies lowered his head. He didn't like feeling trapped between loyalty to the government and loyalty to the country - particularly when loyalty to his boss also was a factor. But despite of his embarrassment, his mind focused to a small signal that had been begging to be picked up for a few minutes.
Sir Stewart Menzies, deputy Director, about to learn about 'Voltaire'
"Admiral, sir", he began. "You said something about the French being more than de Gasperi's protectors"
"Of course. Stands to reason they're also his accomplices in at least one murder case, wouldn't you say ?" asked Sinclair, pursing his lips.
"They certainly benefitted the most from Mussolini's death, Admiral, but..."
"My dear boy" interrupted Sinclair, amused. "The government may keep me in the dark, but I still command a great deal of loyalty among our officers - among others. I hear rumors. Some say all kinds of people have been waltzing around the French Consulate, before and, what's even more interesting, after the assassination."
"Still, our Italian sources are adamant in saying the investigation's results are genuine" pointed out Menzies.
"Of course they are. But look, Stewart, the investigation, as far as we know, has been led by a rather junior officer with no real experience in criminal cases - not of this magnitude, in any case. They picked a honest country constable to investigate a political murder. And, look, there may be something you should know now, I think"
Sinclair paused, weighing the pros and the cons of what he was about to disclose. But he liked Menzies, and what even more importantly he trusted him. So he went on.
"It happens, Stewart, that I have a source within the French Foreign Ministry itself, a source I have run alone over the past few years, as it happens between close friends who share mutual respect and similar ideals. That friend , let's call him 'Voltaire', made a quiet allusion that maybe a small group of low-level consulate employees arrived shortly before the bombing. That maybe they never left Venice officially, and that maybe the French embassy is saying they were among their dead. Suffice to say that maybe I have serious doubts about that last part"
For Heaven's sake, how does he do that ? wondered Menzies. The revelation had knocked him flat, and he couldn't say if that was because his boss had for years run a high-level source he had never mentioned to anyone or because he of the implications of the assertion that agent had made.
"Admiral, this information you have, we have to pass it onto the Cabinet ! If we have serious indications that the French government possibly assassinated a foreign head of government, it's something the Cabinet can use in their dealings with other European countries !"
Yes thought Sinclair. He's right, of course. That's what we should do, to play Berlin against Paris and ensure another decade of European stability. Stability. Ha ! Stability is essentially wars where it doesn't bother us and perpetually festering crisis where it does not itch. Stability is kissing Himmler and Heydrich on both cheeks and invite them for tea, and pretend they're decent people..
Looking at the golden glow of the Alsatian wine which reflected the club's lights, Admiral Sinclair decided it was high time stability took a powder and got lost. Now that stability had led the Empire into an impasse, maybe decency could have a go at it. He took a deep breath and made another important decision.
"Keep your voice down, Stewart. I may be old and sick, and these fools may think they've declawed the old lion, but I am still the head of the SIS and you,my bright lad, still report to me. So here are my instructions, and you are to consider them as my last will if you wish. Not a word to Baldwin about that source and the possibility it alluded to. Not a word to Chamberlain. Above all, not a word to Simon, you know the damn fool wants us under his control and would use that against us. My friend 'Voltaire', remains a secret between you and me. And when I'm gone, it will be yours only. Yours to protect, yours to run. You see, 'Voltaire' is no ordinary source, Stewart. It's the kind of source that makes and break nations. Or careers"
With a last sip of the Alsatian wine, Sinclair looked deep into Menzies' eyes. After a few seconds, satisfied with what he saw, he signaled the waiter to bring the note. Now, he felt, he was sure he would leave the House in good hands.
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