“See, your friend’s happy. No more complaints, you Polish scum.”
As the guard aimed another blow at Karol’s head, the sound of footsteps reverberated down the corridor. A small man with very thick lens glasses pushed his way past the guard and into the room. He was followed by a taller, wiry man carrying a briefcase. The guard dissolved into spasms of obsequiousness and was despatched by the shorter man’s waved hand. Both of Karol’s new visitors wore nondescript dark suits and brilliant white shirts, but no ties. Both men wrinkled their noses in disgust at the stink in the cell.
“Come, my Polish friend. We are going to give you a little break from this sewer.”
Karol was prodded out of the door, along several corridors, down some stairs and eventually into a room he by now knew quite well. For once he was offered a cigarette, which he sucked on gratefully. Then the questions began. The same old questions to which he gave the same old answers. Hour after hour after hour.
*
A thin drizzle was pattering against the window panes as Merlin sat thinking at his desk. He had just read a newspaper report of Churchill’s latest broadcast the day before. Churchill had said that if Hitler was going to invade, it had to happen soon as the weather would deteriorate and the large invasion fleet, which had evidently been mustered by the Nazis in the ports of Germany, Holland, Belgium and France, could not be left waiting forever at anchor as British aircraft and warships in the Channel pounded them. Drawing on his profound love and knowledge of British history, he had compared the moment with the time when Drake was finishing his game of bowls as the Spanish Armada broke or when Nelson stood between Britain and Napoleon’s Grand Army. Merlin, with deference to Churchill, thought it felt a lot worse. Drake and Nelson had triumphed and with the long view of history it seemed inevitable that they would do so. He felt no inevitability about the victory of British power now. It suddenly occurred to him that tomorrow was Friday the 13th – for whom would it be unlucky?
The phone rang. Merlin picked up the receiver as Bridges came through the door. “Yes? I see. When exactly? We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
Bridges looked at him enquiringly.
“They’ve found a body off Euston Road. Wearing a flyer’s uniform. Let’s go.”
Chapter 12
Mexico 1519