Читать книгу A Woman Involved - John Davis Gordon - Страница 17

He grimly followed the Captain of Submarines into his office. A lanky middle-aged man with spectacles heaved himself up from an armchair as they entered. Carrington suddenly seemed in good humour.

‘Jack, this is somebody hardly anybody knows. Anthony Brink-Ford. In his indefinable way he’s one of the gentlemen who controls poor mortals like me. Anthony – Jack Morgan.’

‘How do you do?’ Morgan nodded briefly. He said to Carrington: ‘You’re mortal?’

‘Alas, I sometimes suspect so.’ He went behind his desk and picked up a form and a Bible. ‘Hold that, raise your right hand and repeat after me.’ He prepared to read the form.

‘You’re joking.’

‘Just the usual Official Secrets Oath, Jack, got to take it.’

‘But I’m no longer an official.’

‘As a retired Royal Navy officer, you’re still in the Reserves, Jack.’

‘Then if I’m still an officer I haven’t got to take the Oath again!’

‘We can require you to do so, under certain circumstances.’

‘Where my continued loyalty is questionable? Are you handing me my Call-up papers?’

‘No.’

‘Then if my loyalty is questioned, I’m going back to my boat.’ He turned to go.

‘Jack …’ Carrington sighed. ‘All right.’ He put the Bible down. He said wearily: ‘You’re still familiar with the Oath?’

‘I don’t suffer from amnesia!’

‘All right,’ Carrington sighed. He waved his hand. ‘Please sit down.’

Morgan sat, pleased with his little victory. ‘This doesn’t mean I’m going to do a bloody thing.’

‘Now, then.’ Carrington sat. He crossed his legs. ‘Officially Anthony draws the salary of a Permanent Under-Secretary of State. In fact, he’s one of the senior chaps in MI6. He wants to talk to you.’ He waved a hand. ‘And I want you to know I think it stinks. But it’s got to be done.’

Morgan frowned. ‘You think it stinks? …’ He sat back. ‘Boy, then it must be really bad.’

It was water off Carrington’s back. ‘I want you to know that I’m on your side, Jack.’

Morgan shook his head.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’ve really heard everything.’

Anthony Brink-Ford’s rimless spectacles made his eyes look unusually large. He sat forward and said:

‘You’ve heard about the state of emergency in Grenada, Mr Morgan? It’s been in the newspapers.’

Morgan felt his pulse trip. So it was about Grenada. He nodded. Brink-Ford went on:

‘In short, there’s been another coup. The Prime Minister, Maurice Bishop, who was a communist but changed his tune somewhat and began to make overtures to America again – he was placed under house arrest by his army. The hard-line communists in his cabinet wanted to get rid of him, but they dared not do so, because of his popular support.’

Morgan was trying to think ahead – and all he could think was Anna …

‘Well,’ Brink-Ford said, ‘today Bishop’s supporters stormed his house, and set him free. They marched into town. Bishop had four or five of his loyal cabinet ministers and advisers with him.’ He raised his eyebrows at Morgan. ‘One of them was a well-known financier called Max Hapsburg.’

Morgan stared at him. Brink-Ford went on: ‘They confronted the army. Then the hard-line communist leaders arrived. Bishop and five of his leading friends were seized. They were dragged into the army headquarters, and shot.’

Morgan stared. ‘And Max Hapsburg was one of those shot?’

Brink-Ford nodded. ‘Yes.’ He added significantly: ‘His wife was definitely not present.’ He paused, then went on soberly: ‘The United States of America is about to invade Grenada.’

America about to invade Grenada? Morgan’s mind was fumbling, with the beat in his chest. Brink-Ford continued:

‘The official reason is the safety of one thousand American medical students who are living on the island. In a state of siege in the university, while civil war’s raging. After the hostage crisis in Iran and Jimmy Carter’s bungling of that, and the recent bombing of American military in Beirut, President Reagan is not taking any chances with American lives. Or America’s reputation.’ He added: ‘Or his own. There’s a presidential election next year. Another reason is the usual one: the Russians. The Reds are on the island in a big way, Soviets and Cubans. Amongst other things, they are building a huge new airport, capable of taking any planes. Why? Little Grenada’s tourist traffic is handled quite satisfactorily by the existing airport. So obviously the Russians intend making Grenada another military base, like Cuba. America is not going to tolerate that.’

Morgan was thinking hard. ‘And the other reason?’

‘Those are good enough reasons, in our book. Even though Mrs Thatcher is going to scream blue murder about America’s interference – because Grenada is a member of the British Commonwealth. Just like Reagan made a big show of complaining about Thatcher’s Falklands War. So he could keep in sweet with Latin America.’ He paused. ‘There is no other reason for America’s invasion officially. But there is an important spin-off, as the Americans say.’

‘And that is?’

Brink-Ford pressed his fingers together. He said:

‘Max Hapsburg died today, with certain information in his head. Highly important, of a secret nature.’ He paused. ‘And we believe – that is to say, Her Majesty’s government, and the United States believe, that Max Hapsburg may have told his wife the information … That she either knows it, or knows where it is to be found.’

Morgan stared at the man. He could not believe this was happening. ‘What makes you think that?’

Brink-Ford said, ‘Suffice it to say that Max Hapsburg was a prominent man in banking circles. He was involved in many – or several – top level negotiations on behalf of certain Caribbean and Latin American countries, about their international debts. It appears that, to that end, he was possibly not above applying a little pressure in certain areas.’

Morgan said slowly: ‘And you want me to get Anna … to his widow, and get this information from her.’

Brink-Ford’s eyes were big behind his spectacles.

‘Commander – Mr Morgan … We have a most important task which only you can carry out.’ He paused. ‘You are the only person, because of your – er — association, with Mrs Hapsburg.’ He took an uncomfortable breath. ‘Mr Morgan, it is of the utmost importance that you proceed to Grenada and get to see Anna Hapsburg immediately. That you … win her complete confidence.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And persuade her to come away with you, to a place of safety. In fact, to England.’

Morgan was astonished. Brink-Ford went on:

‘And if for some reason she will not do that voluntarily, you must make her come to England …’

Morgan could not believe his British ears.

‘Good God,’ he said. ‘Abduct her? … Against her will? So you can … extract the information out of her? And if I refuse to be a party to this … kidnapping, you’ll exert a little blackmail on me? Jesus.’ He could not believe it. He got up and walked to the window. He looked out elaborately. He turned back to them. ‘Am I in England? Or Russia?’ He walked back to his chair. He sat down incredulously. ‘Half an hour ago this sanctimonious prick –’ he pointed at Carrington – ‘was telling me that it all served me right for playing with married women – with fire, he said. Now you want to use that …’

‘A different thing entirely. This is for Queen and Country.’

Morgan half-laughed. ‘Now I’ve heard absolutely everything. Seduction and abduction for Queen and Country! …’

Brink-Ford sat forward earnestly. ‘Have you been in touch with Mrs Hapsburg since that incident a year ago?’

Morgan snorted. ‘No, I have not.’

‘Has she attempted to be in touch with you?’

‘No, she has not.’

‘Do you know why not?’

‘I’ve a pretty good idea! Her husband threatened to have me extradited to Grenada to face trial, if she did. And for the same reason I haven’t dared contact her!’

Brink-Ford said: ‘That suggests … Or rather, may I ask – are you still enamoured of Anna Hapsburg?’

Morgan glared at him. ‘You may not. And may I ask what this red-hot information is which I have to extract from her?’

Brink-Ford sat back.

‘First I’ll tell you how we’re going to get you into Grenada.’ He looked at his watch. ‘At this moment American battleships are steaming towards Grenada. Meanwhile troops are being assembled in nearby Barbados. Now, this afternoon you will fly to Barbados on a scheduled flight. With a false passport. You will be met by an officer of the United States Navy – a SEAL officer. That’s their specialized Sea Air Land forces, like our Special Boat Service. He will equip you with the uniform and weapons of an American SEAL.’ He glanced at his file. ‘Your name will be Steven M. Jackson. The M is for Matheson. You will be drilled on your new temporary identity. Family, training courses, military history. He’ll familiarize you with your weapons, et cetera. I’m told you’ve been trained to parachute?’

Morgan was staring at him. ‘Years ago. And I hated every jump.’

‘Well, I believe you may be parachuting into the sea, near the capital of St George’s, to start your search for Anna Hapsburg.’ He paused, collecting his notes. ‘We don’t know where she is. The island is in chaos. The telephones are cut. She may be barricaded in her home. Her parents are deceased, as you probably know. We think she may have fled to Government House. We know that about thirty civilians have taken refuge there, but we don’t know who they are. The governor is a British appointee, a black man called Scoon. Or she may be in one of the embassies. Anyway, you and your squad of SEALs will first look for her in her home. Then you will storm the rabble army that is besieging Government House, get inside and see if she’s there. If she is, you will all simply hold the fort until the invasion is over. Which should only be a matter of two days or so. And you, personally, will stay in Anna Hapsburg’s company all the time.’

Morgan could hardly believe this was happening.

‘And if she isn’t in Government House?’

‘You go back over the wall and look for her,’ Carrington said. ‘First in the obvious places, like foreign embassies. You’ll take some SEALs with you. When you find her, report by radio to Command. If you’re in a safe place, like an embassy, sit tight until the bun-fight’s over. If you’re in a dangerous situation, radio for help.’

Brink-Ford said: ‘Above all, you’ve got to keep Anna Hapsburg safe. Avoid risks as far as possible, avoid confrontation with the enemy, but give nobody the benefit of the doubt. Shoot to kill anybody who looks like endangering her. And the same applies to yourself – it is vital that you stay alive.’

Carrington smiled: ‘We thought you might like that part of it.’

Morgan was in no mood for jokes.

‘So that I can win her confidence for you bastards.’

Brink-Ford said earnestly: ‘For Queen and Country. Mr Morgan, you are the only person who can win her confidence …’

‘And if she doesn’t divulge the information to me, you’ll get it out of her by hook or by crook?’

‘Mr Morgan, the whole purpose in sending you is so that we do not have to get it out of her by hook or by crook. And to get her away from people who would certainly not hesitate to use force to get the information. And then kill her afterwards. Namely, the Russians.’

Morgan stared. He thought, Jesus … ‘And the Americans also want this information?’

‘Indeed. They’re collaborating with us. But only the SEALs in your immediate squad will know that your special assignment is to find Anna Hapsburg. They won’t know why. They’ll ask no questions. And only a couple of people in the whole armed services will know you’ve been put there by us.’

Morgan was grappling with all this.

‘But rather than disguise me as an American soldier, where my true identity may be discovered, why not send me disguised as a British journalist, or diplomat?’

‘Because,’ Carrington said, ‘officially Great Britain is keeping out of this. That’s why we’re asking you to do this unofficially, not serving Call-up papers on you. And because this is a highly military situation, you need the cover and facilities of the military to do the job properly. Journalists can’t run around with machine guns, can they?’

Morgan sat back. And took a deep, tense breath. Bemused. Anna had come back into his life? … And for a moment he felt a flash of anger. ‘You’ll cause endless trouble,’ Janet Nicols had said. She was right. He said: ‘Tell me what information I’m after.’

Brink-Ford sat back. ‘I can tell you only as much as you need to know.’ He paused. ‘You have probably heard of Klaus Barbie?’

Morgan said, wonderingly: ‘Klaus Barbie? The “Butcher of Lyons”?’

Brink-Ford said: ‘Exactly. He is a Nazi war criminal who has recently been found in Bolivia, extradited back to France, and he’s presently in prison awaiting trial for murdering hundreds of French during the war. The French authorities have enough evidence to guillotine him a dozen times. Yet they are stalling on the prosecution. Why?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘The theory is that Klaus Barbie knows certain facts that he is threatening to reveal if he is brought to trial. Those facts, if he could prove them to be true, would be … terribly damaging to certain institutions in the West.’

Morgan was even more amazed. Anna was involved in this?

‘What institutions?’

‘That is the only detail I will tell you. You need to know that much, to help you … unravel Mrs Hapsburg’s mind. Because that information which Klaus Barbie possesses was also possessed by Max Hapsburg. Indeed, we believe Max Hapsburg actually possessed the evidence. We believe it is in the form of an intelligence file, acquired by the Nazis during the war, or possibly in the form of a microfilm of that file.’

Morgan was amazed. ‘How did Max Hapsburg get hold of that file? He’s my age, born after the war.’

‘Good question. How much do you know of Hapsburg’s history?’

‘Only what his wife told me. That his father was a wealthy German who lived in South America after the war, married a Greek woman. He wasn’t a Nazi war criminal, was he?’

‘No. He was a Nazi, undoubtedly, but not a war criminal. Have you heard of Admiral Canaris?’

‘Yes,’ Morgan said. ‘He was the head of German Intelligence during the war, wasn’t he?’

‘Correct,’ Brink-Ford said. ‘Dietmar Hapsburg, Max’s father, worked with Admiral Canaris in Intelligence. It may be that when Germany crumbled, Dietmar Hapsburg fled to South America with this file – as insurance. When he died, Max came into possession of it. Somehow, Klaus Barbie got to hear of it, presumably.’ Brink-Ford held up his palm. ‘That’s as much as you need to know. We know – or we think we know – the general nature of the information. What we haven’t got is the proof – the file, or the microfilm, that shows it to be true. Or false.’ He added: ‘We sincerely hope, by the way, that it is false.’ He sighed briskly. ‘Max Hapsburg was a very wealthy man, with many connections. Maybe he kept the evidence in a bank vault somewhere. Or in a hole in the ground. We don’t know.’ He nodded at Morgan. ‘But we think Mrs Hapsburg knows. And that’s what we want you to find out. But more than that. We want you to get Mrs Hapsburg to a place of complete safety while we get hold of this evidence, and check it out.’ He pointed at the floor. ‘Right here, where we can look after her. Because, I assure you, Mr Morgan, a number of other people will be after her too.’ Brink-Ford elaborated: ‘In fact, I do not exaggerate when I say that Mrs Hapsburg’s life is in extreme danger. Mercifully, for us – and for her – and for you – we have the might of the United States military behind us. If Anna Hapsburg were on her own in the middle of this Russian-inspired coup in Grenada, she wouldn’t survive a day. And after this invasion, they’ll still be trying to get her.’

Morgan felt a stab of fear for her. But he could hardly believe all this. Carrington said, ‘As regards your freighter, she’ll sail on schedule, with a captain provided by us. While officially you are on a hiking holiday in Scotland.’

Morgan felt feverish. For Anna’s safety. He looked at them, bemused. The civil service faces he once upon a time thought were incorruptible.

He took a deep breath. Then he held a shaky finger out at them.

‘Now let me make one thing abundantly clear.’ He glared. ‘I’m going on this operation for her sake – not for Queen and so-called Country!’ He shook his finger once. ‘And after I get her off that island, if you so much as lay a finger upon her …’ He raised his eyebrows: ‘I’ll blow this story sky-high. Do you understand that? Blow Queen and Country and Margaret Thatcher …’