The city was full of peacetime bustle: trams, cars and swarms of bicycles fighting for road space, with policemen expertly directing things. The frantic traffic contrasted with the sedate, quietly opulent mansions that lined the city’s streets. They passed the old Binnenhof, a complex of brown turrets and courtyards that housed the Dutch Parliament, and headed north through narrow streets to a peaceful little canal lined with bare trees and elegant townhouses.
Payne Best pulled up outside one of these, bearing a brass plate on which Conrad read the words Handelsdienst voor het Continent . They entered the building, which seemed to be a discreet office. Payne Best nodded to the man at reception, said something in Dutch to him, and led Conrad up a flight of stairs. ‘This is my business in Holland,’ Payne Best said. ‘Continental Trading Services. Pharmaceuticals mostly these days.’
He greeted a secretary sitting at a desk outside an open door. Payne Best’s office was large and comfortable with a good view down on to the canal and its little bridge outside. Bookcases and traditional Dutch landscapes lined the wall, together with a striking portrait of Payne Best himself.
A mild man with a trim, greying moustache was sitting in a leather chair by Payne Best’s desk, reading The Times . He put down the newspaper and rose to his feet.
‘De Lancey? I’m Major Stevens, the Passport Control Officer here in The Hague.’
Conrad shook Stevens’s proffered hand. So this was the head of the British secret service in Holland Theo had warned him about.
‘Major Stevens will be joining us,’ said Payne Best. ‘Isn’t Klop here yet?’
‘No sign of him,’ Stevens said. ‘In the meantime, I’ve got something for you, Best.’ Stevens produce two Browning automatic pistols from a briefcase at his feet, and gave one to Payne Best, keeping the other for himself. ‘Sorry, de Lancey, I don’t have one for you.’
‘We won’t need them, will we?’ Conrad said.
‘We shouldn’t,’ said Payne Best. ‘But we are going to be very close to the frontier, so it makes sense to be careful. Mind you, during the last show I used to meet people in a café in Limburg that was half in Holland and half in Germany. Can’t get closer than that.’
Payne Best’s secretary stuck her head around the door and said something to her boss. A moment later a tall, dashing Dutchman of about thirty appeared: Lieutenant Klop. Payne Best introduced him to Conrad in English. Klop’s accent was indeed very good; he could easily pass for a British Army captain to a non-native speaker.
The four men climbed into the Zephyr and set off for Venlo, a small town 180 kilometres away on the German border. Payne Best was driving, and he drove fast. But there was a whole series of checkpoint and tank barriers to pass through. Given what Theo had told him, Conrad was pleased to see that the Dutch were expecting visitors. Klop sat in the front with Payne Best, and Conrad in the back with Major Stevens.
‘I have a question for you, de Lancey,’ Stevens said.
‘Yes?’ said Conrad. There was something about Major Stevens’s tone that made him wary.
‘Where did you go after Best dropped you off on Tuesday?’
‘Leiden,’ said Conrad.
‘And why did you go there?’ Stevens asked.
‘To see an old friend.’
‘An old friend?’
‘Yes,’ said Conrad, keeping his voice as natural as possible.
‘And who was this old friend?’
‘Someone I went to university with. I’d rather not say his name.’
‘That’s tosh,’ said Stevens, staring hard at Conrad. ‘His name is Lieutenant von Hertenberg of the German secret service.’
So that explained the man with the long nose Conrad had spotted in the Diefsteeg. On balance Conrad was happier that it was the British and not the Germans who had been following them. But there was no point now in trying to claim that Theo was a Luftwaffe officer.
‘It’s not tosh, actually. Hertenberg and I
Payne Best pulled up outside one of these, bearing a brass plate on which Conrad read the words Handelsdienst voor het Continent . They entered the building, which seemed to be a discreet office. Payne Best nodded to the man at reception, said something in Dutch to him, and led Conrad up a flight of stairs. ‘This is my business in Holland,’ Payne Best said. ‘Continental Trading Services. Pharmaceuticals mostly these days.’
He greeted a secretary sitting at a desk outside an open door. Payne Best’s office was large and comfortable with a good view down on to the canal and its little bridge outside. Bookcases and traditional Dutch landscapes lined the wall, together with a striking portrait of Payne Best himself.
A mild man with a trim, greying moustache was sitting in a leather chair by Payne Best’s desk, reading The Times . He put down the newspaper and rose to his feet.
‘De Lancey? I’m Major Stevens, the Passport Control Officer here in The Hague.’
Conrad shook Stevens’s proffered hand. So this was the head of the British secret service in Holland Theo had warned him about.
‘Major Stevens will be joining us,’ said Payne Best. ‘Isn’t Klop here yet?’
‘No sign of him,’ Stevens said. ‘In the meantime, I’ve got something for you, Best.’ Stevens produce two Browning automatic pistols from a briefcase at his feet, and gave one to Payne Best, keeping the other for himself. ‘Sorry, de Lancey, I don’t have one for you.’
‘We won’t need them, will we?’ Conrad said.
‘We shouldn’t,’ said Payne Best. ‘But we are going to be very close to the frontier, so it makes sense to be careful. Mind you, during the last show I used to meet people in a café in Limburg that was half in Holland and half in Germany. Can’t get closer than that.’
Payne Best’s secretary stuck her head around the door and said something to her boss. A moment later a tall, dashing Dutchman of about thirty appeared: Lieutenant Klop. Payne Best introduced him to Conrad in English. Klop’s accent was indeed very good; he could easily pass for a British Army captain to a non-native speaker.
The four men climbed into the Zephyr and set off for Venlo, a small town 180 kilometres away on the German border. Payne Best was driving, and he drove fast. But there was a whole series of checkpoint and tank barriers to pass through. Given what Theo had told him, Conrad was pleased to see that the Dutch were expecting visitors. Klop sat in the front with Payne Best, and Conrad in the back with Major Stevens.
‘I have a question for you, de Lancey,’ Stevens said.
‘Yes?’ said Conrad. There was something about Major Stevens’s tone that made him wary.
‘Where did you go after Best dropped you off on Tuesday?’
‘Leiden,’ said Conrad.
‘And why did you go there?’ Stevens asked.
‘To see an old friend.’
‘An old friend?’
‘Yes,’ said Conrad, keeping his voice as natural as possible.
‘And who was this old friend?’
‘Someone I went to university with. I’d rather not say his name.’
‘That’s tosh,’ said Stevens, staring hard at Conrad. ‘His name is Lieutenant von Hertenberg of the German secret service.’
So that explained the man with the long nose Conrad had spotted in the Diefsteeg. On balance Conrad was happier that it was the British and not the Germans who had been following them. But there was no point now in trying to claim that Theo was a Luftwaffe officer.
‘It’s not tosh, actually. Hertenberg and I
Similar Books
