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Authors: Michael Ridpath
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very recently Germany was the most hospitable country in Europe for Jews. It was a sanctuary for displaced Jews from the East, from Poland and Russia. Jews are some of the most educated and influential people in this country, which is why they are a popular target for the Nazis. Most of them just could not believe that this current storm of anti-Semitism wouldn’t blow over. But now they realize it’s getting worse, especially since the invasion of Austria in March. And it will get worse still.’
‘I see what you mean,’ said Conrad. ‘And there’s nothing you can do for these people?’
‘We do what we can,’ said Foley grimly. ‘But it’s never enough.’
They plunged deeper into the park, leaving the piles of earth and jumble of construction equipment to their right. The Tiergarten was originally a royal hunting forest on the edge of old Berlin, but in the nineteenth century it had become a haven of quiet in the midst of the metropolis. Spindly trees closed around them and the roar of the machinery became a hum. Sunlight dappled the path beneath their feet.
‘Well, Captain Foley?’ said Conrad. ‘You’ve got me here. What do you want to say to me?
Foley smiled. ‘Oh, just that if you hear anything that you think might be of any use to His Majesty’s Government I’d be grateful if you could let me know. I’ll pass it on to the right people in London.’
‘I take it you have heard about my arrest the other night?’
‘Yes. And what happened to your cousin Joachim Mühlendorf. A terrible thing, but all too common these days.’
‘And are you going to kick up a fuss?’
‘I am sure that the Third Secretary explained to you the embassy’s position. And you understand that I—’
‘If you can’t help me, why should I help you?’ Conrad interrupted.
‘You have friends here. Is there anything you think we should know?’
Conrad thought about Joachim’s gossip about General von Fritsch and a conspiracy against Hitler. No doubt Foley would be very interested in all that. But he didn’t see why he should report conversations with his friends to someone he had only just met. ‘“We” being who exactly?’
‘“We” being the British government,’ Foley said. ‘Your government.’ He touched Conrad’s arm. ‘Let me make something clear. I’m not asking you to become a spy or anything like that. There’s nothing cloak-and-dagger about any of this. It’s just that war between our country and Germany sometime in the next few years is becoming a distinct possibility, and the more information we have about them, the better. All I’m asking is that you keep your ears open. Especially around your friend Lieutenant von Hertenberg.’
‘Theo? Why are you interested in Theo?’
‘He’s just one of many people we are interested in.’
‘You’re asking me to spy on my friends?’
Foley stopped. The frozen air rose in a cloud about his lips. ‘I’m asking you to do your duty. Just as your father did his duty in the war.’
‘I’m not my father, Captain Foley, and I’m not going to be your damned spy,’ Conrad snapped. ‘Now if you don’t mind, you go your way, and I’ll go mine.’ A narrow path wound into the trees on the right, and Conrad took it, leaving Foley standing behind him.
Conrad strode furiously through the woods. Foley was trying to manipulate him, use him in the same way he had been used in Spain. The mousy little spymaster was trying to enmesh him in exactly the kind of intrigue he had been writing about only that morning. Realpolitik , the cynical diplomacy of the balance of power, secret agreements and alliances, feint and counter-feint, the whole ghastly dance that had led to war twenty-four years before and might lead to war again. And then there was Foley’s facile assumption that because his father had fought so bravely in the last war Conrad would mindlessly follow orders towards another one.
Conrad’s pacifism ran deep. It was his
‘I see what you mean,’ said Conrad. ‘And there’s nothing you can do for these people?’
‘We do what we can,’ said Foley grimly. ‘But it’s never enough.’
They plunged deeper into the park, leaving the piles of earth and jumble of construction equipment to their right. The Tiergarten was originally a royal hunting forest on the edge of old Berlin, but in the nineteenth century it had become a haven of quiet in the midst of the metropolis. Spindly trees closed around them and the roar of the machinery became a hum. Sunlight dappled the path beneath their feet.
‘Well, Captain Foley?’ said Conrad. ‘You’ve got me here. What do you want to say to me?
Foley smiled. ‘Oh, just that if you hear anything that you think might be of any use to His Majesty’s Government I’d be grateful if you could let me know. I’ll pass it on to the right people in London.’
‘I take it you have heard about my arrest the other night?’
‘Yes. And what happened to your cousin Joachim Mühlendorf. A terrible thing, but all too common these days.’
‘And are you going to kick up a fuss?’
‘I am sure that the Third Secretary explained to you the embassy’s position. And you understand that I—’
‘If you can’t help me, why should I help you?’ Conrad interrupted.
‘You have friends here. Is there anything you think we should know?’
Conrad thought about Joachim’s gossip about General von Fritsch and a conspiracy against Hitler. No doubt Foley would be very interested in all that. But he didn’t see why he should report conversations with his friends to someone he had only just met. ‘“We” being who exactly?’
‘“We” being the British government,’ Foley said. ‘Your government.’ He touched Conrad’s arm. ‘Let me make something clear. I’m not asking you to become a spy or anything like that. There’s nothing cloak-and-dagger about any of this. It’s just that war between our country and Germany sometime in the next few years is becoming a distinct possibility, and the more information we have about them, the better. All I’m asking is that you keep your ears open. Especially around your friend Lieutenant von Hertenberg.’
‘Theo? Why are you interested in Theo?’
‘He’s just one of many people we are interested in.’
‘You’re asking me to spy on my friends?’
Foley stopped. The frozen air rose in a cloud about his lips. ‘I’m asking you to do your duty. Just as your father did his duty in the war.’
‘I’m not my father, Captain Foley, and I’m not going to be your damned spy,’ Conrad snapped. ‘Now if you don’t mind, you go your way, and I’ll go mine.’ A narrow path wound into the trees on the right, and Conrad took it, leaving Foley standing behind him.
Conrad strode furiously through the woods. Foley was trying to manipulate him, use him in the same way he had been used in Spain. The mousy little spymaster was trying to enmesh him in exactly the kind of intrigue he had been writing about only that morning. Realpolitik , the cynical diplomacy of the balance of power, secret agreements and alliances, feint and counter-feint, the whole ghastly dance that had led to war twenty-four years before and might lead to war again. And then there was Foley’s facile assumption that because his father had fought so bravely in the last war Conrad would mindlessly follow orders towards another one.
Conrad’s pacifism ran deep. It was his
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