‘Even Henry Morgan became governor of Jamaica.’ And then drank himself to death, thought Kemp. A wry smile from the German. ‘It’s cost-effective.’ Particularly for a government in Berlin terrified of a resurgent far right.
‘In from the cold. Congratulations.’ Kemp tipped the glass to his lips.
The Colonel reciprocated. ‘And Krista?’
‘Your rehabilitation was faster.’ It had, after all, only involved espionage, international intrigue, competing belief systems and geo-politics. Personal relationships, emotions, were more problematic.
‘Pity. I got you together, remember?’
‘You won’t be forgiven.’ He drained the glass, felt the fire alcohol burn its way to his stomach. ‘And I thought jumping across the border was your biggest error.’
The Colonel wiped his mouth and indicated a soft-furnished area in a far corner. ‘You have not come all this way to reminisce with an old friend and present a bottle of vintage single malt.’
‘Swept?’
‘Daily. By my own team.’
They walked across to the leather sofas, past a group of abstract and obscure granite statuary, the Colonel with an opened bottle of Pilsner in his hand. Business or social gathering, alcohol was his thought-laxative of choice, his favoured weakness. The CD was proffered, taken and inserted into the flush-mounted player beside the arm rest. For fifteen minutes they listened, the German leaning back, eyes closed, sipping thoughtfully at the bottle or fingering the button controls to replay or fast-forward. Mood music – and the mood from the tracks, in between the tracks, was ugly. The recital ended on the downwards punch of an index finger.
A cigar was found, beheaded and lit, the Colonel reoccupying his semi-recumbent position, smoke wreathing lazily from his mouth. One word summation. ‘Slick.’
‘The motive?’
‘Gegen dumheit ist kein Kraut gewachsen.’ A German proverb, its delivery soft and slow.
‘It’s not enough.’
Exhalation and cloud-burst. ‘Racism is as natural to the rest of humanity as vulgarity, Torte, wood-carving and anti-Semitism are to the southern Germans.’
‘We’re not talking Bavaria, we’re not talking Jews.’
‘Josh, you ask me what the motive is when two days ago another ship carrying illegal immigrants was towed into Brindisi by the Italian navy.’
‘You’re saying the CD exploits an existing market?’
‘I’m saying people have real fears, real concerns. Legitimate ones. Outsiders arrive uninvited, wish to sup at the table, have no stake or roots in Western Europe, have paid no taxes, shed no blood, introduce foreign tongues, faces and values.’
‘Harmony not a possibility?’
‘More than a probability. We’re old world, not social experiments and global melting-pots.’
‘What about specifics – England – why are the music discs heading there?’
‘Because its centralized, a message travels fast; because English is a universal medium; because London is a sump tank for Third World population overflow; because the arrogant liberal power elite force-feeds the public a diet of multiculturalism. People are expected to swallow it or choke silently.’
‘Historically, the British aren’t moved by extremes.’
‘It’s true. Ultra-nationalists are more established in France, Germany and Italy. Makes your fellow countrymen more of a challenge, an untapped seam.’
‘There’s always our sense of fair play.’
‘There’s always prayer.’ The eyebrow was raised dismissively.
‘Why not a Kristallnacht against Asian shopkeepers? Why not attacks on Slovaks or Kurds?’
Gripped between thumb and forefinger, the cigar was deployed as a lecture tool. ‘Why are the blacks targeted? For the same reason an African in this town has a life expectancy of twenty-four hours. They’re easily identifiable, their skin is a common denominator, and their profile is high enough to make persecution worthwhile.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Josh, the Jew was despised for his relative success, the black for his relative lack of it.’
‘Doesn’t make sense. They’re well established in Britain.’
‘So, select them, knock them out, make an example, and the rest follow. There’s logic.’
‘And organization. The discs came from Europe. I need to know the prime players, the international links.’
They talked. Kemp drank coffee; the Colonel an alternating sequence of grape and grain. Both stayed sober, focused. Across the European continent, the extreme right was rising, intended to march, its representatives winning control of towns and parliamentary seats, its influence spreading and inciting. It was putting down roots, nurturing the young. In Saxony-Anhalt, the minority Deutsche Volksunion grew in popularity and confidence, set an example for like minds and like parties throughout Germany; in Italy, anti-immigration sentiments swung votes towards the Northern League and fascist National Alliance; in France, the Gaullists lost territory throughout the south to the National Front and its black-shirted DPS militia. Everywhere, herd instinct and the more cheerless aspects of populism. The message: foreigners pollute national identity. The means: evolving. Yet there were bodies – funded, prepared – which shied away from the banner-waving and ballot box, that opted instead for a path of confrontation and direct action. Leaders were low-profile or no-profile, avoided campaigning, kept their faces from posters, their fingerprints from databanks. Unsurprising, for they were godfathers of extremism, shadowy businessmen with publishing empires and media interests that stretched from websites, mail-order and American-printed pamphlets to medium-wave broadcasts transmitting neo-Nazi propaganda throughout Germany from stations in Russia, Poland and the Ukraine. Their positions were as entrenched as the former East –West divide, their techniques as sophisticated as the US and Russian listening posts which once graced Mount Wurmberg and the Brocken. Political process was not in their nature; neither was compromise.
Kemp was leaning forward, knuckles supporting his chin. ‘We’re agreed this goes well beyond Thuringian peasants roaming around in Waffen-SS hand-me-downs and yearning for a new Führer.’
‘Well beyond anything that is customary for European or American-backed neo-Nazis.’ The Colonel was examining the CD container. ‘No trace elements attacking Marxist-Zionism, the global Jewish conspiracy, the New World Order, nothing urging ethnic Germans to resettle in the Baltic states and reclaim north-east Prussia for the fatherland.’
‘And not a single word denying the Holocaust. Basic change of tactics?’
The German shook his head. ‘Too radical for these people. Their prejudice and methods are ingrained. No, Josh, we’re looking for a new player with a specific hostility, and a large budget.’
‘A government?’
