“In that we failed, because the partnership did not exist,” Bethany said. “We saved the Crown Jewels, but Die Brücke is still alive.”
“How did Die Brücke know we were carrying the Jewels in the first place?” Caitrin asked. “Someone must have told them. Someone with access to secret government information.”
“That we do not yet know,” Churchill said. “But we will search them out.”
Clementine interrupted to change the subject. “Now we have the Jewels back, what is going to happen to them?”
“They are going to be well hidden, I assure you,” Churchill said.
“In England?” Hector asked.
“Yes.”
“But wasn’t the whole idea of the operation that they should go overseas so if we were invaded, the SS or Gestapo could not torture people to learn their location?”
“Agreed. The Jewels will be hidden somewhere in England, and we will send the men who hid them, on separate ships, to Canada.”
“Ingenious,” Hector said.
“My idea,” Churchill answered.
“What happened to Walter Schellenberg and Leni Riefenstahl after they escaped?” Bethany asked.
“They hared away from Sintra to the German embassy in Lisbon. He is back to being a scourge throughout Europe, while I hear Riefenstahl was given millions of deutsche marks by Hitler to make a grand film about a German opera. No doubt some overblown Aryan fantasy. On to better things.” Churchill picked up his champagne glass. “It’s not Pol Roger, I’m afraid, but a Pommery et Greno ’26 and a fine vintage, though. I propose a toast to Lord Marlton, Hector Neville-Percy.”
They all raised their glasses in salute. “Lord Marlton, Hector Neville-Percy.”
“And our Welsh sword master,” Churchill caught Caitrin’s admonishing eye. “I mean sword mistress, Caitrin Colline.”
Again, they toasted. “Caitrin Colline.”
Caitrin raised her glass. “And I propose a toast in honor of Captain James Gordon.” She quieted the room.
“But he betrayed the country,” Gryffe-Reynolds said. “Lord Marlton’s report—”
“Is wrong,” she said. “Lord Marlton was under great strain and was mistaken in the identity of the men who stole the Jewels.”
“But he says quite clearly that Captain Murray—”
“The actual Captain Murray was Heiko von Eisen, who happened to look remarkably like James Gordon,” Caitrin said, gazing directly at Hector, daring him to dispute her flagrant lie; the two men did not look at all alike. He was wise and did not contradict her.
“Lord Marlton reported he believed James Gordon was overwhelmed by the deaths in Dunkirk, captured, and in such a weakened mental condition his good friend Walter Schellenberg was able to persuade him to help them steal the Jewels,” Gryffe-Reynolds continued doggedly on. “Although terribly misguided, I accept that at the time he believed he was doing the right thing.”
“That is absolute nonsense,” Caitrin said and rose to her feet. “In France, Captain James Gordon, with his men, fought a desperate and glorious rearguard action against overwhelming odds so that other British soldiers might escape from Dunkirk. The action cost him his life, and I believe he should be remembered. His body has been recovered and deserves a military funeral at his family’s cemetery at Mauchline Hall. If I may be allowed, I would be honored to attend.”
She sat to a silent room.
“Lord Marlton?” Churchill said.
“Caitrin is right,” Hector said, as his mind raced for a plausible explanation. “I hadn’t seen James for a few years and likely mistook von Eisen for him. That was my error. My apologies.”
“No apology needed. Then I suggest tearing up the report and writing a new one,” Churchill said. “What say you, Brigadier?”
“Yes, Sir. Splendid idea,” Gryffe-Reynolds diplomatically replied.
“Sir, I have a request to make,” Caitrin said.
“No independence for Wales, young lady.”
“That will come in good time,” she said. “It is about Barbara MacNeil in Castlebay.”
“The Scottish pigeon-post lady.”
“Yes. She is a widow and has one son, Duncan. He is all she has.”
“A fisherman, I should imagine?”
“Yes.”
“We need a fisherman more than another soldier. It’s an essential occupation, and so a fisherman he will stay throughout the war.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Bodyguard Thompson is assured we will win solely because of my official title versus Mr. Hitler’s,” Churchill said with a mischievous smile. “He says the Germans concentrate their effort on the wrong things. In England the leader of the country is known, insults and profanities aside, simply as the prime minister, or PM if you like. But in Germany, Mr. Hitler is referred to as Der Führer und Oberste Befehlshaber der Wehrmacht des Grossdeutschen Reichs.”
“I won’t be sending him a postcard,” Caitrin said.
Churchill got to his feet, champagne glass in hand. “I have one more toast. Every day that passes brings us closer to winter, which makes a German invasion harder and more unlikely. A toast to winter.”
