Hitler's peace

One thing was clear, at any rate. Kim Philby had been right to be concerned about American peace moves in Ankara. Donovan had just given me the high-level confirmation Philby had been looking for; that the Americans really were of a mind to sell out the Russians. But who could I tell? A Russian at Sextant Two, wherever that might be? That hardly seemed practical. And what of the Russians themselves? Was it really possible, as Donovan had said, that they, too, were trying to negotiate a separate peace, in Stockholm?

Our drinks arrived. Caring nothing for Donovan’s opinion now, I wished I had asked for a double brandy. I lit a cigarette. I could taste the ash even as I smoked it. I felt certain that there was something important Donovan was not telling me. But what? Was it possible that the secret peace negotiations with the Germans were making better progress than Donovan had seemed to indicate?

“So where is Sextant Two to be held?” Seeing Donovan hesitate, I added, “Or am I going to have to tune in to Radio Berlin to find out?”

“I heard about what happened.” Donovan smiled. “One of those Secret Service idiots contacted me on the radio to check out your bona fides. A guy named Pawlikowski. As if one of my own people could be a spy.”

I smiled politely and wondered what Donovan would say if he ever did find out that I had once spied for the NKVD.

“In which case you won’t mind telling me where Sextant Two is going to take place.”

“The Joint Chiefs are kind of itchy about the security situation here in Cairo,” said Donovan. “Everybody knows that the president and Churchill are here. But it wouldn’t do to let too many people in on the location for our next port of call.”

“But you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?”

Donovan nodded. “It’s Teheran.”

I pulled a face. “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I am. Why? What do you mean?”

“Whose brilliant idea was that? Iran is the most pro-German country in the Middle East, that’s why. The Joint Chiefs must be crazy.”

“I had no idea that your knowledge of German affairs extended so far east,” observed Donovan.

“Look, sir, the British invaded Iran, or Persia as it was then, to protect Russia’s back door. They deposed the last shah and put his son in his place. The Iranians hate the British and they hate the Russians. I don’t think there’s a worse place for a Big Three Conference.” I laughed with disbelief. “Teheran is full of Nazi agents.”

Donovan shrugged. “I believe it was Stalin’s choice.”

“There’s a Pan-Iranian neo-Nazi movement, and according to our sources, two of the ex-shah’s brothers were in Germany a while ago to enlist Hitler’s help in getting rid of the British.”

Donovan continued to look unperturbed. “There are thirty thousand American troops in Iran and God knows how many British and Russians. I’d say that’s more than enough to ensure the security of the Big Three.”

“And there are three-quarters of a million Iranians who live in Teheran. Very few of whom are on our side in this war. As for the tribesmen in the north of the country, they’re pro-Nazi to a man. If that’s Stalin’s idea of security, then he must have a screw loose.”

“From what I’ve heard, he has. But don’t worry about it. All the leading pro-German leaders have been arrested.”

“I hope you’re right, sir.”

“Teheran’s as safe as we are here in Shepheard’s,” insisted Donovan.

I glanced around the Long Bar. It was true, there were so many British and American uniforms I could easily have believed I was back in London.

“So relax,” said Donovan. “See the sights. Enjoy yourself. They won’t need you very much at Mena House. Not unless you speak Chinese. Besides. I’ve got a job for you while you’re here. You brought that suitcase from General Strong?”

My heart sank. “Yes, sir. It’s up in my room.”

“Good. Tomorrow, we’ll take a ride over to Rustum Buildings. That’s where the Special Operations executive and British intelligence have their headquarters in Cairo. The sooner we get started on that Bride material, the better.”

XVIII

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1943,

VINNICA, UKRAINE