Dennis Wheatley - Traitors' Gate

'You've said it. Although after Gib. we shall naturally do our utmost to fool Hitler into believin' that we mean to land somewhere other than in French North Africa.'

That night, before going to bed, Gregory followed up his telegram to Erika with a letter. But with Sir Pellinore's advice in mind he kept it short:, simply asserting that he loved her better than anyone in the world and begging her to let him come up to see her at Gwaine Meads.

Next day he put on his uniform and went to see Colonel Jacob. Sir Pellinore had said that he should inform the Colonel about his trip to Hungary, and the Colonel showed great interest in all he had to say; but, without giving any reason for it, he told Gregory that he did not think Allied strategy for 1942-43 would permit of advantage being taken of his private negotiations with the Hungarian magnates.

On the Monday Gregory returned to the War Rooms. His colleagues there had been told that for the past two months he had been seconded for special duty and they were much too discreet to ask him any questions. So discreet were they in fact that although they brought him up to date with the situation none of them actually mentioned Torch, which was the code name that had been given to the North African expedition. All of them now knew about it, but they were not officially supposed to be in the secret of future operations; so they referred to it among themselves only obscurely.

However, in the course of the next few days, Sir Pellinore's assumption that Gregory would find himself in the picture was fully borne out. The movements of troops, air squadrons and shipping, which were all recorded in the War Room, told a story. Oblique references to this and that filled in gaps. Above all, the speculations on possible enemy reactions in certain circumstances, of highly placed visitors who had the entry to the War Room, left no room for doubt about the broad outline of the plan.

Anxiously he waited for every post, hoping to hear from Erika, but in vain. As by Wednesday he had still received no reply to his letter, he wrote again, declaring that his heart was broken and that only she could mend it by allowing him to go up and see her.

At last, on Saturday morning, Rudd brought him with his breakfast a letter addressed in her well loved writing. Eagerly he tore it open, only to suffer grievous disappointment. It ran:

From what I learned when I last saw you, I cannot believe that you have a heart worth patching up. But mine is truly broken, and with good reason. I thought that we had both long since finished sowing our wild oats, and were old enough to be faithful to one another. Anyway, I love you far too much to face a future racked with the thought that you may be secretly indulging in affaires with other women. Since there can now be no future for us I do not intend to submit to the additional pain of hearing you make excuses for your 'honeymoon on the Danube.' That it took place you cannot deny, for if you could you would already have done so. Should you come to Gwaine Meads you will drive me from it; so please at least spare me from having to make a new life among strangers. I hope in time to recover from the awful shock that was sprung upon me, and to be able to think again of the long happiness we had together. In the meantime I can do no more than wish you well.

Bitterly, he realized that he was in a cleft stick. His only chance of altering her decision lay in his seeing and talking to her, but if he attempted to she might do as she threatened and with Sir Pellinore's grim reference to 'an inquest' haunting his mind he dared not take that risk.

His decision to avoid Sabine had debarred him from visiting Carlton House Terrace or resuming his customary Sunday night suppers there; so he rang Sir Pellinore up and asked him to lunch at his Club. Wednesday was the earliest day the Baronet could manage and after the meal Gregory showed him Erika's letter. The old man was much distressed and offered to act as intermediary, but added that he was so heavily involved in matters connected with the war that he could not possibly give twenty-four hours to spending a night up at Gwaine Meads during the next ten days; so for the time being he could do no more than write to her.

Gregory gratefully accepted his offer, then enquired after the lovely cause of all the trouble. Sir Pellinore told him that Sabine was still at Carlton House Terrace, and as yet had taken no steps about finding a flat for herself; but she had got a job, in which she had started the previous Monday. Apparently she had run into a pre-war friend who had introduced her to the Chancellor at the Moldavian Embassy and, owing to her proficiency in languages, she had been taken on in the Chancellery there. As her alien status would have prevented her from working in any Government Department, and all commerce with Central Europe was at a standstill, this job in a neutral Embassy had seemed the very thing for her and she was delighted about it.

The following Monday morning Sir Pellinore rang up Gregory at the War Room to tell him that he had had a reply from Erika. But it contained no comfort for her distracted lover. She said that even if Sir Pellinore could manage a visit to Gwaine Meads during the course of the next fortnight she would not be able to bring herself to discuss the affair with him. Her mind was made up, she was doing her utmost to forget, and to reopen the matter could only cause her acute distress.

It was later that same morning, the 12th of October, that. Gregory ran into his old friend of Worcester days, emerging from the Chiefs of Staff conference room at the far end of the basement.

'Hello!' he said. 'Been called in for consultation by the mighty? You are going up in the world.'

The airman grinned. 'No, they only meet down here now at night when there's an air raid on. They've lent us their room because my little party has a global conference of its own on today. There's something rather awe inspiring in the thought that the top boys who do our stuff overseas for us all flew in yesterday from places as far apart as Cairo, Washington, Delhi and Cape Town, to meet us round the table. But it was essential that we should get all the loose ends tied up.'

By now, although no definite reference was made to Torch outside the offices of the Planners, it was generally recognized that everyone in the basement knew about it; so Gregory raised an eyebrow and replied, 'You've left things pretty late, haven't you

* Note: The Author is most averse to inventing fictitious States in his books; but the necessity for doing so in this instance will become clear as the story unfolds.

I should have thought you planning boys would have handed your stuff to the staff of the Force Commander long before this, and been working things out for landings in Norway or Burma next summer.'

His friend shrugged. 'The STRATS and the FOPS are; and at the same time are arguing the respective merits of our going into Denmark, Holland, Cherbourg, Sardinia, Sumatra, the Kra Isthmus and lots of other places. But the little party to which I belong is operational as well; so we are in it up to the neck till the last minute. From the wars of the Ancients onwards, every major operation has had to have its Cover Plan, and it's our responsibility to pull the wool over the eyes of the enemy. I don't mind telling you, it's quite a headache. We could easily make a mess of things, and if we do we'll have a hell of a lot to answer for.'

'I see. Then I don't envy that nice boss of yours. How d'you feel about your prospects?'

'It's difficult to say, because this is our first big show. I think they're pretty good. Of course, we are copying the Germans in putting out all sorts of false rumours, and everyone who's not in the show will be waving red cloaks like mad to draw the Nazi bull off in the wrong direction. But it's impossible to say if they'll fall for that. If they don't, it may lead to about the biggest disaster with which the British Army has ever met.'