‘I was not responsible for your removal from the Crossbow committee, nor was I to blame for their discrediting your reports. You know as well as I that Viscount Cherwell is convinced Germany cannot support the effort to construct war rockets, and nothing is going to change his mind until after the first of them falls on London. The other faction on the committee feel that you had originally underestimated the size and capacity of the German rockets. They point to their own reports showing the A-4 to have a carrying capacity of ten tons or more of high explosive as determined by photographic measurements. Until we actually capture one, there will be no convincing them. Your removal was effected because you were in hospital while I was in Washington trying to convince the Americans of the dangers of the new rocket you uncovered. Those people, I might say, are even more pigheaded than our own. Even with General Eisenhower’s endorsement, I couldn’t make them understand.’
The brigadier paused a moment. At least the man is listening, he thought, even though he refuses to look in my direction. ‘Look here, Jan, I know that you were under an intense strain, but the doctor gave you a clean bill of health. On that basis Combined Operations agreed to put you back on active duty. So I think it time you stopped acting like a wounded prima donna. You know as well as I that London committees are intensely political animals. It was a clear-cut trade where you were concerned. Certain people on the Crossbow committee felt that you were not technically competent, and you must face the fact that without a union card, in other words, a diploma, they will always think that. No one spends years taking specialised training, only to admit that a non-trained person might be as competent as he. Therefore, in order to gain support for the London anti-aircraft defence and the tactical fighter sweeps, I had to go along. You were the trade goods, Jan, and as much as your feelings were hurt, I do not regret my decision for one moment. The defence of London and its ten million people is of far more significance than your wounded feelings.’
Memling nodded as he finished speaking, but said nothing. Simon-Benet looked away. ‘I suppose I do sound like a headmaster, my boy, but damn it, it’s true.’
Memling stood up, a trace of a smile struggling through. ‘I must admit I have spent the last few months feeling sorry for myself. The spumed hero relegated to Coventry, I suppose.’ He stared off towards the slope where his CP had been set up. ‘I suppose Sergeant McElroy has the situation well in hand. Let’s walk a bit, loosen you up.’
They hiked along the stream in silence until the slope turned sharply upwards.
‘Are you going to tell me what brought you up here, or do I have to play guessing games?’ He simply could not stay mad at Simon-Benet. There was just something irresistibly likeable about the man.
The brigadier chuckled. On the flight up from London he had rehearsed all manner of appeals ranging from patriotism to self- interest. Now, on the spur of the moment, he decided to be straightforward:
‘We’ve discovered the Germans are firing numerous A-Four rockets on a range established in Poland. It is Ml-Six’s guess that they’re training operational crews, and Polish Intelligence seems to bear this out. In late May, the twenty-fifth to be exact, a rocket was fired from near a town named Blizna. It apparently went a bit off course and crashed beside the River Bug. The Poles got to it first, hid it from the Jerry recovery team, then spirited the whole thing away. From the reports we have, the damned rocket is completely intact, if a little bent. I’ve proposed to the committee that we bring it out of Poland. They agreed, and the Prime Minister endorsed the mission. Special Operations Executive has agreed to lay on a special aircraft. I want you to go along as the committee’s representative and take charge of the affair.’
Memling listened in silence, then shook his head. ‘Sorry, Brigadier, but the answer is no.’
Simon-Benet had expected a bit of hedging, perhaps some argument, but certainly not a firm, outright refusal. His temper got the best of him then. ‘Damn it all, Jan, I thought I’d made it clear it was time to stop playing the jilted schoolgirl. This is — ‘
Memling interrupted: ‘Brigadier, I don’t give one good Goddamn in hell what the committee thinks, or what they don’t think. I won’t go! I can’t,’ he finished lamely.
After a moment the brigadier asked, ‘Why ever not?’
Memling had turned away, his shoulders hunched, refusing to say anything more. Simon-Benet waited, not quite understanding. After a moment he said softly, ‘I saw Janet just before I left London. She’s looking well.’
Memling gave no sign of having heard.
‘She asked me to give you her love.’
‘Look here,’ Memling shouted, ‘let’s leave Janet out of this, shall we? She has nothing to do with your being here.’
