The Secret Generations by John Gardner

Author:John Gardner [Gardner, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2014-04-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

James Railton sat in the first-floor drawing room of the Kaiserhof, looking across the outskirts of Friedrichshafen. The coffee was good – almost as delicious as that he had drunk in Switzerland, two days before.

In this part of Germany, at least, morale was high. He would tell C that practically every German he heard talking about the war spoke of quick victory. There were exceptions. He thought of the casual conversation on the previous evening.

He had been taking brandy, after dinner, in this very drawing room, and the man who sat down nearby looked pale and under stress, though he was undoubtedly a member of the Officer Corps.

‘You stay here before?’ The man asked.

‘Once or twice. On business.’ James was wary and careful with his Schweizerdeutsch accent.

‘Ach. You are not German.’ There was no implied criticism.

‘Swiss.’

‘So. You Swiss are best out of it.’

‘Oh?’

‘Well, what do you really think of the war?’

James was judicious. ‘Honour must always be satisfied.’

‘You think so?’ The man leaned closer, ‘Maybe I’m foolish; possibly I speak treason, but this war should never have happened. I have good friends, and some relatives in England.’

‘So?’

The German smiled, ‘You say you’re Swiss?’

‘From Zurich.’

He shook his head. ‘I think not. Don’t ask me why, but some day – who knows? – I may be of assistance to you. Call on me. Feel free to do so at any time.’

James had the man’s card in his wallet now; Major Joseph Stoerkel, with an address in Elisabethstrasse, Berlin. He had been most careful with the Herr Major, but got the distinct impression that he was anxious to speak with someone who had contacts in England.

James now waited for something new in modern warfare; something he would have preferred to be doing instead of simply observing.

He hoped it was going to happen, as planned, this morning, for this was his second visit to Friedrichshafen in less than ten days, and, while nobody appeared to be in the least bit suspicious, James did not wish to chance his luck.

Here at the Kaiserhof they knew him as Herr Grabben, who had something to do with money and engineering. It was assumed that he had connections with the Zeppelin base, less than a kilometre from the hotel. Oddly, in this morning’s light, the base could be seen so clearly that James considered you might almost be able to reach out and touch the sheds. There was probably rain about, for that was when the foreshortened optical illusion usually occurred.

At this moment, James stared straight out at the sheds and hydrogen plant. He hoped the aeroplanes would come within the next hour or so.

Whatever happened, he would have to leave later that day. It would be unwise to stay any longer than twenty-four hours in Germany. It was all very well to live as Herr Grabben here in the hotel; but if some nosey policeman decided to enquire into his documents, the discrepancies would soon be discovered. James had not entered Germany via any of the normal methods.

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