The Elegant Lie

…

The night of Galton’s arrest by the German police, Carter left a message for Wilby at the drop point, requesting a meeting for the following day.

This time, he chose Vorgebirgs Park for their rendezvous. It was an oddly shaped clearing, hemmed in on all sides by the houses of the Raderberg district and cut through with numerous bicycle paths. Chestnut trees cast leafy shadows on the grass, in which the dew glistened like glass beads from a broken necklace.

The two men sat side by side on opposite ends of the bench, not looking at each other as Carter explained what had happened. This was Carter’s first meeting with Wilby since Eckberg had tracked him down at the cafe, and he was worried about how Wilby would take the news of this setback. To Carter’s surprise, Wilby did not seem at all fazed by the latest turn of events.

‘And when you got back to Dasch’s place,’ asked Wilby, ‘what was his reaction?’

‘I think he was mostly just relieved that the whole thing hadn’t blown up in his face the way it could have done.’

‘And is it fair to say that whatever doubts Dasch might have had about you have now been set aside?’

‘Yes. On that he was perfectly clear, and so was Ritter for that matter.’

‘Good,’ said Wilby. ‘Then it was worth it.’

‘Worth it?’ echoed Carter. ‘Those aren’t the words I’d use exactly.’

‘You would if you saw the whole picture,’ Wilby told him.

‘Then what am I missing?’ asked Carter.

‘Well,’ said Wilby, ‘let me put it this way. Have you wondered how the police found out?’

‘Of course I have,’ replied Carter, ‘and I’m pretty sure I know the answer.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Galton wasn’t careful enough. He was also over-confident. He didn’t seem to care who knew what he was up to. And I guess he must have bragged about it in front of the wrong person.’

‘All that makes perfect sense,’ said Wilby, ‘but there is a simpler explanation.’

‘There is?’

‘Yes. I’m the one who tipped off the police.’

It was as if Wilby had grabbed Carter by the throat. For the next few seconds, Carter had to force himself to breathe. ‘Why would you do that,’ he finally managed to ask, ‘when the whole thing was your idea to begin with?’

‘Because I wanted Galton to get caught. I was gambling on the fact that you had better instincts than he did for spotting a police stakeout. And it turns out I was right. There was no way he would be able to siphon off army supplies in the quantity he had in mind without making the authorities suspicious. He would have been caught eventually, even without our help.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me that?’

‘The only guaranteed way of selling the plan to Dasch was if you believed it yourself. And when it went wrong, I had to be certain that your surprise was genuine. A thing like that, at a moment like that, is too hard to fake, even for someone like you. You know who I learned that from?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Adolf Hitler!’ said Wilby. ‘Back in 1933, when it looked like the Nazis might lose the election against the rival Communist Party, Hitler decided that the only way he could derail his opponents was for them to do something so terrible that no one would even consider voting for them. Of course, the Communists weren’t just going to oblige him by doing this terrible thing, so Hitler ordered his men to carry out this atrocity themselves, and do it in such a way that they could blame the Communists for it. The thing is, Hitler knew that when the news broke, everybody would be looking at him. Cameras. Newsmen. Even people in his own party who weren’t in on the plot. In that moment, he knew he would have to look shocked. Genuinely shocked. The only way to guarantee that was for him not to know in advance what had happened. That’s why, when the German parliament building went up in flames, and when the Nazis trucked out some Dutchman named Marinus van der Lubbe◦– whom they had picked up before the fire even started and who just happened to be a card-carrying member of the Communist Party◦– and blamed the whole thing on him, what mattered most was the look on Hitler’s face when he found out what had happened. That’s what clinched it. And the Communists were finished in Germany. The most effective lie a man can tell is one he believes is the truth. And that’s what you just did. Sure, it was a risk, but it was one we had to take, and it paid off.’

‘That risk you took,’ said Carter, launching himself to his feet, ‘was with my life!’

Wilby leaned forward suddenly, clenching his hands into fists. ‘But that’s exactly what it needed, don’t you see? Men like Dasch are conditioned to be suspicious of everything. That’s the only thing keeping them alive. He may have wanted to trust you right from the start, but his instincts wouldn’t let him, no matter how convinced he might have seemed. From now on, the man you have deceived will become a part of your deception. He will turn upon anyone who doubts you. He will stare your lies right in the face and he will ignore them and do you know why? Because he has given himself no choice. To do otherwise would go against the instincts that have kept him alive. It would mean he can no longer trust them, and if he does not have those, he has nothing.’

Carter still didn’t know if what Wilby had done was the work of an increasingly desperate man, as Eckberg had made him out to be, or that of someone operating at a level which he had never encountered before.

‘Are you going to stand there and tell me I am wrong?’ asked Wilby.

‘No,’ admitted Carter. Whether it was recklessness or genius that had set these events in motion, Carter could not deny that the gamble had paid off. ‘In fact, he said he would soon be telling me how it is that the police can’t get anything on him, which is just as well. Except for what he loaded on that plane, I haven’t seen any trace of black market goods or how he transports them.’

‘Good!’ Wilby said sharply. ‘Now why don’t you sit down? We’re not done talking yet.’

Carter returned to his side of the bench. ‘What else is there to say?’ he asked.

‘The truth is,’ Wilby told him, ‘not everything went according to plan.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Carter.

‘Galton was due be handed over to the military authorities. He would have been court martialled and sent to jail, probably for a very long time, but he would have been getting off lucky. In wartime, he would have been hanged. As it turns out, and I don’t know quite how this happened, Galton has managed to escape. He was in a local jail cell in the Sülz district, waiting to be transferred to US authorities, but when the Military Police showed up to take custody of Galton, his cell was empty. At first, they thought there might have been some bureaucratic foul-up and that he had been transferred to the inner city jail, which would have been a more secure location, but it turned out he wasn’t there either. By the time they figured out that he had actually escaped, he’d already been missing for over ten hours. He could be anywhere by now.’

‘How the hell did he get out?’

Wilby shrugged and shook his head. ‘The cell had been unlocked from the outside, so somebody set him loose. He may have friends in the police, or his wife might know somebody. The point is, it doesn’t matter now. He served his purpose. He may turn up some day, but I doubt it. My guess is we’ll never hear from him again.’ He stood up to leave. ‘Any word on Garlinsky?’

‘Nothing yet,’ said Carter, ‘but the plane is due back any day now and he might show up then.’

‘Start asking questions,’ said Wilby. ‘Dasch trusts you now. He’ll tell you anything.’ Slowly he stood and faced Carter. ‘And, for your own sake, do what I say from now on, whether it makes sense to you or not. I told you this before, but it’s time that you heard it again. I’m the only one keeping you alive.’

Why should I believe you, Carter thought to himself, when even your own people don’t?