Target Churchill

Chapter 21

“You say this reporter is a friend of the first secretary?” Thompson had asked.

She had been surprised that he had dredged up this tiny detail from an overheard remark by Benson at the station. The man doesn’t miss a trick, she thought. His assumption had been prescient.

He had apparently worked out a scenario in his mind as if it had been a contingency plan all along. She listened carefully, answering every question he had posed.

“One of his many press contacts, but I think much closer than most. The first secretary introduced me to him. They seemed to share camaraderie, he called often, and they lunched frequently. As I understand it, he is a special friend of Sarah Churchill.”

“How special?”

“Beyond simple friendship, but one can never be certain.”

“Are you implying an affair?”

Considering her own relationship with the first secretary, it was a subject she did not wish to broach.

“I really don’t know. But we do know that Mr. Benson has interviewed Mr. Churchill in Florida and has been quite aggressive in trying to obtain a copy of his speech. He asked Mr. Churchill about it at the station before we left Washington, and he pressed me for information as well.” She paused. “Of course, I told him nothing.”

“That chap,” Thompson had replied.

He explained to her what he had in mind. At first, she was baffled by the idea, but as he continued to flesh out the details, she grasped the full import of the plan and was fully primed to pursue it. In her mind, the plan would surely vindicate her lover and buttress his explanation.

“Do you think he’ll react?” Victoria asked.

From her perspective, it was designed to manipulate the reporter to investigate the political motive behind the handover to the Russians. If the act were merely informational, a courtesy from the Attlee government, the issue would be fully explained.

“For the press, the only lure is the story and, above all, getting it first. To have a private source is like reaching nirvana.”

He had gathered up the stencils and started to leave the compartment.

“And the other?” Victoria asked.

“What other?”

“The ‘death warrant’ comment.”

Saying it aloud, as Maclean had done, was particularly chilling. Thompson looked at her, said nothing, and left the compartment.

It took her some time to locate Benson. Some members of the press were still imbibing at the bar. One of them, with an unmistakable leer, directed her to Benson’s compartment but not before he got off a drunken comment and a wink.

“He’s sharing, but perhaps you know that.”

She offered no reply and quickly found the compartment. Stunned by the sudden intrusion, Benson came out in his robe over his pajamas, his hair tousled, looking slightly groggy. He stood in the corridor with her.

“I have something of interest,” she began.

“You certainly have that,” he said.

“Don’t misinterpret. I’m talking story here — an exclusive,” she snapped.

He lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m still in my dream.”

“This is no dream.”

“I’m awake now.”

He ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

“I’m taking a big risk.”

Her gestures became deliberately furtive. She looked up and down the corridor and spoke in a low whisper. His interest piqued. The press, as Thompson had explained, loved intrigue and conspiracy, and she was determined to play her part well. Thompson had been specific, highly detailed in the manner she was to approach Benson.

“Can I can count on your confidence?” she pressed.

“And what can I count on?”

She had expected it.

“Mr. Churchill’s speech in advance. You’re an afternoon paper. The speech is being mimeographed as we speak. You will have it enough in advance to make your first edition — ahead of the pack.”

He nodded and seemed satisfied.

“Now what is this about?”

“I’m out of it. Do you understand? I need your solemn promise.”

“You’ll take my word?”

She nodded and waited until some press people passed. Unfortunately, the corridor was not the best of venues. Some members of the press sauntered through, returning from the club car or using the facilities at either end of the train. Watching both ends of the corridor, she spoke in low tones.

“There is a possible security leak in the British embassy in Washington.”

He scratched his head and looked puzzled.

“How do you know this?”

“The Russians have the full text of the speech.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Ahead of us? Doesn’t seem cricket.”

He grew thoughtful, again rolling his fingers through his hair.

“Perhaps it’s deliberate on the part of the embassy, a courtesy of sorts — something like that. Hell, we’re still allies.”

She had expected more curiosity and emotion in his reaction. Before she could comment, he spoke again, as if prodded by second thoughts.

“The speech. Is it very anti-Russian? What I mean is… is it a real blast?”

“Yes, it is, very much so.”

“It was expected, of course.”

“Maybe so, but it is believed that the impact will be enormous, Mr. Benson.”

“Remains to be seen,” he said, with an air of dismissal.

She watched his face. His expression seemed no longer guarded.

“A security leak, you called it? Doesn’t seem like that big a deal.”

“The text was known only to three people — Mr. Churchill, Mr. Thompson, and myself. It’s a genuine mystery; no one at the embassy could possibly have known about it.”

She had worried about that part, a blatant lie. But Thompson had convinced her of its necessity. She watched his face and waited for further reaction.

“Why do you deem it so important? They’ll have its content soon enough.”

“It was supposed to be confidential.”

“In Washington? A difficult chore at best.”

“You don’t think it’s serious?”

“It’s not exactly, for example, like passing the secret of the bomb. It’s only a speech. I’m not putting it down completely, but it’s no longer wartime and the Nazis are defeated.”

“You don’t sound very interested.”

“I am. Don’t misunderstand. I’m a natural skeptic. Who do you think was the culprit?”

“Beyond what I’ve told you, I can’t reveal any more. Trust that my information is authentic.”

“Why can’t you tell this to the first secretary? He’s your boss.”

“Above all, I must not be involved in the information chain. You must keep that confidence, Benson. I’ve pledged confidence to Mr. Churchill. It would be unseemly if I’m seen as a press informer.” She paused. “You on the other hand, do not need to be constrained. You can always say you picked up a rumor and were making inquiries.”

“Are you dead certain of this?” he asked again.

“If I didn’t think it was important, I wouldn’t have awakened you in the middle of the night.”

He looked at his wrist, noting that his wristwatch was still in the compartment. She wore hers. It was three in the morning.

“We hit St. Louis in a couple of hours. There’s a brief layover. You can call from there,” Victoria suggested.

He looked at her and nodded.

“I appreciate this, Miss Stewart.” He hesitated. “Although I’m somewhat baffled. Does Mr. Churchill know anything about this?”

“Absolutely not.”

“And the speech?”

“In your hands by St. Louis.”

He looked at her, smiled, and shrugged, and then ran his fingers through his hair, opened the door to his compartment, and went in.