Chapter Eight

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The three sat in silence as they watched the soup being ladled into dishes and the wine being poured. After the waiters had left, William raised his glass. "To success with your next ventures, David."

They drank to the toast; then they turned to the dishes in front of them. After David had supped a spoonful, he said, "This is so delicate. What is it?"

"Turtle soup," William said. "It's a broth made with the green sea turtle which occasionally ventures into British waters. We don't often have the genuine here, but I'm assured today's is not mock." He picked up his glass. "Sip some wine with it, David. It's a superb combination."

David took a small amount and savoured, then he looked into his glass. "It's like an Amontillado I had with Evelyn — Mr Grant Duff, but this is more... What did Maria call this flavour? Oxididated, I think."

"Probably oxidised. Yes, it is that, but it's made this way purposefully rather than in error." William chuckled. "This is Sercial from Portuguese Madeira. It's a British invention, and like Port, it's also an accidental one. The first casks of this style to reach England voyaged from Madeira, around Cape of Good Hope to India, missed being landed and came to England. Now, to appease our odd British tastes, the Portuguese replicate the hot, rolling sea passages by maturing the wine in warm cellars and rocking the casks."

The three continued talking about food and wine while the waiters cleared the soup service and brought in the fish course. A few bites into his plaice, David paused and said, "This changes my ideas about British food. I was hard-pressed to find anything other than stodge while I was at Oxford. Much of it was little above the rations we had at the Front."

"The common man seems satisfied with what you call stodge, David," William said. "Few have had the opportunity to taste anything different, so they don't know. Hell, I didn't know until my first foreign travels."

Lloyd-George held up a finger. "Yes, and those now in France and Belgium are learning different attitudes toward food. When they come back, there will be changes..." He paused to look at David and William. "We need to concentrate on ways to get this mess over with and bring the boys back." He turned to confirm the room was clear. "Let's continue our scheming."

Nearly two hours later, they bade farewell to the Munitions Minister in front of the club, and as they watched him being driven down Saint James, William said, "A fine gentleman. A breath of fresh air in the War Office."

He glanced at his watch

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He glanced at his watch. "We'll have Simms drive us to your hotel, where we can continue our discussions in your room while you wait for Maria." He motioned to the door Simms had opened. "What a stunning-looking woman she is, and so upfront and confident. You've chosen well."

David stepped into the passenger compartment. "I've had many say the same about her."

"Have you been married long?"

"Spiritually and physically since the middle of May, but legally, not until next Friday." He shrugged. "My identification papers have made it too risky to attempt. There was too much chance I'd be found out."

"Yes, they'd look askance at a brother and sister marrying." He chuckled. "But your new Swiss passport doesn't show parentage."

"I had thought of that, but there's a chance they might check records, so I'm using my diplomatic status as the Ambassador's Aide-de-Camp."

"Yes, that's safer."

"On the passport, though — I've had to register for the Army." He chuckled. "The Swiss Army. Maria's grandfather had done the application, explaining we had recently moved back from Germany, and he applied for an extension for me until next spring before I do my basic training."

"How long is the training?"

"Seven weeks." He laughed. "I'm going to be an expert at boot camp; this will be my third go at it. But after training, we're stood-down to reserve, and then do short refresher exercises every year. Two weeks, I'm told they are."

"And the story of moving back from Germany? Isn't that liable to be verified? That might expose you."

"It's all fact and easily verified. The only fallacy is with Maria's brother, Jacob, my adopted identity. He was killed in the early fighting, and I've been using his birth certificate. The Swiss won't check German records, and their own records show the Meier family leaving Switzerland for Germany in 1905, and returning this past June. I think it's bombproof."

"Yes..." William paused and slowly nodded. "Yes, it is. I'm pleased you're so thorough."

"On the training — I'll deduct the time from my leave to cover it."

"Balderdash! Don't even think of it. Consider the time as furthering your awareness of the Swiss system. What you learn will be of value to both you and us. You'll need to play dumb, though, so you're not suspected."

"Michael, Maria's grandfather, told me the same thing. He suggested I select Artillery, so a good part of the training is new to me. He was a colonel in the Swiss Army, having to enlist when he moved there in the 1870s."

"From where had he moved?"

"From England. He and his wife were enraptured with Switzerland while touring, and they relocated."

"So, Maria has a British heritage, then."

"Yes, and she was raised speaking English, French and German — passes unnoticed in all three. She's been helping me knock the rough corners off my German for many months."

"I was informed this morning she's working on the prisoner of war program with Edith Grant Duff and Henry Picot. How long has she been involved?"

"Edith tells everyone the original idea was Maria's, but Maria says they conceived it together." David shrugged. "Whatever, it's such a noble idea with Switzerland hosting and treating injured prisoners from both sides of the conflict. Everyone is onside now except the Germans, and Maria is here meeting with the Red Cross to discuss ways to break their reluctance."

"The Red Cross is still in shock over the conviction and execution of Edith Cavell in October. We all are. She was one of ours, David, and it's apparent they found her out. That's why you must be careful..." He paused and tapped his steepled fingers on his lips. "Not a word of this to anyone, David. I should not have told you."

William reddened. "See how easy it is to slip. But with this and any other covert activities, we must use the public story. Here, the Germans showing their barbaric attitudes to a selfless nurse helping wounded from both sides of the conflict — the Germans, the Belgians, the French and the British."

He shook his head. "But back to the prisoner of war project. The Vatican and the Swiss Federal Council are now working with Germany, France and Britain to resolve the differing philosophies. The Red Cross is pressing as well. I wish Maria good luck with her project."

"She seems confident a breakthrough is near, and..." He paused when Simms opened the car door.

"Ah! We're here," William said. "Let's go in and get you registered." He checked his watch. "I have commitments this evening, so I cannot join you for dinner, but I still have items to share with you. We'll go up to your room and move again to our more serious discussion before Maria arrives."

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