The Fourth Estate (40 page)

“I’d like to,
Julius. But as you understand better than most, the American and Russian
sectors are a law unto themselves.”

“I was afraid
that would be your response,” said Hahn.

“But I’ve often
been told by Arno that your influence stretches far heyond the British sector.
I wouldn’t have considered bothering you if my situation were not desperate.”

“Desperate?”
asked Armstrong.

“I’m afraid
that’s the only word to describe it,” said Hahn. “If the problem continues for
another month, some of my oldest customers will lose confidence in my ability
to deliver, and I may have to close down one, possibly two, of my plants.”

“I had no idea
it was that bad,” said Armstrong.

“It’s worse. Although
I can’t prove it, I have a feeling the man behind this is Captain Sackville-who
you know I’ve never got on with.” Hahn paused. “Do you think it’s possible that
he’s simply anti-Semitic?”

1 wouldn’t have
thought so,” said Armstrong. “But then, I don’t know him that well. I’ll see if
I can use some of my contacts to find out if anything can be done to help you.”

“That’s very
thoughtful of you, Captain Armstrong. If you were able to help, I would be
eternally grateful.”

“I’m sure you
would, Julius.”

Armstrong left
Hahn’s office and ordered his driver to take him to the French sector, where he
exchanged a dozen bottles of Johnnie Walker Black Label for a case of claret
that even Field Marshal Auchinleck hadn’t sampled on his recent visit.

On his way back
to the British sector, Armstrong decided to drop in on Arno Schultz and find
out if Hahn was telling him the whole story. When he walked into
Der Telegraf
s office, he was surprised
to find that Arno was not at his desk.

His deputy,
whose name Armstrong could never remember, explained that Mr. Schultz had been
granted a twen ty- four- hour permit to visit his brother in the Russian
sector. Armstrong didn’t even realize that Arno had a brother. “And, Captain
Armstrong,” said the deputy, 11 you’ll be pleased to know that we had to print
400,000 copies again last night.”

Armstrong nodded
and left, feeling confident that everything was failing into place. Hahn would
have to agree to his terms within a month if he hoped to remain in business. He
checked his watch and instructed Benson to drop by Captain Hallet’s office.
When he arrived there he placed the dozen bottles of claret on Hallet’s desk
before the captain had a chance to say anything.

“I don’t know
how you do it,” said Hallet, opening his top drawer and taking out an official
-looking document.

“Each to his
own,” said Armstrong, trying out a clich~ he had heard Colonel Oakshott use the
previous day.

For the next
hour Hallet took Armstrong clause by clause through a draft contract, until he
was certain that he fully understood its implications, and also that it met his
requirements.

“And if Hahn
agrees to sign this document,” said Armstrong when they had reached the final
paragraph, “can I be certain that it will stand up in an English court of law?”

“There’s no
doubt about that,” said Stephen.

“But what about
Germany?”

“The same
applies. I can assure you, it’s absolutely watertight-al though I’m still
puzzled-” the lawyer hesitated for a moment “-as to why Hahn would part with
such a large slice of his empire in exchange for Der Teleg raf. “

“Let’s just say
that I’m also able to sort out one or two of his requirements,” said Armstrong,
placing a hand on the case of claret.

“Quite so,” said
Hallet as he rose from his chair. “By the way, Dick, my demob papers have
finally come through. I expect to be going home very soon.”

“Congratulations,
old chap,” said Armstrong. “That’s marvelous news.”

“Yes, isn’t it?
And of course, should you ever need a lawyer when you get back to England. . .”

When Armstrong
returned to his office twenty minutes later, Sally warned him that there was a
visitor in his room who claimed he was a close friend, although she had never
seen him before.

Armstrong opened
the door to find Max Sackville pacing up and down. The first thing he said was,
“The bet’s off, old buddy.”

“What do you
mean,’off’?” said Armstrong, slipping the contract into the top drawer of his
desk and turning the key in the lock.

“What I said –
-off. My papers have finally come through. They’re shipping me back to North
Carolina at the end of the month. Isn’t that great news?”

“it certainly
is,” said Armstrong, “because with you out of the way, Hahn is bound to
survive, and then nothing will stop me collecting my thousand dollars.”

Sackville stared
at him. “You wouldn’t hold an old buddy to a bet when the circumstances have
changed, would you?”

“I most
certainly would, old buddy,” said Armstrong. “And what’s more, if you intend to
welch, the whole American sector will know by this time tomorrow.” Armstrong sat
at his desk and watched as beads of perspiration appeared on the American’s
forehead. He waited for a few moments before saying, “Fell you what I’ll do,
Max. I’ll settle for $750, but only if you pay up today.”

It was almost a
full minute before Max began to lick his lips. “Not a hope,” he said. “I can
still bring Hahn down by the end of the month. I’ll just have to speed things
up a littie-old buddy.”

He stormed out
of the room, leaving Armstrong not a] -together confident that Max could manage
Hahn’s downfall on his own. Perhaps the time had come to give him a helping
hand. He picked up the phone and told Sally he didn’t want to be disturbed for
at least an hour.

When he had
finished typing the two articles with one finger, he checked them both
carefully before making a few small emendations to the texts. He then slipped
the first sheet of paper into an unmarked buff envelope and sealed it. The
second sheet he folded and placed in the top pocket of his jacket. He picked up
the phone and asked Sally to send in his driver.

Benson listened
carefully as the captain told him what he wanted him to do, making him repeat
his orders so as to be certain that he hadn’t misunderstood anythingespecially
the part about changing into civilian clothes.

“And you are
never to discuss this conversation with anyone, Reg-and I mean anyone. Do I
make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” said
Benson. He took the envelope, saluted and left the room.

Armstrong
smiled, pressed the buzzer on his phone and asked Sally to bring in the post.
He knew that the first edition of
Der
Telegraf
would not be on sale at the station until shortly before midnight.
No copies Would reach the American or Russian sectors for at least an hour
after that. It was vital that his timing should be perfect.

He remained at
his desk for the rest of the day, checking the latest distribution figures with
Lieutenant Wakeham. He also called Colonel Oakshott and read over the proposed
article to him. The colonel didn’t see why a single word should be changed, and
agreed that the piece could be published on
Der
Telegraf
s front page the following morning.

At six o’clock
Private Benson, back in uniform, drove Armstrong to the flat, where he spent a
relaxed evening with Charlotte. She seemed surprised and delighted that he was
home so early. After he had put David to bed, they had supper together. He
managed three helpings of his favorite stew, and Charlotte decided not to
mention that she thought perhaps he was putting on a little weight.

Shortly after eleven,
Charlotte suggested it was time to go to bed. Dick agreed, but said, “I’ll just
pop out and pick up the first edition of the paper. I’ll only be a few
minutes.” He checked his watch. It was 11:50.

He stepped out
onto the pavement and walked slowly in the direction of the station, arriving a
few minutes before the first edition of
Der
Telegraf
was due to be dropped off.

He checked his
watch again: it was almost twelve. They must be running late. But perhaps that
was just a consequence of Arno being in the Russian sector, visiting his
brother. He had to wait only a few more minutes before the familiar red van
swung round the corner and came to a halt by the entrance to the station. He
slipped into the shadows behind a large column as a bundle of papers landed on
the pavement with a thud, before the van sped off in the direction of the
Russian sector.

A man walked out
of the station and bent down to untie the string as Armstrong ambled over and
stood above him. When he looked Lip and saw who it was, he nodded in
recognition and handed him the top copy.

Fie quickly read
through the front-page article to make Sure they hadn’t changed a word. They
hadn’t. Everything, including the headline, was exactly as he’d typed it out.

Distinguished
Publisher Faces Bankruptcy Julius Hahn, the chairman of the famous publishing
house that bears his name, was under increasing pressure last night to make a
public statement concerning the company’s future.

His flagship
paper, Der Berliner, has not been seen on the streets of the capital for the
past six days, and some of his magazines are reported to be several weeks
behind schedule. One leading wholesaler said last night, “We can no longer rely
on Hahn’s pub] ications being available from one day to the next, and we are
having to consider alternatives.”

Herr Hahn, who
spent Cie day with his lawyers and zccountants, was not available for comment,
but a spokesman for the company admitted that they would not meet their
projected forecasts for the coming year. When contacted last night, Herr Hahn
was unwilling to speak on the record about the company’s future.

Armstrong smiled
and checked his watch. The second edition Would just about be coming off the
presses, but would not yet be stacked and ready for the returning vans. He
strode purposefully in the direction of I)er Telegraf, arriving seventeen
minutes later. He marched in and shouted at the top of his voice that he wanted
to see whoever was in charge in Herr Schultz’s office immediately. A man whom
Armstrong Wouldn’t have recognized had he passed him in the street hurried in
to i oin him.

11 Who’s
responsible for this?” Armstrong shouted, throwing his copy of the first
edition of the paper down onthe desk.

“You were, sir,”
said the deputy editor, looking Surprised. “What do you mean, I was?” said
Armstrong. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“But the article
was sent to us directly from your office, sir.”

“Not by me it
wasn’t,” said Armstrong.

“But the man
said you had told him to deliver it personally.”

“What man? Have
you ever seen him beforc” asked Armstrong.

“No, sir, but he
assured me that he had come straight from your office.”

“How was he
dressed?”

The deputy
editor remained silent for a few moments. “In a gray suit, if I remember, sir,”
he eventually said.

“But anyone who
works for me would have been in uniform,” said Armstrong.

“I know, sir,
but . . ~”

“Did he give you
his name? Did he show you any form of identification or proof of authority?”

“No, sir, he
didn’t. I just assumed...”

“You’just
assumed’? Why didn’t you pick up a phone and check that I had authorized the
article?”

“I didn’t
realize . . “

“Good heavens,
man. Once you’d read the piece, didn’t you consider editing it?”

“No one edits
your work, sir,” said the deputy editor. “It’s just put straight on the
presses.”

“You never even
checked the contents?”

“No, sir,”
replied the deputy editor, his head now bowed low.

“So there is no
one else to blaMe?”

“No, sir,” said
the deputy editor, shaking.

‘Then you’re sacked,”
shouted Armstrong, staring down at him. “I want you off the premises
immediately. Immediately, do you understand?”

The deputy
editor looked as if he was about to protest, but Armstrong bellowed, “if your
office hasn’t been cleared of all your possessions within fifteen minutes, I’ll
call in the military police.”

The deputy
editor crept out of the room without uttering another word.

Armstrong
smiled, took off hisjacket and hung it on the chair behind Arno’s desk. He
checked his watch, and was confident that enough time had passed. He rolled up
his sleeves, walked out of the office and pressed a red button on the wall. All
the presses came to a grinding halt.

Once he was
certain he had everyone’s attention, he began barking out a series of orders.
“Tell the drivers to get out there and bring me back every copy of the first
edition they can lay their hands on.” The transport manager ran out into the
yard, and Armstrong turned to the chief printer.

1 want that
front-page story about Hahn pulled and this set up in its place,” he said,
extracting a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and handing it over to the
bewildered chief printer, who immediately began to set up a new block for the
front page, leaving a space in the top right-hand corner for the most recent
picture they had of the Duke of Gloucester.