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  “I 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.

  Armstrong turned round to see a group of stackers waiting for the next edition to come off the presses. “You lot,” he shouted. “See that every copy of the first edition that’s still on the premises is destroyed.” They scattered, and began gathering up every paper they could find, however old.

  Forty minutes later, a proof copy of the new front page was hurried up to Schultz’s office. Armstrong studied the other story he had written that morning about the proposed visit to Berlin by the Duke of Gloucester.

  “Good,” he said, once he had finished checking it through. “Let’s get on with bringing out the second edition.”

  When Arno came rushing through the door nearly an hour later, he was surprised to find Captain Armstrong, his sleeves rolled up, helping to load the newly printed second edition onto the vans. Armstrong waved a finger in the direction of his office. Once the door was closed, he told him what he had done the moment he had seen the front-page article.

  “I’ve managed to get most of the early copies back and have them destroyed,” he told Schultz. “But I couldn’t do anything about the twenty thousand or so that were distributed in the Russian and American sectors. Once they’ve crossed the checkpoint, you can never hope to retrieve them.”

  “What a piece of luck that you picked up a first edition as it hit the streets,” said Arno. “I blame myself for not coming back earlier.”

  “You are in no way to blame,” said Armstrong. “But your deputy far exceeded his responsibility in going ahead and printing the article without even bothering to check with my office.”

  “I’m surprised. He’s normally so reliable.”

  “I had no choice but to sack him on the spot,” said Armstrong, looking directly at Schultz.

  “No choice,” said Schultz. “Of course.” He continued to look distressed. “Although I fear the damage may be irretrievable.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” said Armstrong. “I managed to get all but a few of the early copies back.”

  “Yes, I realize that. In fact you couldn’t have done more. But just before I crossed the checkpoint I picked up a first edition in the Russian sector. I’d only been home for a few minutes when Julius called to say his phone hadn’t stopped ringing for the past hour—mostly calls from anxious retailers. I promised I’d come straight over and see how it could possibly have happened.”

  “You can tell your friend that I shall instigate a full inquiry in the morning,” promised Armstrong. “And I’ll take charge of it personally.” He rolled down his sleeves and put his jacket back on. “I was just stacking the second edition for the vans when you walked in, Arno. Perhaps you would be good enough to take over. My wife…”

  “Of course, of course,” said Arno.

  Armstrong left the building with Arno’s last words ringing in his ears: “You couldn’t have done more, Captain Armstrong, you couldn’t have done more.”

  Armstrong had to agree with him.

  * * *

  Armstrong was not surprised to receive a call from Julius Hahn early the following morning.

  “So sorry about our first edition,” he said, before Hahn had a chance to speak.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” said Hahn. “Arno has explained how much worse it might have been without your intervention. But now I fear I need another favor.”

  “I’ll do anything I can to help, Julius.”

  “That’s most kind of you, Captain Armstrong. Would it be possible for you to come and see me?”

  “Would some time next week suit you?” asked Armstrong, casually flicking over the pages of his diary.

  “I’m afraid it’s rather more urgent than that,” said Hahn. “Do you think there might be a chance that we could meet some time today?”

  “Well, it’s not convenient at the moment,” said Armstrong, looking down at the empty page in his diary, “but as I have another appointment in the American sector this afternoon, I suppose I could drop in on you around five—but only for fifteen minutes, you understand.”

  “I understand, Captain Armstrong. But I would be most grateful if you could manage even fifteen minutes.”

  Armstrong smiled as he put the phone down. He unlocked the top drawer of his desk and removed the contract. For the next hour he checked over each clause to make sure that every eventuality was covered. The only interruption he received was a call from Colonel Oakshott, congratulating him on the article about the Duke of Gloucester’s forthcoming visit. “First class,” he said. “First class.”

  After a long lunch in the mess, Armstrong spent the early afternoon clearing his desk of letters Sally had wanted answered for weeks. At half past four he asked Private Benson to drive him over to the American sector; the jeep pulled up outside the offices of Der Berliner at a few minutes past five. A nervous Hahn was waiting on the steps of the building, and quickly ushered him through to his office.

  “I must apologize again for our first edition last night,” began Armstrong. “I was having dinner with a general from the American sector, and Arno was unfortunately visiting his brother in the Russian sector, so neither of us had any idea what his deputy was up to. I sacked him immediately, of course, and have set up a full inquiry. If I hadn’t been passing the station at midnight…”

  “No, no, you are not in any way to blame, Captain Armstrong.” Hahn paused. “However, the few copies that did reach the American and Russian sectors have been more than enough to cause panic among some of my oldest clients.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that,” said Armstrong.

  “I fear that they fell into the wrong hands. One or two of my most reliable suppliers have rung today demanding that in future they must be paid in advance, and that won’t prove easy after all the extra expense I’ve had to bear during the past couple of months. We both know it’s Captain Sackville who is behind all this.”

  “Take my advice, Julius,” said Armstrong. “Don’t even mention his name when referring to this incident. You have no proof, absolutely no proof, and he’s the sort of man who wouldn’t hesitate to close you down if you gave him the slightest excuse.”

  “But he’s systematically bringing my company to its knees,” said Hahn. “And I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it, or how to stop him.”

  “Don’t get so upset, my friend. I’ve been working on your behalf for some time now, and I may just have come up with a solution.”

  Hahn forced a smile, but didn’t look convinced.

  “How would you feel,” continued Armstrong, “if I were to arrange for Captain Sackville to be posted back to America by the end of the month?”

  “That would solve all my problems,” said Hahn, with a deep sigh. But the look of doubt remained. “If only he could be sent home…”

  “By the end of the month,” Armstrong repeated. “Mind you, Julius, it’s going to take a lot of arm-twisting at the very highest levels, not to mention…”

  “Anything. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what you want.”

  Armstrong removed the contract from his inside pocket and pushed it across the desk. “You sign this, Julius, and I’ll see that Sackville is sent back to the States.”

  Hahn read the four-page document, first quickly and then more slowly, before placing it on the desk in front of him. He looked up and said quietly, “Let me understand the consequences of this agreement, should I sign it.” He paused again and picked up the contract again. “You would receive the foreign distribution rights for all my publications.”

  “Yes,” said Armstrong quietly.

  “I take it by that you mean for Britain.” He hesitated. “And the Commonwealth.”

  “No,