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A Prod. Father in the British army. Whose side do you think he’ll be on when they come over the border?’
    ‘On our side,’ Duggan said. This wasn’t going at all as he had planned. ‘Listen,’ he added, going straight for Timmy’s weak point, his desire to be involved in every political conspiracy. ‘We need your help. There is a very delicate situation at the moment.’
    Timmy tried and failed to keep the flicker of curiosity from his face. Inside information was life’s blood to him.
    ‘I can’t go into details,’ Duggan went on, ‘I’d love to and I know that you’d appreciate just how dangerous the situation is. But I’m under orders not to. The fact is that there are things happening which will make a British invasion inevitable. And the Germans will come in on our side. And then the whole country will be a battleground like France was or Greece is now. And thousands and thousands of our people will be killed and the country, this city, laid waste. It’s that serious. It’s one thing wanting Germany to win the war so that we have the country reunited. I understand that totally. People are entitled to support whomever they want. But having the country turned into a battleground is another thing entirely. Everybody knows this war isn’t like any other. It’s all about killing civilians – women, children, everybody.’
    Timmy studied him as if he was seeing him for the first time as an adult, not just his sister-in-law’s young fellow. Duggan returned the stare, hoping he hadn’t overplayed his hand: he hadn’t meant to end up appealing to Timmy’s better nature. It was doubtful if such a thing existed.
    Timmy finally looked away to toss his cigar into the fire. ‘What is it you want to know?’
    ‘Remember last summer,’ Duggan suppressed a sigh of relief, ‘you ran into a man called Robinson at a party in Herr Hempel’s house?’
    Timmy gave him a sly eye. So he knows now that Robinson was really Hermann Goertz, Duggan thought. ‘Have you ever run into him again?’
    ‘Seemed a decent type,’ Timmy said, playing for time. ‘Should be left alone. Not doing us any harm.’
    He does know, Duggan thought. Maybe more than I know. ‘I’m not trying to track him down. I just want to know if he’s been talking to Herr Hempel or his staff again.’
    ‘And why wouldn’t he talk to Herr Hempel or anyone he wanted to? It’s a free country.’
    ‘I’m not saying he couldn’t. I just want to know if he has.’
    ‘You’re not trying to catch him anymore,’ Timmy gave a satisfied nod. He’s heard the rumours too, Duggan thought. That Goertz’s ability to evade arrest was not an accident. That he was being allowed to remain at large for political reasons. As another conduit to Germany, should the need arise. ‘That’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard in a long time.’
    Duggan waited, hoping he was about to get what he wanted.
    Timmy’s face was a study in concentration, whether searching his memory or running through different scenarios Duggan couldn’t tell. ‘I haven’t seen him since then,’ he said at last.
    ‘He wasn’t at any other receptions in the German legation?’ Duggan tried to hide his disappointment.
    ‘I haven’t put a foot inside Hempel’s house since then.’
    ‘What about the legation itself?’
    Timmy shook his head.
    ‘Have you seen him at any other things?’
    Timmy pursed his lips. ‘Somebody told me that they had met him at something. A few months ago.’ He thought for a moment. ‘At a meeting of the Irish Friends of Germany. In the Red Bank. You know the Red Bank?’
    Duggan nodded. He had never been in the restaurant in D’Olier Street but he knew from reports that it was the regular meeting place for the Friends of Germany, a small group of fascist supporters.
    ‘Any of the German diplomats there too?’
    ‘I don’t know. Somebody mentioned that they’d run into a few people there, including Robinson. Didn’t know who he really was,