Thunder Point by Jack Higgins

was forty-seven, tall and elegant in a blue flannel suit. He wore a Guards tie, thanks to three years as a subaltern in the Grenadiers, and had a slight smile permanently fixed to the corner of his mouth in a way that Ferguson found intensely irritating.
    They all shook hands and sat down. “Well, gentlemen?” the Prime Minister said.
    “Always assuming it isn’t a hoax,” Pamer said. “A fascinating story.”
    “It would explain many aspects of the Bormann legend,” Simon Carter put in. “Arthur Axmann, the Hitler Youth leader, said he saw Bormann’s body lying in the road near the Lehrter Station in Berlin, that was after the breakout from the Bunker.”
    “It would seem now that what he saw was someone who looked like Bormann,” Travers said.
    “So it would appear,” Carter agreed. “That Bormann was on this U-boat and survived would explain the numerous reports over the years of sightings of him in South America.”
    “Simon Wiesenthal, the Nazi hunter, always thought him alive,” Pamer said. “Before Eichmann was executed, he told the Israelis that Bormann was alive. Why would a man faced with death lie?”
    “All well and good, gentlemen,” the Prime Minister told them, “but frankly, I think the question of whether Martin Bormann survived the war or not purely of academic interest. It would change history a little and the newspapers would get some mileage out of it.”
    “And a damn sight more out of this Blue Book list that’s mentioned. Members of Parliament and the nobility.” Carter shuddered. “The mind boggles.”
    “My dear Simon,” Pamer told him. “There were an awful lot of people around before the War who found aspects of Hitler’s message rather attractive. There are also names in that list with a Washington base.”
    “Yes, well their children and grandchildren wouldn’t thank you to have their names mentioned, and what in the hell was Bormann doing at this Samson Cay?”
    “There’s a resort there now, one of those rich man’s hideaways,” Ferguson said. “During the War there was a hotel, but it was closed for the duration. We checked with public records in Tortola. Owned by an American family called Herbert.”
    “What do you think Bormann was after there?” Pamer asked.
    “One can only guess, but my theory runs something like this,” Ferguson said. “He probably intended to let U180 proceed to Venezuela on its own. I would hazard a guess that he was to be picked up by someone and Samson Cay was the rendezvous. He left the briefcase as a precaution in case anything went wrong. After all, he did give Friemel instructions about its disposal if anything happened to him.”
    “A pretty scandal, I agree, gentlemen, the whole thing, but imagine the furor it would cause if it became known that the Duke of Windsor had signed an agreement with Hitler,” the Prime Minister said.
    “Personally I feel it more than likely that this so-called Windsor Protocol would prove fraudulent,” Pamer told him.
    “That’s as may be, but the papers would have a field day, and, frankly, the Royal Family have had more than their share of scandal in this past year or so,” the Prime Minister replied.
    There was silence and Ferguson said gently, “Are you suggesting that we attempt to recover Bormann’s briefcase before anyone else does, Prime Minister?”
    “Yes, that would seem the sensible thing to do. Do you think you might handle that, Brigadier?”
    It was Simon Carter who protested, “Sir, I must remind you that this U-boat lies in American territorial waters.”
    “Well I don’t think we need to bring our American cousins into this,” Ferguson said. “They would have total rights to the wreck and the contents. Imagine what they’d get for the Windsor Protocol at auction.”
    Carter tried again. “I really must protest, Prime Minister. Group Four’s brief is to combat terrorism and subversion.”
    The Prime Minister raised a hand. “Exactly, and I can think of few