The Man Who Never Was Page 17

  “I did say that I’ve been given more allegations than have been printed, and what you’ve just said doesn’t conflict with them. I wasn’t given the detail you mention about the delay in pouring the concrete, but it was suggested that someone in the management of the coke works was involved in getting rid of a body. My source also said that there was an investigation of some kind at the time, but nothing came of it. I’ve tried to find out about this through all manner of archives, but there was nothing I could relate to that alleged investigation. I was beginning to suspect my source was just padding out the morsels of fact with juicy treats. That’s why I wanted to see if the information could be verified without me disclosing it to you. You’re probably right about digging into the war records, and it’s quite significant that Marion helped you get access to them. I don’t think I would have been allowed such a privilege, she wouldn’t trust a journalist. She can exercise some control over the police. I think I’ll keep this German journalist on hold for now.”

  *

  Cologne, Germany

  Marion Wentworth was met at Cologne airport by her contact. Henry Middleton had been living in Germany for a number of years. The posting to Koblenz was under the guise of writing a historical novel which spanned the Habsburg lineage. He had references to show other historical books he’d written while resident in Holland and Greece.

  “Hello, Marion, everything is under control. My man has been following Hajek since he left the airport. He reported in to say that the target met with some German-speaking chap in a park. I’ll phone in again in a few minutes. I hope you had a good trip.”

  “Yes, it’s good to get away from the investigation in Newcastle for a while. I need to remind you that I have to remain remote from Hajek, as he has already met me.”

  “No problem, Hans is very good at this kind of surveillance, and I have my ‘secretary’ waiting by the phone at my house in Koblenz for any calls he makes. Why don’t we grab a coffee, don’t you have luggage?”

  “No, I travel light, and if I need anything, I’ll buy whatever it is here. A coffee would be good.”

  Henry brought the drinks to the table and said he’d check in with Koblenz. When he returned there was good news.

  “Hans doesn’t recognise the man Hajek met, but tailed them to a restaurant, where he managed to get the table next to theirs. He’s apparently wearing a highly sensitive set of hearing aids so he can eavesdrop on their conversation. Knowing Hans, he’ll be putting on the act of being substantially deaf, when ordering his meal. I’ll check in again when we get to your hotel.”

  *

  War Records Office, London

  Black hadn’t taken long in making out a grid sheet to record his observations, for comparison with the one he’d asked Maggie Reichert to produce. Those items he considered worthy of further questions were captured with his exceptional photographic memory, as well as being asterisked on the grid. He thought he had finally managed to shed his chaperone, so he was frustrated when Percy Simpson crept up behind him again.

  “There’s a call for you, Inspector, you may take it at my desk.”

  Black couldn’t believe that Sophie would ring him at this location. He approached the telephone nervously, and was surprised but relieved to hear the voice of his boss.

  “Hello, Inspector, I trust you’re having fun. I’ll keep this brief.”

  Moss told him that their Vulture had flown the nest and why.

  “So, that’s important in itself, but maybe more interesting is a snippet I got out of her about the artefact related to our jeweller. The inscribed initials, I assume you remember them, M.V. They denote a man by the name of Max Vogt. I thought you should look out for that name, or even others with those initials. He started out his life in Britain at a Crawley paint works, but ended up with the NCB, you guessed it, at Derwenthaugh. He was some kind of expert in fuel technology, but he’s dead now.

  “She said he died in the seventies, and I’ve crosschecked and verified this with a reliable source. He therefore can’t be our skeleton, but he must have something to do with it, surely. I’m going to look at all possible police records at the time of the demolition of the plant, and I’m also going to bring in Eric Paisley.

  “I want to make sure you didn’t miss something just because it wasn’t what you were primarily looking for - that being registered German servicemen. This guy Vogt might have been an agent of the Reich, but not a conventional soldier.”

  “Thank you, sir, I’ll certainly keep that in mind. So, this strengthens the case for the aforementioned item being the connection between the bones and a contact from the coke works. It fits nicely with the timeline.” Black had kept the conversation from his end vague because of the haunting proximity of Percy Simpson.

  Chapter 25

  Cambridge 1945

  Theo Devlin completed his report and submitted it to his immediate superior. Whilst he wasn’t preening about having shipped all possible P.O.W.s back to Germany, other than Karl Heinz Buchwald, he’d settled for this one remaining loose end, yet to be tied up. He had been careful in describing the ring in his report, and emphasised the need for a new investigation into the owner, a man in the northeast, with the initials M.V. He was well aware that some, if not all the information passed from M.V. to Karl, then on to the unknown camp visitor, would be of great interest to his boss. There had to be a mole, if Karl’s story was true. He desperately wanted to find out precisely what this prized information was, and relied upon that aspect alone to ensure Karl remained in England for now.

  It was therefore a total shock when he received a note, congratulating him for his diligence in completing his project, without any mention whatsoever regarding the information hidden in the cigarettes. He asked for an audience with his boss.

  “Theo, come in,” said Bernard Compton, “are you so keen to know what we want you to do next?”

  “No, sir. I wanted to ask why no one has even asked me about the passage of information from M.V. through a German P.O.W. to another officer, connected in some way to our own organisation.”

  “Oh, I thought you would have figured it out for yourself. It was intercepted, that’s all that was important.”

  Devlin sat in silence for a short time, expecting more of an explanation. As it wasn’t forthcoming, he ventured his own interpretation.

  “Intercepted, and then allowed to take its intended route to German intelligence?”

  A nod was all he elicited from Compton.

  “So, we don’t have a German mole amongst us, we have one of ours amongst them. That’s a relief. Anyway, what happens to Karl Heinz Buchwald?”

  “You can arrange for his return. He has served our purpose well, even though it could so easily have gone badly wrong. The sooner the better you can move him on, Theo, then we can draw a line under this operation. We’ll talk about your new assignment soon.”

  Devlin appeared to accept this, smiled and left the office. He still hadn’t been offered any hint of what this mysterious information was, even though it was evidently so very important to the Germans. Was it still important? He needed to grill Karl again.

  *

  High Spen

  Hilda and Jack had notification that they were about to be offered a council property, a bungalow, in a small development of pre-fabricated houses. They were both overjoyed that their marriage could now be the way they’d dreamt of it from way back in 1940. They had, in their excitement, forgotten about Harry’s protestation over the move. Bella was pleased for them, but also saddened that the household would be broken up yet again.

  She’d worked herself to the bone to provide her husband with medical care, and simultaneously stood in for both of Harry’s parents. It didn’t feel like appropriate gratitude for making such a personal sacrifice. As they discussed which ‘prefab’ had the best view, both Hilda and Jack eventually noticed Harry under the table. It was his place of refuge when he didn’t like the proposals on offer.

  “You’
ll be right next to the woods in our new house, Harry, the street is called Fell View,” enthused Jack, “just think of all the adventures you’ll have, and your school is just around the corner. There’s going to be lots of children living in the street, so you’ll have plenty of new friends. And you can have your own bedroom as well.”

  “I live with grandma, I always live with grandma, and I hate the other houses. I want my friends who live here, not new ones at the other end of the village. My granddad will be coming home soon, and I want to live here to see him. He tells me exciting stories when I go to bed. You can’t make me leave grandma’s house.”

  Bella was on the verge of tears listening to Harry’s pledge of loyalty, but both Hilda and Jack insisted that the boy got dressed and accompanied them to the new development site. He resisted, and then cried as he was dragged out into the street.

  Bella’s heart raced and yet she didn’t intervene, but when the three of them disappeared up to the main road, she suddenly felt spent, redundant, helpless, and used. The avalanche of emotion resulted in her going early to begin her shift at the Co-op reading room, simply to avoid being isolated with her fears.

  Hilda and Jack were busy imagining the décor and vegetable patch of the new property. Jack was already measuring up space for a proper tool shed, when Hilda asked where Harry was.

  “He said he was going to ask you where he could find a toilet or somewhere to do whatever he had to do.”

  They both checked the entire site together and began to panic when they couldn’t find any trace of him, and none of the other folks around the area had seen him. Hilda was verging on hysteria.

  “God, do you think he’s gone into those damned woods?”

  Jack didn’t ponder about the situation too long, he asked for volunteers to help look for Harry. There was a disappointing response, only a handful of people agreed to help in searching the woods. After an hour or so, the helpers drifted away and Jack decided to inform the constable. The woods had quite a few dangerous places to contend with, notably severe, hidden drops, and worse still, invisible river currents in which even adults had died trying to swim to the opposite bank. The constable called in ambulance and fire services, as well as police reinforcements. The whole area was suddenly heaving with new civilian volunteers.

  Out of sight of this activity, and the spreading word of the missing little boy, Bella sat in an armchair in the reading room, cuddling and consoling Harry.

  “There, there now, I’ll talk to your mum and dad about this again as soon as I can.” His thumb was uncharacteristically in his mouth and his chest rose and fell, keeping time with the sobs.

  “Should we have a nice hot cup of tea?”

  It elicited nothing more than a shake of his head. Bella tempted him with a piece of homemade jam sponge cake she’d brought for her mid-shift break. He weakly asked if there was any cream.

  “I might be able to get some from the grocery section downstairs, come on, we’ll go together.”

  As soon as they set foot outside the large double doors, people began to point at them. They hurried to the grocery entrance and were surrounded by villagers, who told Bella about the ongoing search. The Co-op manager took it upon himself to get to the woods and inform everyone that Harry was safe.

  The incident itself negated the need for Bella to entreat Hilda in particular, to reconsider the move, and the pressure it would put on the boy. Bella tried to sum it all up for her daughter.

  “He’s not had the same upbringing as other kids around here, and you can’t expect him to adapt to this kind of change too quickly. He’s only just got to know you and Jack as a couple, and already you want to change things. He needs time, Hilda, and he doesn’t understand the episode where you threw Jack’s dinner and bottle of whiskey into the fire. The shouting, and your husband grabbing you by the throat really frightened him. You and Jack demonstrated in that moment that the two of you need space to adapt to the post-war situation, so if adults have hiccups, a child will have nightmares. Give him some time, and he has to see you and his dad happy together.”

  “You’re right,” said Hilda, “maybe we should decline this prefab offer.”

  “There’s another choice. You and Jack are still relative strangers, take the offer and live together, like most couples do before they have children. Harry can stay with me. It’s not very far to walk when you want to see him. He’ll gradually adjust, and it will be easier if his granddad comes home soon.”

  Bella and her daughter embraced and it was settled.

  “You go and tell him Hilda, he wants you to be his mother, even if you are a dreaded teacher.” They burst out laughing as Jack came downstairs to announce that the runaway had drifted off to sleep.

  *

  Cambridge

  Devlin gave Karl the bad news and it shocked him to the core. It affected his recently acquired English so much that he launched into a tirade, changing to German halfway through the first sentence. Devlin asked him to calm down and repeat everything in German in a controlled, quiet voice.

  ‘I have helped you every way I could, even revealing things which would guarantee my death in Germany, and this is the reward I receive. Mr Devlin, I would rather be shot here so that my family doesn’t have to hear any of the lies their new government would state as my crime, in order to justify my execution. If you people think that the roots of the Nazi organisation are just going to wither and die because they lost a second global conflict, you are wrong. That process will take decades, and I can’t survive a year in their clutches, never mind a single decade. I have just been used, and now I will be cast away like a dirty tissue. Can I ask you to help me to end my life? I have no acceptable future.’

  Devlin held up his hand.

  ‘I can’t assist your suicide, they want you to disappear, not become a source of further controversy. Listen to me, Karl. I want to help you, and I need to think how I can achieve this, because they will also have to make me disappear if they suspect I collaborated with you in any way. You have to give me a reason to take such a risk. What can you tell me about the cigarettes you collected in which the information was hidden? You must have some ideas, surely?’

  ‘I was never told anything except that I must not tamper with the cigarettes. When M.V. didn’t come back and I was planning to escape, I talked to one of the other prisoners about the possibility that he was dead. He agreed and took one of the cigarettes from me. He then tore the tissue paper very carefully and watched the tobacco spread out for a minute or so, and he had a spy glass which magnified things. He also had a pin, and very slowly moved more tobacco to one side. There was a film of some kind in the centre, and he pushed the pin point through one of many tiny holes along the edge. He teased it out, and looked at it with the light behind. He seemed to think it was a new kind of information storage system – microfilm, he said. He thought it could hold a lot of information, such as maps, plans, words, and even photographic negatives. We decided that as M.V. had not come back, there would be other information missing, and it was better to keep the one we had interfered with, rather than pass it on and be accused of breaking the rules.’

  ‘Now this is beginning to make sense to me, Karl, and you must think very carefully. Where is the cigarette you took apart?’

  ‘I don’t know, I left it with Gunther.’

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ shouted Devlin, ‘I’ve been the victim of an elaborate sting.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing, tell me, was this microfilm transparent to the naked eye?’

  ‘No, it had a neutral, slightly opaque coating, and it seemed to be this coating which changed colour slightly when the sun was strong. Gunther said that’s what enabled him to see the tiny letters and drawings, but they were too small to read, even with his spy glass.’

  ‘Ok, Karl, I’m going to work out a plan to get you out of here. First I have to have a reason to detain you a little longer. Don’t do anything silly, I want to speak to someone who can shelter
you when you escape, then I will tell you how and when you are going to get away from him. This time I won’t be overruled by certain people to whom I nominally report. I may even have to come with you to Germany.’

  Chapter 26

  War Records Office, London

  Black was becoming despondent after two long days checking the war records he’d been given. The task wasn’t made any easier by the musty, oppressive odour in the archive chamber, with its row after row of light-blocking bookcases. An additional irritation came in the form of Percy Simpson, perennially perched on his right shoulder, offering no enquiry or help, merely pointing to the multiplicity of ‘Silence’ notices, every time he dropped one of the encyclopaedic volumes on to the desk.

  He’d found nothing which was even remotely interesting, until the list of references he had checked accumulated sufficiently to alert him to certain gaps in the timeline. His extraordinary visualisation of these periods prompted him to underline the various dates with an intense red ink. Percy Simpson showed the first signs of concern.

  “Percy, I need an early break today, can I buy you a coffee?”

  “That’s very kind of you, sir.” He summoned one of the clerks at the main desk.

  “Watkins, please return these volumes to their proper place until Inspector Black and I return.”

  Watkins began this apparently unnecessary task.