The Man Who Never Was Read online

  “Yes, I suppose that’s possible, but they would still have to know he was here. Get ready to leave while I speak to the police.”

  Devlin paced up and down the corridor for over an hour. He had previously packed essentials for a spell of anonymity for both Karl and himself. He was mentally running through his checklist over and over again. Finally, Compton opened the door and ushered him into the office.

  “We are told that the abductors took our man in a dark green Austin, a large car, but they don’t have the model or the registration number, which had been deliberately covered with a white paint. There were two men in the vehicle. One was obviously the driver and the other posed as a patient, waving an appointment card to see one of Matthews’ junior partners. When the receptionist challenged this, he insisted that the appointment had been made for him by telephone, and by his father, who he said was waiting in the car.

  “He asked if the receptionist would please check with the junior consultant, and she felt obliged to do so. Matthews’ consulting room door burst open, and a man stood there with a gun. He ordered the German and Matthews to accompany him to the reception area, and the car moved to the entrance. Matthews was struck over the head with the gun and Karl was bundled into the car.

  “Matthews wasn’t rendered unconscious by the attack, and despite his severe head trauma he managed to ring the police. In retrospect I suppose I can understand that. Anyway they have roadblocks set up around the county, so his call was probably justified, but there hasn’t been any sign of the car. The police are adamant it couldn’t have got through the roadblocks in the time window, except on really minor roads. Perhaps you should start your search by talking with the receptionist, she apparently got a good look at the abductor.”

  “On my way, sir.”

  *

  Devlin took notes from Matthews’ receptionist and was amazed at the embroidery in her description of his hirelings. He travelled around Cambridgeshire for a couple of days officially hunting down Karl, but actually looking out for any surveillance activity. He passed by the hideaway property twice, and then parked near a neighbouring village. He walked the mile or so ‘as the crow flies’, and knocked at the door three times as planned. The door opened and he entered. Karl was pleased to see him again.

  “Ok,” Devlin said to the hired men, “I’ll take it from here.”

  He threw the rest of their fee on to the table and stayed while they counted it. They shook hands and went outside. The garage doors swung open to reveal a freshly repainted Austin seven, no longer green, but a stunning wine colour. One of the men backed Devlin’s newly acquired black Ford car out from the adjoining space in the double garage, and threw the keys in his direction, then Karl was asked to get into this new vehicle.

  Devlin gave the man the keys to his own car, explaining exactly where it was parked in the village. The man acknowledged the instruction to drive it into the space alongside the freshly-sprayed wine-coloured Austin, as soon as possible after Devlin left in his new Ford. Devlin got into the driving seat and eased the Ford out on to the deserted road. No further words passed between the lips of the fugitives until they were on to a minor road out of the county.

  Devlin then explained that they had to exit Cambridgeshire, and if they encountered a road block Karl was to get out and walk over farmland to a ruin on the other side of the checkpoint.

  “It could take you up to three hours to walk there but it’s better to be safe than sorry. I’m pretty confident we won’t have to resort to this plan, just be prepared in the event that I’m wrong.”

  “Where are we going Mr Devlin?”

  “I thought you would have figured that out Karl. We have unfinished business in High Spen.”

  Chapter 28

  Newcastle C.I.D.

  When Black and Moss spoke again by phone, the intrigue kicked up a gear.

  “Let me just give you the benefit of my latest thoughts, Inspector. We have Jerry number one buried at the same place which employed Jerry number two, and they were both being covertly investigated by a Theo Devlin, who must be a prime candidate for the author of Marion’s report.

  “It’s not rocket science, or even guesswork. Devlin has to be a spook. Marion dropped a hint that she may never be coming back to Newcastle. Her pursuit of Hajek over this ring is running her motor right now, so that connects in to Vogt, who is conveniently dead. You said the records show there was a P.O.W. camp in High Spen. So, the answers are up here, in that village and the coke works. I think you ought to get back as soon as possible. We need to make hay while Marion is distracted.”

  There was no comment from Black.

  “Hello, Inspector, are you still on the line?”

  “Err, yes, sir,” mumbled Black, while wrestling with the ethics of having collaborated with a journalist, “I have to admit something to you Super. Once I’d got here, I was told that Sophie Redwood left a message at my hotel.”

  “How did she know where you were staying?”

  “I spoke to her about her last article before I came to London, I told you that, and I was surprised you didn’t tear my head off for ignoring her attempts to contact us. Well, when I mentioned that I was coming down to the smoke, she asked if we could meet. I panicked a bit, because it sounded like she was ready to go to print with another piece on our investigation. I gave her my hotel address and I agreed to meet her last night. She does have some kind of an inside track on this, sir, and we ought to take her seriously.

  “She confirmed the name of this Devlin guy without me asking about him. If you recall, when you told me his name, you didn’t mention his first name, she knew it was Theo. She seems genuine to me. Anyway, in line with your point about making progress while Marion is out of the way, I would like her to speak with us up in Newcastle. I think she’ll hold off printing more damaging stuff until we hear what she has to say. What do you think?”

  He cringed while awaiting the verdict.

  “Fine, get her to travel up here with you, and extract everything you can before I actually meet her.”

  “Right, right, I’ll get it sorted and call you back.”

  *

  Cologne, Germany

  Marion and Henry Middleton waited impatiently for their man Hans to report in. They’d begun to attract attention because of the number of empty coffee cups they’d accumulated on their table. It was very un-German. At the fourth attempt Henry was able to report good news. Hans had overheard most of the dialogue between Milan Hajek and his unknown contact. Apart from the small talk, all of the conversation centred on the gold ring. It was all in German.

  Hajek had insisted to this man that what he’d seen in Newcastle was the genuine article. This repeated assertion was met with a shake of the head on at least four occasions. Finally, the man spoke, quietly and emphatically.

  ‘Enough, Mr Hajek. We already have the original, it has been in our possession since the start of the war. What you’ve seen is obviously a very good replica. There is also the inscription to explain’.

  ‘In that case why did you agree to meet me? You could have told me this by telephone’.

  ‘Come now, Hajek, we always have to verify exactly who we are dealing with, and we’ve now done that. Secondly, there is the question of loose ends which have to be tidied up. I am told there was such a ring in circulation in the north of England, and it was never returned to us, so your information is most valuable. We now need you to guide us to its temporary caretaker. Can you do that for me?’

  ‘I can tell you where it is, getting your hands on it will not be easy.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I mustn’t have mentioned it when I asked to see you, the police have it. They must be investigating its origin.’

  ‘That is inconvenient. I now have to ask you what inscription you observed while you examined the ring.’

  ‘I was sure I told you that already.’

  ‘Indulge me, tell me again.’

  ‘Wait a minute, you aren’
t the person who agreed to meet me are you?’

  ‘No, he was my subordinate. I have to recheck your claims, it is procedure. Now, the inscription.’

  ‘M.V. – the letters M.V. that’s all there was. It was inside the ring. I suppose I should have known that nobody in their right mind would have done this to the original if they actually knew the history. But still, it could have been done in complete ignorance.’

  ‘The letters, are you absolutely certain they were both followed by full stops? They couldn’t have been marks which simply looked like full stops?’

  ‘I’m a jeweller of some repute, not an amateur. They were initials.’

  ‘Good, may I thank you for coming all this way, Hajek? Is there any way you could procure this ring for us? We would offer a substantial reward.’

  ‘I doubt it, but I will ask the police if they need my help again. Maybe they do, and if so I can contact you once more.’

  ‘Not the same way of contact please, take this number, call it at any time. Thank you again.’

  Hans had the entire conversation on a mini-recording system attached to his hearing aid. Marion wanted the tape.

  *

  London

  Black was nervous as he spoke to Sophie Redwood, unsure as to how she would respond to meeting up with Moss.

  “I’ve been given a message by my boss that an ex-employee of the coke works has notes which confirm Max Vogt worked under him, and many years before that, this guy’s predecessor actually met with Devlin. So, this ties up neatly. Superintendent Moss would like to meet you to discuss how we proceed from here.”

  “I thought I had that arrangement with you. You told him that I gave you Devlin’s name didn’t you?”

  “He gave that name to me before you did, so he thinks that maybe we can make more progress by a more ‘official’ arrangement.”

  “Didn’t you say your boss was a bit too cosy with Marion Wentworth? That worries me, Inspector.”

  “That’s what I thought in the beginning, but he was playing her at her own game. Anyway, she’s gone off to Cologne, and apparently said she may not come back to Newcastle.”

  “Cologne? Do you know why she’s there?”

  “Yes, well, Moss believes she is following this Czechoslovakian jeweller we found, the one who said the gold ring which was buried near the bones is worth a fortune. But that hasn’t been proved yet. However, Marion didn’t deny it. Maybe it is true, otherwise why would she follow this guy to Cologne.”

  Sophie let this replay in her mind several times and surprised Black.

  “Ok, let’s go and meet your boss. There’s one condition though.”

  Black sighed resignedly.

  “Let me have it.”

  “We have to agree to print that you are investigating a murder. I have to make sure my source believes his trade with me is intact. The story has had a break and needs fresh impetus. So I want to see the evidence of trauma to the cervical vertebrae of the skeleton. Deal?”

  “Deal,” said Black, having no idea how Moss would react.

  They took the first available train to Newcastle, and Moss said he’d be at the station to meet them.

  *

  Flight to Prague

  Armed with Hans’ tape, Marion Wentworth boarded the same flight as Milan Hajek, not to Newcastle, but to Prague. She wasn’t alone in shadowing him, Henry Middleton had tipped her off that Hajek would have company, in the form of two rather imposing heavyweights. The aircraft was half full at most. As the flight settled at its target altitude, she wandered toward the toilet at the front of the cabin, deliberately stumbled and confronted him

  “Hello again, Mr Hajek. I said we would talk soon, and here we are. May I sit?”

  Visibly shaken, he nodded. Marion smiled and told him to relax. Again he nodded.

  “Just a few questions, Milan, may I call you Milan?”

  “Yes, of course. It must be about the same subject as when we last met.”

  “Indeed. The man you met in Cologne, what is his name?”

  Hajek became extremely agitated but declined to speak. Marion offered him a set of head phones and switched on the tape. His face turned ashen. He was about to say something, but Marion cut him off, and stopped the tape at an early point in the recorded conversation.

  “I’m here to prevent you from getting yourself into any more trouble. I’m sure you remember the secrecy documents I served you with in the police station in Newcastle. You did sign them and you can’t take such things lightly. The rest of the tape is enough on its own for me to arrest you, but neither of us want it to come to that. Especially when there is an alternative, one which actually helps your country. That is of course, as long as we’re talking about the same country.”

  “Do you mean Britain?”

  “Do you still have Czech documentation?”

  He froze.

  “Just hand it over,” said Marion, “they still don’t know you were a collaborator, do they, Milan?”

  His mind refused to comprehend how this situation had come about. How long had the British known? Why bring this up now? Was the Czech intelligence organisation part of it? How could he have lived a life under cover in the UK for so long without being challenged until now? His natural reaction was to deny everything and call her bluff.

  “Do you think you can arrest me in Prague? I’m not going to give you my papers, you have no jurisdiction on a Lufthansa flight or Prague airport. I have nothing more to say.”

  Marion got up to return to her seat, and the two hulks, mentioned by Middleton, came forward. She had misread Henry’s message. She’d thought they were the back-up team of the unknown man Hajek had met in Cologne.

  The larger one leaned over Marion’s seat and flashed a Czech Special Service badge. The second went to head off a stewardess whose attention had been aroused by the proceedings. He suggested to her that he should speak with the pilot, as he presented his own accreditation. It all settled down again and Hajek handed over his papers to these men, not to Marion.

  Marion asked if she could see the papers and was pleasantly surprised that they allowed her to check them over, and then one of the men put them in his file.

  They returned to their seats, and she spoke with Hajek again, to offer him a choice.

  “You can cooperate with me or take your chance with those two gentlemen. They obviously know of your duplicity with Germany, and they must be ready to charge you with all manner of things, possibly leading up to treason. They also know that we, the British, have a vested interest in your wartime activities, which could lead the Czech Special Service to a bigger fish. They may be prepared to be patient, but only if I can tell them I have information from you which assists their investigation. What do you want to do?

  “This is a short flight, Mr Hajek, and I’m going to fly straight back to London. I’m sitting just a few seats behind you, so please let me know what you want to do as soon as you can, because if you do want to come with me, I’ll need to make a few telephone calls. In the meantime, I’m sure your two friends will keep you company.”

  Hajek frantically searched his memory, trying to connect this accursed ring with information Marion could want. He knew of the bones in the coke works from the newspapers, but although it was implied that they were the remains of a Luftwaffe serviceman, he just couldn’t make the link. He’d arrived in Britain long after the war, and he had no idea that there had been a P.O.W. camp in High Spen, and yet he had known for a long time that death had always followed this ring. No, not this ring, the original – the one which his contact in Cologne said was still in their possession. He chose to speak with Marion again and gestured for her to come forward.

  “Good. Now, Milan, we both know that the ring which you examined is still in the care of the Newcastle police. We’ve also heard that the really valuable original is safe with the Germans. So, we can forget about that one. It’s the fake with the inscription with which we must concern ourselves, particularly its
purpose, and who was involved in that chain of events which caused it to be buried in the coke works at Winlaton Mill. We need you to talk to your German contact again.”

  “You mean you want me to go back to Cologne?”

  “No, to your shop in Heaton. We will give you certain bits of information which will entice your contact to Newcastle. The rest we will take care of, now that isn’t so difficult is it?”

  “Err, no, I suppose not.”

  “Fine, so what is the name of your contact in Cologne?”

  Chapter 29

  Newcastle 1945

  Devlin’s vehicle, a ‘blend-in’ black Ford, had served them well. He and Karl had avoided hotels en-route, caution dictating that they slept overnight in the car. They found a suitable temporary domicile far enough away from High Spen in terms of Karl being recognised, but close enough to get there by bus. Lemington village was on the opposite side of the river Tyne, and there was a choice of buses available.

  The river could be crossed by using Newburn Bridge, and then services were available through either Blaydon or Ryton for the final destination. The other possibility was to cross the Tyne via Scotswood Bridge, and head up the river Derwent to High Spen. This public transport was important, because he didn’t want his car to be noticed, consequently it had been safely garaged.

  Devlin wanted to begin with M.V. and needed Karl to identify the man who delivered the cigarettes, and whose calling card was the gold ring with his inscribed initials. Even though Karl had escaped because he thought M.V.’s no show meant he’d been killed, Devlin wasn’t completely convinced. He also believed that M.V. was the key to identifying the other government man who took the cigarettes from Karl.

  His belief in both of these things was rooted in Bernard Compton having declared that the embedded information was intercepted and then allowed to resume its journey to German intelligence. At no point did Compton give any hint that the information flow had ceased, or that the chain had actually been thwarted by Karl’s escape. Gunther’s shadow was still lurking over the whole situation.

  ‘Karl, we must work quickly. Everything we discuss in the presence of others will be in English, but we will speak to each other in German when we are alone, like now. I telephoned my boss shortly after we left Cambridgeshire, to tell him I was checking all minor exits from the county, but that won’t fool him for long. I don’t want to speak to him from the northeast or he’ll be on to us in no time. Think hard, what else can you tell me about M.V.?”