The Man Who Never Was Read online

  ‘He was probably about thirty, big dark eyes, hair parted in the middle, brown with some thin patches, and he had a faint scar over one eye, the left one I think.”

  ‘Was he heavily built or thin? What kind of clothing do you remember? Did he speak to you in German? What brand of cigarettes did he give you?’

  ‘He was a bit on the heavy side. He never spoke at all, except what I already told you previously, two words during his first visit – Maximum Vorhang. This made me absolutely certain he was German. If he had spoken more in my language he would have attracted too much attention from the villagers, and he didn’t speak to any of them. The cigarettes were from a red packet, but I can’t remember the name. He usually came in a suit, but one day he must have been in a hurry, because he had working clothes on. It was an overall, a one piece overall. Blue, dark blue and…wait, there was a name across the chest pocket. No, there were three names.’

  ‘Take your time, it is crucial that we get this right.’

  Karl sat, imagining the scene again and again. At last he burst out with a single word – ‘National, that was the first word. Yes, definitely. I can’t seem to bring the others to mind.’

  ‘It will come, Karl, just don’t push, it will come when you’re thinking of something else. Let’s switch to the other visitor, the one you only knew by a code. You said he spoke both English and German fluently. What else can you remember about him?’

  ‘He always arrived in a car, driven by someone in a police uniform. It wasn’t always the same driver. He also had someone else with him, an Englishman in some official capacity. But this person only signed some papers for the local constable, the man with the code walked around the camp on his own.

  ‘He only ever spoke to Gunther and myself about the cigarettes, but he talked with others about whether we were looked after well, hygiene, and stuff like that. When Gunther and I gave him the cigarettes, it was always when we walked by the latrine, because nobody wanted to go there except to shit. He was a man who was very confident about things, including the end of the war. He always checked to see if the cigarettes had been tampered with. He was tall, lean, and had angular facial features, a thin moustache, and was always impeccably dressed.

  ‘I noticed he had a ring, but not a gold one, and not worn on his wedding finger. I am pretty sure he was younger than M.V. and yet he never seemed nervous, whereas M.V. often was. I’ve got it! – The other words - Coal Board – the name said National Coal Board. I remember it had to do with mining, but now I realise it wasn’t just mining, there was another word and a stitched-on picture below the opposite pocket, one long word, which didn’t make sense to me, but the picture was of a treatment type plant, with many buildings and chimneys, like an oil refining complex.’

  ‘Well, that does give us a solid start, Karl, there can’t be too many installations of that size which are close to High Spen. We can start there and work outwards. As long as my boss thinks I’m still patrolling the borders of the county of Cambridgeshire, I’ll be able to enlist the help of local authorities by using my current accreditation.’

  *

  High Spen

  Harry’s arm was gradually becoming less painful and the bonesetter was satisfied that he would recover full use of it over time. This had lifted everyone’s spirits, not least of all those of his granddad. Bella read the letter from Harrogate many times, before she troubled her husband with its contents. The gist of it was the announcement of a new revolutionary treatment. She knew he was weak, but clung to the hope that some kind of miracle cure would be developed.

  She showed it to Hilda, as it contained far too many long words, which Bella could neither understand nor pronounce. Hilda didn’t have the same hope that it would make a real difference to her father’s condition, but wasn’t going to deflate her mother’s belief in the Harrogate expertise. Bella needed a lifejacket in these turbulent times, some anchor within credible reach, and Hilda gave her support, it was the least she deserved. She made a suggestion to Bella.

  “Let’s ask dad how he feels about going back there. We can take Harry because he’s still not ready to go back to school, and we would all enjoy the break.”

  As soon as Harry was told about the trip he became hyperactive once more, and asked his granddad to tell him stories about Harrogate itself. The two of them were only separated at bedtime for the next two days, before an early departure.

  Life seemed to have found some new banner to which the family could rally. Jack was doing so well with his bricklaying feats that he was unknowingly marked down as a potential manager of the future. His thirst for knowledge was more than matched with understanding of its application. He always volunteered for overtime and their savings were modest, but continued to mount up steadily.

  This little nest egg also produced a potential new horizon, as Bella had heard of a bargain to be had. Currently, she lived at number 1 Co-operative Terrace, and she heard that the Dixon family were moving out of number 6. It needed quite some modernisation, but that was music to Jack’s ears. They would apply for a loan. With their existing savings, Jack’s steady earnings, and Hilda’s ‘profession’ as a teacher, they stood a good chance. Bella’s various emotional burdens all of a sudden seemed just that fraction lighter.

  *

  Devlin was still remembered by the High Spen village constable from the search for the vagrant killer, and he explained why he had returned - to check out the death of Michael. He had also promised to return the German watch found on Michael’s wrist.

  “Hello, Constable, I’m sorry it took so long, but here is the watch I borrowed from you. It is indeed of German origin, but I couldn’t find out any more about its previous ownership or where and when it may have been bought.”

  “Thank you, sir, I don’t think it matters too much now that we know the escaped airman managed to evaporate once again. Rumour has it he was abducted, and our coroner has ruled the vagrant’s passing as an unexplained death. He said Michael’s hands weren’t tied and yet there wasn’t any evidence of a struggle. So, there we are. Did you come all this way just to give the watch back to me?”

  “Not really, you see, even if you’ve given up looking for this German chap, I still have to find him. I was going to ask the Newcastle police, but maybe you can tell me. Are there any coal processing plants, oil refineries or coal-fired power stations near High Spen?”

  “Yes, well, I believe all the refineries in this part of the country are near the coastline, so none are too near this village. But we do have a coke works at Winlaton Mill, and there are several electricity generating plants along the river Tyne. Why is that of so much interest?”

  “You must keep this under your hat, Constable, but when I first came here to organise the repatriation of the P.O.W.s, I had reason to speak with many of them, personally you know, about the conditions of their return. It seems there was a civilian who used to come and see them and they got the impression he was not from the village. If I can locate this person he may be able to help me. God knows, he may even have helped the airman to escape.”

  The constable could sniff a bit of fame, or at least his picture in the Blaydon Courier.

  “I see, do you have any more to go on?”

  “Not really, it’s a long shot, and in the dark, but I have to keep trying. Can you keep your ears close to the ground for me?”

  “You can count on it, sir.” Devlin left to pick up Karl.

  They took several buses from Lemington to get to Winlaton Mill, a necessary circuitous precaution. Another such problem could be the potential fallout if M.V. was an employee here and he recognised Karl. It was however equally important for Karl to verify or discount anyone as being the ‘cigarette man’.

  Devlin asked Karl to stand some distance away, at the bus stop shelter, and if there was such a candidate, he would be asked to walk outside the plant to answer any sensitive questions. It would be explained as a routine security measure, for the benefit of all parties.


  ‘Take this newspaper, and stand as if you are waiting for a bus. You can obscure your face, and periodically lower the paper when you need to. Do not acknowledge me or try to alert me to any kind of identification. That can wait until we meet up again. If we strike lucky, I don’t want to alert him. Not yet.’

  Karl sat patiently in the shelter, grateful for being able to borrow Devlin’s long, warm black overcoat. At the reception a pleasant young lady asked Devlin if he had an appointment.

  “No,” he answered curtly, showing his ID card, “I need to speak with the head man urgently. He will understand when he knows who I am.”

  The Foreign Office watermark had got him to first base. The appearance of Timothy Westlake took several minutes and he was promptly shown the accreditation.

  “To what do I owe a visit from the crown, Mr Devlin?”

  “Your office would be better, sir, I’d like to keep this to the two of us.”

  “Very well, follow me.”

  They arrived, and Westlake politely bade Devlin to enter first, asking him to sit.

  “I don’t have a lot of time, sir. All I need to see is your employment register to begin with, and if I draw a blank, I’ll leave, then that’s the last you’ll hear from me. You will appreciate that I can’t tell you more, suffice it to say we need to speak to a certain individual, and that would have to be in London.”

  “This is very irregular, I must say, we are part of a nationally owned organisation too. I may need to make a telephone call.”

  “If you think that’s wise, but I have explained the need for containment in my search. Go ahead, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Westlake thought it over for a few seconds and then asked his secretary to bring the register.

  Chapter 30

  Newcastle

  Moss duly met Sophie Redwood and Black, but he wasn’t in a pleasant mood because the train was, as almost all trains were, running on time - twenty minutes late! They quickly repaired to the Gosforth Park Hotel, and found comfortable seats at a corner table in the orangery. Sophie was first to get down to business.

  “When do I see the injuries to the cervical vertebrae of the skeleton? Oh, and the report which suggests they were most likely caused by a weapon of some kind.”

  Black shifted a little uncomfortably, not having mentioned every little detail he’d conceded to strike a deal with this strident journalist. Moss did a pretty good job of intimating that he knew of the request.

  “Of course, we will get to that after we’ve eaten. I would however, like to talk for a moment about the next, and I assume, not the last chapter of your coverage of this case. Inspector Black assures me you have already been very helpful, and I’d certainly like that to continue. So, would you indulge me in this respect? There may be things which we can’t completely substantiate yet, but we don’t mind if they become allegations. On the other hand, as we’re dealing with an old crime, the perpetrator may also be deceased, and if so, we may never be able to find them.”

  “Superintendent Moss, as I explained to the Inspector, we aren’t just dealing with a forty year-old homicide, it has become a forty year-old deception. The murder is only one facet of this, and although I can understand that may be where your obligation stops, please be aware that mine doesn’t. The purpose we have in common is to hammer home the proof of foul play, until it becomes an indisputable fact, known by everyone, including Marion Wentworth. If you don’t want to stay with the complete ball of wool as it is unravelled, I don’t really mind. I’ll be disappointed but I still believe I’d be able to extract enough collateral leaks to push for a full, independent inquiry. Look, Superintendent, the implications of this cover-up in the current cold war period are very dangerous.”

  “How do you know about Marion Wentworth? Inspect…”

  “No, I told Black when he came to London that I knew about her some time ago. My source really does have scores to settle. I have to be careful in choosing which allegations to print first, but if it helps to convince you of the need to prove them, I can give you advance notice of one in particular.”

  Both Moss and Black moved closer, even though they were the only occupants of the orangery.

  “I informed Black that Devlin’s given name was Theo. You probably haven’t found much information on him. That is, if you have indeed conducted a search. You may have guessed that he was the author of a report which Marion has, and it identifies a number of targets he pursued. One of these was Max Vogt. There was no harm in her giving you that, because poor old Max died fairly recently. She therefore knows that the skeleton can’t be his.

  “Because Devlin has also passed on, he can’t be asked to explain certain claims in his report. However, he chronicled a manhunt for an escaped German airman from a P.O.W. camp in a small village up here in the northeast. A prisoner apparently told Devlin that Vogt passed valuable information to him. So, this report should have been declassified by now if it was deemed to be ‘in the public interest’, but not if it may prejudice national security. It’s rather strange then that Devlin and this airman completely disappeared shortly after this interim report on the repatriation of German servicemen was written. There was no record of their deaths in the immediate years after they were assumed to have left the country. We are consequently expected to believe they hadn’t turned up anywhere else either. There’s more on that, but not now.

  “What is it to be, Superintendent? I came here with the hope that you could help me to get evidential proof of the monumental risk MI5 and MI6 are taking by continuing their denial. Am I wrong?”

  Black stayed silent. Moss always lit his pipe when confronted with such a complex decision. It bought two minutes of thinking time. He was impressed with the cards she’d exposed, and wanted to see the ones she hadn’t, but he had to set this against the probability he’d be told to back off, especially if Sophie’s source was totally reliable.

  “Does your source want to see the demise of a particular person, or bring the government down, or challenge the veracity of MI6 ‘evidence’ that suppression of information is justified, because it would impact national security, with all of its unfathomable motives?”

  “He wants the implications of continued suppression to be placed before the entire cabinet, not just a couple of people who probably won’t get re-elected anyway.

  “Surely you remember President Reagan bleating on about SDI, some orbital capability with both defensive and offensive weapons of awesome power. Do we know what the Russians make of it, or how they will respond if they convince themselves that he really does have such unchallengeable dominance? Then I suggest you take a step back and think of something of similar strategic shift in the balance of global destructive force, independently developed in Europe. It would certainly disturb the Soviets, and it may even blow a hole in the ‘special relationship’ with the USA. It’s a lot to get one’s head around, but so was Oppenheimer’s little chemistry experiment. The President at that time, in his infinite wisdom, decided to try it out on Japan. If this hasn’t convinced you, I would like to see the skeleton with the proof of foul play and then we can call it a day. I could even catch a late train back to London.”

  *

  Flight to Prague

  Milan Hajek was in a very difficult spot. He was single, lived alone, the proprietor of a one-man business, and now known to be a collaborator against his own country during the conflict. Not that the actual battle lasted long in Czechoslovakia, but the occupation did, and was followed by annexation at the hands of the Russians.

  He’d always thought he could never go back there. He had now been linked to the gold ring by travelling to Germany, and that was both a dangerous move and one which hadn’t been well thought through. He’d let his greed prevail over his expertise.

  Although he had seen the inscription, he determined there could still be an opportunity in this for him. The ring may have been thought to be genuine, and possibly some German soldier had ordered the inscripti
on in ignorance, which was quite feasible if the thief was continually thinking that the next day in the trenches could be the last day of his life. The inscription itself was the real problem. However, if he could somehow play along with Marion, and get his hands on the ring, he could profit in a life-changing sense. It was such a convincing reproduction that he could easily arrange the removal of the inscription with the help of an expert engraver. He could then sell it in Prague, and move his jewellery business back there as a bonus. He answered Marion Wentworth’s question with a question.

  “What happens to me if I tell you my contact’s name and leave it at that?”

  “That wouldn’t qualify as full mitigation of a potential leak of information, one about which I issued a warning - not to disclose it to anyone.”

  “I’ll take my chances then. I don’t know his name. Do whatever you think you have to. I’m a jeweller not an agent of espionage. My interest was and always will be in the ring itself. I have no interest in its role amongst spies. As you pointed out to me, via your tape, the one I examined was a fake. The Germans have the original, which belongs in my country, not in the hands of Westernised Nazis, they are even worse than the Stasi in East Berlin.”

  “Your moral stance is reassuring Mr Hajek, first you entertain the idea of obtaining the ring in Newcastle for this ‘Westernised German’, and now you say you despise people such as him. The reward he offered was unspecific, but you must have thought it worth keeping open, until you were confronted by my request to get this man to England. You would have had to meet him again for you to claim such a payoff, either there in Cologne or back in the UK.”

  “Yes, but that was before I thought it through carefully. I suspect that the loose ends he said needed to be tied up might include me. That’s why I went along with the West German pig, it was a bluff. And have you forgotten the conversation on your tape? I wasn’t allowed to meet the man I’d originally contacted, whose name I was given, but as I’d never met either of them previously, the swine who took his place and bought me lunch tried to impersonate my contact. Surely you can see this smells of a set up. Serve your accusation on me, I have no further interest in this fake ring.”