A Time To Every Purpose

by Ian Andrew

  “Okay, I’ll have Schern set up the command net here and I’ll monitor the traffic, but as of now you have operational control. Any questions?”

  “No Sir.”

  “Good luck.” Heinrich rang off and when he turned back to check how Schern and his team were progressing with rigging up the command radio he was pleasantly surprised to see it was already complete. A small desk speaker and microphone sat centrally on the table.

  Dietmar switched the lights off in the room before parting the curtains and looking at the whole of the small harbour laid out in front of the hotel. He checked his watch and saw it was 02:30, he looked at Heinrich and nodded, “Well, we made it.”

  “Yeah we did, now all we have to hope is that she’s actually on her way here.”

  “Been a fun night, even if she doesn’t turn up.” Dietmar laughed, and using the light coming through the window from the street lamps he began to help himself to some of the biscuits.

  Chapter 30

  05:00 Tuesday 19th May 2020 - Portpatrick

  Carl Schern poured himself another coffee whilst Heinrich, Dietmar, Honecker, and Schmitt sat on the chairs placed around the room. Marcus Calise was positioned obliquely to the window and was monitoring the harbour. The pitch black that they had arrived in was now lightening to a soft grey as the sunrise began to encroach on the night. Mary Reid had obviously not used the autobahns but there was also the worry that was growing in Heinrich’s mind that she might not be on her way here at all.

  “How long are we going to give her?” asked Schern.

  “Until she turns up,” Heinrich answered with an accompanying shrug of the shoulders.

  “We’ve still got the blocks in around Watford and patrols along the Anglesey and Cornish coasts, so we’ll find her,” Dietmar added in his normal up-beat, optimistic manner.

  By 06:00 the small harbour was quiet again after what had been a short flurry of activity. Five of the commercial fishing boats had departed for their day of hard work and a few of the leisure craft owners had turned up to prepare their vessels for a day of relaxation. Two of the latter arrivals were directly approached by the SF and removed to the hotel. They readily agreed to assist in the way men do when faced with overwhelming firepower and were now downstairs in the kitchen enjoying Herr Muller’s hospitality, breakfast and Scotch. They were delighted to be helping the Reich. The only thing that had changed in the front bedroom was the various positions of the watching men. Calise was pouring coffee and Schmitt sat at the window.

  “Leopard Alpha this is Leopard 5, Tango 1 sighted en route your location, confirm vehicle is Charlie 2.” The command net radio spat out the report they had waited patiently for. It had the effect of an adrenaline shot into all the men in the room. Heinrich picked up the binoculars and from deep in the hotel room scanned the quiet harbour.

  “Leopard 1 and 2, this is Leopard Alpha. Move to Victors 3, 4 and 7.”

  Most of the SF soldiers could not be seen but as Lowther began to issue his orders four men moved to positions on the decks of three of the boats. They were dressed in a mix of clothes that even Heinrich thought made them look like passable fishermen, deckhands or amateur sailors.

  “Leopard Control, Leopard 5, Tango straight on Main Street.”

  Heinrich angled his view to look out to his left and observed the junction of Main Street and the Crescent that circumnavigated the waterfront.

  “Leopard Control, Leopard 5, Tango turning right onto Crescent, over”

  “Leopard 5, Leopard Control, Seen.”

  Heinrich listened to Johan Lowther take responsibility for the target from his screening team on the approach road. At the same time he saw the silver Volkswagen turn right into the North Crescent. He focussed the binoculars on her. Mary Reid looked tired but not scared or distressed. He was reminded again that this woman was very controlled.

  “All callsigns, let her run, wait, wait.” Lowther’s voice was also controlled.

  Heinrich and the other men in the hotel room watched as Reid’s car passed by and headed towards the car park where they had earlier met the local Police. She slowed and pulled nose first into a parking space. The brake lights illuminated for one last time before she turned the engine off. Other than her arrival there was little other visible activity in the harbour. There were two men working on the deck of the nearest small fishing boat to where she had parked. An older man was on the bow of a motor cruiser moored halfway down the west wall and a fourth was working on a bigger boat in the lower harbour alongside a couple of commercial fishing boat crews preparing to depart.

  Mary could see all of this in her rear-view mirror and she scanned each as carefully as she could. The nearest three were easy, she could see them clearly but the furthest boats were more of a challenge. After a good five minutes she had decided everything looked right. The men she could see wore appropriate clothing but much more importantly were carrying out the correct type of duties. She had been a hobby sailor for long enough to spot the right type of preparations. None of them appeared to be watching out for anyone. She relaxed just a little and got out of the car.

  Heinrich watched her as she stood up out of the vehicle. She wore low heeled black boots, blue jeans and a black jumper with a loose fitting quilted jacket. She was dressed for warmth and ease of travel. Heinrich watched her stretch and yawn and twist to work the kinks out of her back and to subtly allow her a complete circle of observation. As she moved he saw the shoulder holster under her jacket. From his vantage point in one of the small boat houses to the western side of the harbour wall, Johan Lowther had seen it too.

  “Leopard callsigns, Tango is wearing a shoulder holster to her left side.”

  Mary stretched and turned again. She felt her back relax from the hours of driving and she turned slowly once more to look out over the whole of the harbour. She had spent a lot of time here in the past and she knew what it was meant to look like. The boats that had been out overnight would be returning shortly and the early fishing boats would have left. She had planned her arrival for now. Quiet, not a lot of people about, extremely hard to conceal an arrest team or any other form of surveillance. She also knew that there were always a few early mariners up and about preparing their pride and joy for a day out on the waves. She had been relying on it. She checked round one last time and on this sweep looked more closely at the leisure craft where the older man was working. Tucked into the north-west corner of the nearest inner harbour was a 10-metre, Flybridge motor cruiser. She knew the model and had even looked at buying one for herself, or rather, getting Uwe Joyce to buy her one. She smiled as she thought that in an ironic way he was going to provide her one after all. It was ideal for her needs. Fitted with a 220hp diesel it was stable, quick and could get her across to the Antrim coast unobtrusively. It even had a decent stereo system if her memory served her right. She smiled at the name written on the stern of the vessel, ‘Mers Libres’.

  As she stood next to her car she watched the man, dressed in a pair of dirty grey-blue overalls, move in and out of the cabin and traverse from bow to stern. He was being thorough and obviously preparing to go to sea. She thought about how to approach him. He was in his mid-forties, maybe older she guessed, not all that handsome but she was sure she could get down close to him on the deck. It would be easy after that. She reached into the rear of the car and withdrew her small backpack that held some underwear, some ammunition and all the cash she had ever put aside for an emergency.

  “Leopard Callsigns, standby, standby.”

  Mary sauntered down to the harbour and stood on the quayside just above the ‘Free Seas’. The owner came back out of the cabin and she waited for him to look up.

  “Good morning Miss, how are you?” Mary noted his accent, southern French possibly Provence, and relaxed even more.

  “Bonjour Monsieur, and I am afraid that is the limit of my French,” she lied and smiled her best smile at him, “but I was just wondering if you would be so kind to provide me some assista
nce?”

  “Mademoiselle, I am French and you are beautiful, how could I refuse? What can I do for you?”

  “Well, it is a little delicate. Would it be possible for you to come up or me to come down, so I do not have to talk too loudly?”

  “Mais oui, please come down.” The man extended his hand to indicate the small ladder draped over the wall that led down to the well of the boat. Mary turned around and began to descend. She found it amazing how even fairly ugly older men thought than when she flirted with them they might actually get to fuck her. She knew it had been a given that he was going to invite her down rather than come up.

  As she stepped off the ladder and turned to face him he punched her straight-armed in the solar plexus. She went down onto her knees, gasping as all breath was knocked out of her. The man moved swiftly behind her and pulled both of her arms around, fastening them securely with a plastic tie to the wrists. He reached around her body, recovering the pistol from her shoulder holster, before pushing her forward onto the deck. He took the small tactical radio from his pocket.

  “Leopard Control, this is Leopard 2 bravo, Tango secured, over,” he said with no trace of a French accent.

  “Leopard callsigns, this is Leopard Alpha secure to Victor 4. Leopard Control this is Leopard Alpha, advise Golf callsigns for recovery.”

  Heinrich looked around the room, “Bit of an anti-climax really.” The rest of the men smiled and shrugged.

  “Dietmar, advise Vogel were on our way back to Todt. Also, get him to get a message to Professor Lippisch, tell him just to say ‘thank you, it’s done’.”

  Heinrich keyed the mike, “Golf 1, this is Leopard Control. Request immediate extraction.”

  Chapter 31

  SS-Untersturmführer Peter Vogel closed the door and pushed it firmly to make sure the electronic lock engaged. The facility still smelt of fresh paint and everything had the stubbornness of new that made the locks tight and the switches firm. He walked a few steps up the corridor and entered the Command Observation Room.

  The Prisoner Holding and Interrogation Facility was a K-shaped building with administration offices in the north and south wings of the straight spine and six cells and three interview rooms in each of the offset arms. The observation room sat in the middle junction of the building, equipped with banks of CCTVs able to watch each cell and interview room. Heinrich was already there along with Dietmar and Pascal. The three centrally mounted monitors were all tuned to the room that held Mary Reid.

  It looked much like every interview room in every holding facility in the Reich. The walls and floor were painted battleship grey and there were two chairs sitting on opposite sides of a rectangular table. All the furniture was plain, unadorned grey metal and all of it was bolted to the concrete floor.

  Reid sat quietly with her hands, secured with metal cuffs, resting in her lap. She was still wearing the clothes that she had been arrested in. Her head was down and she had her eyes shut. It was 09:00 and Heinrich reckoned she probably hadn’t slept in over thirty-six hours. No one had spoken directly to her since the SF soldier had punched and cuffed her.

  Heinrich turned to the others, “I’ll take the first shot and if needed we’ll do it in shifts until she gives us something we can use.”

  As he swiped his card against the electronic reader the door clicked open. Mary looked up at the sound and stared directly at him. He was struck that even tired and slightly dishevelled, she was still strikingly beautiful.

  “Good morning Mary, I’m Heinrich Steinmann.” He took the seat opposite her. She looked at him but said nothing. “Mary we need some answers to some formal questions please. Could you state your full...”

  “Mary Emma Reid, Chef Oberaufseherin, TV9586217, 17 February 1995, O-Positive.” She had cut him off in mid sentence with the standard responses required of uniformed members of the Reich if taken prisoner.

  “Well that’s an excellent start Mary, thank you. Now what were you doing up in Portpatrick?”

  No response.

  Heinrich sighed and put his hands flat on the table. “Mary, we have you in a car that belonged to two members of a Special-Reconnaissance team. We have one of their bodies at your house, shot with a 9mm pistol that will no doubt match to yours. The other is currently in surgery. It’s unlikely that they can save his left hand. He’s already confirmed it was you that did the shooting and when he recovers from the surgery he’ll attest to the same on the record. We have two missing administration clerks who may turn up one day and I’ll bet they have the same small holes in them. Finally we have a dead Reichsminister who you’ve been screwing and coincidently, he has a similar hole in his head. What bit of this is looking good for you at present?”

  No response.

  She looked straight at him, not defiantly, just a blank stare from eyes that were void of light. Heinrich sighed.

  “Mary, Berlin is not happy. They want me to use all manner of approaches on you.” He paused to allow his meaning to sink in.

  “You can imagine that we have even more toys here than you have in Harrow. A Reichsminister is a big deal Mary. They want a show trial. They want an example made out of you. They want to hold you up as the personification of weak morals and weak honour.” He saw her eyes flicker slightly and she looked away from him, back to the table top. It was the first reaction he had seen in the woman since observing her in Portpatrick. He decided to push it a little.

  “They just want to know what happened. They want a thorough explanation. They want to know why you did what you did, but if they don’t get your complete cooperation they’ve told me to hand you over. You know how it’ll go Mary? Your face plastered on every television screen and newspaper in the Reich. Held up to be a figure of ridicule and pilloried by the State as a pariah. A cheap whore who sold her body to get promotion. There’s even talk that your own father had known and was going to warn the authorities and that’s why you killed him.” Her head came up and she gritted her teeth. He watched her closely as she tried to control her reaction.

  “Apparently he was a good man and you arranged for him to be killed. That’s what the story will be.” He watched her bite down hard and her neck muscles strained with the force. “Of course Mary, if you tell me the truth then I can’t promise you freedom. That isn’t on the table. But, you’ll get your version of events out and at least you’ll know where and how it’s going to end.” He waited a beat. “There is no happy ending. But, I promise you that I’ll make sure it’s discreet, swift. A proper firing squad, a funeral. No public humiliation. A good death. Think about it.” He got up from the chair and walked straight out of the room allowing the door to click shut behind him.

  Back in the observation room they waited and watched her. She sat quietly and put her head into her cuffed hands. After almost half an hour she turned to look up at the camera, took a deep breath and nodded.

  Heinrich went straight back in and retook his seat, “Do you want to start with how long you’ve known the Minister?”

  “No. We’ll start with the fact that both my staff are alive. Harold is somewhere lost in the woods off Oxhey Lane between Harrow and Watford. He’s probably wandering around in circles. As for Fredrick Henly, he’s locked in the vault next to my office. So don’t sit there and tell me I shot them,” she said with an angry edge to her voice.

  “Okay, well that’s good.” Heinrich knew that Dietmar and Pascal would set the wheels in motion to recover both Harold and Fredrick.

  “Let’s move on to the Special-Reconnaissance team. Why did you shoot them?”

  “That was self-defence. They made to draw their weapons. I told them not to, it was them or me. They made a mistake. That’s all.”

  “What was their mistake?”

  “They saw the woman and not the uniform. I don’t get to wear the Death’s Head for fun.”

  “Fair enough. I’d have probably done the same if they’d drawn down on me too. Now, let’s get back to the Minister. How long have you known him?”


  “Five years.” She spoke clearly and looked directly at him, studying him with an intense stare.

  “And you shot him in the early hours of Monday morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me why Mary. Why did you kill him?”

  “How did you find me so quickly?”

  “That’s not how this works. You answer my questions.”

  “I just want to know. How did you find me so quickly? We were always discreet. No one ever saw me come or go in the Savoy.”

  “There are cameras Mary.”

  “Don’t lie to me. Uwe chose the Savoy for our meetings because it doesn’t have cameras. It’s the one hotel in London that’s clean of them because he wasn’t the only Minister that needed some privacy. You raid that hotel on any given night and you’d disturb a nest of inappropriate liaisons.”

  “I’m not lying. There’s new technology. It allows us to put a camera almost anywhere. It’s that simple, we caught you on camera.” He wasn’t going to elaborate and he considered that it was almost the truth.

  “So, Mary. Why did you kill him?”

  She shrugged. “He told me he loved me.”

  “You shot him because he told you he loved you?” He was disappointed. He thought she was going to tell the truth.

  “No, not Uwe. Thomas.”

  Heinrich processed the name. It meant nothing to him.

  “Thomas? Who’s Thomas?”

  “Thomas Dunhill.”

  Heinrich racked his memory. The name was familiar but he couldn’t place it. He raised his left hand as if to scratch his cheek.

  He heard Pascal through his earpiece, “That’s one of the Turners brought into Harrow on Sunday.” Heinrich nodded almost imperceptibly.