The bedroom furniture consisted of a bed, a bedside table, a chest of drawers and a monumental wardrobe. Anthony could see it all for himself, but that didn’t deter the orderly from expatiating on its virtues.
His cases – or, rather, Baumann’s cases – were stacked neatly beside the bed. Was Baumann still securely out of action? Anthony thought. And where could he find Milly?
From the open bedroom window came the sound of children’s voices. Anthony looked out. The window overlooked a private garden, evidentially the Colonel’s own, separated by a hedge from a grassy space where children were playing.
The orderly saw where Anthony was looking. ‘I apologize if the noise disturbs you, sir. Shall I instruct the children to be quiet?’
‘No matter,’ said Anthony, waving him away. A new colonel would surely comment on the presence of a load of kids. ‘I know this building used to be an orphanage. I am surprised it still functions as such.’
‘The children are kept entirely separate from the hospital, Colonel,’ chipped in Sister Marie-Eugénie. Her mouth tightened. ‘Their care is entirely in the hands of the order.’
‘Good.’ Anthony turned away from the window and nodded at the private. ‘That will be all.’
The man saluted. ‘Very good, sir.’
A thought occurred to Anthony. News would have travelled fast that the new colonel had arrived and, if he knew anything about military life, that would mean his adjutant would soon be knocking at the door, keen to run through the paperwork and impress the new boss with his efficiency. ‘Who is my adjutant?’
‘Sergeant Breynck, sir. Shall I send him to you?’
‘Later,’ said Anthony, pointedly smothering another yawn. Would the ruddy man never leave? ‘I will send for him in due course. Dismissed,’ he added firmly.
The orderly pottered out. Walking swiftly to the door, Anthony made sure it was firmly shut behind him.
‘Now, Sister,’ he began, when the telephone on the desk rang.
Sighing impatiently, Anthony picked up the receiver. ‘Yes?’
‘This is Captain Malik speaking. Who is this?’
Anthony thought swiftly. If the call came from within the hospital, surely the caller would know that the new colonel had gone to his rooms. He wouldn’t need to ask who had answered the phone. The phone call might concern an entirely routine matter about supplies and so on or …
Anthony blessed the instinct that had made him find out his adjutant’s name. ‘This is Sergeant Breynck, the colonel’s adjutant.’
There was a startled gasp from Sister Marie-Eugénie. Anthony ignored her.
‘His adjutant?’ asked Captain Malik sharply. ‘Has the colonel arrived?’
‘Not as far as I know, sir.’
‘Hmm. We have a report that Colonel Baumann and his driver have been found tied up on the Rempart de Malines road. They were attacked by two English spies. One of the spies was masquerading as a colonel.’
Some incredulity seemed called for. ‘A colonel?’
‘Exactly. Colonel Baumann believes that the spy may come to the hospital.’ Anthony picked up the note of disbelief in Captain Malik’s voice. ‘Apparently he is a doctor.’
Although Baumann was, in fact, absolutely correct, Anthony could well understand why Captain Malik was sceptical. After all, just because an English spy in occupied Belgium happened to be a doctor, there didn’t seem any very obvious reason why he should immediately gravitate to the nearest hospital.
‘You think the spy will come here, sir?’
‘It’s possible, I suppose. Colonel Baumann will be with you shortly. Pass the message on to your superior officer and warn everyone to be on their guard. You will be informed when the spies are apprehended.’
The phone went dead. Anthony replaced the receiver. Things, he thought, were hotting up.
Sister Marie-Eugénie, who had evidently heard the gist of the call, gazed at him, open-mouthed. ‘You aren’t Sergeant Breynck,’ she stammered, lapsing into French. ‘You’re Colonel Baumann. What is going on?’
There wasn’t any time for subtlety. Anthony leaned forward, his hands on the desk. ‘Sister Marie-Eugénie—’
Her eyes widened. ‘How do you know my name?’ she demanded.
Not only was there no time for subtlety, there wasn’t any time for long-winded explanations either. ‘Suffice to say that I do. Sister, I am not German. I am an English doctor.’
She gazed at him open mouthed. ‘You are the spy?’
‘You can call me that, if you like, but I have come all the way from England to find you.’
‘To find me?’ she repeated, her voice rising.
‘And to find a child you have in your care.’ Anthony reached inside his pocket and pulled out a photograph, the photograph of Milly. He laid it on the desk. ‘This child.’
Eyes fixed on him, she pulled the photograph across the desk towards her. Glancing down, she stiffened, put her hand to her mouth, then looked at him in bewilderment.
Anthony’s heart sank. Surely he hadn’t come all this way for nothing? Yes, it had been a slender clue to follow, but surely this was the right place and Sister Marie-Eugénie was the right woman?
‘You do have the child?’ he asked urgently.
She paused then nodded slowly. ‘Yes,’ she said distantly.
‘You have?’ Anthony breathed again.
‘Yes, she was given into my care. Forgive me, Monsieur, but this photograph was taken some time ago. At first I was not sure but yes, I know the child.’ She looked up, and both her expression and her voice was sharp. ‘What do you want with her?’ She paused, looking at him shrewdly. ‘Excuse me, but are you a … a relative perhaps?’
Even though he was desperate for speed, Anthony couldn’t help smiling. The question had been very delicately put. ‘No, Sister, I am not her father or any other relative. All I really know about her is that her name is Milly or Millicent. However, I also know that some danger threatens this child. I want to protect her from harm.’
‘Millicent,’ repeated Sister Marie-Eugénie. She eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Yes, she was called that, I believe. When a child comes to us, they have a new life with a new name. Her name is now Agathé, so she may have the blessed St Agathé to guide and protect her.’
‘Will you take me to Milly? Or Agathé as you call her?’
‘Take you into the orphanage?’ Sister Marie-Eugénie was flustered. ‘No. It is part of the convent, you understand? No Germans ever come into the orphanage.’
‘Will you bring her to me then?’
Sister Marie-Eugénie sat frozen, her hand resting on the picture. ‘Yes, I can do that,’ she said eventually. She glanced at the door. ‘I am free to go?’
‘Of course.’ Anthony opened the door for her. ‘And please, Sister, hurry.’
She looked at him intently, then, gathering her skirts, went out.
Alone in the room, Anthony crossed to the window once more, looking down at the children in the garden. He swore softly. If he could be sure of identifying Milly from her photograph, then he could get into the orphanage – the sounds of the children playing made that possibility tantalizingly close – snatch her up and get her away from here.
But he couldn’t do that. For one thing, he couldn’t be sure of recognizing her. Milly had grown since that photograph was taken and for another, the orphanage, as Sister Marie-Eugénie had said, was separate from the hospital. It didn’t sound as if any of the medical staff ever went in that part of the building. A German doctor – and a man! – would cause consternation in an orphanage run by nuns.
But even if he could get into the orphanage, that wouldn’t be enough. As well as finding Milly, he wanted to know why she was threatened. He could hardly interrogate a five- or six-year-old child as to the nature of the plot she was caught up in. He drummed his fingers on the windowsill.
The clock was ticking and it was only a matter of time before Baumann arrived. He needed a plan.
TWENTY-TWO
Major Schuhbeck was feeling very pleased with life. To greet a new commanding officer was always a nerve-wracking experience. He had no illusions about the calibre of officer who was likely to be posted to the command of a typhoid hospital in what was now a remote sector, far behind the front lines.
He had expected a civilian in uniform, a man culled from private practice, probably a second-rate doctor, who resented their posting. He had expected a man who was unused to military discipline and more than ready to find fault with the hospital, its practices and, more to the point, its staff.
Instead the new colonel seemed smart, efficient and medically competent. What’s more, he was obviously satisfied with the standards he, Schuhbeck, had maintained. Yes, he thought, smoothing out his moustache, it had all gone very well indeed.
He glanced at his watch. Lunchtime. It would be soup, sausage, bread and potato, as always, but he was hungry and …
He stood and gaped in disbelief as the door from the house was flung open and a squad of four soldiers, a lieutenant at their head, marched into the courtyard, guns at the ready. Bobbing along in their wake was a short, dishevelled man in a colonel’s uniform.
Major Schuhbeck drew himself up to his full height and marched across the courtyard. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded. He stopped short as the lieutenant’s pistol was levelled at him menacingly. ‘Who the devil are you?’ Schuhbeck barked. ‘And what the devil’s going on? This is a hospital!’
The soldiers, who were obviously well aware it was not only a hospital but a typhoid hospital at that, huddled together, clutching firmly onto their rifles, as if prepared to shoot any germ that dared approach.
The lieutenant kept his pistol raised. ‘I am Lieutenant Keller. You are?’
Schuhbeck bristled. ‘Major Schuhbeck, Lieutenant,’ bellowed Schuhbeck. ‘Major!’
Military discipline reasserted itself. Lieutenant Keller lowered his pistol and snapped to attention. ‘Sir!’
The stout little man in the colonel’s uniform wriggled his way through to the front. ‘Ask him to prove it! For all we know, he’s in league with the spy.’
‘The spy?’ repeated Schuhbeck incredulously. ‘What spy?’
Baumann almost danced on the spot in agitation. ‘The country is awash with spies. Show me your papers! Prove who you are!’
It never did to disobey a senior officer, even one as agitated as this one, but Schuhbeck was at a loss. ‘My papers are in my office. I can fetch them if you like. Sir,’ he added reluctantly.
‘No! You’ll warn the spy, I know you will.’ Baumann turned to the lieutenant. ‘Arrest this man!’
Major Schuhbeck’s eyes bulged. ‘Arrest me? Lieutenant, halt!’ he added in a parade ground bellow as the lieutenant moved as if to come forward.
Lieutenant Keller shifted uncomfortably. ‘I can’t arrest the Major, sir,’ he said to the Colonel. ‘He’s not the spy.’
‘What the devil is all this about spies?’ Schuhbeck demanded curtly.
Colonel Baumann waved his hands distractedly. ‘Spies! Two English spies! And I know one of them. Conrad Etriech.’ He spat the name out. ‘Etriech’s a crafty devil but I got the better of him.’
Schuhbeck could make nothing of this. This little man might be dressed as a colonel but he didn’t act like a colonel. How dare he come bursting in to his hospital with a bunch of guttersnipe soldiers and a lieutenant who looked as if he should be still in kindergarten? And how dare he threaten to arrest him? The thing was outrageous. Spies? Why should any spy want to come here? And why the devil should an English spy have a German name? The whole thing was ridiculous.
He glared at the lieutenant. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Let me explain, sir,’ said Lieutenant Keller. ‘We were on a routine patrol on the Rempart de Malines road, when we heard a muffled shouting amongst the trees. We went to investigate and found the Colonel and his driver tied up and gagged.’
‘I was attacked! Ruthlessly attacked!’ put in Baumann. ‘Conrad Etriech attacked me!’
‘The Colonel,’ continued the Lieutenant, ‘told us what had happened. The driver had no uniform. The spies had taken it. I dispatched a man to inform Captain Malik what had occurred and, following the Colonel’s instructions, came here.’
‘You were attacked?’ repeated Schuhbeck in bewilderment, looking at the Colonel.
‘Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Attacked! Are you deaf, man?’
‘No, sir,’ said Schuhbeck evenly, ‘but it sounds an extraordinary story. Excuse me, sir, but who are you?’
‘Me?’ shrieked the little man. ‘I am Colonel Baumann. I am your commanding officer!’
‘Colonel Baumann?’ Schuhbeck shook his head in disbelief. He looked at Lieutenant Keller. ‘There must be some mistake. We were expecting a Colonel Baumann to arrive but there was a mistake in the movement orders. Colonel Lieben has been assigned to this hospital. He arrived the best part of an hour ago.’
‘I knew it!’ yelped Baumann. ‘That impudent devil of a spy has strolled in to my hospital! Didn’t you suspect anything?’ he demanded of the luckless Schuhbeck.
‘No, sir, I—’
‘Didn’t you ask to see his papers?’
‘No, sir. There didn’t seem any necessity to examine the Colonel’s papers.’
‘He wasn’t the Colonel! I’m the Colonel! You saw the spy, you fool!’
Schuhbeck had been engrained in the traditions of the Imperial Army and to question a superior was almost beyond imagination. However, the word ‘fool’ stung.
‘You’re quite right, sir. I should have asked to see his papers. Can I see yours?’
Baumann stared at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Your papers, sir. After all, I only have your word for it that you are Colonel Baumann.’
‘I cannot show you my papers because they were stolen by the spy,’ said Baumann in a voice that was chipped out of icicles.
‘So we have no proof that you are Colonel Baumann.’
‘I was attacked and tied up!’
‘As you say, sir, but it could be a plan to gain entry to the hospital.’
‘I don’t need a plan to gain entry to the hospital,’ Baumann snapped. ‘I’m in charge!’ He stopped and wearily wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘What did the spy do when he arrived?’
‘He carried out a brief inspection and then asked to be shown to his rooms.’
Baumann whirled on the lieutenant triumphantly. ‘After him, man! We can still catch him.’
Lieutenant Keller looked at Major Schuhbeck. ‘Can you show us the way, sir?’
‘Very well, Lieutenant.’
In his heart of hearts, Schuhbeck knew there must be some mistake. True, this little irate man was the sort of person he had expected, but the other colonel – the real colonel, he thought wistfully – was so very much more the sort of man he had hoped for. ‘But why should any spy come here?’
‘Who knows why a man like that does anything?’ demanded Baumann. ‘Come on!’
Schuhbeck was far too well disciplined to let his feelings show. He couldn’t understand what had actually happened, but he hoped that they would find the colonel – the real colonel – in his rooms.
Then it would all be explained; this ridiculous talk of spies would be quashed, and, with any luck, this irritating jumped-up civilian would discover which hospital he’d actually been posted to and leave them alone. They could keep the real colonel and, at the very least, he could have his lunch. ‘Very well, Colonel,’ he said, with the merest suspicion of a shrug. ‘Follow me.’
Schuhbeck strode along the corridor to the Colonel’s rooms, Lieutenant Keller and his men behind, with Colonel Baumann bringing up the rear.
He was just about to knock when the Lieutenant intervened. ‘Allow me, sir,’ he said, drawing his pistol.
With a nod to his men, he opened the door and swung it back on its hinges. An empty desk and chair greeted his eyes. Relaxing slightly, Lieutenant Kell
er made way for Major Schuhbeck, who was radiating annoyance.
‘He’s somewhere in here!’ asserted Baumann, pushing his way through to the front. ‘Search the rooms and make sure you do it thoroughly.’
Under Baumann’s increasingly febrile instructions, Keller’s men searched the office, the bathroom, the sitting room and the bedroom. They paid particular attention to the monumental wardrobe, and looked both in and under the bed.
Schuhbeck stepped back as the men prodded the bolster with their bayonets. He took a malicious pleasure in the fact that the bed was not only empty but had been rendered completely useless for anyone wishing to sleep in it. Feathers filled the air from the ripped bolster.
‘He’s not here,’ he said grimly. That was a shame. He really hoped the colonel would appear and put this ridiculous little man in his place.
Lieutenant Keller crossed to the open window. ‘He must’ve escaped this way,’ he said, looking down to the garden.
‘That’s it!’ agreed Baumann excitedly. ‘After him, Lieutenant!’ He bustled back into the office. ‘Quickly!’
The lieutenant saluted and, followed by his men, left the room.
‘Not you, Major,’ added Baumann, as Schuhbeck went to follow them. He drew out a chair from the desk and sank into it. ‘Please ensure that I am informed immediately the spies are apprehended. I won’t have a minute’s rest until I know they are safely under lock and key.’
‘As you say, sir,’ said Schuhbeck.
Spies, he thought rebelliously. He didn’t know what had really happened but the thought of English spies walking into his hospital was absolute nonsense. However, if this wretched little man said he was the Colonel, then perhaps he’d like to act as if he was the Colonel.
‘Excuse me, Colonel, but will you inspect the hospital now or later?’ From his tone, no one could have suspected Schuhbeck of anything other than an earnest desire to follow the correct procedure. He took an unholy delight in Baumann’s reaction.
‘Inspect the hospital?’ Baumann’s voice was a disbelieving squeak. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses, Major? The spies are still at large and may appear at any moment. My life has been threatened. Threatened, I say! I will inspect the hospital when the spies are captured and I have sufficiently recovered and not before.’ He lit a cigarette and pulled at it nervously. ‘Send an orderly to me with a pot of coffee – good coffee, mind – and let me have some peace.’
The Price of Silence Page 19
