He squeezed Milly’s shoulders. ‘So they substituted Milly for Rosie in the convent, brought her here from Belgium and kept her under wraps until they knew that you, Diefenbach, were back in England. That’s the Prussian mind for you. They could’ve used any little girl from that orphanage, but because they’d used Milly once before, they used her again. Thinking what happened in the cave, it’s just as well for us they did.’
Paul buried his head in his hands. ‘Rosie’s safe,’ he repeated. ‘Safe with Yvonne.’ He looked up. ‘You’re right. If it wasn’t for the threat to Rosie, I would never have gone along with their plan. If I hadn’t been there to authorize the shipment, Crichton at the bank wouldn’t have agreed to let the gold go.’
‘We saw him earlier today,’ said Anthony. ‘He was delighted when we told him you were acting under coercion.’
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Forester’s smug expression. ‘Yes, he was delighted,’ repeated Anthony, louder. ‘Even when we found a stash of false papers in the secret safe in your office, he still believed in you.’
‘What papers?’ asked Paul, puzzled.
‘The papers that seem to prove, beyond doubt, that you were working for the German government.’
‘What?’
‘That was, I might say, a bit of an own goal,’ said Anthony, turning to Brown and Forester. ‘Those papers were meant to be found after Diefenbach had been reported missing together with twenty million dollars in gold. However, for the plan to work, amongst the papers were accurate directions to where this place was.’
‘I just don’t understand,’ said Paul.
‘Don’t you? These crooks wanted to get rid of you, Diefenbach. You’d changed your views. You were a dangerous man, with first-hand knowledge of Belgium and a great deal of influence in America. You might even change your father’s views. He’d probably never support the Allies, but I bet you’d dissuade him from supporting Germany.’
‘That’s for sure,’ agreed Paul.
‘Now just think what should’ve happened. The gold had gone, supposedly taken by you, but where are you? Not in your office in the Capital and Counties, but drowned in a cave on the east coast.’
‘I’m beginning to get it,’ breathed Paul. ‘Dad would never believe I’d been killed by his people.’
‘Yes,’ said Anthony. ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? By the time your body was found – and our two pals left us directions so your body was certain to be found – there wouldn’t be any doubt in your father’s mind that you’d been murdered by the British, especially after Brown and Forester had sworn they’d left you safe and well. That cellar door would’ve been left open, as an invitation to explore below, and there you would be. Drowned, of course, but you’d expect the British to make sure you’d died of natural causes.’
Paul nodded slowly. ‘You’re right. Dad would have gone to his grave believing I’d been murdered by the British.’ His mouth set in a thin line. ‘He’s going to hear the truth and by the time I’ve finished, not one cent more will find its way to Germany.’
Anthony carefully wrapped a blanket round the sleeping Milly and settled her down in the car.
Sir Charles gave instructions to the driver and climbed into the back seat beside Anthony. The car bumped off down the cliff path, away from Jainfleet House.
‘It’s funny how things work out,’ said Sir Charles, looking down at Milly. ‘She’s such a little scrap of a thing, no one would ever believe she could overthrow the plans of that cold-blooded bunch of crooks.’ His voice was oddly soft. ‘You went to Louvain to save her, and she ended up saving you. We must see she’s looked after, Brooke. She’s a great kid.’
‘I hope so,’ said Anthony, resting his hand on Milly’s hair. ‘She’s going to be my daughter.’
AUTHOR’S NOTE
In their landmark book, German Atrocities 1914: A History of Denial, the Trinity College, Dublin, historians, Alan Kramer and John Horne discuss how retrospective disillusionment with the war (the depression of the 1930s fuelled the mood) and skepticism of wartime propaganda led to the belief that German atrocity stories were the invention of the wartime Allied governments. Although there were, of course, exaggerations, a few minutes’ conversations on the subject with almost any Belgian will bring up stories of what their grandparents and great-grandparents endured.
It was the scale of the deprivation in Belgium that led to the founding by Herbert Hoover (the future USA president) of the extraordinary American Relief Administration for Belgium. He persuaded the German authorities to allow him to import food to Belgium and persuaded the British authorities to export it from British ports. At its peak, the organization was feeding ten and half million people daily. The references to ‘saintly Americans’ in the story are taken directly from contemporary accounts, as is the description of the destruction of St Pierre.
The White Lady was also a real organization, founded by Henry Landau, a South African. His book, The Spy Net, which he had to publish in America because of the British Official Secrets Act, gives some astonishing accounts of the bread-and-butter work done by his spies – some of whom were nuns! Lucien Voltèche, the people smuggler who got Anthony across the Dodendraad, was a real person whose exploits are recorded in The Spy Net. His escapade with Anthony and his aunty, the bargee, are, however, figments of my imagination.
In a historical mystery, it can be fun to draw from real life. Automobiles de Luxe was a genuine firm, hiring out Rolls-Royces at the stated price. I’m glad to say, though, that as far as I know, none of their employees were murdered at the wheel. That, too, was a figment of my imagination.
I hope you enjoyed the book. Thank you for reading!
The Price of Silence Page 28
