Where Death and Danger Go

by V M Knox

  Before him were two maps of Britain. One was of the country’s entire electricity network with the location of every substation in every county clearly marked. Clement stared at the document, his jaw dropping. His gaze shifted to the other blueprint. This one showed, in detail, the telephone and radio communication networks across Britain. Even bus stops and church spires were labelled, along with the names of rivers and bridges.

  ‘Dear Lord! This must have taken years to compile,’ he whispered, thinking of exchange students on bicycles. Britain’s entire infrastructure recorded in detail and now about to be in the hands of the nation’s enemy.

  Clement slumped into a chair and, leaning into his hands, covered his face with both palms. He needed to think. He knew what they intended. And from what he’d seen, it had the potential to be successful. Time was critical but what would trigger the coup? It had to be an event so momentous that it was guaranteed to be broadcast to the nation. He needed to speak to Nora or Johnny. Clement paused, his head still resting in his hands. Armstrong. Was he alive? If he was, Clement reasoned, he wouldn’t be content to lie in some remote farmhouse recuperating. He would want to be where the uprising was to take place. Clement went to the telephone. He waited while the number was connected. ‘Miss Cunningham, is Johnny in?’

  ‘Not yet, Major. Can I help?’

  ‘I need to know, as a matter of real urgency, where Michael Hasluck’s parents are and what exactly his father does in government.’

  ‘Where are you, Major?’

  ‘Cambridge Police Station.’

  ‘I’ll do my best. But wouldn’t the boy’s school be quicker? They would have this information.’

  Clement heard the words.

  ‘Major? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes…’ Clement paused. ‘Miss Cunningham, do you have the headmaster’s name on file?’

  ‘I understand you’ve met him. The school should be able to give you this information also.’

  ‘Please, Miss Cunningham. This is important.’

  ‘Very well. We called the school recently when you telephoned Superintendent Morris to remove the boy. We’ll have it here, just a minute.’

  Clement heard her place the receiver on a table. He had to wait no more than a few minutes. ‘His name is Hetherington. Arnold Hetherington.’

  ‘Don’t involve the school at all, Miss Cunningham.’

  ‘As you wish. I’ll be in touch when I have the information about the Haslucks.’

  Clement sat in the chair facing the large window that overlooked St Andrew’s Street. Michael still slept on the stretcher bed beside him. Outside, he heard a vehicle pull up. Standing, he went to the window and looked out. Below, he saw a large police vehicle with a black windowless hearse behind it. His heart sank but he couldn’t face Reg yet. His anguish and grief would have to wait.

  Ten minutes later there was a soft knock at the door and Kendall came in. ‘Sergeant Naylor is downstairs, sir, when you’re ready. Also, I spoke to the publican at The Crown and Punchbowl. He was held at gunpoint and not freed until sometime after the explosion. The Scot is dead. Died at the scene. According to the publican, a priest came with the two young men and took Armstrong and the deceased man away. The publican says he was instructed to remain inside the inn for an hour after they’d gone. When he did venture outside, he saw debris and a large amount of blood on the gravel drive.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ Clement said. He let out a long sigh. The Scot was dead but Armstrong lived, although injured. Clement turned to the window and stared at the bright sunlit morning as images of Reg flashed again in his mind. Salty tears stung his eyes. Taking his handkerchief from his pocket he blew his nose. As exhausted as he was, he couldn’t rest. Not while Armstrong’s whereabouts remained unknown. Clement began to think. Armstrong would know he’d search for him. Therefore, Armstrong would avoid all the places Clement knew about. ‘Where would you go?’ Clement whispered.

  He wondered about the Abbey School. If he were correct about A.H. initials, Hetherington could be hiding Armstrong, but how likely was it that Ramsey would be the starting place of a coup? Clement shook his head. Ramsey wasn’t central enough, nor important enough. Neither, really, was Cambridge. He felt certain that wherever the coup was to take place, injured or not, that was where Armstrong would be.

  The telephone on the table rang.

  He jumped from the seat. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Major?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Cunningham.’

  ‘Michael’s father is Sir Cedric Hasluck, a senior public servant with the Foreign Office. He and Lady Ellen Hasluck are currently in Portugal.’

  ‘Where would I find Corporal Hughes currently?’

  ‘Here.’

  ‘I’ll be on the first train.’

  Chapter 27

  Clement hung up. He glanced at the clock. All being well, he could be in Whitehall before two o’clock. His eye hurt. And he needed sleep. But this couldn’t wait. Closing the door to the meeting room, he returned downstairs and found Sergeant Kendall. ‘Any news about Superintendent Morris?’

  Kendall nodded. ‘He’s through the surgery. The doctor said that while he lost a lot of blood, none of the bones were damaged so he’s hopeful that Superintendent Morris will have the use of his arm although there may be some nerve damage. He’ll have his arm in a sling for a while.’

  ‘That is good news. You’ll look after the boy? He still isn’t completely out of danger, Sergeant.’

  ‘I’m about to go off duty, sir, so I can take Michael home with me now. He’ll be right as rain, Major Wisdom.’

  ‘I need to go to London, Kendall. Could one of your constables drive me to the station?’

  ‘You really should rest. It was quite a night for you, sir and your injuries aren’t yet completely healed.’

  ‘You are probably right, Sergeant. I’ve no doubt that I must look unkempt but I cannot rest until this is done.’

  Kendall reached for a set of keys. ‘You’re in no fit state to travel on the trains. I’ll have a constable drive you to London.’ Kendall paused, his voice almost a whisper, ‘Mr Naylor is downstairs, if you’d like to see him before you go.’

  Clement fought the tears. ‘Not yet, thank you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Did you find anything on him, I mean in his pockets?’

  ‘Something in particular?’ Kendall asked.

  ‘Rolls of undeveloped film.’

  ‘Nothing, I’m afraid.’

  As he and the constable left the building, Clement cast his eye towards the Lagonda. He wondered if anyone would attempt to break into the police station to access the vehicle. Surely Armstrong would surmise the blueprints had been found but Clement wasn’t taking any chances. He returned to the duty desk. ‘Sergeant Kendall, please make sure that the Lagonda is securely locked up here. No one is to take it anywhere or have access to it for any reason.’

  ‘Understood, sir,’ Kendall replied.

  The constable drove the police car quickly through the back lanes of Cambridgeshire. Clement sat beside him in the front seat. Neither spoke. As they left the pastures of the countryside, the afternoon light was bathing the fields in the vibrant glow of a summer’s afternoon. Just after half past twelve they entered the northern outskirts of London and forty minutes later the constable pulled the car into Whitehall Place. Thanking him, Clement hurried towards the familiar entry.

  ‘Good afternoon, Major,’ Nora said, her hands still hovering over the typewriter keys. I believe you know Miss Cunningham?’

  Clement smiled. ‘I apologize, ladies, for my appearance.’

  ‘They are expecting you. Just go straight in,’ Nora smiled.

  Clement knocked on Johnny’s door and entered. A group of men looked up as he walked in. The number of people seated in Johnny’s office surprised Clement. Johnny stood. Clement thought his old friend’s face looked strained but then he realised his probably looked worse. C was standing by the window. Sitting to one side of Johnny’s desk was
Colonel Gubbins, although from his uniform Clement could see he was now a brigadier, and another man in plainclothes sat in a chair facing the others. Clement wondered if he should salute. To him, the gesture seemed out of place. Glancing at the faces, he decided against it. Two empty chairs sat on the other side of Johnny’s desk. One would be for C, the other, he guessed, was for him.

  Johnny indicated the chair. ‘Clement, let me introduce you. Brigadier Gubbins you know.’

  ‘Sir,’ Clement said, his eyes going to the other man.

  ‘And this is the Minister for Economic Warfare, Dr Hugh Dalton, Clement.’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘Be seated, Major. I understand you have encountered some problems,’ C said, returning to his chair.

  Clement sat as instructed.

  ‘Captain Winthorpe has brought us up to date with events. So what brings you here so urgently, Major?’ C said.

  Clement glanced around the group. ‘Three things, sir. Hugh Armstrong has disappeared. He needs to be found. Wherever he is, that is where the coup will take place.’

  ‘And the second?’ C said.

  ‘A small boy is central to everything. Right now, he is in the safe care of Sergeant Kendall of Cambridge Police. Michael was kidnapped to ensure his father did as this group require. May I ask why Sir Cedric is in Portugal and what exactly he does for our government?’

  ‘Sir Cedric liaises with both industry and government. He has been instrumental in us sourcing vital raw materials for the manufacturing and hardening of steel components for our munitions and aircraft factories. He’s in Portugal because they have large deposits of tungsten. Needless to say, the Germans are also after these resources.’

  ‘I understand Sir Cedric Hasluck flies himself to these meetings?’ Clement asked.

  ‘That’s correct,’ Dalton replied.

  ‘Was he there recently?’

  ‘He is there currently,’ C said.

  ‘With respect, sir, I don’t think so.’

  C reached for the telephone on Johnny’s desk. ‘Get me the Foreign Office.’

  Clement looked at the faces in the room as telephone lines were being connected. A minute later C spoke, ‘I need to know exactly where Sir Cedric Hasluck is?’

  Some minutes passed while C listened. He rang off, his hand still holding the telephone receiver. He depressed the dial tone buttons and spoke again with an operator. ‘Get me our embassy in Lisbon.’

  Clement glanced at the men in the room. All were grim-faced and no one spoke. Clement didn’t really know if Hasluck had been the other man in the lorry. It was a hunch. A strong one but a hunch nonetheless.

  ‘I wish to speak with Sir Cedric Hasluck, Sir Stewart Menzies speaking,’ C paused. ‘What! Why weren’t we informed?’ C rang off. Everyone in the room waited.

  ‘He isn’t there. Left Lisbon over a week ago.’

  The room was silent.

  Clement thought back; six days ago he and Reg had seen Michael taken by boat from Trinity Hall steps. He’d been transferred from the college to Hitcham Hall. That had also been the morning Clement had been kidnapped and imprisoned in the cellar of Caius College. In his mind, Clement heard Sir Hector’s voice telling his son to bring the other one. Clement now believed that man to have been Sir Cedric. He had flown Haushofer out of England sometime between February and May; most likely landing in Portugal on one of his many trips to negotiate tungsten contracts there. Clement’s thoughts raced. If Hasluck had flown Haushofer to Portugal, then his son, Michael, was kidnapped to compel Hasluck to fly another; the grey-haired man he’d recently seen at Hitcham Hall.

  ‘Of course!’ Clement said.

  ‘Major?’ C said.

  Clement explained.

  ‘So who is this grey-haired man?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you know who they are waiting for?’ C asked.

  ‘I don’t know that either.’

  C looked across at Johnny and Dalton. ‘Perhaps you should be made aware of something, Major. It’s classified as Most Secret and carries that security level.’ Menzies paused. ‘But, it has a bearing on the current situation. We are aware of several members of our own upper classes endeavouring to bring about peace through negotiated talks with the Nazis. The Prime Minister is aware of it but believes it is completely misguided and has chosen to keep it secret. Even a member of our royal family is involved, so needless to say, we must tread carefully. We know that some of these people met with Haushofer and Rudolf Hess in both Spain and Portugal between February and April. We also know that Hasluck flew them there. That much you are correct about. But, are you really expecting us to believe that a senior member of our royal family would be involved with murderous thugs like this Hugh Armstrong?’

  Clement swallowed hard. ‘I think they are being manipulated, sir. They may have good intentions but they are being subverted. The real purpose is total control through a coup d’état. The Nazis and some influential Englishmen, through the resurgence of the Right Club and Nordic League, and by using the Freemasonry network, do not intend a negotiated peace. And they never have.’

  ‘Well what do they want?’ Dalton said.

  ‘Nazi rule, sir. They want Britain to be controlled from Berlin and for life under British democracy to be eradicated. They are completely ruthless and prepared to do anything to bring it about. I know they intend to free Rudolf Hess. And I believe it is their intention to assassinate the Prime Minister. And, he may not be the only one.’

  ‘And you’ve come to this theory because of one dead man in a field in Cambridgeshire?’ Dalton said.

  ‘Yes,’ Clement said. His mind was racing but it was all he could say.

  ‘Who was this man?’ C asked.

  ‘His name was John Nicolson.’

  Gubbins sat forward, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair, his eyes fixed on Clement.

  Clement felt the piercing stare. He told them what he knew about the dead man with the faint blue thread in his turned-up trousers that matched his sister’s coat.

  ‘So that’s what happened to him,’ Gubbins said. ‘He was one of mine, Wisdom. He worked for me in a highly secret capacity. He’s been missing for several months. He made his last contact with us five months ago from his location in Norway. He said he was working on infiltrating a Nazi-led, non-military invasion of Britain. That was his description. He was given complete autonomy to go wherever he deemed he needed to be. And he preferred to work alone.’ Gubbins looked directly at Clement. ‘He said he already knew some of the people involved so he would be the best person for the job. When his transmissions ceased, we assumed he was either captured or dead.’

  Clement looked at Gubbins. ‘Somehow his infiltration was discovered and that must be why he was chosen to make the rendezvous with Haushofer, who shot him. Michael Hasluck witnessed Haushofer in Armstrong’s car. Had Superintendent Morris and I not gone to the school to ask questions, the boy may not have been kidnapped. But as we did, the headmaster, who I believe is also a member of this group, became aware that young Hasluck had seen something and so the boy was taken which guaranteed Sir Cedric’s continued cooperation.’

  ‘If Hasluck flew Haushofer out of England in late April, why was his boy kidnapped six weeks later? It doesn’t make any sense,’ Dalton said.

  ‘Perhaps Michael’s kidnap was initially only a threat to compel Sir Cedric to return Haushofer to Europe. But when Hetherington told them what Michael had seen, and that we knew about it, that threat became reality and Sir Cedric continued to be manipulated,’ Clement added.

  ‘So where is Hasluck now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  The tension in the room was almost electric. Johnny twiddled a pen while C paced the room. Gubbins and Dalton waited. No one spoke.

  Clement looked out the window behind Johnny’s desk. A barrage balloon floated above the city. ‘What airfield would Sir Cedric use to fly in and out of England?’

  ‘One close to his home would
be my guess,’ Johnny said.

  ‘They’re waiting for someone,’ Clement said. ‘The man with grey hair said that Teddy would be here soon.’

  ‘Who’s Teddy?’ Johnny said.

  Clement shook his head.

  ‘So where’s this revolution to take place?’ Dalton asked.

  ‘Find Hugh Armstrong and we’ll know the answer to that,’ Clement said.

  ‘I think we all know what a successful coup would mean for us,’ Dalton said.

  C looked at Clement. ‘Can you think of any place where Hugh Armstrong would go? Somewhere familiar to him. Somewhere where he is known and where he considers he will be safe?’

  Clement stared at the portraits on the wall for no other reason than to rack his brains. He was tired. He gazed at the paintings around him, the stern faces of long-dead generals and admirals. Where would Armstrong go?

  Clement leaned forward in his chair, his mind overflowing with thoughts. ‘Does the Prime Minister have any official engagements in public places in the next few days?’

  ‘What are you thinking, Wisdom?’ Dalton asked.

  ‘For this coup to work, Mr Churchill needs to be eliminated.’ Clement paused, his mind was racing, trying to recall everything he’d overheard the grey-haired man say. He visualised Bainbridge and the man on the porch at Hitcham Hall. ‘They intend to replace him with Hess.’

  Silence.

  ‘Dear God!’ Dalton said.

  ‘I’ll check the official calendar,’ Nora said. She dashed from the room, her heels like a drum-roll on the floor outside Johnny’s office. She returned almost immediately and placed a large file on Johnny’s desk, then started to leaf through the pages.