by Murray Pura
“A fistfight is the least of Lord Tanner’s worries.”
“You see? You’re spoiling for a battle with that monster.”
“You want Charles back, don’t you?”
“Of course I want him back. But not at the expense of losing you. And as much as I love my son and miss him, I don’t want him back at gunpoint. He comes willingly back to England or he doesn’t come at all.”
“Suppose he wants to come but Lord Tanner won’t let him? What then?”
Caroline stared at her husband. “I don’t know.”
“I couldn’t very well leave him behind in Nazi Germany, could I? Not if he pleaded with me to bring him home. Tanner or no Tanner. Hitler or no Hitler.”
“For heaven’s sake, Kipp Danforth, don’t use this whole affair as an excuse to start another war.”
“I don’t want to start another war. I just want to make you happy.”
“I am happy. I’m ecstatic. I love being here with you and Matt and Cecilia.”
“I’ve let you down plenty enough in my lifetime. I need to make everything right.”
“Oh, everything is right.” She got up and sat on his lap, running her hands through his hair. “My golden boy. How I love you. How I’ve always loved you. There’s nothing more you need to do. I know how much you care for me. I don’t want you getting yourself killed to prove it.” She gave him a long kiss on the lips. “Promise me.”
He put his arms around her. “Promise you what?”
“No Kipp Danforth heroics. No taking on Herr Hitler and the Third Reich. No tossing Lord Tanner Buchanan in the River Spree in Berlin.”
Kipp responded to her kisses with kisses of his own. “I won’t toss him in the River Spree.”
“Or any river?”
“Or any river.”
“No pistols at dawn? No rapiers?”
He put his lips to her throat. “None of that, my love. And no jousting from horseback either.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as tightly as she could. “I’m glad Matt and Cecilia are with their cousins this morning.”
“So am I.”
March, 1938
Nazi troops crossed the border into Austria on March 12 as Hitler once again defied the Treaty of Versailles by annexing the Austrian nation to Germany. Lord Tanner defended the action in his first broadcasts to Britain as the English-speaking announcer in the Ministry of Propaganda. He claimed the Anschluss had the support of the vast majority of the Austrian people and that Germany existed once more in its historic entirety.
Hitler himself visited Braunau, his Austrian birthplace, that afternoon. On the fifteenth he was at the center of a huge rally in Vienna. Lord Tanner reported on this event as well for his British listeners. He repeated Hitler’s announcement at the Heldenplatz: “Als Führer und Kanzler der deutschen Nation und des Reiches melde ich vor der deutschen Geschichte nunmehr den Eintritt meiner Heimat in das Deutsche Reich—As leader and chancellor of the German nation and Reich, I announce to German history now the entry of my homeland into the German Reich.”
“There is much love for Herr Hitler in Austria,” broadcast Tanner. “It’s overwhelming. Compare it to the absence of affection for your current prime minister in Britain, Mr. Neville Chamberlain. It’s like night and day, isn’t it? Have you watched the newsreels? Have you seen the cheering crowds? The Germans come as liberators to the Austrian people, not conquerors. Shouldn’t Britain benefit from the same sort of liberation? Wouldn’t her economy improve as rapidly as that of the Third Reich? Aren’t Germany and Britain the staunch allies of Waterloo? The day must come when London is festooned with Nazi flags as Vienna is today. The day must come when crowds swarm Hyde Park with cheers and Nazi salutes as Herr Hitler proclaims the inclusion of Britain into the Greater Germanic Empire. Pray that day may come speedily, Great Britain, aye, as speedily as possible, for on that day you truly will be great again.”
Two days later, on St. Patrick’s Day, Thursday, March 17, the aircraft carrying Flying Officer Kipp Danforth and a number of other RAF officials touched down in Berlin. On March 19, Baron von Isenburg met with Kipp at the café in front of the hotel where the Danforth family had stayed during the Berlin Olympics. They both ordered coffee and chatted a few moments. Immaculate in his black SS uniform, the baron eventually leaned forward across the table.
“Himmler and the SS are making thousands of arrests in Austria—Jews, Communists, Austrian nationalists,” he said in a low voice. “It’s only the beginning. Between now and this plebiscite they want to hold on the reunification of Austria with Germany, there will be many thousands more. Some are being sent to concentration camps to wither and die. Others are of special interest and will be interrogated thoroughly. My castle is being chosen as the place to imprison some of the most important—hundreds of them. So the prisoners we have now are going to be executed or sent to camps where they will be worked to death.” He paused. “I must get Eva out of the castle and out of Germany. Is there any way you can help me?”
“Baron. I understand. But I can’t possibly—”
“I beg of you. I have treated Eva harshly enough. I must give her an opportunity to choose liberty over the Third Reich and its growing list of monstrosities. How long are you here? Can you not smuggle her aboard your aircraft? I would have her drugged.”
“The RAF would never permit that, Baron.”
“Is there some other means?” His eyes were dark with pain. “I beg of you,” he repeated.
Kipp drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “There may be something I can do.” Kipp looked at the afternoon traffic. “I’m here about four weeks. Till just after Easter. There may be something I can arrange. But not with aircraft.”
“Please. It would mean the world to me.”
“I will do what I can. How can I reach you?”
“I will be in touch with you on a regular basis.” The baron leaned back and sipped at his coffee. “In return I will do something for you and your charming wife.”
“Baron, there is no need—”
“I will arrange for Lord Tanner to release Charles to your care, and I will personally clear any possible obstructions to his return to England.”
Kipp stared. “How can you do all that?”
“My connections within the SS extend to Himmler himself.”
“But there is bound to be trouble. Lord Tanner will cause a disturbance.”
“There will not be trouble. There will not be a disturbance.” The baron continued to sip at his coffee. “Just keep your end of the bargain. To a special friend of your father.”
Kipp finally brought his own coffee to his mouth. “I will do that, sir. Depend on it.”
Two days later a note was hand delivered to Kipp at the hotel by an SS courier on a motorbike.
Kipp,
Eva has been transferred to a concentration camp in Germany. There was nothing I could do to halt it other than order her to be shot on the spot. This will cause some delay, but I will get her out and to the location you choose for a rendezvous. I shall contact you every other day and meet with you in person whenever I am in Berlin. Proceed with your plans. Make every possible effort. I will bring Eva to you if I have to tear Nazi Germany in half to do it.
Baron von Isenburg
5
March 29, 1938
Ashton Park
“Harrison! Where are you? Confound that man! Harrison!” Holly scanned the landscape looking for her husband.
A head with a fedora on top popped up from behind a bush. “Did you have to make so much noise? I had the fox eating right out of my hand.”
Holly narrowed her eyes. “Out of your hand? I thought you were going to do away with him once you’d caught him.”
“He won’t bother our sheep or chickens now that he knows he can eat here without any effort.”
“What a peculiar groundskeeper you are.”
“You married him, love.”
“I d
id.” Holly was in a tweed jacket, pants, tall black riding boots, and a pith helmet.
“You’re dressed oddly.”
“Thank you very much.”
“Are you Dr. Livingstone today then?”
“I am not. I am Lady Holly on safari. Care to join me?”
“I should like that very much.”
“Jolly good. But no getting lions to eat out of the palm of your hand, good sir.”
“No fear of that. I only get Lady Holly to do that when I’m on an expedition.”
“Ha.” She handed him an envelope. “This came from a courier just now. The letter came in a diplomatic pouch from our embassy in Berlin.”
“Diplomatic pouch?”
“I fear you’re moving up in the world. Or perhaps the Harrison I’ve loved so many years isn’t a humble groundskeeper at all. It may be you work for MI6. It may be you’re a spy.”
Harrison opened the envelope. “Anything is possible in these troubled times.” He read the letter and his good nature was gone. “Oh dear. I’m afraid I must leave for Germany at once, Holly. A flight out of Liverpool has been arranged for this afternoon.”
“What on earth is going on?”
He put the letter in her hand. “Read it for yourself.”
She scanned it quickly. “My heavens. What is Kipp up to?” Her face had whitened. “You’re too old for this sort of derring-do, love. Let the younger men ferret Eva and Charles out of Nazi Germany.”
“He’s asked for my help. When have I ever denied your family my service?”
“Harrison, you have been a good and faithful friend to the Danforth family from time immemorial. Lord Preston would never expect this of you. It’s extremely dangerous. If the SS get ahold of any of you they’ll shoot you dead and burn your bodies. There will never be any proof of what they did. And that includes Lord Kipp. As well as his faithful servant.”
“You can’t expect me to say no.”
“Of course I can.”
“And leave young Kipp in the lurch? To be shot and stabbed and tortured? Because I wasn’t there? Because I kowtowed to a pack of goose-stepping bounders? That will not happen in my lifetime, Lady Holly, not if I had a million lifetimes.”
Holly dropped her hands to her side and groaned. “No, I expect not.”
April 5, 1938
Harrison’s hotel room, Berlin
“They look at me as a bit of snob now, you see,” Kipp said. “Must have my personal valet with me at all times. Must have my servant. After all, I’m Lord Kipp, RAF swank, upper crust, English nobility, all that rot. I hate to give them that impression but it’s working in our favor.”
“It is right enough.”
Harrison and Kipp were bent over a map at one in the morning. Kipp tapped it with his finger.
“According to Baron von Isenburg, young Charles will be as docile as a lamb, and Lord Tanner himself will ensure the boy knows his place,” said Kipp. “Whatever leverage the baron and the SS have on Tanner must be considerable. I’ve only met Tanner the once since I’ve been here, and he never caused any trouble, never even raised an eyebrow.”
“Good-oh,” responded Harrison. “So I continue to hang about with you and fetch your things and bow and curtsy and all. What happens Good Friday?”
“You collect Charles and stay with him here in this room. I have no official duties Easter Sunday. I’ll come by then. The three of us will head out on a bit of a sightseeing trip. The camp is four hours from Berlin. The baron will be waiting for us with Eva. We’ll be in SS uniforms. It’s meant to look clandestine because the idea is we’re collecting Eva to take her to her execution, you see. That’s what the camp commandant understands. The drive to the camp actually brings us closer to our destination in France by two hours. We should be in Calais early Monday morning while it’s still dark. We’ll have shed our uniforms before we reach the French border. A ship will be waiting in Calais. I can’t cross the Channel with you—I must return to England with the RAF group on Wednesday morning.”
“Right.” Harrison rubbed his jaw. “The boat knows what’s up?”
“Not at all. Only the captain. To the crew we’re just paying customers traveling cheap by taking a cargo ship.” Kipp glanced up from the map. “Are you sure you’re fine with all this skulduggery?”
“ ’Course I am. Don’t take a few gray hairs as a sign I’m ready to be wheeled about and fed baby food with a spoon, Lord Kipp.”
“The one loose bit in my mind is Buchanan. I still think he may try something. Perhaps on the road out of Berlin. I don’t know if he might not follow us, him and a pack of his cronies, and do some mischief. After all, he has powerful friends in the Nazi hierarchy himself. He works for Goebbels and the Ministry of Propaganda. He might appear meek as a lamb now, but he’s a proud man. I can’t believe he won’t try to strike out at us in some fashion.”
“We can handle him. I owe Buchanan one for the beating he gave me with that walking stick of his. I’d love to have the chance to make a scarf out of that stick and wrap it snugly about his neck.”
“Don’t be too eager. God may grant you your wish.”
“I hope so. I’ve given up ale and chips for Lent, and I trust the Lord has taken note of that.”
On April 15, Good Friday, after more than a week of running about after Kipp and ferrying his briefcase and bowing and scraping to him and high-ranking RAF and Luftwaffe officers, Harrison held steady in his hotel room and waited for the knock. It came at noon. Lord Tanner was at the door, swastika armband on his suit jacket, his hands resting on Charles’s shoulders. Charles was dressed in a new suit and wore a swastika armband as well. His face was a death mask as he glared at Harrison.
“I’ve done what I’ve been ordered to do,” Lord Tanner said. “See that no harm comes to him.”
“I’ll get him safely to his mother,” Harrison replied.
Lord Tanner glanced about the room. “Just you in here, Harrison?”
“That’s right.”
“No shotguns under the bed?”
“No, sir. None are needed. Though I see you still carry your silver walking stick about with you.”
“Does that trouble you, Harrison?”
“Not at all. You’ll never land a blow on my back with that thing again.”
“You think not?”
“I am quite certain of it, Lord Tanner.”
“I may disappoint you.”
Harrison grinned. “It wouldn’t disappoint me if you tried. Tying a knot at your throat with it would give me the greatest pleasure. Bring two or three canes with you when you call again. A triple knot in the tie is my specialty.”
Harrison steered a stone-like Charles into the room and shut the door.
“Can I get you something to eat or drink, lad?” he asked.
“I don’t need a thing.”
“You needn’t be afraid. We’re getting you home to your mother, nothing more.”
“I’m not at all afraid. I’ve been ordered to go to England and I shall obey and accompany you there. Then I shall join the British Union of Fascists. I shall help change that country from the inside out so that Nazi flags fly all the way from Edinburgh Castle to Buckingham Palace.”
“ ‘That country’? It’s the land of your birth, Charles Danforth.”
“It’s not the land of my rebirth. I am Third Reich through and through. My father has dropped the name Buchanan and taken the name Mahler. As my father’s son, I have done the same. That is how you may address me. I will not answer to the name Charles Danforth ever again.”
“Right. Well, Charles Mahler—”
“Von Mahler.”
“Von Mahler. Your room is in here. You can’t leave the suite or the hotel for any reason whatsoever. Understood?”
“I’m not going anywhere, groundskeeper. Not because you can stop me, but because I gave my word. And because my father gave his word. On the day England is annexed to the Third Reich I will see him again. Until then, we have the perm
ission of the SS to write one another.”
“May I ask why the SS has such a hold on you and your father?”
Charles went into his room and shut the door.
For the next two nights and all through Saturday he emerged only to use the washroom. Each time he did, he drank a glass of water. Harrison would make a brief effort to engage him in conversation, but Charles would ignore him and return to his room. When it was time for bed, Harrison, not trusting Charles or his father, blockaded Charles’s door and the door to the apartment with sofas from the suite and slept on the one that barred the front door. He was not disturbed on Friday night or Saturday night, sleeping with a cricket bat in his hand, often sitting up to listen and then going back to sleep again.
Kipp showed up before dawn on Easter Sunday with a package under his arms.
“How was he?” Kipp asked Harrison.
“No trouble at all. He kept to his room. Said he’d honor his word and go to England and that his father would not try to stop us. What have the SS got on the pair of them?”
“I’m not privy to that information. The baron won’t speak a word about it.” He opened the package, peeling back the paper. “SS summer uniforms. White tunics and pants. Red swastika armbands. Silver braid and death’s heads on the caps. Charles will be a junior officer. That should make him happy. We each have a set of identification papers as well.”
“And what’s our story?”
“The official story we give to the commandant at the camp is that we’re transferring Eva to a higher-security SS prison. The commandant expects to hear that. He knows the truth. Or thinks he knows it. That we are transferring Eva von Isenburg to a secret place of execution under her father’s orders. This makes the baron out to be even more ice-blooded than the Nazis already think he is. Der Mann aus Eisen—the man of iron.”
“And you know enough German to pull this off?”
“Don’t forget, the baron will be there.”
“They’ll still expect you to talk.”
“I have enough German to mutter a few things. But I’ll be a very tight-lipped, unsmiling SS officer. So will Charles. And you’ll be a very tight-lipped, unsmiling driver with a wedge cap and a noncommissioned officer’s uniform.”
