“My God.”
“Quite so. The four who were spared, presumably because they have an Aryan appearance, have been taken to the Fatherland for Germanization.”
“And the mothers?”
“They have been sent to concentration camps; the Nazis’ idea of inflicting a slow, miserable death on innocents.” Grey paused again. “There were some pregnant women in the village and they were taken off to Prague. We don’t have the complete story yet, but rumour has it that the newborns have also been removed, probably to Germany as well.”
Letter number three.
Tyler rubbed his head hard. He felt icy cold.
“I read that the commandos were caught.”
“Oh, yes. They were tracked down to a church where they’d taken up hiding. They held out, but eventually they were all killed. Brave men, Tyler. Worst thing is, they might have escaped, but they were betrayed by one of their own. Turned in by a commando who was on the mission.”
Tyler bit his lips, holding back his impatience. “Do we know who it was?”
“We do. The traitor was a chap called Rudy. Rudy Pesek. There was only one man named Rudy who went on that mission. I’d say it’s the man you’re looking for.”
Tyler whistled. This was an unexpected turn of events. “Could he be back in England?”
“No. He’s received a handsome reward and is being feted by the Nazis.”
“And all the other commandos died?”
“Those who went over with the operation did. However, given the situation you’re dealing with, Tyler, I thought I should follow up on any man who was connected with Operation Anthropoid, no matter how peripherally.”
Thank you, Mr. Grey. You hold the position you do for good reason.
“Hubbie did a check for me,” continued Grey. “There was another fellow who went through the training with the group, but at the last minute he didn’t go on the mission. He was injured.”
Tyler could hear Grey tapping the pipe bowl on his desk following a bout of coughing.
“Did you get the name of this particular bloke?”
“Well now, and here’s the disagreeable side of my trip that I mentioned earlier. Hubbie and I had barely concluded our conversation when we were interrupted by an air raid warning. He had to get off the telephone. And I had a train to catch, which was itself delayed for an hour.”
Suddenly, Grey’s voice faded away completely.
The telephone had gone dead.
Tyler bellowed into the receiver. “Sir? Mr. Grey?”
Damn. He jiggled on the cradle and abruptly Grey’s voice came back on.
“Tyler. Sorry about the damn telephone. There’s a loose wire somewhere. Anyway, as I was saying, the chappie who didn’t go on the mission ended up in East Grinstead with serious injuries. Got treated there but apparently he healed fast and recently he asked to be transferred to, guess where?”
“St. Anne’s?”
“Bang on, Tyler! Said he had a girlfriend who lived in the area. He was released just over three weeks ago.”
“What’s his name? Do you know what his injuries were?”
The line went dead. Tyler jiggled the cradle desperately but with no luck. He slammed down the receiver and raced out.
64.
WITHOUT A WORD, THE ALMONER HANDED TYLER THE car key. He hurried to the west gate, where one of the officers was standing guard.
“Constable, I’ve just obtained information that may lead us to our killer. Until we locate him, absolutely nobody must leave the grounds. No one.”
The constable looked alarmed. “Somebody already did, sir. One of the patients. He said that the sister had given him permission to go for a bit of exercise. He took the tandem.”
Sister Rebecca overheard this. “I gave no one such permission, Inspector.”
“Shite!”
“Sorry, sir, if I should have stopped him,” said the constable. “I saw no reason to mistrust him. Especially as he was crippled. He said that bicycling was helping him get back the use of his legs.”
“What did he look like?”
“Dark-haired. Bit on the thin side.”
Tyler stared at the constable. “He actually spoke to you?”
“Yes, sir. He seemed a polite young chap.”
“Was he walking?”
“He did come out at first with a cane, but he said he needed to practise walking without it. He left it over there by the shed.”
Tyler turned. A cane was propped against the wall. The last time he’d seen it, a supposed mute and supposed cripple had been leaning on it.
Victor Clark.
“He’s been faking,” said Sister Rebecca, aghast.
“Seems that way. Constable, did you see which way this man went?”
“He turned right as he went out of the gate.”
West. In the direction of St. Clement’s Church.
Tyler felt as if he’d swallowed ice. Three of the reservists were standing by the front steps and he hurried over to them.
“Flynn and Jordan, you stay here. Constable McNab, go to the almoner’s office and ring Sergeant Rowell. Tell him to get over to St. Clement’s Church right away. Tell him to come armed and to bring as many reinforcements as he can. I’m not sure what I’m going to encounter, so please stay on high alert.”
He beckoned to the remaining constables. “Chase, Biggs, Swinfell, come with me.”
The almoner caught him by the sleeve. “I’d like to come as well. I’m a nurse. Shirley might need me.”
“Absolutely not, Sister. The situation is potentially highly dangerous. I’ll send a runner to you immediately if necessary.”
She let him go. “Please take care. God be with you.”
Tyler drove as fast as he could, following the river road as Mortimer had directed.
There was the red barn.
And there was the entrance to a laneway. A weathered signpost tilted on the corner. He could just make out the words CHURCH LANE. He could see the motorcycle and sidecar tucked off to one side. He pulled up behind.
“All out, lads. Maintain silence.”
He loosened the revolver in its holster.
The lane was narrow, and trees lined the edges. They set off at a fast jog. Around one bend, then they approached another. A gravel lane branched off to the left: this presumably led to the church. He signalled to the others to stop, and as he did so Mortimer emerged from the trees, Mady behind her.
“Here we are, sir,” Mortimer said softly.
“Thank God,” panted Tyler. “Give me a minute.” He bent over, struggling to get his breath. “All right, listen. The man I believe to be our murderer left the hospital about twenty-five minutes ago. He was riding on a tandem.”
“There is a tandem lying on the ground on the other side of the church, sir,” said Mortimer. “I noticed it when I was scouting out the situation.”
“We have to exercise extreme caution. He’s most likely armed and he’s a trained killer. He’s been masquerading as a mute and a cripple. He’s neither. He’s somehow tied in to the abduction of Shirley McHattie. Our first priority is to get her out. Unharmed.”
Tyler was breathing more normally now. He addressed Constable Mortimer.
“Did you see any signs of life?”
“Yes, sir. I went by way of the woods until I had a clear view of the church. While I was there a woman came out of the vestibule door.”
“Shirley McHattie?”
“No, sir. I didn’t recognize this person. She is dark-haired, perhaps mid-twenties. She was wearing a white nurse’s uniform.”
Had to be Polly.
“What did she do?”
“Nothing. She just stood and smoked a cigarette. She spoke to somebody inside the church over her shoulder, but I didn’t hear what she said. When she finished her cigarette, she went back inside and closed the door.”
“And you’re sure she didn’t see you?”
“Positive, sir. She gave no indication of alarm.”
Tyler stared at the church. “I’ve got to determine what’s going on.”
“We could use the lepers’ window,” said Constable Mortimer eagerly.
“What the hell is that?”
“It was intended for those who could not be allowed into the church itself. Through the opening, the lepers were able to gaze upon the altar, where they could see the Elevation of the Host. This is the moment when—”
Tyler interrupted her impatiently. “I know what the Elevation of the Host means, Constable. I just want to know how this window might help us.”
“Sorry, sir. The window isn’t glazed, and we might be able to hear anybody talking inside the church.”
“And where is it?”
“On the far side, sir.”
Tyler looked at her. Her pupils were dilated with excitement, but she seemed steady enough.
“Let’s go take a look. Are you up to it?”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely. I’m a Girl Guide captain, sir.”
“Well these aren’t little girls we’re dealing with. They could be extremely dangerous. All I want to know is who’s in there and what they’re doing. And if Shirley is safe.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s go.” He turned to the waiting constables. “We’re going to take a gander, but if you hear anything that sounds like trouble, come on the run. Try to look like a battalion.”
Tyler undid his jacket so that the revolver was easily accessible and nodded to Mortimer to start.
“We can proceed through the woods,” she said quietly. “There is a strip of grass between the trees and the church wall which has become quite overgrown. It can give us cover.”
“Lead on.”
She stepped back into the dense stand of trees and he followed. It was raining heavily by now and water started to drip down the back of his collar as he brushed against the leaves of the trees.
In spite of the foliage, they moved quickly, Tyler close behind Mortimer. He hadn’t even realized they’d been circling, but she signalled she was about to stop. Cautiously, she pushed aside a branch and he saw that they were now about fifty feet away from the church. In between them and the church was the graveyard, with a scattering of old, worn markers, many tilting at angles, many crumbling.
St. Clement’s wasn’t big, but it had an imposing presence, the stark simplicity of the grey stone walls emanating an ancient authority. The windows were narrow and high up in the walls. Nobody was going to see them from inside the church.
“All right, let’s gaze upon the altar,” Tyler whispered.
Mortimer in the lead, they scurried around the gravestones to the shelter of the overgrown verge. They waited, but nothing stirred. She indicated the lepers’ window was just to her left. There was a large, smooth rock directly underneath, presumably a stepping stone to enable the outcasts to get a better view. Tyler climbed up and peered into the opening.
It was like looking through a periscope without the magnification. The slit in the thick wall sloped down and widened as it went inward. As was the original intention centuries ago, a section of the altar was clearly visible.
Ah, that was something nobody from a previous era would have seen. Sitting on top of the altar table was a black doctor’s bag. Next to it, a pair of women’s shoes. And he could hear voices. A man’s and a woman’s. Unfortunately, the reverberation of the stone church muffled the words. He couldn’t make out what they were saying or even the tone. The voices ceased abruptly.
Then he heard a moan, increasingly loud, followed by an even louder cry that was cut off suddenly. He knew what it was, he’d heard it before. It was the age-old wail of a woman in labour. Shirley McHattie was in there.
He stepped down and gesticulated to Mortimer that they should return to the trees.
“Did you hear that, Constable?” he whispered. “I believe Shirley’s gone into labour. We need to get her to a hospital.”
He signalled to Agnes again and she turned and led the way back to where they’d left the constables. He didn’t speak until they were there.
“Draw in, lads. Shirley McHattie is definitely inside that church and I’d say she’s close to delivering her baby. We need to get her out and to a proper hospital. She might have gone in there voluntarily, but I doubt that’s where she would want to give birth.”
“Are we going to break in?” asked Mady, his eyes wide.
Tyler hesitated. “Right now, I’m the only one armed. You can bet our man has a weapon as well.” He addressed Mortimer. “Sergeant Rowell should be on his way. Take the motorcycle and meet him. Tell him what’s going on. Then get back to St. Anne’s. Fast. Have every available constable get over here immediately. Two to a bike if necessary.”
“Is Shirley in danger, sir?” asked Constable Biggs.
Tyler nodded. “Probably.”
Constable Mortimer looked at him. “Can we afford to wait, sir?”
Tyler’s anxiety made him short-tempered. “I’m not God, Constable Mortimer,” he snapped. “I don’t know. If we try to break in now, it might make matters worse. If we don’t, Shirley’s life may be endangered. I’m trying for a compromise. We move in as soon as we can secure the situation. Now go. Hurry.”
Mortimer ran to get the motorcycle from the bushes.
Tyler faced the others. “I’m going to try to get a better sense of what is happening. Don’t make a move unless you hear a command from me.”
“Yes, sir. Shall we have truncheons at the ready?” asked Mady.
“Yes.”
The man in there has been trained in war tactics you’ve never even heard of. Truncheons won’t be of much use.
But he was glad to have these men with him. He knew they would do their best for the innocents.
“All right, let’s go. Single file. Keep to the side of the road. We’ll go as far as the second bend, where we can see the gravel path to the church. I’ll go on alone from there. You will wait.”
They set off. Tyler could feel his heart beating faster. Hearing that cry of pain from young Shirley McHattie had made his desire to catch this man implacable.
Victor Clark. Trained killer. Triple murderer.
65.
SHIRLEY WAS DRIFTING IN AND OUT OF CONSCIOUSNESS. When she surfaced sufficiently to grasp where she was and what was happening, she cried out. A woman in a white uniform was leaning over her. It was Polly. Her friend. Shirley, through the fog of her mind, could just make out what she was saying.
“I’m going to give you something to ease the pain, pet. Baby’s coming fast.”
Suddenly a man’s face appeared next to Polly. Puzzled, Shirley tried to make sense of what was happening. She recognized him from the hospital. He used a cane and he’d had his jaw wired so that he couldn’t talk. But he was speaking now.
“How much longer?” he asked Polly.
“Soon. The baby’s crowning.”
Shirley managed to catch hold of Polly’s hand. “Where’s Rudy? You said Rudy would be here.”
The man’s face came in very close and he gripped her chin so she couldn’t turn her head. There was spittle on his lips; he smelled bad.
“This is Victor Clark. I was here last night.”
Shirley was momentarily overcome by a wave of pain and she moaned, trying to turn away.
“Rudy,” she said again.
Clark held her fast.
“Your sweetheart will not be coming. We told you that so you would come willingly, but alas, the truth is he’s dead. I should say, more precisely, that to all intents and purposes he is dead. Did you know the man who impregnated you is a traitor? And a murderer? Responsible for the cruel deaths of many, many people. Ah, I see you did not know. How could you?”
Polly’s face appeared again. “She is ready to start pushing. Do you have to do this now? Can you have some pity for the poor girl?”
The man’s voice was harsh. “Who had pity on my father? My brother? Who pitied my mother?” He actually gave Shirley’s head a b
it of a shake. “All are dead, Miss McHattie. All have died because of him. Because of your dear Rudy.”
She wanted to get up and run, but she couldn’t. He let go of her chin, but suddenly there was something being pressed on her nose and mouth, choking her. She tried to shove at the hand holding the mask but she couldn’t. She heard Polly say, “Breathe normally, there’s a good girl. This will all soon be over.”
66.
TYLER SURVEYED THE SCENE IN FRONT OF HIM. THE church looked forlorn in the slanting rain; the graves didn’t suggest peace so much as desolation. He could not detect any movement or sound.
He ran across the grass to the lepers’ window. Once there, he removed his revolver from the holster. He stood up on the rock beneath the window and, steadying himself, pointed the gun into the slit and cocked the hammer.
Polly had put a sheet on the pew where Shirley was lying. It was soaked with blood and fluid. Her legs were propped up on an upended prayer stool, but Shirley had no sense of the indignity. She was unconscious.
“It’s coming, baby’s coming,” cried Polly.
She cupped her hands underneath the infant’s head as it crowned and helped it to slide out of the womb. A boy child. It was bluish and showed no signs of life.
“Is it alive?” Clark asked.
Polly grabbed the infant by the legs and upended it. She slapped its scrawny buttocks hard. It made no sound.
“The anaesthetic has doped him, is all. Get me my medical bag.”
Tyler could hear the voices but again could not make out what they were saying. He thought there was a new urgency in the tone.
Then the man came into his sights. It was Clark all right and he was moving quite normally. He was also holding a gun by his side. He reached for the doctor’s bag that was on the altar, giving Tyler a full view of his upper back.
Tyler fired.
67.
SOLDIERS OFTEN HAVE AMNESIA ABOUT WHAT HAS taken place in battle, but for Tyler the ensuing events remained crystal clear.
The bullet smashed into Clark’s shoulder, spinning him around and knocking him to the ground. Somehow he maintained his grip on his revolver and he rolled over and lifted it, aiming up towards the window. Tyler fired again but the bullet ricocheted off the altar, slicing off a piece of wood.
No Known Grave Page 27
