by James R Benn
“Look, Piotr, I’m sorry I never told you about this,” David said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his ruined face. “I should have prepared you. It must be a shock.”
“It is a shock you are still alive, after all the battles you have seen,” Kaz said. “And I have not come through the war unscathed either.” He made the same small gesture toward his own scar.
“What, that little thing?” David said, and they both laughed, the kind of laughter that comes when two old friends reunite and pick up as if the intervening years had never occurred. Maybe this would be good for both of them. I kept a few steps behind, letting them chat as David led us upstairs.
“I don’t know what to think,” Kaz said later in my room. “I should be glad he’s alive and has all his limbs, but what a price he’s paid. I can’t imagine what life will be like for David.”
“It will be a life. Don’t forget that,” I said as I tied my field scarf, which the army insisted on calling a plain old necktie.
“Yes,” Kaz said, with little enthusiasm. He stared out the window as I finished dressing. I’d brought my new tailor-made Ike jacket. It was a new short-waisted coat, based on the British army’s battle jacket. General Eisenhower had pushed for the new design, and his name was linked to it, even though the quartermaster insisted on calling it the M-44 jacket. I wore it with my dark brown wool pants and chocolate-colored shirt. I looked pretty damn good—sort of a cross between an American gangster and a military intelligence officer. Bit of an exaggeration on both counts, but you get the idea.
Kaz looked elegant, but he always did. All his uniforms were custom-made, and for a guy with a small frame he wore them well. He removed his glasses and cleaned them carefully. I stood behind him and gazed out at the lawns and gardens below, the river in the distance, the sun lighting the horizon with reds and yellows. Below, a couple walked briskly toward the house.
The woman was tall and thin but big-boned, with a purposeful chin and a broad-brimmed burgundy hat that covered the rest of her face. She was gesturing with her gloved hands and seemed to be in earnest conversation with the guy next to her. Husband, probably. He held his hands behind his back, his head tilted slightly as if to catch her every word. He wore a tweed suit and a worried look.
“I wonder who they are,” Kaz said idly. “And how they reacted to David’s injury.”
“Let’s find out,” I said.
CHAPTER FIVE
WILLIAMS DIRECTED US to the library for drinks before dinner. The hallway carpets were deep and plush, absorbing the sound of our footsteps. But not the voices coming from the library.
“You had better think of something, Edgar.” A woman’s voice, hushed but unable to contain itself. “We only have so much time.”
“I will, I will.” A man, probably Edgar. Kaz laid his hand on my arm and we backed up a few steps, not wanting to intrude. The voices followed us.
“Think of the children—although I don’t know why you’d start now. You should have thought of them first, Edgar. We shall have to take them out of school. I’ve already warned them, and I told them it was all your fault.”
“Why would you say such a thing, dear?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Her voice was lower, throaty and demanding. Edgar went silent as the clink of glassware echoed in the room. Kaz and I took that as our cue to enter. There were only two people in the room, the same couple we’d seen earlier.
“Hello,” the man said, with no trace of the previous conversation in his greeting. “You must be David’s guests. Edgar Shipton. This is my wife, Meredith. Sir Rupert is her father.”
“Lieutenant Piotr Kazimierz, at your service. This is Captain Billy Boyle.”
“But it’s Baron, isn’t it?” Meredith Shipton said as Kaz gave her hand a kiss. I settled for a limp shake. “At least, that’s what David told us. I didn’t know the Poles had barons, but why not?”
“Indeed,” Kaz said. “Yes, I am a baron of the Augustus Clan and would be pleased to be addressed as such.”
“And you, Captain Boyle?” Meredith said, turning her attention to me. She had penetrating hazel eyes, glints of green reflecting off the emerald dress she wore. Not a beautiful woman, but striking. She exuded health and strength, and I’d have bet she was used to getting what she wanted.
“From the Boyle clan of Boston. And I’d be pleased if you’d call me Billy.”
“I think I shall,” Meredith said, smiling over the cocktail raised to her lips. She seemed as delighted to meet an informal Yank as a Polish aristocrat. “Edgar, please see to drinks for our guests.” Edgar did her bidding. He seemed used to it, and smiled as if indulging her, which I guessed he was also used to doing.
Kaz asked for whiskey and soda. I told Edgar I’d have whatever he was drinking, which turned out to be a large whiskey, no soda. It’s a little trick Dad taught me. It establishes a bond and tells you something about the person you’ve just met. Everyone likes to be flattered, and showing you trust a person’s taste in booze is gratifying to them. Every now and then, I end up with a Pink Lady, but it generally turns out well.
“You’re both with SHAEF, I see,” Edgar said as he handed me the whiskey in a cut-crystal glass that cost more than the whole bottle. “You chaps must be working day and night, what with the invasion coming up.”
“We really can’t say anything about that,” I said. It was true, but not for the reason I led Edgar to believe.
“Ah, security, certainly. But all signs point to it, Captain Boyle. All of Devon’s thick with American troops moving towards the coast. We see convoys every day, and tent cities springing up everywhere. The current witticism is that one can cross the River Dart at Dartmouth simply by stepping from one landing craft to another.” Edgar chuckled, and I went along with the gag. It was almost true, from what we’d seen today.
“Do you live here, or are you visiting as well?” I asked Edgar. He looked to be in his late thirties, maybe too old for service, maybe not. I knew he had kids, and there was probably an exemption for an older married man with children. He had some grey flecked through his short brown hair and a bit of a paunch, but he held himself well.
“Here, temporarily,” he said, and his eyes sought out Meredith. “We’ve recently returned from India. I was in the civil service there, and I’m looking for a position now. Meredith wished to visit her father, and Sir Rupert was so kind as to invite us to stay for a while.”
“I’m sure the Foreign Office needs people with experience in that part of the world,” I said.
“Edgar’s already been to the Foreign Office, haven’t you, dear?” Meredith said, gliding in between us. “Any joy?” I was pretty sure she knew the answer.
“Nothing yet, no.” Edgar met her eyes dead on. A challenge?
“Did you enjoy India?” I asked Meredith, feeling uncomfortable with their exchange.
“I loved it,” she said, clasping her hand on Edgar’s arm as if there was no discord between them. “Father was with the civil service in the Raj as well, for eighteen years. I was practically raised there. I adore India, except for that creature Gandhi and the India National Congress.”
“They’re for independence from England,” Edgar explained, catching the blank look on my face. I knew who Gandhi was; he was famous enough. But Indian politics was not my strong suit.
“And for the Japanese as well,” Meredith said. “Some of them in the National Congress, anyway.”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Kaz said.
“What? Oh, of course,” Meredith said. “Still, I don’t see why they should look upon us as the enemy. So many Indian soldiers are fighting the Germans in Italy, aren’t they?”
“How long were you there this time?” I asked Meredith, trying to turn the conversation away from British imperialism. As a good Irishman, I was bound to say something unpleasant before long, and I was a guest here.
“Only two years,” Meredith said, with a hooded stare in Edgar’s direction.
“David, the baron and Billy are absolutely delightful. I’m so glad you invited them,” Meredith said, smiling in David’s direction. She didn’t avoid looking at him, and Edgar served up a drink in no time. I was glad to see David readily accepted. The English are rightly famous for their stiff upper lips, but they also tend to hide the occasional inconvenient truth. David’s face was a truth that some families, in their comfortable libraries on their country estates, might prefer to keep locked away. Or maybe my Irish was up, and I was being uncharitable to the whole race.
“Yes, I’m glad it worked out,” David said. “It would be a shame to lose contact with old university friends, wouldn’t it?”
“I agree,” Edgar said. “I still correspond with several. You read modern languages at Oxford, if I recall. Which college?”
“Balliol,” Kaz said. “A fascinating experience, with students from many nations.
“Yes,” David said. “That was when there was still hope for a Europe without war. I thought understanding language would be a key to understanding people. Instead, we’re learning to kill one another. But at least Piotr can put his knowledge to good use these days. Translation, isn’t that what you do at SHAEF?”
“It was,” Kaz said, and sipped his whiskey and soda.
“We work in the Office of Special Investigations,” I said. Why not give Kaz a boost in the eyes of his pal?
“Investigating what?” Edgar asked.
“Whatever they tell us to,” Kaz said. “We cannot say much more, unfortunately.”
“Sorry, Piotr,” David said. “I should have known you didn’t earn that scar translating German.”
“Are you spies?” Meredith asked, a hint of mischief in her voice. Or was she adroitly moving the conversation away from the subject of facial injuries?
“Glorified policemen would be closer to the mark,” I said. “I was a detective in Boston before the war.”
“Piotr!” David exclaimed. “A copper? Who would have thought?” Kaz smiled as his friend clapped him on the shoulder.
“David, please don’t be so vulgar.” A woman spoke from behind us.
“Helen, dear,” David said, turning toward his wife. She was thin, with dark blonde hair that was outshone by her husband’s vivid color. Pretty, in a timid sort of way. She wore pearls and a red silk dress that drew your eyes to every fold. David did the introductions. Helen smiled as Kaz bowed and kissed her hand. I could have kicked him. I blushed and shook her hand, which I could tell was not the highlight of her evening.
“Do I understand that you’re with the military police?” Helen asked Kaz.
“What’s this about the police?” Another voice, this one from an ancient lady wearing a dress that had last been stylish back when the kaiser was running things in Germany. She was small and thin like Helen, but she had Meredith’s jaw and the kind of voice Sister Mary Margaret used to use when I’d done something wrong, which was every waking minute, according to her.
“Great Aunt Sylvia, come and meet our guests,” Helen said, taking her by the arm.
“Don’t shout, Helen! I am not yet deaf. Which one is the policeman, and why is he here? Has something been stolen?”
“Nothing has been stolen, Auntie,” Meredith said, taking her hand and maneuvering her into a comfortable chair. “Helen misunderstood. This is Baron Piotr Kazimierz. He was with David at Oxford. Baron Kazimierz, this is Lady Pemberton.”
“Charmed,” Kaz said as he clasped her gloved hand and bowed. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“I’d say you were welcome, but the hospitality is not mine to give,” she said, turning her raised eyebrows on me. “And this is?”
“Captain William Boyle, Lady Pemberton,” I said, lowering my head a notch. I wasn’t much for bowing to the English, even old ladies. I kept my hands clasped behind my back and left out my usual invite to call me Billy. I doubted she’d care to.
“Thank you, Edgar,” she said, studying me as Edgar kept up his bartending duties with a glass of sherry. “It’s nice to see some new faces, David. Sir Rupert invites people so seldom that one forgets the joy of fresh conversation. We seem to say the same things over and over.”
“Sir Rupert Sutcliffe is Helen and Meredith’s father,” David said, filling in the rest of the family tree.
“Now what was this police business Helen hadn’t grasped?” Lady Pemberton asked. She might have been old and wrinkled, but she wasn’t forgetful.
“We are investigators, Lady Pemberton,” I said. “For General Eisenhower. I used to be a detective, before the war.”
“Goodness, Captain Boyle. The last time we had a police detective in the house was 1933—or was it 1932? When those jewels were stolen,” Lady Pemberton said. “I did not care for the experience.”
“I don’t think Captain Boyle cares to hear about that,” Meredith said. “He’s our guest, after all.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Lady Pemberton said in a disapproving tone. “You too, Baron Kazimierz? A policeman?”
“More like a spy, Lady Pemberton,” Kaz stage-whispered. “A continental man of mystery.” She liked that. I grinned in the direction of the others and noticed Helen. David was speaking to her, and she was casting her eyes everywhere but toward his. He was smiling, but she looked like she would burst into tears at any moment, her fist clenched white.
“I understand it was a case that brought you to Devon,” Edgar said. “David said it was the only reason the baron could take the time to visit. Should we be worried about German agents lurking in the bushes?”
“Nothing so dramatic, Mr. Shipton,” I said.
“Please, call me Edgar,” he said. “We’re really quite informal here.”
“Okay, Edgar, if you call me Billy.” Edgar was friendly enough, and chatting with him seemed less dangerous than jousting with the great aunt. “A body washed up on the beach in a restricted area. We’re trying to identify who it was. Nothing much to it, probably.”
“In the South Hams?” Edgar asked.
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“Restricted area, you said. Fits the bill, close by. Never mind, don’t bother to answer. Loose lips and all that. I hope you find whoever it was.”
“Well, he doesn’t match any missing persons, so it’s doubtful anyone reported his absence to the police.” I continued to watch Helen as we spoke. She moved around David, putting her right arm through his left, so she faced the unscarred side of his face. She relaxed and opened her clenched hand.
She couldn’t look at his face.
Edgar went off to freshen his drink. He had the careful gait of someone who has drunk quite a bit and is working hard to hide it. Meredith motioned me to where she and Kaz were entertaining Great Aunt Sylvia, and I put on my best face for the old girl.
“The baron tells me you are related to General Eisenhower, young man,” she said. “Is that true?”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean Lady Pemberton. We’re related through my mother’s family. I call him Uncle Ike—only when we’re alone, of course—but I believe we are actually distant cousins.”
“Hmm,” she said. “One bristles at the idea of a foreigner, even one of our American cousins, telling the British army what to do. But he seems like a decent fellow. Is he?”
“The best,” I said. “You can rest easy. He has the interests of all Allied soldiers at heart.”
“Well, that may be, but does he have the worst interests of the Hun at heart as well?” Great Aunt Sylvia’s eyes bored into mine, and I realized this wasn’t just idle chitchat. She had a sharp mind, and it was a perceptive question.
“He’s not a general to throw men’s lives away for nothing,” I said. “But he intends to win this war by destroying the enemy. Nothing short of unconditional surrender.”
“Good!” Great Aunt Sylvia said. “That is what I wanted to
hear. No talk of armistice like in the last war. What a mess they made of that. Having this happen all over again would be a disgrace to all those who died.” Her face was vivid with rage, still fresh a quarter century later.
“You lost someone,” I said. It was only a question of whom.
“My husband and my son,” she said. “Lord Pemberton was a commodore on the battle cruiser Queen Mary. He was lost in the Battle of Jutland. Roger was a lieutenant with the Devonshire Regiment. He was killed at the Somme. His body was never found. Neither came home.”
“I am sorry, Lady Pemberton,” I said, my voice catching in my throat.
“As have I been all these years. I am the last of the Pembertons, living here by sufferance in the house and on the lands that should have gone to my son and his heirs. I have no wish for another generation to suffer such losses in the future. Tell your uncle to get on with it, Captain Boyle. Finish them off.”
I said I would. I meant it.
Sir Rupert entered the library, and a deep silence. Everyone had been listening to Great Aunt Sylvia, and when she was done speaking, the only sound was Edgar pouring another drink.
“What’s this?” Sir Rupert asked. “Has someone died?” He smiled at his jest and looked wonderingly around the room.
“Not recently,” Great Aunt Sylvia said, and David stepped up to do the introductions. Meredith sat with her great aunt as the others hovered around Sir Rupert. He was middle-aged, dressed in a blue double-breasted suit that had been in style sometime during the previous decade. Not a surprise exactly. With wartime rationing, everyone in England made do with what they had. His face was long, topped by curly hair going grey. He had an easy air of authority about him, an acknowledgment that he was master of the house and a lot more besides. He stood with his back to Meredith and Great Aunt Sylvia, waiting for his drink as Edgar poured and David made the introductions.
“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” Sir Rupert said. “I only got back from London an hour ago. More Foreign Office business.”
“You are with the Foreign Office, Sir Rupert?” Kaz asked.
