by Daniel Kemp
“Why did you do that?” she cried indignantly, clutching her prized possessions!
It was then, no matter what he may say now, that the thought and intention of rape left his mind, as the act of consoling and commiserating her took over. He was honest, to a point, as he nervously admitted his desires for her. She, on the other hand, felt no self-consciousness in proposing the pact of sex for marriage and freedom made on those blades of grass, and not at the nursing bed as Paulo had told his father, thinking it wise not to show his frailties and weaknesses instead of the compassion and thoughtfulness contained in that message.
This was not the only deception he played on Maudlin. When he learnt that Tanya carried his child, it was not selfless concern for the wellbeing of that child that placed George in Maudlin's charge. Altruism was the contradiction to his real motive.
Paulo considered his own prosperity and success too important to be restricted by a wife and child. He calculated that now was the time that Maudlin could repay the debt he owed his mother and himself. And the repayment he would extract would be in the reversal of roles. It was time for his father to care for his son's offspring, whilst Paulo played the field.
He had, however, one handicap embedded in this decision: he believed in the teachings of God, and his mother had schooled him well in the ways of the Church and the scriptures of the Bible. His first step had been initiated by Andrea, with the baptism. He had then practiced the faith and had participated in the liturgy of the Eucharist, and he believed in the sacrament and of penitence. There was no reparation he could make to annul that marital union he had made in God's house; he must stay married to Tanya for ever.
* * *
Maudlin's luck had been made manifest in many ways, none more so than when a German high explosive shell killed all four horses drawing the gun carriage on which he rode, when in command of a field artillery squadron in 1917. He escaped with a shrapnel graze to his left leg, whilst the man beside him was decapitated.
Apart from this one wound, he was unscathed by the war, and carried no marks or scars of other campaigns he had involved himself in throughout his life. Health was not a primary concern to Maudlin, having never been beset by illness other than the childhood sicknesses that affected others of similar age. He had never broken a bone or twisted an ankle whilst he performed on the athletic track or playing fields at Eton and Cambridge, nor had he ever been thrown from a horse in all the disciplines he took part in. So, on the conception of the plan that Paulo had conceived, only then did it enter his head that one day he would die. How then could his estranged son continue in the furthering of English interests? He thought of the Civil Service perhaps the permanent secretary to the Foreign Office, he suggested to himself, then quickly dismissed that idea.
“Can't trust those buggers,” he said aloud, while sitting alone in the library, drinking another glass of good claret from the cellars at Eton Square. “Couldn't make up their minds what to do with Franco, let alone Hitler in his early days. Appeasement…that's all they know. Paulo will be sold off to the first Russian bidder if one of their own needed to be swapped.”
The Secret Service was out of the question. It was to them that he had turned before, telling about his informants in Ireland, and look where that led! Where was there for him to hide that secret? He set about on his course to reveal one mystery, by enmeshing it within another.
“Our children have a brother, my dear. No, there's no need to worry there's only the one. I've only made the one mistake and the boy's mother is dead, so I'm not involved anymore. I managed to smuggle him out of the great bear's cave with an aunt. They won't bother you or the family; I'll see to that.”
Christina, like Alice in later days, was well aware of her husband's affairs and tolerated them as best she could amongst the myriad of things Maudlin's wealth could buy.
“I don't want anyone else knowing about this, Maudlin. I could not face the scandal,” she bravely declared. “Have I your word?” she demanded.
The sixty-four young at heart Maudlin gave it, but never kept it. He hadn't given his boy scout's salute on making that affirmation, so didn't feel obligated. He told one other person in his legitimate family and, again, it was the abridged version. He saved the almost-complete truth for one other, who had to wait a further twenty-nine years to discover it!
To his reluctant heir apparent at the bank he gave a similar account, only this time he added, “When you pass away, Phillip, so does the secret. It ends at you.” He ordered, and was obeyed.
He had to tell his youngest because he needed to prolong his interference with the bank's assets, plus he needed Phillip's help in establishing Tanya and George in Radlett. It was not possible for him to do it all alone, as much as he wished he could.
Fourteen years later, both to the rest of his family, and to the staff of both houses, he neither told the truth nor lied. He simply implied that George was related in some obscure way to the departed Christina, who had been dead for almost a year. He managed this in subtle ways, never directly connecting the two. He would hint at 'the wayward side of the Northfleet family,' or insinuate that one or two nieces were not quite of 'the right sort in male company.' At the Christmas gathering, the one just before George's arrival at Harrogate, his aspersions changed from intimations to outright accusations, albeit merely hearsay.
“It was once said, I'm not sure by whom, that Christina's niece, Josephine, had a promiscuous daughter, and I was led to believe he's her son. I made a promise to the Great Lady that if anything untoward happened I would step in, and I did.”
He never elaborated on the circumstances that compelled his intervention, leaving that to any imagination that might exist among the gathered guests. “You all know how set she was on helping the wayward and downtrodden in life,” he said, with a straight face. There was an undisguised look of incomprehension on the faces of those around the table that day, after the exposure of the otherwise-hidden charitable nature of Lady Christina, until Phillip added his considerable weight to the conspiracy, whilst attempting to swallow yet another whole bowl of trifle.
“She was always doing things, don't you remember? She chaired the Women's Institute and was a judge at the county show, and I know for a fact that she contributed to Shelter. I was with her when she visited St-Martins-in-the-Field in Trafalgar Square. She was made to pay at the door to get admitted!”
All were then happy and contented in the new, glorified, vision of their mother, or their mistress; handing out the coppers to the poor and wretched in her other life, away from the trappings of grandeur they all seemed to have always seen her in. The closest she had ever been to grim, they had always believed, was when dismounting in a wet stable yard. Had the circumstances that Maudlin had invented ever happened, then his wife, and head of the house, would have been the last person on Earth to have intervened. It might well have upset her lunch parties or afternoon tea gatherings, and that would never have done. Not in the society in which she ruled!
At the age of eighty-nine, Maudlin's luck began to run out. He had his first traumatic experience of old age, and suffered a minor stroke. He was advised by his doctors to moderate his drinking, abandon the consumption of red meat, and curtail his energetic lifestyle. As he attributed all of these things to his robustness and endurance, he chose only horse riding to give up. He did, however, decide to make arrangements for the continued furtherance of England's wellbeing.
Chapter Twenty-One: Ground Cover
In the letter that George opened from Probyn and Fellow of number nine Lincoln's Inn, Maudlin's solicitors, most of the truth was revealed, written on fine expensive cotton paper. One thing that remained unrevealed was Tanya's real relationship to him and that of the Patersons. However, one thing was extremely relevant to the murders of his complicated 'step' relative Elliot and his son Edward: the means of communicating with his father Paulo, and what to do with any communiqué.
After an admirably modest preamble by Maudlin, in which he de
scribed both his own and his Aunt Loti's role in extricating him from his entanglement inside Russia, George read on in increasing fascination. He had been a quiet, unpretentious, boy, not altering his approach to life on reaching young adulthood throughout the years he spent in Maudlin's company, either in Harrogate or London. He had not wished for much, as he had no need of possessions. All had been found for him by the Paterson family since his birth. They had provided a sound education, and comfortable homes first in the Home Counties, then mansions to live in. He had been given a steadily increasing income from which he had neither the need or desire to draw from in great quantity.
At twenty-eight he was a healthy, presentable, self-assured man, one who did not look beyond the day in front of him. He had no ambition to somehow 'better himself', as was the political philosophy of the then Thatcher government. He was content doing what he did within his vocation, as aide to all things appertaining to his philanthropic patron and all who bore the same name. None of this was to change, so the letter said… but how could this be so, with such monumental information laid before him? He came to the part where the lies began, overriding the interspersed truth.
You have come from rebellious and important stock. Your paternal grandfather stood beside Leon Trotsky, in a city then called Petrograd in October 1917, when he denounced the Tsar and the Royalist Government in a speech that lead to the uprising that changed Russia into the Communist Soviet Union of today. Your grandmother was a leading participant in the February revolution and had a seat, alongside her husband, on the first revolutionary council of the new Bolshevik Government of Soviet Russia.
I must have been tranquillised at birth, then, George thought, upon reaching the parts of the letter that interested him.
Your mother, Alexandra Rovasova Beroyich, died giving birth. She was twenty-six. You were born on the seventh September 1956 at 1745 Srednly Prospekt Leningrad, and you were named Sergey Gregorovitch. It was aunt Loti and I who changed it to George. Your father's name is Tovarisch Sergeyovitch Korovin also known as Paulo. He is a powerful and influential man, who wishes to bring his country closer to the West by political reforms. For this reason he has made many enemies but also, fortunately, like-minded supporters. It was they who aided your escape.
George thought that escape was a strange word to use; unless I was in danger, which must mean that my father's life is equally threatened! He rationalised, before reading on.
In the sealed envelope that accompanies this letter are the details of the code that you and he will use in all communications between yourselves. It is not as complex as it appears. There are examples of decoded material using the formula. Study these and practise with the numbers and letters; Paulo's life depends on your competence and accuracy with it. His means of contacting you are simple, while your means of contacting him are not. Again, it is imperative that you learn his methods well.
He will send an empty envelope, posted in West Germany, addressed to: Lord Paterson, 16 Eton Square, SW1. Marked on the flap will be a number between one and seven, and that number will correspond to the same numbered hotel in West Berlin that is enclosed with the code. You must be at the selected venue two weeks to the date on the postmark. You may never get that envelope, but if you do, don't expect to meet your father; that would be exceptional. In all probability, it will be a message to collect from the desk.
When you have deciphered the message, you will send it to PO Box 850 London, and add 'Garden' at the bottom of the information. You must do nothing else with the knowledge that you gain, nothing!
Never seek out your father through idle curiosity or any sense of finding an attachment or loyalty. He risks his life for you daily, and will do so until he has achieved all that he has set himself. I have been his only contact outside of Russia since you were born. Now you will replace me, and play the same role. There is no one who knows that you are Paulo's son not even Aunt Loti. His and your own safety depends entirely on how successfully you keep our secret. Never can anyone else know. Your life is in danger only if your relationship to Paulo is unearthed, because then your father's opponents could use you as leverage against him; forcing him to reveal his contacts in the West, endangering them in the process, and putting a stop to all his good works at lowering the levels of danger that exist in the world today.
You must at all time be diligent and restrained in what you say and to whom you speak. Trust only yourself and your father. He has trusted in me, and will now trust in you.
Along with the code and the names of those hotels in Berlin, there is also a means of communicating with your father for all things other than your own selfish ones which, as I have mentioned, you must avoid. There is an address of a house in a town near Hamburg. You must knock at this house and ask for the name that is written down, and if no one is there, then you will return until someone answers.
You will be told that the person you want is not there at present, and they will request your name, to which you will reply 'I'm Lord Paterson.'
From a Lutheran Bible, which you will find in the library at number sixteen, you will take a copy from page 64 of the scene where Luther is communing John the Steadfast, and another of article 18 'Free Will,' on page one hundred and eleven. The first of these is only to be used in an emergency; it will require Paulo to meet with you. The second means that you have a message for him.
Whichever one you use, it must be left in the choir pews inside the Church of St Anselms in the same town on the next Sunday. If it is a message that you have for your father, then write the number of the hotel where you will leave it on 'Free Will.' If you have used the emergency method, then pray to God that you will both survive!
George had been fortunate in his short life, never having to choose between flight or fight; at the age of twenty-nine, fear was still an alien concept to him. He had experienced what he would describe as fear on few occasions, and the scariest moments were always when Harry had been around.
Maudlin had once escorted them to an indoor riding school at Ripon, in Yorkshire, and somehow he had managed to fall whilst attempting to coax the horse to turn to the right at a walking pace. He fell on the mixture of sawdust and hay, young enough not to have hurt any part of himself, other than his esteem in the watching Patersons' eyes. As he looked up from his dusty shame, all that filled his vision was his mount with his right foreleg raised with what looked like intentions to stamp on him, adding injury to the already-suffered humiliation. Luckily for both him and his horse, nothing untoward happened that day, but the memory still haunted the otherwise-unchallenged George. Another time was when Harry, then twelve, had insisted on piloting their canoe over the weirs on the River Nidd near Knaresbourgh, when the rudder wires broke and they almost capsized. George had never learnt to swim, and Harry hadn't asked!
After finishing Maudlin's script of instructions, he felt more fear in that moment then when he had lain helplessly in the sawdust, or had been hanging on to his helpless paddle. Those in comparison were just anxiety. He wondered if he had the courage to do all that was being asked, and evidently expected. He was both mesmerised and bewildered, not only by the directives, but also by the amount of money deposited in Switzerland for him. He was a millionaire!
The first time that the ability to keep confidential insights to himself was tested just a few days later at the funeral, when the young Harry asked of his future intentions. He passed that examination, and all that had followed.
The story of Grönwohld was just that…a story. It was an excuse Paulo would use for sojourns into the West, and the substantiation of his role as spymaster. It had been told before, a story in which Paulo was the narrator but neither Maudlin, nor any other Paterson was the audience. It was the legend that Paulo attached to his operative. It was how, he told his compatriots, that his 'Mother' agent made contact.
Maudlin's solicitor's letter to Paulo arrived the day after the one to George, at the Grönwohld house of Dietmar Kohl. He read it in the comfort of room 501 of t
he Hotel Hackesher on Behrenstrasse, part of the English sector of the still-divided city of Berlin. Number five on the secret list.
His reaction was different to his son's. His was one of sadness and deep regret, even the news of the hundred million Stirling being added to the Swiss bank account he held in Zug on the banks of the Zugersee, did not dull or take away the feeling. It had been in this same hotel that he and his father had last met over five years ago, when the topic of succession had again been delicately discussed. Maudlin, more by accident than design, had told the right story to the right people all along the line. He had enabled George to fill the role of go-between admirably, beyond the attention and intelligence of politicians of both sides and those who serve them, who are meant to know everything and everybody.
Given normal circumstances you would think that this would be a strength and an added advantage in the game that Paulo played; but the games that were being played were not taking part in any form of normality. In reality, George's anonymity was the opposite. Maudlin's fabricated reference to enemies of his son were not that far from the truth. He had made many envious of his popularity, and they had long memories, and held grudges for longer.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Jerusalem Artichokes
The exploding bomb in Beirut had taught Paulo many lessons: one of which was that not all things were held as cheaply as the lives of practicing zealots in the minds of those who performed the persuasion. Information held a higher premium to them in their pursuit of antisemitism. He developed his political contacts throughout the region, feeding them what they required. Their appetite was, however, unquenchable. They were always demanding more in the struggle against Israel and their truly special relations, the Americans. Paulo needed a new supplier, and it was to trade that he cast his eyes. He needed knowledge of Western commercial ways now, rather than their not-so-secret desires to overcome the might of the Russian armoury.
