by Hylton Smith
The appearance of a scalpel terrified Harry and Jack had to hold his head still. The shrill screams returned as the doctor carefully pared away the blistered skin, and applied another smudge of Vaseline to the layer underneath. Little Harry was continually appealing for the pain to stop, but still had to endure the delicate peeling back of the cut strips of vest from his shoulder and upper arm. When this was completed, the doctor administered an oral sedative and he drifted off to sleep in his mother’s arms.
Dr Mary made them all aware of the prospects.
“The time taken to strip the vest from his skin has unfortunately allowed the pattern of the fabric to hold, and then imprint itself on to his arm. The hot fat has then cooled, forming folds and this will also result in disfiguration. His face isn’t so bad, but we won’t know how much of the dermis has been damaged for at least another two days. You need to keep the dressing on until then. As much as Harry wants to take it off or scratch at it, you must prevent him.”
Bella was distraught, replaying the incident over and over, every time concluding it was her fault. She couldn’t be persuaded otherwise. The traumatic event had also taken its toll on Cappy, and he had to be taken back to Harrogate. It was going to be a long two days.
*
P.O.W. Camp, High Spen
Otto quickly unearthed Gunther’s disc and handed it to Devlin. He then became emboldened, and unsettled the Englishman by a veiled threat in German.
‘If you don’t follow up on who could have been passing information into this camp you will regret it, whatever happens to us. We haven’t had many visitors, but they knew everything about us. The information could only have come from Germany or someone who represented German intelligence in this country. They knew things about our flying missions which only those of us who were piloting the planes had invested in them. Your options are limited. You either have to find and expose these people, if higher authority allows that, or carry on our deception with the discs, or find Karl Heinz and get him back to Germany as soon as possible.’
Devlin didn’t reply and simply asked the guard to accompany Otto back to his friends. He then strolled around the perimeter of the camp, mulling over what the German pilot had said regarding someone having detailed knowledge of the Luftwaffe air raids. As he himself was employed in British Intelligence, ultimately accountable to the Foreign Office, albeit in a little understood and extremely convoluted way, he wondered why he hadn’t been briefed about this aspect. He’d been asked to come to the northeast, amongst other regions, to ‘tidy up’ loose ends in preparation for the official end of the second world war, and just as important, what was to happen next. He was a fixer and he’d accepted the rationale that a senior officer such as himself should carry out these ‘chores’ simply because odd-ball situations could arise. The top brass didn’t want the entire chain of command to be accessed for every little discrepancy, and the repatriation had to be done quickly and smoothly.
He had been given that authority, and he was expected to be decisive. He’d had a few irregularities in other regions but only in terms of items of identification lost in plane crashes. This was different.
Theo Devlin ran the options through his analytical mind once more, not forgetting the expected time deadline. Finding Karl Heinz Buchwald was not a quantifiable choice. Allowing the disc deception no longer had merit because it depended on Gunther’s ignorance of the entire scheme, and it was now known by all of the airmen.
Even a hint of a suggestion that there could be an unknown German sympathiser in the ranks of British Intelligence would be squashed from above. It would be considered ‘inconvenient’ during the post-war period, unlike times of conflict, when complex covert investigation would swing into action. He would make a fool of himself if he brought this to the attention of his superiors, and he would subsequently be diverted to the pathway of retirement or worse. Now was not the time to rock the boat.
Gunther had his disc back, he had Karl’s disc safely hidden, and although the search had faltered, he would have it upgraded again. It wasn’t as tidy an explanation as would be expected by head office, but he could trade on the fact that Karl had escaped before he got here. It bought time. The repatriation papers were signed and the men readied for departure.
When the transport arrived and the airmen lined up to board, there was relief on every face except that of Otto. The German glanced at Devlin, wondering what now awaited him back in the Fatherland.
A Foreign Office car was also waiting to take Devlin to London, and it drew a line under his time in High Spen. The recapture of Karl Heinz Buchwald was the only event which would bring him back to this little village, which was busy recovering from the real damage of the war. All of this was a reasonable assumption, or so he thought.
*
Chopwell Woods
Michael and Karl could now gibber to one another in pigeon English, and there were signs that the German wanted to discuss moving on. Michael was torn, as these had been stimulating times for him. He felt important, something he’d never hankered after, yet it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. He had begun to see himself as the fulcrum of how the situation would play out. He had a swagger when talking with the villagers, which slowly groomed his self-esteem. There was also a certain mischief about playing both sides of the game.
The only negative was the prospect of losing his new friend, but he couldn’t delude himself, Karl could never stay indefinitely, and wanted to move on to somewhere that he could walk without risking arrest. It meant that Karl would have to become much more fluent in English and blend in to a city population. Michael reluctantly accepted that he wasn’t the right person to make this happen.
*
High Spen
Miraculously, Harry’s face was considered to be healing without much scarring. The dressings were changed regularly and he was to be kept away from school for a while longer. His shoulder was also improving but a large area of his upper arm had been grotesquely altered to look like a topographical snowdrift scene. The vest had bitten deeply and twisted most of the flesh, but left what looked like footprints of small unaffected areas. It would be permanent. It could have been worse. His dad came in carrying a box. Before Harry could ask what it was, Hilda’s searching look was answered.
“I got the job! I start on Monday, labouring on a building site in Benton.”
“Oh well, it’s a start,” agreed Hilda, “but you won’t be happy having to be a lowly navvy for very long.”
“I won’t have to, I signed up to be trained as a bricklayer.”
“What’s in the box Dad?” inquired Harry.
“It’s a pile of wood. I’m going to make you a swing. We can put it on the garden gate. How about that?”
“When can we do it?”
“I have to measure everything and cut the wood, we can start at the weekend.”
The positive vibes were checked somewhat when the postman arrived. Bella took receipt of a letter postmarked with ‘Harrogate’. Her fingers could scarcely tear open the envelope.
The news wasn’t good, but not what she was dreading. Her husband had fallen while being helped out of the hot mineral bath, and had fractured his wrist. Of more concern was his post-traumatic respiratory function. It was thought that some dislocation of his shoulder was responsible for the physical pain experienced in breathing. As this effectively complicated his existing condition they were considering moving him to a regular hospital.
“I’ll have to go Hilda, we can’t leave him on his own down there.”
They embraced and Hilda made a suggestion.
“I’ll try to arrange time off, and we can take Harry with us on the train. Jack has to go to work on Monday, so there would be nobody to look after Harry anyway. It would do us all good, and my father would be so pleased to see us all.”
Despite the considerable expense involved it was agreed. Jack nodded and picked up his son.
“The swing should be ready when you get back, kid.
I’ll start on it now.”
“Ok,” said Harry sheepishly, “will I be able to play on it with my bad arm?”
“Of course you will, I’ll push you, you just need to grab and hold on to the ropes, and we might even give Grandma a ride on it.”
“You’ll need a lot more wood than that if you’re going to get my fat backside on to your swing.”
Chapter 16
Newcastle C.I.D
Black was kept on hold for a long time before he heard her voice. “Well, hello Inspector Black, I hoped you might eventually call back. I suppose the article did the trick?”
Sophie Redwood’s diction was as near perfect as he’d ever heard, and although the intonation betrayed a hint of sarcasm, he thought she had an extremely sexy voice.
“You know it did. I can understand your frustration when I failed to return your first call, but there was a hell of a lot going on, and I wasn’t being rude, I just didn’t get around to it.”
“And this call is to express your concern at what I went to print with, or to try and figure out what comes next?”
“Both, if I’m honest. I’m not going to tiptoe around this, some of what you printed was information which hadn’t been made known to anyone but the officers on the case. My only regret is that I didn’t get back to you, and at least hear what your intentions were. Some of what you’ve revealed is pretty unhelpful to our investigation, apart from causing us to wonder if any of our own people may have leaked it to the press. There are others who would know some of what appeared in your article, but not everything. Well, anyway, that’s not something I can go into any further, but your revelations still bother the hell out of me.”
“What about your visitors?”
“Excuse me,” Black stalled as he gathered his thoughts, “visitors, do you mean the winding down officer for the coke works, the ex-management personnel, or those university people?”
“Hardly newsworthy, Inspector, any of them. Perhaps if we’d spoken earlier I could have forewarned you of the vultures from the Capital.”
There was an uncomfortable silence while he digested this remark. She let him dangle, forcing a reply. He eventually did.
“How do you expect me to answer such a question? Is this call being recorded?”
“I thought about it, but gave you the benefit of the doubt. There seems to be a lot of concern in the hallowed corridors of power that your investigation is spilling over into some events at the end of the war. It’s not supposed to happen like that. Apparently, the pulses raced when certain files were declassified, but those fears were not justified. Then along you came with some old bones. You couldn’t make it up could you?”
“Ah, those visitors. I could ask how….”
“You could, but it might be better to meet. If you’re allowed to find out more by your own means, do so. But I’ve had to work really hard to convince my editor to run this story, and I have a source who will back up my assertions when the time comes. We could help one another, if you wanted that. I would be able to expose things which you can’t, it all hangs on whether you can trust me.”
“Mmm, ok. I’ll get back to you very soon, as long as you realise I want to prosecute this case for only two reasons. The first is to obtain some kind of justice for this unknown individual, if there has been foul play. But there is also the compulsion to solve a puzzle which nobody else can. And that could get both of us into deep trouble.”
“I’m fascinated, I look forward to your call.”
Black put down the receiver, held his head in his hands and thought about the risks of telling Moss or not telling him of his entire conversation with Sophie Redwood. He didn’t really like this pseudo-cooperation with MI6, and he instinctively felt that the police would in reality, be siphoned of knowledge, without receiving anything but roadblocks in return. On the other hand, he couldn’t openly refuse to pass on information, if either Moss or Wentworth knew of its existence. He opted for taking the flak right now on the article which had already rattled their respective cages, but at least for the present, he would not disclose any meeting with the journalist until he knew a little more about what he was dealing with.
*
Moss ushered Marion Wentworth up to the attic, invited her to sit, and in a clearly irritated tone said, “Well, you said you’d talk when we were alone?”
“Yes, I did. You may not appreciate certain subtleties which are hard-wired in MI6 methodology, nevertheless I must ask for your understanding. Revealing our own position of weakness to people like Mr Hajek so prematurely is not the way, Superintendent. I believe I do know what the inscription means, who had it done, and where they are right now. I didn’t see any virtue in engaging him any further unless we need him to confirm knowledge we think we have. Timing is critical in such exchanges, it is different in your line of work. It’s both fortunate and unhelpful that you’ve unearthed Mr Hajek in such a haphazard, random, or utterly improbable way. The same can be said about the remains having surfaced in the first place. Both events have occurred and we have to deal with that.”
“All very interesting and enlightening, the cloak and dagger stuff of conspiracy. I’m afraid I need more than that, otherwise this becomes the first test of how our bosses will tell us how to proceed. I’m not going to be fobbed off with shadows and taboos every time we get a new lead.
“You could start by making a real effort to stop insulting my intelligence. I’d wager you’re sitting there knowing whose remains were found, and to whom it’s important that we don’t find out, thus avoiding any connection to Germany, during the actual years of conflict. Your job is to babysit that information. It really does annoy me intensely that I have to accept such fanciful justification of obstruction. The political landscape has moved on in forty years and so has the cold war, so until investigating a probable homicide is no longer my duty, you’ll have a pretty hard time here. Do you want to say anything else before I call Scotland Yard?”
“Go ahead, make your call. You’re becoming increasingly paranoid about this. In a modern democracy, government is about containment, not the visionaries of previous eras. You really should know how these things work. For example, if it had been deemed necessary you would have been relieved of this case at the outset. It could have been transferred to London on day one. That won’t happen because it could bring other unnecessary complications.
“For God’s sake wake up, Superintendent, if you want to conduct a neutral, politically-free investigation. And that’s also what I want, so we actually have a common cause. Without insulting your intelligence, it’s presently my job to ensure you do yours. Pointing out no-go areas and political detritus from long ago, if they arise. You can’t just look at your responsibilities in isolation in this particular case, and I won’t interfere unless I have to.
“That’s why Mr Hajek’s involvement has to be treated with caution, or if you prefer it, handled. Now, if you’d just calm down, I can reveal that the inscription probably denotes the initials of a person named Max Vogt. Does that help you? Not yet it doesn’t! I can’t say for certain whose remains you have found but they aren’t his. I want to know whose they are just as much as you do. I have a list of possibilities, but I want your investigation to take its course without undue bias. Are you beginning to get it, or not? I hope so because if you make your call, you will soon be asked to step back from leading the investigation.”
Moss twiddled his thumbs before taking out his pipe and lighting it. Through the fumes he spoke with his normal calmness.
“Are you able to tell me how you know that initials M.V. belong to a Max Vogt?”
“Yes, I have a report with me from an officer of the crown which was produced in 1945. It mentions many things, one of which is a gold ring which has these initials inscribed on the inside. Written at the side of a photograph of the ring is the name Max Vogt, and other appended notes. Do you accept that this is all I can tell you at present? He may not be relevant to finding out who was buried in the
coke works, or he might provide a crucial link. I’d rather Mr Hajek is monitored rather than courted, until we decide otherwise. I’m about to arrange the surveillance now. Are we done?”
“I think so, that wasn’t so hard now was it Marion? I’ll leave you to it.”
*
Black braced himself for the worst. He was pleasantly surprised that Moss was deep in thought, puffing away on his pipe, and welcomed his presence.
“Sir, I know I screwed up by not handling the journalist properly. I have no excuses to offer and it should have been prevented.”
“It isn’t the end of the world, Inspector, just don’t let it happen again, put her through to me if she comes back for more. I’m presently concerned about where her information came from. Is there anything else?”
Black was totally surprised that there was no hint of a reprimand, and he struggled to think of anything to say. He blurted out a garbled summary of Eric Paisley’s statement that there was supposed to be piles driven into the foundation at the coke works, to help reinforce the stability of the slab.
“The surveyor’s report said the concrete was to be poured on to these piles.”
“And?”
“Sorry, I was just reminding myself of the actual scene after the landslip.”
“Ah yes, your photographic memory?”
“Paisley couldn’t find any evidence of piles because they’d have been on the underside. But he also said they should have scored the slope as it descended or be snapped off. He’s right, I can see it now, and there were no score marks. I think we have to check the underside, sir.”
“To prove what?”
“Well, firstly, why there were no amended plans submitted to further scrutiny by building regulations, and therefore why the surveyor’s recommendations were ignored. It could help explain the incredible lengths someone was prepared to go to in order to gain time to place a body where it would never be found. Either that or it simply offered up an opportunity at the right moment. Paisley did indicate a delay in the initial pouring date. Also, there was no extra charge for the serious increase in the area to be concreted. It stinks, seems like nothing, but details like this are important.”
