by Hylton Smith
“If the police are found guilty of entrapment, a case may be thrown out, and the punter walks free. Hoorah! Justice is done. Entrapment by a newspaper can mean that a person’s entire way of life is shredded, merely by telling the story. Even if the court case was won by the said person, and the paper was forced to pay out compensation, the mud sticks.
“Also in a courtroom, the defendant can’t be tried twice for the same crime, that’s not the case with a newspaper. Depending on how far they have to fall, repeated allegations can wreck a person’s family as well as their career. I sensed a bigger fish. My boss was still intent on spilling the first scandal to the world, but I finally convinced him that this story had more stamina to run and run, if we handled it in a certain way. The boss’s alternative of printing the sexy scandal would be over in a day. I have to trust this person to some degree and vice-versa. So, I get a snippet, you get it from me, we investigate its veracity and if we’re happy, we print. I’m told it will make a lot of people nervous if we uncover what really happened in 1945, not just here but elsewhere in the country. I’m happy to admit I’m hooked by this story, Inspector, a sex scandal is pretty poor currency by comparison.”
“This is all a bit heavy for a country lad who grew up in the outskirts of Manchester. I’m still a bit confused, Sophie. Is this person claiming to know who was buried in the coke works?”
“I don’t know that for sure, but I believe so. Everything else I have been told so far has been confirmed by you, or at least not denied. Think about it again, you’re working under some restraint and some guidance from the spooks. This source is or was involved in what was deemed back in the day, to be the version of events with the least fallout. We have a classic double-edged sword, Inspector. I can only repeat the sequence. I expect to get a lead, I pass it to you, it has to be checked, you get back to me and we decide if it can be released, and just as importantly, when. In this way, the necessary trust evolves. We all have a lot to lose, and you said you wanted justice for the poor sod who was entombed in concrete forty years ago. However, we mustn’t be gung-ho in our approach, otherwise my source will become vulnerable, and we have to confine the revelations to the northeast at this stage.”
“You believe you’ve got a conspiracy on your hands don’t you? So why must we, the Newcastle force, remain at the sharp end of such a big story?”
“Conspiracy maybe, but I prefer to call it an elaborate deception. If we make even the slightest suggestion that the evidence connects to other parts of the country, you’ll see the case evaporate before your eyes. Ranks will be closed. The Met will gobble it up and the story goes away. Ironically, your visitor, Marion Wentworth wants the case to be solved up here, and put to bed again. That would make your boss happy too, and others would relax when containment is restored. Do we have a common cause, Inspector Black?”
“Hold on a minute. You’re saying you’re prepared to go along with this alleged agenda of the Foreign Office, which is simply to tidy up a cold case, so that you can issue a challenge to the outcome?”
“Right, you’re beginning to get the picture. Apart from the people who orchestrated the events in 1945, others since then have become complicit by protecting the deception. The stakes are colossal.”
“So, your source is one of the people whom you describe as complicit?”
“Uh, maybe, maybe not, now you have to decide which way you’re going to jump. I’ve told you about Marion Wentworth and her mission, so that’s an example of something you didn’t know, or didn’t know that I knew. I’d like to recommend some bedtime reading for you. Here, take this file.
“During the war, there were many aspects to the conflict. Military strategy, logistics support, alliances, neutral nations, and technology, amongst many others. One of them was a means to deceive the enemy about our intent. You may never have heard of a man by the name of Tar Robertson, who worked for MI5.
“He suggested to Winston Churchill that deception could be sculptured to become a ‘weapon’ of immense power. Being able to plant disinformation inside the head of your enemy, and get them to believe it, means there is a possibility they will do what you want them to. The principle wasn’t new, history is littered with tribal leaders employing such tactics. The degree of sophistication was the element of difference in Robertson’s plan. Good examples of such strategy were the D-Day landings in Normandy, and Operation Mincemeat – the allied landings in Sicily.
“Churchill was receptive to such an approach because he felt Hitler’s character was to think and make decisions in straight lines. Corkscrew thinking was Churchill’s answer to this Achilles’ heel. Allowing the foe to deceive themselves rather than over-egging the plot was the key. In the murky world of intelligence during the war, the British held the view that German espionage was something of a joke. The Allied spy network across Europe was effective in its own right, but they were also clever in turning and then using German spies in the UK.
“In fact it was often said that all of them had been identified and converted to double agents because of the utter shambolic nature of Hitler’s intelligence organisation. He was, in Churchill’s view, arrogant enough to disregard reports from his own intelligence people, believing that the strength of the Reich and his overall strategy were more than sufficient to guarantee victory. British counter-intelligence wanted to fuel his delusion of invincibility, but by extremely well disguised disinformation.
“I’ve done quite a bit of research on this and although the Germans’ thinking did rely heavily on having the best military leaders, the best equipment, and the best soldiers, that might not have been the full picture. There is the German view of their hierarchy in general, to compare with our view of it. A reputation of incompetence in intelligence gathering didn’t sit too well with their perceived notions of their undisputed military power and efficiency. Our case is a perfect example, because my source insists that it involves an incredibly sophisticated counter-deception.”
“Sophie, I don’t think this is helping me to focus my mind on your offer to work together.”
“Just read the file before you make a premature judgement. I’ll give you a test to set for Marion Wentworth.”
“I’m listening.”
“In your efforts to put a name to this skeleton, which you believe was put in the ground forty years ago, what have you got? You think it’s a male, probably German, with a Luftwaffe dog tag and whatever else. Even if the skull has lost some teeth it might be possible to use dental records to narrow the field? Why haven’t you done this?”
“Because the medical examiner said there wouldn’t be any record in this country, and although we could ask the German authorities – the Abwehr, to check it out, we’d have to narrow the possible candidates down significantly. In fact, it would be the same problem we would have here with a British soldier. The way it works is that when she has a good idea of the identity, she checks the dental records as confirmation.”
“Right, so if you had such a candidate, even an imaginary one, you could ask such a question. If you ensured that Marion Wentworth knew about this before you intended doing it, I can tell you what would happen.
“She will say it’s a bad idea to check thousands of dental records until you have highly credible proof that your suspect is likely to be the one. Why? Because she will say that merely by asking the Germans to send their records would produce an impasse. They would insist that the remains of someone suspected of being a German citizen should be returned to them. They’d want to check this out for themselves, not simply surrender a set of dental records. This would be the worst outcome for Marion, she must keep those remains here, or conveniently lose them.
“She would recommend that you seek this elusive, absolute proof of identity in some other way. She would tap your desire to hold on to the investigation, and you would fall for it. Come on, she’s read the file, and knows you have a potential suspect. The dog tag, together with the dental information should be enough for the Abw
ehr to give you a name. She doesn’t want the question to be asked. Well, do you want to put her to the test?”
“Maybe.”
“Ok, I need to be getting back to London. You know where to reach me. I have to know very soon if you want to pull out of any cooperation with me, your only risk is that I will publish new stuff for you to deny.”
Chapter 19
Newcastle Quayside
Karl had slept rough for a couple of nights amongst the dropouts on the docks. Then he spotted a Danish freighter, thought for a moment about asking for passage, but decided to wait for darkness and sneak aboard. Once he’d crept over the gangplank, he stealthily headed downwards where he found a pile of tarpaulins below deck and quickly crawled underneath them. It seemed to pay off when at last he heard the engines being primed. Another noise reached his ears. The meow of a cat. He lifted the tarpaulin a mere fraction to scare it away.
He couldn’t believe his luck, it was a one in a million chance. At the very same instant he lifted his cover, a man with a torch flashed the beam toward the cat. The torchbearer saw two sets of eyes, and then the movement of the tarpaulin as Karl hurriedly pulled it back down. The man immediately called for help, shouting incessantly.
Two other crewmen arrived and asked what was going on. The whispering resulted in them splitting up and approaching the tarpaulin, each one wielding a boathook. Karl’s heart thumped as if it was about to burst out of his chest. A long pole was pushed under his cover and then slowly lifted. The game was up.
The most senior of the crewmen shouted and gestured for him to stand up. He did so, slowly, and then surprised them by asking if they spoke German. They all nodded cautiously.
‘Can you give me passage to the continent? I escaped from a prisoner of war camp before the war was officially over, and I have no money or identification. I won’t be any trouble.’
The men conferred, and once again it was the most senior who responded, he shook his head.
‘The captain must decide, we could lose our employment if you are found. We are responsible for such checks before sailing. Come with me.’
The captain was sympathetic but not willing to take any risk of Karl being apprehended in Copenhagen. He delivered the instruction for the engines to be shut down. He, and two of the crew marched Karl to the Port of Tyne head office and explained the situation.
The young airman pleaded desperately for leniency in English.
“The war is over, I have a family and they do not know if I am alive. I will jump off the ship before arriving at the destination and swim to the shore. I will be happy to take my chance in the water. Please let me leave.”
The Master of the Port was moved by his plight but simply shook his head and asked the Danes to leave.
“I’m very sorry, son, but I have to report this matter. I wish I could help you, I really do, but you must make a formal appeal.”
He phoned the police and asked for Karl to be collected. So near, yet so far, Karl got into the car, with three policemen for company. The short drive was taken in silence and then he was registered at the station. Because he was such an irregular detainee, he was taken to the warm canteen, given a hot meal and then walked to the holding cell. He almost began to regret ignoring Michael’s advice, but forced himself to think ahead rather than what might have been.
*
High Spen
The news of his capture on the radio spread by word of mouth and Jack was saddened and frustrated. Having escaped death and possible capture many times himself, he knew what it would be like for the curtain to fall upon one’s hopes. Being stranded in a strange land far from loved ones was every bit as demoralising as the actual combat. Hope was the only anchor.
As he replayed his weeks of hiding in a Dutch cellar in Venlo, his sympathy for Karl brought on a cold shiver. He pondered about visiting the police station in Newcastle, and was discouraged by almost everyone except his family. Bella and Hilda urged him to go, and he was finally persuaded, taking Harry with him.
*
Newcastle Police Station
“Yes, sir, how can I help you?” said the duty officer.
“I wondered if it was possible to see your German guest.”
“Look, we’ve had lots of people asking to see him. The newspaper people, nutters, you name it. What’s your excuse?”
“I don’t have one. He was kind to my son who is right here with me.”
Jack lifted the little urchin on to the counter, and the officer was treated to a smile of enquiring innocence.
“Harry met this German airman when he was a captive at the P.O.W. camp in High Spen, and gave him his football. It was an old ball, but it was his most precious possession, and I admire him for giving it up to help someone else. I just wanted to meet the young man and let Harry say goodbye to him. Having served throughout the war myself, I know what it’s like to be away from family and friends. I ached to see my son for the first time and he was already five years old. I’d liked to have known he was ok, even if I’d been told he’d made friends with Karl.
“You can’t generalise about somebody because they’re German any more than you can if they are English. I hear he’s waiting for transport back to his homeland, and I just hoped my son could wish him luck. I’d rather Harry doesn’t keep asking what happened to his friend for the next few months. I must admit that I wish him luck myself. The war is over, we have to try to get back to being normal people, or we’ll have to query what it was all for. Is it out of the question to see this young man for two minutes?”
“Just a minute, sir, I’ll ask the sergeant to speak with you.”
After half an hour’s fidgeting by Harry, a burly man with a heavy moustache came to see them.
“So do you think this Karl would want to see you? He has declined to see anyone else.”
“As I explained, it’s mostly for my son. If he remembers Harry but doesn’t want to see him we’ll be disappointed, but we’ll leave without another word.”
There was a broad smile on Karl’s face as they approached. Jack’s eyes met those of the German and there seemed to be almost telepathic mutual respect.
“Hello, I am Harry’s father, and I just wanted to say thanks for making friends with him. I never thought I was going to see him.”
Karl acknowledged this, summoning his entire vocabulary of English to ask about Jack’s wartime travels. They exchanged stories, but had to pause regularly to allow Harry to deliver his inexhaustible supply of questions. Jack nodded when the watching officer said the visit should come to an end.
The two men shook hands, Karl lifted Harry up and hugged him quite emotionally before Jack asked the officer if he could leave the gloves he’d put aside for the German. The officer checked them out and agreed, even he was affected by the genuine feelings between two men, who in other circumstances would have been trying to kill one another. Harry waved goodbye, thinking and hoping that Karl would come back some time. He put his arms halfway around his dad’s waist and asked if he could have an ice cream.
*
Two days later, the paperwork completed at last, Karl was picked up in an official government vehicle and driven to the airport without any announcement of any kind. His departure was still controversial in certain quarters, and the various authorities wanted to avoid any demonstrations or worse.
The German aircraft waited but the car never arrived. The local news bulletins reported a strange incident, and described a car crash on the final stretch of the road from Kingston Park to Newcastle airport.
The rest of what happened was unclear. Nobody had apparently been hurt or admitted to hospital, although an ambulance had been called.
The driver of the vehicle in which Karl had been travelling, a government employee, said he had got out to reprimand the other driver, for careless overtaking, and cutting in, forcing him to jam on the brakes. He hadn’t been able to avoid a collision and the front of his vehicle was badly crumpled, with water spurting fr
om the radiator.
During the ensuing altercation, the other driver came forward, full of anger and shouting profanities. He claimed the government car was swerving all over the road, subsequently lost his temper and punched the government chauffeur. He then grabbed him by the throat but suddenly relented, returned to his own vehicle, and drove off.
The humiliated chauffeur later thought that there was a second person in the vehicle which took off at high speed, maybe a woman, but he wasn’t certain.
By now there was a traffic jam behind the damaged stationary vehicle and a couple of people left their cars to see if they could help. It was only while the chauffeur asked if either of them had managed to get the licence plate number of the other car, that he noticed Karl was no longer in his damaged vehicle. Although none of the following drivers could recall a single letter of the culprit’s vehicle, they all said it was a foreign-looking car.
One observant man, a few vehicles further back had witnessed the altercation, but was distracted by a passenger in the other vehicle beckoning to someone, and saw Karl go around the back of the government vehicle.
“He crouched, and you had your back to him. The rear door of the other car opened and he slid into the seat. I remember very little about this other passenger, but I also think it was a woman. I couldn’t understand what was going on, it all happened so quickly.”
Four hours later, a burnt out car was reported near the market town of Morpeth. The German aircraft returned without Karl Heinz Buchwald, and the portents of an international diplomatic row were tangible.
*
Safe House
Karl awoke in a barren, dimly lit room. He couldn’t remember much after getting into the car. The people hadn’t introduced themselves, merely telling him they were on a long journey and help would be at hand when they arrived. They’d suggested he should get some sleep. At first he resisted, but then he drifted into a very deep slumber, muttering frequently in German.
