by Hylton Smith
“But they do, the West Germans, there aren’t many people in Newcastle named Hajek. Is that a chance you want to take?”
“Are you going to protect me? What a joke! I will have to move, so if you are going to charge me with anything you need to hurry.”
“Right, so as my Czech counterparts know, you were a collaborator, they may ask for my help in your extradition. How would that appeal?”
“That was forty years ago, I could have been shot then if I had refused to help the Nazi bastards, so just like a lot of young German soldiers, I collaborated, but only to survive. There were many people faced with that choice, in Poland, Hungary, and even France. If we had made a different decision we would all have a gravestone, saying how brave we were. I’ll take my chance with you, because my own people or even the pigs would hunt me down sooner or later. Now if you don’t mind, please go to hell.”
The pilot gave notice of the beginning of his descent into Prague, as Marion returned to her seat. She had a lot to think about. The Czech hulks would want satisfaction that Hajek wasn’t just going to return to the UK, and escape further scrutiny by their security department. She quickly concluded that he carried less risk if he was held in Prague for now. He knew nothing of import regarding the true purpose of the ring. His failure to make further contact with the Germans might just lure them to his shop in Heaton. It could be expensive in terms of surveillance of the shop, but it was probably the route of least potential damage.
*
Newcastle C.I.D.
Sophie was given a first-hand explanation of the hack marks on the skeleton, by Constance Carr, and was allowed to see it had been officially reported. Moss had thought about this irregularity of allowing a journalist official access, and come down on the side of the argument that it was an ‘ancient’ case, and that the perpetrator was probably dead.
It did change the situation, because they were looking for help from anywhere they could get it, and not concerned about alerting a murderer who could react to their release of such information, and possibly kill again. Sophie was now able to quote this proof in her next article, and in the process, convince her source that the full story could unfold in the way she’d said it would. Those who would suppress unsubstantiated allegations would now have to react in some novel way.
The accord between Black, Moss and Sophie Redwood was cemented. This was progress, even though experience predicted that such attempts to get to the truth, with such high stakes, would fail. However, they parted, agreeing that people like Woodward and Bernstein had the tenacity and the guile to expose something which went right to the very top of the chain of command. Watergate became their watchword.
Chapter 31
Winlaton Mill 1945
Devlin found no sign of his quarry after checking the employment register line by line. He began a second trawl. Westlake interrupted him.
“If you tell me exactly what you’re looking for I might save both of us a lot of time.”
Devlin put down the hefty tome and responded.
“Fine, do you have any employees who speak German?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Yes or no. I need to remind you Mr Westlake, if you are found to have withheld information pertinent to my enquiries you risk prosecution.”
“The short answer is no.”
“Is that your final word?”
“Well, it is if we’re talking about employees with whom we have an employment contract?”
“What alternative employment do you have?”
“None, strictly speaking, but we do have a chap who was foisted upon us from head office. He not only speaks German, he is German.”
“So, before you tell me his name, acquaint me with this ‘arrangement’.”
“He reports to the head of central research. We pay his salary and he conducts various projects around the country. You aren’t connected to the tax people are you?”
“Relax, I’m not interested in little fiddles like that. Carry on.”
“Well, because the central budget gets hacked apart every year, they farm out certain expenses to production units where the overhead can temporarily get lost in a bigger haystack. It gets refunded over time, and lets things like the research budget slip through the approval process.”
“Ok, the name?”
“Maximillian Vogt, he does odd improvements for us, but most of his work is offsite.”
“So, who monitors where he goes and what he does?”
“No idea, but he seems to be in constant demand. Apparently he is a very capable man. He tends to specialise in development of new fuels and how to convert certain fuels into other types. It’s pretty much top secret. When I asked what that meant I was told to think of electricity being produced by burning coke, coal or oil. I assumed they didn’t want to mention future nuclear-powered stations, because that development process has such a bad press. Listen, Mr Devlin, I can’t really tell you more than that, perhaps you should speak with him directly.”
“He’s here right now?”
“Yes, we have a problem with one of the stripping units. I’ll ask for him to come to my office immediately.”
“I think it might be better for me to talk to Mr Vogt outside your main gates. I’m prepared to accept that his work could be confidential, so the less people who can eavesdrop the better, and it would also appear to be less ‘official’ to him. Would that be acceptable to you?”
“Certainly, I’ll send someone to find him and pass on the message to meet you there.”
Devlin hurried to the gate after thanking Westlake for eventually helping him. He signalled Karl that the subject was on his way. However, some eight nervous minutes ticked by before he made an appearance.
“Excuse me, sir, are you the person Mr Westlake asked me to talk with about something? Who is it you are?”
“I work for the government and I’m looking for a missing airman who should have left the country by now. He was in a camp at High Spen, which I believe is not too far from here. I wanted to ask if you knew anything which could help me to find him, as you are also German, I’m told.”
“I did hear about some person who escaped, but that was quite far back. I’m thinking about it, but I can’t help you, no – sorry for that.”
“Didn’t you ever see his picture in the papers when he went missing?”
“Not that I can remember, no.” Vogt shrugged his shoulders and they turned back toward the gate. Karl had benefitted from a clear view. As they reached the gate, Devlin couldn’t resist a parting dig.
“I understand you work around the country most of the time.”
“Yes, it is a lot of travelling, but I have a very nice car, so I am flexible. I don’t live by the transport of the public.”
“Well, thanks for your help, even if it wasn’t really any help, Mr Vogt. It’s Max isn’t it?”
He walked away without a reply. Devlin slowly wandered to the bus stop so that he was out of view.
“Well?”
“Yes, it was him.”
“No doubt?”
“Not a single doubt. That was M.V.”
Devlin turned about face, marched back to the gatehouse and asked the security man to inform Westlake he was on his way back to see him. He was met at reception rather than being allowed to intrude in another meeting.
“Please get Mr Vogt to come to reception. I’d like you to hear what he told me. It will be of interest to you.”
A confused Westlake complied and began to get irritated when there was no sign of Vogt after several minutes. He strode angrily toward the stripping plant, followed by Devlin. They bumped into Vogt as he came through the sliding door.
“Sorry to bother you again, Max, I just needed to be sure about something. I forgot to ask if you had ever been to High Spen.”
Westlake was about to explode when Devlin spoke again.
“Please think carefully, it is very important.”
Vogt shook his he
ad lazily, but did not reply.
“I need Mr Westlake to hear your answer.”
“No, what is your problem? I do not know even where this High Spen is. I want to see your ID card.”
“I was just going to do that actually, because I have a man standing by the gatehouse who swears he saw you at the camp in that village. He has no reason to lie, as he is the escaped airman, Karl Heinz Buchwald. He identified you as we walked outside the plant. Here is my accreditation of office which you asked to see, and you are a witness, Mr Westlake.
“Maximillian Vogt, I caution you that anything you now say can be used in evidence. I am arresting you on suspicion of acting in a way which is against the interests of the crown and the state. Please come with me.”
Devlin deftly handcuffed Vogt, left a speechless Westlake trying to work out what had just transpired, knowing that he would get straight on to the chiefs of the National Coal Board. They would in turn ring alarm bells in the security service, and with Devlin’s boss. Bernard Compton would now need to see him urgently, realising that the reunification of Karl and Max posed a different kind of problem. As soon as the three of them were alone, Devlin suggested it would be in his interests for Vogt to surrender his car keys, so that they could be on their way.
They arrived at the hotel in Lemington fifteen minutes later and Devlin removed the cuffs, explaining to Vogt that all three of them would become the focus of a massive manhunt. He spoke in German.
‘You may wish to consider your position carefully. You are the man who passed the cigarettes to Karl. He could only tell me that there was hidden microfilm in them, but not what was on the film. He was obliged to pass on these cigarettes, without inspecting them, to another man. The British security force knows this from my report. They wanted Karl out of the country because they believed he was just an ignorant conduit. I persuaded them Karl should see a psychiatrist as insurance, because whatever he might know would surely be extracted by the Germans.
‘Now they are about to discover that I was responsible for him being abducted, while in the care of the psychiatrist. Having added you to the mix means they must find all of us. Why? Because they intercepted the microfilm before allowing it to follow its intended course. They are aware that the ring must be returned to Germany to confirm the completion of the project. Now, Max you need to tell me why you stopped delivering the microfilm to Karl.’
Vogt was shaken by these revelations.
‘I knew my deliveries were to be collected and passed on to another person, whose name I wasn’t given, but I was approached by a different German airman. He had evaded capture when he parachuted from his aircraft. He carried very high levels of authorisation and he told me who would collect the cigarettes from me, he mentioned both Karl Heinz Buchwald and Gunther Klein’
‘Shit,’ said Devlin, ‘so Gunther really was at the centre of everything. Please go on.’
‘I got an alert from this airman to disengage from the deliveries for a period. He would let me know when to begin again. When I did go back to the camp Gunther told me that Karl had escaped. I had no further contact from the other airman, so I stopped visiting High Spen altogether. I had other deliveries to remote parts of the country which were running smoothly, and Gunther said the unnamed collection man had also stopped his visits without giving any explanation. I put it down to the war coming to an end.’
‘What was the name of this other airman?’
‘Markus Emmers, I think he must have got back to Germany somehow. I never saw him again.’
Karl interrupted the conversation.
‘Mr Devlin, you must remember me saying that when my friend and I parachuted out of our aircraft, there was nothing wrong with it, and we were expected to be captured, after which we could begin this flow of information from Vogt to the man with the code.’
‘Yes, I do recall you saying that, what of it?’
‘Well, we jumped out after a set time gap from each other. I never saw him again, and he wasn’t at the High Spen camp, so I thought he must have been at a different one. His name was also Markus Emmers.’
They all sat with blank facial expressions while trying to piece together how this Emmers person fitted into the puzzle. Devlin brought the contemplation to a close by producing a pistol and turned to Vogt.
‘Karl will retrieve our stuff from the hotel, you have until he returns to tell me what was on the microfilm. Your chances of survival without my help are close to absolute zero.’
*
High Spen
Jack and Hilda’s offer had been accepted for the house up the street from Bella, who had also been influential in persuading the Co-op to advance a small, short term loan. They drew up plans for its makeover, and a new bathroom with an inside toilet was the priority. Jack was going to do all of the work himself. Even Harry was glowing with enthusiasm, the prospect of a bedroom of his own filled him with all manner of ideas. His arm had shed its plaster and the rehab exercises were gradually restoring its original functionality. Things were looking up, except for the further decline of Bella’s husband ‘Cappy’ and it was all down to his many years of working in the pits. The new treatment had shown no signs of halting this decline, and yet Cappy’s letters remained upbeat.
He had made new friends in Harrogate, and he was an avid reader of political doctrine. The library there was overflowing with books which he could never have accessed from home, and they were free to all patients. Cappy’s letters to the family served two purposes. They helped to bridge the gaps in the expensive trips from the northeast, and they were a defiant counterbalance to the official medical reports. Bella put on a brave face about this, it was what folks did at the time, but she frequently wept in bed at night when she was alone.
However, she wasn’t about to kid herself, her life had taught her that praying to the almighty never seemed to change anything. She knew her husband was dying, and constantly thought about the worst scenario, that Cappy would pass on without her being there. She knew he had been relatively content in Harrogate while he appeared to be improving, but that was no longer the case. She determined to bring him home, it was only right that he was with his family when the time came. She wanted to write to the hospital to begin the process, and enlisted the help of Hilda. Bella had never had the time or opportunity to fulfil her literary potential.
Chapter 32
Newcastle C.I.D.
Moss managed to pull a few strings and rushed through Maggie Reichert’s assignment to Black. He also told him to get her on to this little village in the northeast, the one referred to by Sophie Redwood. In contrast, Black’s own tedious trawl of the archived police files had still shown nothing of interest. He therefore reluctantly conceded that it needed a new pair of eyes, and a fresh line of attack.
Black explained the reasoning for her immediate involvement, without burdening Maggie with the whole truth. He and Moss had agreed not to disclose that they’d been tipped off by Sophie.
“Right then, Maggie, beginning in 1943, and going all the way forward to when the concrete was laid, we’re looking for any German connection by name, profession, domicile, or whatever. We have the names Devlin and Vogt to go on, but there will be others. We aren’t just looking at crimes or investigations which are typical of today. The connection could be absolutely anything, such as missing persons and their related searches, people trying to leave the country without proper documentation, just follow your nose Maggie. I realise it’s a big net we’re trying to cast, and that’s why we want a pair of eyes which won’t be predisposed by what we know already.”
“Err yes, sir. Do I also include Lord Lucan?”
“Great idea, that’s the spirit.”
Moss and Black worked together on checking out the P.O.W. detainment facilities Sophie had hinted at. Those actual records were either missing or never existed in the police files in Newcastle. All of a sudden that wasn’t too much of a surprise. The Home Guard, even if they had been charged with such a respo
nsibility would have surrendered all data after the war. Black suggested that they should ‘begin at the beginning’.
“What do you mean by that?” challenged Moss.
“We first got involved at Winlaton Mill. I recall the man who found the skeleton talking about how the village had its soul ripped out when the coke works was closed. He frequently talked about the ‘community’ spirit. Let’s talk to the villagers in this hamlet which Sophie mentioned, the closest one to the coke works – High Spen. We should do it door-to-door. Maggie is looking at old records and newspapers, so we need to speak with the families who live there. Winlaton Mill and High Spen must have a connection to this case in some way.”
“Another one of your assertions about attention to details, no matter how small?”
“Absolutely. What have we got to lose?”
It didn’t take long to get multiple claims of in-depth knowledge regarding a P.O.W. camp at the bottom of the valley separating High Spen from Greenside. The vast majority of these claims were nothing more than hearsay. What the two policemen could see was the shell of a village whose purpose had all but vanished. The closure of the mine, many years ago had conferred a kind of death sentence on the infrastructure, but not all of the people.
Although the population of High Spen had dwindled steadily, following a Category D notice being served by county planners, to refuse any further building permission, the community somehow clung together. Green shoots of small businesses setting up had eventually produced reconsideration of consent to build more houses. Although the present feel of the village itself could not compare with its heyday, the people were now winning their battle against those wielding the axes. There were acorns of hope looking to take root. The mention of the redundant village constable was a recurring sense of injustice.
