by Hylton Smith
“That is indeed sound advice, Marion, when one’s name and signature hasn’t been added to certain documents. You are speaking from such a privileged position, but that luxury doesn’t apply to everyone. Hindsight provides a wonderful vantage point, but doesn’t afford a magic wand to rearrange the present. If I don’t have your support any longer, I must make preparations to step aside on another pretext, such as ill health. I will then defer to this advice, and recommend you as my successor in my letter of resignation. I believe that I would benefit from a spell in warmer climes with the family. Don’t say anything more to me about this, Marion. That would only complicate matters if you are promoted to this post. I appreciate having worked with you, and wish you all that you would want, but please think it over very carefully whichever way you decide to jump.”
Marion Wentworth was stunned by this apparent knee-jerk capitulation, until she let it flow over her again. He’d seen this coming, and had been preparing for it. It wasn’t just the discovery of the skeleton in the mud, and its implications.
Chapter 37
London
The second meeting between Sophie and the two detectives was a defining moment in the whole saga. The first revelation produced an inversion of just about everything the Newcastle police had come to believe.
“Here is a set of photographs. Gentlemen, I would like you to study them all before asking questions. Just reflect on how you now interpret all of the evidence.”
The first was a picture of Sophie and an elderly man, in which she was holding up a German newspaper with a recent date prominently displayed. The second picture was obviously the same man, but from when he was in the Luftwaffe, and in his uniform. The third was very similar to the first, but the newspaper had been replaced by a close up of a dog tag. Black’s photographic memory immediately confirmed it was the one from the coke works.
Moss said, “How can that be?” But Black was ahead of him.
“He and Devlin escaped the country. Devlin had custody of the dog tag sometime after Karl escaped. They split up in Holland according to Sophie, so Devlin must have given it to him then.”
“Well done, Inspector, but that alone does not explain how it got back to the coke works. Think about it again. Take your mind back to a conversation you told me about at our first meeting. You spoke of the information displayed on these tags. Apparently, you found out what it all meant from the father of one of your police officers, a woman.”
Sophie let them stew on this while she went to the ladies room.
*
Winlaton Mill 1945
Max Vogt’s plan had succeeded so far. Markus Emmers had entered the boardroom and easily overpowered, then rendered the security man unconscious.
Since Vogt was first contacted and primed by Emmers, the situation had become very strained. Emmers had evaded capture as instructed, had forged papers to assist his ‘integration’, and spoke excellent English with just a hint of a Dutch accent, conferred by his roots in the Netherlands. His papers had been neatly produced in the name of Mark Emmerson, and he had no trouble finding a ‘cash and no questions’ domicile of anonymity in a cheap, dilapidated tenement block in Gateshead. The money for the rent and his subsistence was paid to him each month by Vogt, but sourced and supplied by the man with the coded name. After quite a while, the comparatively opulent lifestyle of Vogt really got to Emmers, and he demanded more, because in his view he had taken all the risks. This was why the deliveries of cigarettes containing the microfilm were interrupted. Emmers wasn’t as dedicated to the cause of the Reich in the same way as Vogt. They had a showdown which resulted in Emmers being promised more money, but Vogt had extracted a very important favour in return.
‘We have to hurry, I have the money, Have you brought the replica disc?’
‘Of course, here it is. Now, I want the rest of my payoff before I hand it over.’
Vogt put the pile of notes on the table and Emmers began to count them. He felt the thud of the blade strike the back of his neck several times. He couldn’t speak, because by then Vogt had one hand over his mouth. He then felt a chilling intrusion to his lower back and rapidly lost consciousness. The improvised weapon had been taken from a framed artefact in the boardroom, a prized ancient discovery when the original site had been excavated. The razor-sharp, hand-chipped stone-age axe was unemotionally left embedded in Emmers’ body. Vogt rushed to the janitor’s cupboard in the hallway, and grabbed a set of overalls and a large sack. He wrapped the body quickly and made sure that the security man would not wake, by giving him another whack on the head. The final act before using the opportunity of dumping Emmers into the massive hole, was to place the duplicate of Buchwald’s disc and this particular ring in his pocket. This second ring was the signal to the Reich that the project had faltered.
He had failed to recover the other ring from Buchwald because of his escape from the camp. This had become a problem, because he was supposed to get it safely to the man with the coded name, otherwise it would not reach Germany by the stipulated route. Its sole purpose was to announce the mission was a success, and his life depended on this. He could never have imagined it would end up in the possession of a vagrant named Michael.
He had to gamble. The concrete would ensure that the second ring denoting failure would never be found, or so he thought. He no longer had any influence over the destiny of the ‘Ring of Success’, but at least the war was coming to an end, and he prayed it would be soon.
The dead of night allowed the body to be hidden amongst the hard-core of the foundation without further incident. It had gone well, considering he originally had other, very specific plans. Emmers had been scheduled to ‘disappear’ the following week, ending his blackmail threat to destabilise the project. He should have been found in the upper reaches of the river Derwent. But without Vogt’s car, now in the possession of Devlin, and the pressure of the impending arrival of his escort to London, he’d had to improvise.
He faced an interrogation by the Coal Board at head office, so there was no other choice. The time had come to help revive the security man and sympathetically remind him of the intrusion of some criminal. He was totally convinced that Vogt had actually tackled this person and scared him off, indeed he may even have saved his life.
They both gave a description of the intruder, but had no idea what he was looking for. When dawn approached, Vogt could hear the rumbling of concrete mixers. As he was taken to the awaiting transport, he nonchalantly peered into the foundation, proclaiming to his escort that they had at last been blessed with dry weather. Soon the liquid slurry would encase the body of Markus Emmers in a grip which would endure forever. Max Vogt would die with the fervent belief in such certainty.
*
The man with the code name, who collected the microfilm from all over the country, had been the real architect of the original plan to plant the second ring and the duplicate dog tag on Emmers, before he was thrown into the river. He had been apprised of Emmers’ increasingly unpredictable behaviour, by Vogt. When the man with the coded identity was unwittingly approached by Emmers about how to obtain new dog tags, he said he could help. Neither Emmers nor Vogt had any idea that he was a double agent, intercepting the information, altering it and passing it on. He was a perfect example of how it was possible to help the enemy to convince themselves of the veracity of such data, obtained by their own espionage. His genius was to engineer the honour of being asked by the Germans themselves, to participate in a project they thought to be a deception of their own. Ernst Johan Reichert could never enjoy the gratitude of the British people for the part he played in helping to delay improvements to the V series rockets and their offspring. He died with that secret, keeping it from his family.
Another important aspect of Ernst’s counter-deception was the incoming instructions from Germany with respect to their obsession over fuel research. The British knew for certain that Hitler’s scientists were ahead of the allies in pure theory. It would have been easy to
shut down German infiltration of British knowledge, but it was felt to be of much more value to learn of the Reich’s direction of priority, and at the same time alter the return flow of the detail provided by Vogt.
*
London
In London, Sophie had returned from the restroom and carefully led Black to recall Maggie Reichert’s father explaining that during the later stages of the war, some units had to make their own tags for reinforcements arriving at the front line. Frank Reichert knew this because his father, Ernst, had told him of such expediency being forced upon the field commanders. That was the elusive clue, indicating the leap of logic to Ernst having access to British back-up to reproduce such discs, solely to entrap the maverick who could ruin the entire operation - Markus Emmers.
She then related the whole story to them, mentioning Markus Emmers as the unfortunate individual who was never expected to surface.
“He was just a pawn really, but pawns can sometimes win games, depending on how they are deployed. You will find that there is no record of a Mark Emmerson living in Gateshead in 1945. You will also be told by the Abwehr that there was no Luftwaffe serviceman with the name of Markus Emmers despatched to England at that time.
“So, he didn’t really exist, but despite that he has inadvertently opened the door to other cases which can belatedly be investigated.
“Now, I had a phone call last night from Marion Wentworth of all people, she said that it is time for a total shakedown of this case. She also said her boss had resigned, so we might now get the independent inquiry which is so badly needed. Rather coincidently, my own source called me this morning, confirming that he’d resigned – a bit of a connection there, don’t you think? He asked if I was going to honour our agreement. I must say I expected a real cat fight to get to this point, but he was as good as his word.
“Oh, by the way, Karl Heinz Buchwald confided something to me as well. The watch which he gave to this vagrant, presumably still somewhere in the constable’s files in the village of High Spen, had a message scratched on the inside of the back cover. It’s in German of course, but it mentions Vogt as the reason for his escape. Presumably he thought Max was lying about something. Pity nobody opened up the watch, after all, it was evidence.”
Moss turned to Black and said, “Let’s get back to the boring old northeast, I told you this was about the ‘Man Who Never Was’.”
As they travelled back to Newcastle, Moss woke Black, who was snoring loudly.
“That young journalist is a brave woman, Black. And I never thought I’d say that about someone in the press. So, where do we start again now?”
“I got a message this morning at that bloody awful hotel. I rang Maggie back and she said Harry Smyth wanted to know if I still wanted to speak with him. So she fixed up an appointment for today. That reminds me, what the hell are we going to tell Maggie about her grandfather’s role in all of this?”
“Nothing as yet, Sophie’s inquiry will deal with the greater scheme of things. We just carry on with the identification process of this Emmers, and who killed him.”
“But it sounds as if Ernst Reichert was involved.”
“We don’t know for certain. First things first – the dental records of Emmers, Inspector.”
*
Newcastle C.I.D.
Harry was already waiting for Black when he arrived.
“Thank you for coming, Mr Smyth, I just wanted to follow up on one thing from the conversation I had with your mother. What do you recall about this Karl Heinz Buchwald?”
“Only that he was a flyer, and I liked him because he loaned me his disc. I was only five at the time and I thought he was my friend. I must say I was devastated when I found out that he’d escaped, and that the search party might lynch him. Everything is a drama at that age.”
“Do you remember him wearing a watch?”
“Yes, apart from the disc, that fascinated me more than anything else he had.”
“The records show that you and your father visited him after he was caught, here in Newcastle. Did he have it then?”
“I can’t remember for sure, let me think. I would say that he didn’t, but I just can’t be certain. My dad would have known.”
“Would have?”
“Yeah, he passed away in 1979. He noticed things about soldiers, having been one himself, and he got on well with Karl. Is it very important?”
“It could be. It was supposed to be in the file, probably some opportunist copper sold it as a souvenir. Never mind, I just had to be sure. When you say your dad got on well with him, I expect they never met again.”
“No, we thought he must have forgotten about us.”
“I think not, he would have good reason to keep his head down when he eventually got back to Germany. However, we now know he’s still alive and well.”
“Really, that’s fantastic news! You know, I’m married now with a son, and I think it’s time we Brits recognised that all people from a particular country aren’t the same. I would love to see him again. He will be sad to hear of my dad’s passing, but may be glad that I still think of him as a best friend. Are you able to give me his address?”
“Not right now, there is still an ongoing investigation to identify the skeleton found at the coke works, but perhaps in a few weeks I can help to put you in touch with him.”
“It’s a pity I couldn’t take his watch back to him. Wait a minute, the watch was found on the wrist of the vagrant they thought Karl had killed. So he couldn’t have had it in the Newcastle jail.”
“Brilliant deduction, Harry, in that case it might be in the High Spen constable’s file. I’ll get back to you about Karl’s address, give me your home number again.”
Harry walked out into the sunny street and inhaled deeply. He was thinking of those long gone days.
‘I wonder what Jack and Bella would have made of Karl still being alive and well. I can’t wait to tell Hilda’.
When Harry and his father had built their bright new houses in Prudhoe, it was an experience he would never forget, for two reasons. The sheer joy of finally appreciating the expertise Jack had accumulated to become a respected General Supervisor of massive building sites. It wasn’t just constructing a house, but also a legacy, which would survive him. That’s how he felt about his new home. Everywhere there was contact with his dad.
Secondly, the downside was a feeling that they had all let Bella down by moving away together, leaving a large hole in her everyday life. She only lived for a year or so after the move. He couldn’t help seeing a connection. The prospect of a re-connection with Karl-Heinz Buchwald would bring back those memories of seeing his father for the first time. The scene in the prison cell with Jack and Karl was so poignant, a graphic cameo of the futility of war.
*
London
Before the independent inquiry began, a news bulletin caught the attention of Moss. Sophie Redwood was one of seven pedestrians killed when a van lost control and mounted the pavement in central London. The many witnesses all claimed that the driver simply got out and ran off from the stolen vehicle.
The subsequent investigation was quickly concluded and stated that it was a straightforward case of hit and run. Although the victims were named, there was no hint of Scotland Yard disclosing it may have been a professional hit. There just wasn’t any evidence to support such a claim.
Without Sophie’s testimony, the inquiry had to be rescheduled, and yet there was still no accommodation of a possible link to the intelligence agencies. Her editor tried, but was obliquely made aware of the dangers in rocking the boat.
Therefore, a complete fracture in the pursuit of the full extent of the cover-up was considered complete by those spooks under threat, but then another significant event was reported. Her newly-retired source had seen the news and knew immediately that they could discover his connection to Sophie, and then find him in Australia. He didn’t know they already had. Alistair Crawford told his wife that they must
get the children to safety.
They argued about how best to achieve this. She had never been enlightened by Crawford as to the precipice on which he conducted his remit within MI6. Naively, after he filled in the detail, she insisted that the safest route was to fly back to the UK and become a whistle-blower. She favoured hiding behind the barricade of a public declaration.
He tried in vain to explain how things really worked, and at the same time, pleaded with her to trust him. He struck fear into her by emphasising the importance of proceeding with extreme haste. She reacted uncharacteristically by refusing to discuss the matter any further.
Crawford drew on his long experience in the job and it delivered his best option, the clarity of his own detachment from his family. He left their temporary home without saying another word, not even where he was heading.
Driving around in wide circles for two long days after he saw the news of the London ‘accident’ was the minimum he considered to be certain that he was being followed. He kept telling himself that it was the only way. He was a spook, and knew that there was a better than even chance that they knew he would never have told his wife about Sophie Redwood. Crawford had therefore deliberately signed the motel register in his own name, as an additional lure. He became so relaxed when he was sure it had worked. He didn’t have to wait long to meet the nameless hirelings. He could only hope that his deliberately erratic behaviour would spare his wife and children; he could do no more.
His body was found in the motel swimming pool after dark, clad only in bathing shorts, and he was presumed to have drowned. There were no signs of a scuffle because he agreed to fall into the deep water, despite not being able to swim.
*
Newcastle C.I.D.
Upon hearing of the death down under, Moss and Black didn’t take more than a few minutes to connect the dots. They didn’t really need to discuss the matter either; the headlines said it all, describing Crawford’s recent retirement from MI6, and the poignant interview with his successor, a distressed Marion Wentworth. They both knew they could well be next. They proceeded with all haste to end their involvement once they had identified Markus Emmers as an unfortunate victim of circumstance. The case in Newcastle was closed once and for all.
