The Girl with the Silver Stiletto

by Vic Robbie

  Turning to Alena, she added: ‘They’ll protect you and give you a new identity. And no one will be able to harm you again.’

  Ben was watching closely, but she avoided his stare.

  ‘Sorry, but who are you?’ Alena asked and sat down.

  ‘My name is Natalie.’ She joined Alena on the sofa. ‘An old friend of Ben’s.’ His look disowned any such relationship. ‘My contacts over there are genuine.’

  Excited, Freddie piped up: ‘Let’s go to America, maman.’

  Alena smiled at her son. ‘If we did accept the offer, how soon could we travel?’

  Believing Alena was warming to the proposal, Natalie felt a surge of expectation. ‘I can contact them now. You’d be under their protection the minute you arrived in New York.’

  Alena’s face turned serious with deliberation as she thought it over before glancing at Ben and then at Freddie.

  ‘What do you say, Ben?’ she asked, not ignoring the veiled warning in his eyes. ‘It sounds too good to be true.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t like being a refugee – someone living in a country because they’ve nowhere else. I want to feel I belong wherever I live.’

  Natalie glared at him again and then away, fearing he might discourage Alena.

  ‘What do they expect in return?’ Alena asked.

  ‘Nothing. They’ll leave you alone to live your life.’

  Alena got up and walked around the room as if every step would help her decide. ‘If we stay in England, we’ll be in increasing danger from the Nazis. I suppose Ben has told you about us and why we’re here.’ She stopped moving and faced Natalie. ‘Let me talk to Ben about this. I have to be sure what I decide is best for Freddie, you understand?’

  ‘Of course,’ Natalie replied and jumped to her feet. ‘I’ll go now, but I need a decision within the next couple of hours.’

  It amazed Ben. For years, Pickering had been getting him into and out of scrapes. Now, even though being under suspicion and watched by the intelligence services, he had arranged tickets and the papers for their flight to America.

  They met in a hostelry just off Trafalgar Square and this time didn’t have to worry about surveillance. A barmaid, more interested in her newspaper, was the only person there.

  ‘The flight is tomorrow. And here –’ Pickering threw a brown envelope onto the table ‘– is an updated passport for Alena and the tickets. You’ll be travelling as a family. There are also several letters confirming you’re on official business for the Foreign Office, and the American authorities have approved your entry.’

  ‘How in hell did you manage that?’

  Pickering evaded an answer at first, then broke into a sly grin and shrugged as though it were no big deal. ‘When you’ve been in this business as long as me, you know all the shortcuts.’

  ‘But you’re under investigation.’

  Pickering hunched forward, lowering his voice. ‘That’s all political. Still got some friends, old man. They know I’m not a rotten apple.’

  As much as he was surprised by the speed of events, he was more suspicious of Natalie.

  After she had left the apartment, Alena turned on him with an accusing look. ‘Obviously, you weren’t convinced by the offer although she seemed genuinely committed to helping us.’

  Getting up, he poured them both a drink.

  ‘Is this the right move?’ she asked. ‘Or am I missing something?’

  He took a mouthful and let the spirit do its work. ‘What you must understand is that Natalie does only what benefits her. She has a deal with her American friends that would hide her way from her enemies. But I wonder if we can trust their motives or whether they can deliver on their promises.’

  ‘You don’t trust her, do you?’

  ‘Damn right.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d met her yesterday and she’d made this offer? You alone can’t make decisions about our lives. We can make up our own minds.’

  Realising his mistake, he said: ‘I was going to once I’d discovered what lay behind it.’

  ‘Couldn’t it be that she just wants to help us?’

  He laughed, but cut it short when she glared at him. ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Do you think she could be working for someone else?’

  ‘That’s a possibility.’ He shrugged. ‘Could be anyone – even the Nazis.’

  She put a hand to her mouth in shock and took a sharp intake of breath. ‘Hopeless. It’s all so hopeless. What to do for the best?’ Absentmindedly plucking some white feathers from a cushion, she stretched out her legs in front of her. As if asking him to decide for her, she glanced over. ‘We’ve decided to go to America anyway, so perhaps we should go along with it for now. At least we have a couple of options.’

  ‘We must be cautious,’ he had mused, stroking his chin. ‘We need to be wary of her real intentions.’

  There had been relief in her smile. ‘Not sure I trust her either, but there’s little choice. We’ve got to get away. It’s our only chance. British Intelligence have given up on us. Again, Ben, you’re the only one I can trust.’

  As if expecting Nazis to materialise out of the walls, he scanned the pub and muttered his thanks to Pickering.

  ‘You must get moving.’ Pickering drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Without the authorities’ help, the Nazis will catch you. And Alena and Freddie will be at risk. One thing.’ He laid a hand on his arm as he reached for the envelope. ‘Keep Natalie out of this. I’d trust her as much as a snake with a headache. She’s playing a long game but to whose rules?’

  Pickering pushed back the chair, rising to his feet, and the wooden legs jarred on the stone floor. ‘Have a safe trip, old man.’ He shoved out a large hand. ‘When you find somewhere safe, send me a message. But don’t reveal your location. What I don’t know can’t be beaten out of me.’

  He mustered a hollow laugh and shook Pickering’s hand. ‘Will do… and thanks again.’

  Pickering waved it away as if it were nothing. ‘Stay here until I make my getaway. Take another drink,’ he added, ‘and don’t spill this one all over the floor.’ And he laughed as he walked off without looking back.

  Ben sensed something was wrong when he reached the apartment. For a start, there were no voices. He pushed open the door and stopped in surprise, panic spreading through him.

  Natalie wandered into the sitting-room, clutching a coffee and smoking one of her Passing Clouds, and offered a broad smile. ‘Ah, cheri, you’re back.’

  ‘Where in the hell are Alena and Freddie?’ He glanced around as though expecting them to come out of hiding. ’Where are they?’ he repeated.

  ‘Out.’

  Disbelief clouded his eyes, and he rounded on her. ‘Are they bloody crazy? Have they forgotten the Nazis are after them?’

  ‘At least then, I have you to myself, cheri.’ She walked over and reached out to him.

  ‘Is this your doing?’ He backed away. ‘What have you done with them?’

  She gave a look of mock disappointment. ‘Why do you always think the worst of me, cheri?’

  He was relieved to find Alena’s bag still in her room. ‘Why did you let them go?’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘You should have stopped them?’

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about. Freddie wanted to see Big Ben, and Alena promised to give a decision to my offer when she returned.’

  His gasp was meant to be a sigh but sounded more like an explosion. He wished now he had warned Alena about being followed when driving in the Bentley. ‘How long have they been gone? They’re mad.’

  ‘An hour or so. That leaves us plenty of time to get reacquainted.’

  He shrugged her off. ‘I must find them. There’s no time to lose.’ Turning on his heel, he walked out of the door.

  ‘Hey, wait, wait for me.’ Natalie broke into a run. ‘I can help you.’

  From his vantage point across Bridge Street outside Westminster underground station, Klein watched Alena and Freddie wander about looking
up in wonderment at Big Ben like the other tourists. Adults, carrying coloured flags to signify their group, led a crowd of excited schoolchildren. And he found it difficult to keep the boy in sight as he merged with the others, but he wasn’t worried yet. His colleagues were close by and ready to make a move when ordered. The only concern was that she might recognise them as the two who had arrived on the Shetland ferry although hats and glasses could often be an adequate disguise. He suppressed a smile at the boy’s excitement as he appeared to bombard his mother with questions about the building. After years cooped up on the island, this was a different world, and he followed the direction of her arm as she indicated points of interest.

  As a signal to his men to move in, he lit a Capstan and cupped it in his hand against a light breeze. And he walked fast towards the knot of tourists milling about under the tower. When he drew level with Alena, he turned to her, blocking her view of Freddie, and asked in his broadest Geordie accent. ‘Excuse me, madam, could you direct me to Buckingham Palace?’

  She showed a flash of irritation and, losing her concentration, took her eyes off Freddie as she worked out the directions in her head.

  His colleagues moved fast through the crowd, and when they reached the boy, they grabbed an arm each and lifted him off his feet. ‘Come with us,’ one of them ordered in a quiet voice.

  ‘Stop it, stop it.’ Freddie struggled, attempting to kick the men. ‘Put me down; I don’t want to go with you.’ His voice grew in strength. ‘Maman, maman.’

  Startled by his call for help, but unable to see him because Klein was in her way, she shouted: ‘Get away.’ And when he didn’t move, she kicked him in the shin.

  Ben and Natalie were walking towards Big Ben when she said: ‘Oh, my God.’ She tugged at his sleeve and pointed. ‘Someone’s got Freddie.’ They were about a hundred yards from the action and broke into a run.

  Alarmed by the shout, the children crowded around in panic, alerting a policeman. He stepped out in front of the men attempting to drag off Freddie and raised an arm. Instead of stopping, the larger Nazi hit him in the face with a cosh. At that moment, Big Ben rang the hour and the crowd surged forward. In the chaos, the Nazis manhandled Freddie in the direction of their car, parked almost twenty yards away.

  ‘I’m coming, Freddie.’ Alena moved around the man hopping in agony and holding his shin.

  The boy’s protests were even louder now. And the larger Nazi lifted him over his shoulder and ran for the car while Freddie kicked and pounded his back with his fists.

  Klein grabbed at Alena’s coat and pulled her down, and she pitched forward and hit her face on the road. ‘Sorry, I’m so sorry,’ he said, raising his hands in apology. As she tried to regain her feet, he stumbled, pinning her to the ground.

  ‘Get off me,’ she shouted as she attempted to break free.

  Ben was the first to reach the men. The smaller one blocked his way and swung at him with a pistol, catching him on the head with a blow that momentarily stunned him. And it allowed Natalie to pass him. Within a few steps, she caught the Nazi carrying Freddie. In the late afternoon sunlight, Ben saw a flash as she hit the man on the side of the head. He dropped the boy and screamed in pain as he put up a hand to his ear before falling backwards across the bonnet of the car.

  Natalie dragged Freddie to his feet and pulled him away from danger. Having head-butted the other Nazi, Ben went over to rescue a dazed Alena. By now, Klein had disappeared.

  Reunited with her son, Alena smothered him with kisses and held onto him as if she would never let him go again. ‘Oh, Freddie, Freddie, are you hurt? If anything happened to you, I couldn’t go on living.’

  ‘It’s okay, maman,’ he said, the wonder of the adventure diminishing his fear. ‘Natalie killed that bad man, don’t you know.’ And his eyes widened.

  They checked the area, but there was no sign of the Nazis or their car.

  21

  Ben turned to see Natalie sitting eight rows back, and it annoyed him that she had boarded the flight to New York at the last minute. The more he saw of her, the less he trusted her.

  On the other hand, Freddie was ecstatic. ‘Natalie must come with us, maman,’ he had insisted on returning to the apartment after the kidnap attempt.

  Alena sat on the couch recounting the attack, and the thought of what might have happened made her tremble. If anything, it had forced her to decide.

  Natalie prowled the room, her face tight and troubled.

  ‘I don’t know, darling,’ Alena had answered. ‘What should we do, Ben?’

  The situation was becoming more complicated by the minute. The kidnap had failed, but next time the Nazis would succeed.

  ‘Please, maman.’ Freddie’s voice took on a wheedling tone. ‘She saved my life.’ To reinforce his argument, he sidled over to his mother and sat down on the sofa and put his head on her shoulder. ‘Natalie will take care of me.’ And he gave her his most appealing smile. ‘Won’t you?’

  ‘Of course, cheri.’ She came and sat next to Alena with the boy between them. ‘I can help. My contact has great wealth, and the group are very influential in all spheres of American life. He has the power to sort out everything. In Paris, he promised that once in America you’d be under their protection and they’d provide a new home and identities. You’d be out of the Nazis’ reach.’ She smiled as if to back up her point.

  Alena had been worried. ‘But it’s as if I’m running away from everything…’

  ‘We were going to America anyway,’ he said. ‘It’s not secure here. SIS are no longer interested; otherwise, they would have intervened. I’ll do my best, but I can’t protect you from a network of Nazis forever. You’d always be looking over your shoulder and jumping at every shadow. Pickering agreed with me that over there you could disappear.’

  Freddie glanced at his mother. ‘And Natalie, too.’

  ‘I always knew we’d have to go.’ Alena sighed. ‘I’m very grateful to you and Pickering for everything; it’s just…’

  As if looking for Nazis, Natalie went over to the window. ‘We got lucky today. They’re out there, and they’ll be back. Next time they will succeed.’

  ‘Should Natalie come?’ Alena had asked.

  ‘We can’t stop her getting on the plane.’

  Natalie glared at him.

  ‘The offer seems to be genuine,’ Alena said with an apologetic look at Natalie.

  ‘Once in New York, you can decide.’

  ‘Hurrah!’ Freddie jumped off the sofa. ‘Natalie is coming.’ And he grasped her hand.

  If she can get a ticket. He stared at her, hoping Natalie might fail.

  On take-off, Alena touched his cheek with the back of her hand. ‘Maybe this is the start of a new life.’

  He turned his attention away from Natalie. Alena’s smile sparked memories of their first meeting in Paris all those years ago. But nothing had changed. The Nazis were still chasing them.

  ‘Could be,’ he agreed, holding her hand. ‘I used to wonder if you and Freddie were safe and where you were being hidden and would we ever meet again.’

  Her look softened. ‘Many times I tried to get a message out. But they blocked it, saying any contact could expose us to danger.’

  He looked along his eyes at her. ‘Pickering always maintained he’d no knowledge of your whereabouts.’ And the shake of his head showed he doubted that.

  ‘I don’t think he did. It was only Smee. And Magnus and Shona in Shetland had no idea who we were.’

  ‘But Pickering said something else.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t say.’

  ‘Go on, please.’ Reaching over, she held his hands.

  Her flashed smile of encouragement overcame his reluctance. ‘I’m not saying I believe any of this. But Pickering intimated you went AWOL at one time.’

  She made to answer, but he held up a hand. ‘Said you’d been planted in the French diplomatic service, a whole lot of things. In effect, they claimed you
’re not the person you pretended to be.’

  ‘I see.’ Her face darkened as she looked out the window. ‘Maybe they were attempting to discourage Pickering.’

  ‘That sounds as far-fetched as their story.’

  She swept her hair back and from her bag extricated a cigarette and delayed lighting it as if needing time to answer. ‘There may be an element of truth in it,’ she admitted.

  A dull pain grew in his chest as he waited for her to explain.

  Smoke wreathed her face. ‘It’s true, I disappeared once, but there was a good reason. As you know, I’m fluent in English, French, German and Russian, and French Intelligence also trained me.’

  As though gathering the remnants of those memories, she glanced at the ceiling and paused. ‘You’ve heard of the Shetland Bus?’

  It had been a well-kept secret in the war, but afterwards, the amazing heroics of the islanders leaked out.

  ‘Shetland used to be part of Norway, and the islands are closer to Scandinavia than they are to mainland Scotland. During the war, more than twenty thousand troops were stationed there because of its strategic importance.’

  She broke off to check on Freddie who was flying his model Spitfire in his hand, making it rise and swoop, accompanied by the appropriate sounds. Satisfied he was okay, she continued: ’They put the island’s fishing boats to good use, running a shuttle service to occupied Norway, taking over agents and rescuing people fleeing the Germans. They wanted to persuade a Russian scientist who worked in atomic research to defect. To convince him, they needed a Russian speaker, preferably attractive. It was so top secret no one was to know I’d gone with them, not even my handlers at SIS. They thought I’d fled and when I returned they were livid. But the operation was such a success they gave me permission to take part in more. We saved a lot of lives, but it was dangerous and horrible work. When the Germans discovered we’d helped someone flee, they’d round up the rest of their family and execute them. We killed a Gestapo officer, and they slaughtered a whole village of almost five hundred in retribution.’