War Clouds Gather

by Peter Watt

  ‘Father, it is well known that you have sentimental concerns about the property,’ Donald piped up. ‘But I was under the impression that business overrides sentimentality.’

  George glared at his son. He had underestimated his cunning; he could see now that having him by his side might prove more dangerous than he could had anticipated, especially if his son’s behaviour encouraged other board members to speak out ‘We will move on to the next item on the agenda,’ George said, returning his attention to the board members spread down the table. ‘I will speak with you after the meeting,’ he said to Donald.

  Donald did notice that there were one or two members who seemed to be in sympathy with his views, and from that he took heart. No longer would his father rule his life.

  ‘Before we finish for the day,’ George said in a solemn voice, ‘there is one other matter that has repercussions for the future of the Macintosh administration. I received tragic news that my brother’s son, David Macintosh, was killed in action in Spain fighting for the communist cause. As you know he would have taken a seat on this board if he had lived. As much as it pains me to say this about my nephew, it may have been a blessing for the company that he did not survive. He was an avowed communist and I’m sure would have had used his position on our board to disrupt our business practices.’

  Although Donald did not know David, he felt sickened by his father’s sanctimonious speech. He had welcomed the idea of his cousin coming onto the board; fresh blood was what the business needed. He was wary of Sarah’s new role; he had always known she was ambitious and he felt sure she would scheme to back her father if it suited her. Now, with David’s death, it would be two against one in the family management.

  *

  The house in the Arab quarter of Jerusalem was not known to British intelligence. But it was known to the German agents posing as archaeologists. Albrecht and Kramer sat cross-legged on brightly coloured carpets, sipping strong coffee from small cups while their host smoked foul-smelling Turkish cigarettes. Both Germans spoke fluent Arabic.

  ‘We have a common cause,’ Albrecht said to the Bedouin-dressed Arab. The man had a long black beard and dark brown intelligent eyes. His age was hard to determine, but Albrecht guessed him to be in his early fifties. He sported the traditional curved dagger as a symbol of his high position in Arab society. ‘We need to rid the world of the insidious Jew.’

  ‘My friends, on this we do not disagree,’ the Arab leader replied. ‘But your government has not come out in support of our sole claim to this country. Every day the British turn a blind eye to the Jews who land on our shores from your country, and yet Herr Hitler has not condemned this illegal immigration. Not only do we need money and arms to support our rebellion, but we also need political support from a country as strong as your own. Each day the Jews grow stronger and they have the tacit support of the British.’

  ‘I am merely a lowly servant of our Nazi cause,’ Albrecht answered. ‘It is not a good time for my government to confront the British and French. We must first consolidate by bringing in the Germanic people of Austria and the Sudetenland to our new Reich. Only then will we resume our true role as leaders of Europe. However, we expect a shipment of gold very soon, which will be given to you to assist your cause.’

  The Arab nodded his head with satisfaction.

  ‘We have one small problem, which I feel you are well placed to assist us with,’ Albrecht continued. ‘We have a traitor in our ranks whom we must eliminate.’

  ‘Then why is it not done already?’ the Arab frowned, fingering his bushy beard.

  ‘It is a delicate matter as the traitor is an Englishwoman. Her death must not be traced back to the German government,’ Albrecht said. ‘We would call on your expertise in these matters.’

  ‘If you can produce a generous advance on the gold you promise I am sure I can deal with this woman in such a manner that her death appears to be at the hands of our enemies,’ the man said slowly. ‘Give me the woman’s name and everything I should know about her.’

  Relieved, Albrecht calculated that it would be two days before the first of the gold was smuggled into Palestine. If that was so, Diane had less than forty-eight hours to live.

  *

  James felt the grip of the man as his father introduced him.

  ‘So you are young James Barrington,’ Saul Rosenblum said, releasing his hand. Matthew took his pipe from his pocket and filled the bowl while the three men stood at the edge of the airstrip outside Jerusalem. It was little more than a flat field lit by small drums filled with sand and soaked in fuel to light a path for incoming aircraft. It was used by the Haganah for covert operations.

  ‘It is fortunate that the telegram from our mutual friend in Basra arrived today or you might have landed in the Dead Sea,’ Saul continued with a wide smile. ‘It is good to see you after all these years.’

  ‘I had the good fortune to see Benjamin not so long ago,’ Matthew said, and in the gloom of the airstrip lights he could see a dark expression cross Saul’s face.

  ‘I do not see my son any more,’ he said. ‘He has sided with the extremists who do more harm than good for our cause to establish our homeland. But for now, let us forget that. I have accommodation at my cousin’s place in the city, and you and I will tell mostly true stories for your boy to hear of how his father has been a warrior all his life.’

  Matthew laughed. “I’m sure that my son does not wish to hear a couple of old men recall the mistakes of their past.’

  ‘Then we will get your son drunk and he can tell us stories of pretty young ladies he has met,’ Saul said.

  ‘James is too young to drink,’ Matthew cautioned.

  ‘If he is old enough to fight,’ Saul countered, ‘then he is old enough to drink.’

  Matthew glanced at his son and saw the expression of pleasure on his face. Suddenly he remembered he was hardly fourteen when he killed his first man in South Africa fighting at Elands River. Has the world changed so little? he thought sadly, and realised that his own days of killing were about to begin all over again.

  23

  There was a definite change in attitude from Albrecht and Diane sensed it. Since arriving in Palestine at the new dig she had noticed that he was keeping his distance. Not that she minded now. She had finally confessed her love and desire to Matthew, and shuddered at the thought of being intimate with the German but it worried her nevertheless. The alienation had actually been apparent before they left Iraq and this had touched off a terrible suspicion that maybe her cover had been blown. She sat on a wooden crate of canned foods by the side of the airstrip, basking in the warmth of the early spring day. Only a hundred yards away stood the team’s tents and she could see Albrecht in a huddle with Erika. Then Albrecht left his colleague and walked towards Diane with a fixed smile.

  ‘I have just been discussing a pickup of some artefacts the local villagers have for us,’ he said. ‘Erika is unable to make the drive to the village because of her work commitments. Can you go in her place?’

  ‘I do not want to leave my aircraft unattended out here,’ Diane protested.

  ‘The Junkers will be safe with us,’ Albrecht reassured. ‘We really need to have those artefacts in our care as soon as possible.’

  ‘I would like a guard to go with me then,’ Diane said, knowing that the troubles between the local Arabs and Jews made the roads a dangerous place.

  ‘I can organise for one of the Arab men we have on site to accompany you, although he will not be armed,’ Albrecht answered. ‘You could leave first thing in the morning and be back by suppertime,’ the German archaeologist suggested. ‘I am sure that driving the lorry is far safer than some of the past flights you have carried out.’

  Again, the forced smile, and Diane wondered if her coded letter had reached Matthew. She knew Albrecht would have read anything she sent and was smart enough to pick up on any code, so her words had to be carefully chosen to alert Matthew that something was wrong. She had a bad f
eeling about the drive to the local Arab village. But everything around her was causing paranoia, she attempted to console herself. Maybe all she had to do was pick up the artefacts and was she reading more into the job than was there.

  ‘Okay,’ she sighed. ‘I’ll leave first thing in the morning. Who do I have to contact in the village?’

  Albrecht briefed her.

  *

  ‘Diane is located here,’ Matthew said, leaning on the table and pointing to a spot on the unfolded map. ‘It is essential that we get her out of the Germans’ clutches and eliminate the two men.’

  ‘I thought that you said there was also a woman working with the Germans,’ Saul queried, looking up from the map. James was occupied by the company of Saul’s seventeen-year-old niece in the garden courtyard.

  ‘There is,’ Matthew said. ‘But I do not condone the killing of women – despite their activities.’

  ‘You are far too sentimental,’ Saul said sadly. ‘It could get you killed.’

  ‘Can you do it?’ Matthew asked, ignoring Saul’s comment.

  ‘I can organise to get Miss Hatfield away from the Nazi agents, but my group cannot be seen to be involved in killing the Germans. It may cause repercussions for Jews in Germany,’ Saul said.

  ‘Could it get any worse for them?’ Matthew asked.

  ‘I do not know, but I am not willing to risk the possibility,’ Saul answered, standing straight and stretching his aching bones.

  ‘If you cannot help me with the Germans, then I will do the job on my own,’ Matthew said, attempting to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

  ‘No, no,’ Saul said. ‘I said that we cannot be seen to have any responsibility for killing the Germans, but I know a man who is more than capable of carrying out such a covert operation, and I believe he is currently in Jerusalem.’

  ‘If you know such a man I would like to meet him as soon as possible. Time is critical in this operation,’ Matthew said.

  ‘It is my son, Benjamin, and his comrades in the Irgun,’ Saul replied. ‘They are expert at such missions.’

  ‘Ben?’ Matthew echoed. ‘I thought that you and he were not talking to each other.’

  ‘He and I have taken different paths but I know Ben has a great respect for you. My cousin is in contact with him and he tells me how he is faring. I love my son deeply, even though we have different ways of going about building a Zionist nation. I will tell my cousin Micah to contact Ben and arrange for you to go to him with your plan. I feel that he owes you for risking your life getting those weapons out of Czechoslovakia last year.’

  ‘Whether Ben agrees or not, I will be going on this mission myself,’ Matthew said.

  ‘You are a fool, Matthew, if you think that you are necessary to any operation my son plans,’ Saul said with a touch of anger in his voice. ‘We have fought our wars and it is time for the next generation to take up the sword.’

  ‘I have to go along to ensure that Diane is safe,’ Matthew said. ‘I don’t know if I can lose her as I lost Joanne all those years ago.’

  Saul softened at the mention of Joanne. He had witnessed his old friend administer a lethal dose of morphine to the woman he loved to put her out of her agony. It was during the Great War and they had been on a hilltop deep in Turkish territory; there was no way Joanne would have survived long enough to reach a hospital. Saul reached out and put his arm around Matthew’s shoulders.

  ‘I understand,’ he said.

  Matthew folded the map and Saul picked up a bottle of Scotch just as James entered the room, a broad smile on his face.

  ‘Zelda is a lovely young lady,’ he said to Saul. ‘She has entertained me with stories about her parents’ escape from Russia to settle here, and how you saved their community from destruction before she was born, Mr Rosenblum.’

  ‘Ah, that was a long time ago,’ Saul waved off.

  ‘What have you two been discussing while Zelda has been entertaining me?’ James asked, looking at both men and obviously sensing the tension between them.

  ‘You should learn that it’s not good manners to ask such questions,’ Matthew reprimanded.

  ‘You will have to excuse my New England bluntness, Mr Rosenblum,’ James said. ‘It is something I have learned from my grandfather.’

  Saul broke into a broad grin. ‘I met your grandfather a long time ago, and I can see that there is a bit of him in you.’

  ‘My grandfather has never mentioned meeting you,’ James said, mildly surprised that James Barrington Snr would have any social contact with a Jewish person. ‘When was that?’

  ‘At the end of the war, and I doubt that your grandfather would have any good stories to tell of our meeting,’ Saul replied, winking at Matthew, who was smiling.

  James looked perplexed by the answer.

  ‘Oh, well, I will ask my grandfather one day,’ James shrugged. ‘But it would be nice to know why my father has flown here to meet with you. It all seems so hush hush.’

  ‘You ask too many questions, boy,’ Saul growled. ‘Maybe one day your father will tell you.’ James glanced at Matthew who remained silent, still listening to the echo of the word ‘father’ his son had used referring to him.

  *

  It was in the early hours of the morning that Ben Rosenblum arrived, waking his cousin who in turn went to Saul and Matthew. Matthew joined Saul and Ben in the kitchen.

  ‘It is good to see you, my son,’ Saul greeted Ben, whose face sported a few days’ growth of whiskers.

  ‘It is also good to see you, Father,’ Ben replied, accepting Saul’s hug.

  ‘You know that I cannot condone your role in the Irgun,’ Saul said, disengaging from the embrace. ‘But you will always be my son, no matter what.’

  ‘I accept that,’ Ben replied and turned to Matthew. ‘I never thanked you properly for the help you provided us,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘I have been informed that you may need the assistance of my comrades for a mission of some sensitivity.’

  ‘I need to extract an Englishwoman who I believe is in mortal danger, and at the same time eliminate a couple of German agents working with the Arab rebels,’ Matthew said. ‘But, we need to do so without drawing any attention to your cause or to me. And we need to do it soon.’

  Ben rubbed his face and frowned. ‘Give me all that you can and I will decide tonight whether we can carry out what you ask.’

  Matthew briefed Ben while Saul stood in the background. When Matthew had finished his briefing he ceased speaking and waited for Ben’s decision.

  ‘If time is that important I think that I can organise a team straightaway, and the mission will be complete before the sun goes down tomorrow,’ he said.

  Matthew broke into a relieved smile. ‘Thank you, Ben,’ he said. ‘It is a bit like old times when you were young and we were fighting together against the Ottomans.’

  ‘My father taught me so much,’ Ben replied and Matthew could see the expression of pleasure on Saul’s face.

  ‘There is one other matter,’ Matthew said. ‘I will be going on this mission with you.’

  Ben was about to protest but Saul spoke.

  ‘It is important, Ben,’ he said. ‘Miss Hatfield is special to Matthew – as was Joanne.’

  Ben simply nodded his understanding and did not argue. After all, he too had been on the hilltop when Matthew had administered the lethal mercy dose those many years earlier.

  *

  The camp awoke with the rising of the sun and Diane rose and washed herself in her tent with a wet cloth. She dressed in long pants and a shirt, over which she wore her flying jacket against the chill of the morning.

  Breakfast had been prepared but the three Germans were not to be seen and the camp’s cook explained in broken English that they had already left for the dig site. Diane was joined by her escort – one of the Arab workers who spoke reasonable English – and Diane was surprised to see him wearing almost European dress instead of his usual flowing Arabic garb and headdress.


  ‘I am ready to leave,’ he said. ‘Better we go now and return before the sun sets.’

  Diane followed her escort, whose name was Mohammad, to the camp’s lorry and pulled herself into the driver’s seat. Beside her Mohammad sat silently. He was not carrying a firearm but Diane could see the knife tucked in his belt. She hoped he would not have to use it, but she felt a deep sense of foreboding as she drove away from the camp.

  *

  Matthew found himself in the back seat of the car jammed between two burly Irgun fighters of Georgian heritage. Ben was driving, and beside him sat a young man not much more than a boy. The team of three men had been selected because they could all speak Arabic and had proved their worth in other dangerous covert operations. From what Matthew had gleaned, the Georgian Jews were brothers, and the young man beside Ben had proven, despite his youth, his ability to engage in risky operations. None had given their names, and Matthew had not asked.

  The car left the outer suburbs of Jerusalem just after 9 am and was en route to the dig location identified by Matthew. They drove in silence and Matthew could feel the tension in the vehicle.

  When stopped at British army roadblocks Ben produced papers for clearance and soon they were in the country. They passed a few houses and flocks of goats being shepherded by young boys.

  Just after midday Ben drove off the road to a clearing where they all disembarked, stretching limbs and relieving themselves against rocks.

  ‘We are a half-mile from the site you indicated on the map,’ Ben said to Matthew. ‘It is time to lay up now; we make our raid in the early hours of tomorrow morning.’

  Matthew had not been told the full details of Ben’s plan but he noticed the Georgian brothers were already pushing the car into a shallow depression out of sight of anyone who might be driving to the dig. Then they took bundles of Arabic clothing from the boot of the car. One of the men approached Matthew, holding out a long robe.