Offspring

by Stan Mason

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ returned Kirk, starting to take his leave. ‘I’d like you to come to a meeting at my house in three days’ time. Would you do that?’

  ‘I can be there. Where... and at what time?’

  ‘I live near Epping Forest. It’ll be for lunch, say, at one o’clock. Conrad will give you the address. Good night!’ With that, he turned on his heel and left.

  Hayle produced a pen and a piece of paper from his pocket to jot down the details. I thanked him for his help and left the building. Outside, stood the uniformed young man whose ego I had dented so badly. He glared at me with hatred showing in his eyes. I mused I needed an enemy in the organisation like I needed a hole in the head. But that was the way it stood!

  I took Tania back to her apartment. She still seemed a little depressed and I couldn’t fathom the reason. ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked sympathetically. ‘Do you have a headache? Or did I upset you by grabbing the limelight?’ She shook her head and gave me a half-smile without speaking. ‘I didn’t mean to sound off like that. Really I didn’t. But that young prig was a bit too full of his own importance. I felt I had to knock him off his perch. Come on, what’s troubling you?’

  We stood in the kitchen and she turned on the kettle to make some coffee. ‘I’m all in favour of a united Europe,’ she said dolefully. ‘In fact I joined the movement because I strongly believe it might be the salvation of mankind to create a United States of Europe, establishing it as a major world power. But tonight was something different. First of all, I came to the party hanging on your coat-tails. I shouldn’t have been there at all really. Secondly, I had the feeling something sinister was happening. Suddenly, there are men in uniforms. Why were they wearing them? How come everyone was talking about national socialism... the concept followed by the Nazis? And how many people there had relatives who held senior positions in the old German hierarchy?

  ‘How can you say that?’ I asked, wondering how she could devise such a high-grade list of questions so quickly. A suspicious thought entered my mind and I stared at her face closely. ‘What do you work at, Tania?’

  ‘Mail-order,’ she replied instantly. ‘I work for a mail-order firm.’

  I didn’t believe her for one moment and stalked into her bedroom, pulling open the drawers of her dressing-table indiscriminately. She start to protest but I ignored her. If I was wrong she would throw me out on my ear and I would deserve such harsh treatment. But, if I was right, I was going to discover her true identity and find out why she had become a recruit of the movement. As I suspected, there was a plastic card in a handbag in one of the drawers and I glanced at it angrily, knowing exactly what it represented.

  ‘You bitch!’ I exclaimed unfairly, going back into the kitchen. ‘You’re a bloody reporter from another newspaper! I knew it when you started to ask those questions!

  She looked equally angry, furious that I had discovered her identity. ‘We all have to earn a living, you know!’ she defended boldly. ‘I worked hard to get initiated into International Three Thousand but now it’s all over. You’ll be delighted to tell them about me. It’ll gain you a few more bonus points!’

  I sat in the lounge for a while in silence as she made us some coffee. The woman had done well to get that far. She had shown a lot of zeal. In truth, we were probably the two most advanced reporters on this particular assignment. It made sense to join forces, especially where contacts were concerned. She returned from the kitchen and set two cups of coffee down on the coffee-table.

  ‘You said... ”You’re a bloody reporter from another newspaper”. What do you mean... from another newspaper?’

  I started to laugh and stood up, taking her into my arms. I had no alternative but to come clean.

  ‘I’m no grandson of a German,’ I admitted. ‘My ancestors were all Scottish. The antics of this evening were a charade. You see, I’m also a newspaper reporter.’

  She drew in a deep breath and displayed mock anger towards me. ‘You rat!’ she snapped, staring into my eyes. ‘And there was I all miserable because you were one of them! I was going to hang on to you to help me get my story. Fat lot of use that is now!’

  There was a short silence and then we both saw the funny side of it. Peals of laughter echoed through the apartment and out of the open window which had not yet been repaired.

  ‘Why don’t we join forces,’ I suggested seriously. ‘Together we can get to the bottom of this awful business. You realise what’s going on, don’t you?’

  ‘Tonight was an eye-opener. They even wear uniforms like the old Nazis.’

  ‘Do we join forces then?’ I asked, holding her close in my arms.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said doubtfully. ‘Have you any idea what my editor would say if he found out? There would be hell to pay!’

  ‘Why does he have to find out? I’m not going to tell mine!’

  We both laughed at the thought and kissed each other gently on the lips. No doubt her editor was very similar to Ted Flanders in all he said and did!

  ‘I’ve got a great idea,’ she continued quietly. ‘Why don’t we continue this conversation in bed?’

  The idea of a partnership with a competitor reporter had never surfaced before. There were many newspaper people who would have considered it undesirable and obnoxious. Somehow, with a woman like Tania, it held certain attractions, and I was more than flattered to recognise she had been miserable because she thought I was one of the bad guys. We went into the bedroom and closed the door behind us to shut out the draught. It was going to be a successful alliance. I could feel it in my bones! As I sat on the bed, I visualised Ted Flanders wincing with pain, like the victim of a voodoo expert who had just pierced his likeness with a sharp pin. It would keep him puffing away at those cheap cigars for a long time to come!

  Chapter Eleven

  I recall waking very early on the following morning although consciousness merely existed in a state of awareness, My mind was full of complex thoughts and I twisted and turned uneasily. Despite my malaise, it was one of those days when one is never sure whether restful sleep in present or restless awareness prevails. I was delighted at my preparatory work I had made in advance of Hayle’s party. I had set the bait. It was a day off for Murphy’s law... where the rule is that if anything can go wrong, it will go wrong! I breathed a sigh of relief at being offered a further invitation to Kirk’s residence near Epping Forest. At last I was approaching the gates of Hades without having to fight off the three-headed Cerberus, Although I was being drawn into the situation, to the point of no return, it was counterbalanced by the promise of results.

  Tania awoke much later having slept quite well. I made breakfast and we began to share information on progress as we had agreed the night before. She was like a moth flying across a naked flame without getting singed. The incident in which she had been tied to a chair was the first of its kind. There had been no other attempts on her life which led me to consider that I was the one who was expendable. Yet only those in the committee at the House of Commons knew of my assignment. At best, my position seemed to be extremely vulnerable. However none of them knew that Tania worked for a newspaper. She had developed her researches independently, basing her work on Nazi records held by various agencies.

  ‘Before we start,’ I asked, ‘how did you manage to get invited to the recruitment meeting?’

  She hesitated for a moment before forcing herself to trust me. ‘From one of my contacts,’ she replied, sitting on the fence.

  ‘Look,’ I growled. ‘If we’re going to be honest with each other, we can’t hold back. It’s up to you!’

  There was a long pause and then she caved in. ‘It’s a man called Calvin at the Dock and Duck in the East End of London. He’s one of my informers. My newspaper pays him well. He’s the best in the business.‘

  ’Was!’ I returned flatly. ‘He was the best. H
e was my contact as well.’ It was clear that Calvin worked for anyone who paid him, moving the goal posts to his own advantage.

  ‘Why the past tense?’

  ‘I found him dead in the inn.’

  ‘Dead!’ she echoed, patently unaware of the man’s demise. ‘This assignment’s beginning to give me the creeps! People are getting killed simply for information.’

  ‘Or the suppression of it,’ I returned. ‘What about your researches?’

  She aligned her thoughts for a moment. ‘The United Nations War Crimes Commission was set up in 1943 by the Allies in London. The Commission lists all war criminals which, believe it or not, amounts to more than twenty-five thousand. Can you imagine the chaos after the war before the trials at Nurenburg? The Nazi war criminals and officers of the Third Reich looked for ways to escape capture. History records that some of them were caught but thousands managed to get away. Most who escaped emigrated to other countries, such as South America, changing their identities to avoid discovery. They brought up their families in those countries waiting for the day when the Fourth Reign would be formed to take up where Hitler left off. When that time arrives, if it ever does, they have substantial wealth obtained from the treasures they acquired from their occupation of other countries during World War Two. Regardless of that, their aim is to establish the United States of Europe with them in control and they call it International Three Thousand. Instead of war, they intend to control the situation throughout peace, And this time there’ll be no neutral countries’

  ‘In truth, I think it’s a very tall order but things change very quickly in the political climate. I mean if you add up the number of new recruits to the organisation, it could reach many millions over the next ten or twenty years. It could act like a chain reaction as it did in the 1930s in Germany.’

  Tania nodded seriously. ‘The key character in the business is a man called Simon Weisenthal. Born in Russia, he emerged as an Austrian Jew who helped to bring more than eleven hundred Nazi war criminals to justice. Although his centre is in Los Angeles, he was the founder of the Jewish Documentation Centre in Vienna. It gathered information on the present location of Nazis who avoided capture. The biggest fish they ever caught was Adolf Eichmann, the former German officer responsible for deporting Jews to Nazi concentration camps. Israel agents rooted him out in the Argentine., He was sentenced to death and hanged. But now it’s the children and grandchildren of the Nazis that they’re looking for. The Israelis are hopping mad that the United Nations claimed that the War Crimes Commission was defunct and that each country was responsible for its own files. Australia’s the only country giving blanket access to its records.’

  ‘It really looks very bleak,’ I muttered sadly.

  ‘Not quite,’ she returned quickly. ‘There’s always some people willing to betray their country for money. Howe valid such information is open to question.’ I know of one contact in Munich who’s willing to put us on the right track. His name’s Kaspar Levenson. He stays at the Vier Jahreszeiten Hotel in Maximillianstrasse in Munich.’

  ‘That’s odd!’ I said, looking at her strangely. ‘One of my contacts, Jack Berg, has asked me to go to Germany with him. He might only want a free ride on the back of my expenses.’

  ‘Be careful of your timing,’ she warned. ‘You’ve agreed to visit Kirk at Epping Forest.’

  ‘Yes...Harry Kirk...the Commander-in-Chief.’

  ‘I presume I’m not invited.’

  I shrugged my shoulders innocently. ‘He didn’t include you but you can come along with me if you wish. The problem is that if my cover’s blown, you go down with me. I think you ought to put some distance between yourself and the organisation. I’ll let you know what’s going on.’

  She stared at me suspiciously for a moment as though I was trying to cheat her. ‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with pulling off a scoop on your own account, would it? I don’t fancy being left high and dry.’

  ‘You have my word on it,’ I told her sincerely. ‘Devious I may be, but dishonest, never! My main interest is to protect you.’ I kissed her gently on the nose and looked directly into her eyes. ‘And that leads me to another thing. I want you to move into my apartment while I’m away.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Those men who tied you to a chair might come back again. I won’t be here to protect you. My apartment’s in a terrible state but they won’t look for you there. Promise me you’ll do that!’

  She thought about the idea for a moment and then nodded. ‘But don’t think it’s a permanent arrangement. I’m still not sure about you, James Savage... or Herr Erdbeer!’

  I laughed realising how much I enjoyed her company. She brought freshness and a new dimension to my life. ‘Good,’ I responded happily. ‘I’ll visit Kirk and then go to Germany. What are you going to do in the meantime?’

  ‘I’m making an all-out effort to open the files of the War Crimes Commission. My appointment at Whitehall is with a Mr. Jacobs of State Security.’

  I froze in my tracks, shaking my head slightly as though my hearing was impaired. I felt a strong urge to tell her of my meeting at the House of Commons until the words of the Prime Minister echoed in my brain. ‘In effect Mr. Savage, this meeting never took place and none of us have ever seen you. Equally you have never seen us and no one is to be told anything.’ It was time for silence and I allowed the matter to fade into my mind. ‘An agency called State Security,’ I managed to say. ‘I think you ought to check it out.’

  ‘I’ve already set the wheels in motion,’ she returned boastfully.

  I chuckled inwardly in anticipation of the results of her research. ‘Let’s get your stuff over to my place.’

  ‘By the way,’ she went on as if not hearing me. ‘Have you ever come across someone called Strogoff?

  ‘Strogoff?’ My voice almost sounded in a gasp.

  ‘He’s a Russian who escaped from one of their Siberian camps. He seems to be creeping up all over the place.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked her with interest.

  ‘I saw him speak at a rally in the East End of London,

  We’ll talk about it on our way to your apartment, Let me just tell you that he’s after all the Nazi treasures, gold and shares. He’s found some Nazi criminals and is blackmailing them. They have no option but to pay up. There’s plenty of fish in the sea! But he regards that as only bread-and-butter stuff. He’s after the whole caboodle.’

  ‘I was at that rally and he seemed to be on their side,’ I uttered without surprise.

  ‘He’s on any side that suits him,’ she countered swiftly.

  I dwelt on what she had told me as we collected her clothes and essential items. At least she was safe and sound, as far as I was concerned.

  It was past noon when I arrived at Miss Grayson’s office. She hadn’t left for lunch but my appearance did not improved her disposition towards me. Despite our previous intimacy, she still viewed me with suspicion, firmly believing that I had broken into her office to steal her computer disks from her desk drawer. Nothing would ever change her mind even though she was unable to prove it.

  ‘Would you like me to take you to lunch,’ I invited pleasantly, trying to win myself back to popularity.

  ‘I already have a luncheon date!’ she returned acidly. Don’t you think our contact is somewhat of a paradox, Mr. Savage,’ she went on. ‘Whenever we make an appointment for dinner your presence becomes noticeable by its absence, yet when I’ve arranged something you turn up like the proverbial bad penny!’

  ’It seems like fate, Miss Grayson,’ I told her calmly. ’The Gods deem that the path of true love will not run smoothly between us.’

  ’Don’t patronise me!’ she scolded.

  ’You have to realise I’m doing battle above and beyond the call of duty. The Prime Minister asked me to do so. Perh
aps...as an Israeli agent...that doesn’t count with you.’

  She showed no sign of emotion except for a slight dilation of her nostrils which flared fractionally at the comment. Whether she was an Israeli agent or not failed to enter into the reckoning.

  ’Do you have any information at all?’ she demanded icily. ’If not, there’s no point in continuing this conversation. ’ She glanced briefly at her wristwatch and looked up again. ’I’m already late for my appointment!’

  I sat down in the chair opposite her, resting my feet on the desk, determined to take her down a peg. It was no surprise that my action annoyed her.

  ’Please!’ she protested, stunned that I could be so crude. ’Let’s be civilised!’

  ’Why should we?’ I laughed. ’Is it because we’re in the Civil Service... with the emphasis on ’civil’?’

  She found the remark singularly unamusing and glared at me with her beautiful eyes. Was she sincere in everything that she did? The woman had an excellent brain and probably many academic qualifications and she had achieve a high-ranking appointment as a technical adviser on defence matters I now considered everyone of the Jewish faith to be an Israeli spy.

  ‘All right,’ I conceded, removing my feet from her desk. ‘You go for your luncheon date but there’s just one thing I want to ask you.’

  ‘It’ll have to wait,’ she told me point-blank, standing up after closing her desk drawer.

  ‘If you leave this office now,’ I savaged. ‘I’ll have no option but to tell the Prime Minister that you put your personal life before your duty. If you think I’m bluffing, go ahead and leave.’

  ‘How dare you!’ she remonstrated angrily, staring at me as though I was something slimy that had just crawled out from under a rock. ‘You bastard! Do you think I gave myself to you for sheer duty? What a pity you know so little about women! Well perhaps I can enlighten you with a few words of wisdom. When you walked into that room in the House of Commons, I saw you as a real man. For the first time in my life I felt I’d met a good honest person, warm in spirit and understanding. How wrong I was! You’re shallow and insensitive! You have no empathy or manners!’ She paused having succeeded in making me feel like a rat which had invaded her office by gnawing through the floorboards. ‘My judgement was impaired when it came to you and I’ll have to live with it.’ She sat down in her chair and picked up the telephone receiver. ‘Jenny... cancel my luncheon appointment, will you. Give my usual apologies.’ She replaced the receiver and returned her attention to me. ‘Right, Mr. Savage, what do you want from me?’