by Stan Mason
‘Of course,’ he replied, ostensibly unruffled by my inquisitiveness. ‘Thirty per cent in gold. Ten per cent in currencies. Thirty per cent in gilt-edge stocks and equities. Twenty-five per cent in money markets, and five per cent in cash.’
He rattled off the percentages so smartly I sensed he failed to move the funds often. ‘In which country is the main concentration of funds?’ It was my intention to put him under pressure until he told me something of value. At the same time, my questions might prove to him I was a real professional in the banking sphere.
‘An emphasis in the United States, Britain and Europe in general,’ he told me in the same soft manner as before. ‘There are some investments in Asia.’
He was telling me very little. Anyone who managed substantial funds or a large portfolio would have related exactly the same thing. We both knew it but I decided to play along with him for a while. ‘Herr Kirk told me you were arriving here from America. Where are you based there?’
‘Denver, Colorado.’
I mistrusted his reply continuing my onslaught regardlessly. ‘And you administer all the principal activities from an office there I suppose. Admirable!’
‘As you know, one needs only a telephone and a facsimile machine to do what I have to do.’
‘Do I ever get to see the accounts?’ I ventured, looking at the black leather case by his side. At that moment, my courage moved to its highest peak and I took his photograph with the tie-pin camera, coughing lightly to hide any slight noise it might make.
‘Not at this stage, Herr Erdbeer.’ His hand moved to the case as if to protect its contents. ‘Perhaps the next time we meet.’
‘When will that be? I’m anxious to get working!’
‘Herr Kirk has his own methods of checking people out. As you know, in banking we have to be a little more prudent. Don’t get me wrong! You’re probably as genuine as twenty carat gold... pure gold... but I have to check you out to my own satisfaction.’
To his surprise, I started to laugh at his comment. ‘I hope you check me out thoroughly,’ I told him lightly, ‘but please stop trying to use traps to catch me out. It gets boring. You don’t have to be a banker to know there’s no such thing as twenty carat gold. Pure gold is twenty-four carats. Of course another thought crosses my mind. Perhaps I ought to check you out. You talk of prudence in banking but I don’t know your real name or anything else about you.’ I took another photograph with the tie-pin camera, at the same time easing the knot of my tie to make the movement seem authentic. ‘Isn’t it time we were frank with each other?’
He began to look a little queasy and started to hold his stomach. ‘I think I ate something on the plane that doesn’t agree with me,’ he griped, showing signs of real discomfort.
I wasn’t certain whether he was putting on an act or not. However, he began to moan and groan, rubbing his stomach gently. After a short while, I went to the door to call for help. Kirk came quickly and I pointed to the stricken man before we helped him from the room. We took him to the bathroom and Kirk waved me away, indicating he could cope with the situation. I wondered whether Der Bankvorsteher had something important to impart to him about me, but I couldn’t hear anything through the door except the sound of the man wretching. Perhaps he was really ill after all. Whatever the reason for his departure, it was a golden opportunity for me to examine the contents of the black leather case he had brought with him. I bounded into the library and closed the door before reaching for the case to open it. My heart sank for it had been fitted with a combination lock comprised of four wheels bearing the numbers zero to nine. I could spend a whole day trying to find the right four digits. Then a brilliant thought struck me. Die Stunde! The first of June, two thousand and twelve. One, six, one, two! My fingers moved the wheels until they fell into the correct places and I closed my eyes as I pressed the catches. It opened like a dream! I moved the papers in the case near to the window to gain the benefit of the light. I wanted to use the tie-pin camera to its fullest ability. Without delay, I began to photograph everything I could lay my hands on with great speed. Of paramount importance, however, was a list of accounts held in numerous countries which would prove invaluable to the British government. All the time my heart beat like a drum for fear of discovery. It only needed someone to open the door and look inside and my existence would be in jeopardy. After a few minutes, which seemed like a lifetime, I returned the papers to the case in the same order and closed it accordingly, making sure the wheels were returned to the same numbers at which they had been left before I moved them. Then I returned the case to its original position, wiped it quickly with my handkerchief to erase my fingerprints, and sat back in my chair as though butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth. It was only just in time because thirty seconds later Kirk returned.
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised, ‘but Hans is extremely unwell. I think he has food poisoning.’
‘Does this mean he doesn’t want to consider me for the job?’ I asked directly. ‘If he doesn’t, I’ll understand.’
‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘He really is ill. I’m afraid he won’t be able to continue the discussion. He needs medical treatment. Would you be prepared to fly to the United States next week to meet him there?’
I nodded slowly, with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. ‘Yes, I can do that. You can telephone me at the bank or at my home. You have my card.’
He led me to the front door and offered his apologies again. I was vexed the meeting had been so short. On the other hand, I couldn’t wait to get back to the office, having secured a mass of data with the camera. I climbed into my car full of doubts and suspicions about the brief visit. What had really happened there? Why was I left alone in the library with such important material in the black leather case for so long? And why didn’t Der Bankvorsteher return? Kirk explained the man was ill, but was that the real truth? It was going to be a mystery that might never be resolved. Not in the short term anyway. As I stared at the closed front door with the grotesque door-knocker, I noticed the insipid Nazi youth, whom I had angered at Hayle’s party, leaning against the outside wall idly as though he were a permanent sentinel. He stood perfectly still with his arms crossed, glowering at me with the same stare of vengeance I had seen in his eyes before. I started the engine and drove to the top of the hill. Once I had turned the corner, I stopped the car on a patch of waste ground at the edge of the forest, opening the window to look back on the house and its acres behind it. The martial arts combat squad was practising once more and Lieutenant-Colonel Topham stood watching them. A dozen thoughts plagued my mind and I tried to sort them out logically. It was an ordinary person’s nightmare, but a poker player’s dream, so I decided to adopt the attitude of the latter to make a final deduction. The man called Hans knew all about Herr Erdbeer... the banker. He had tried to trap me in very modest ways, which didn’t work, and then left before I realised the truth. But what was the truth? There was only one conclusion to reach. The man himself was a fraud! Kirk had set up the meeting to test me. He had provided a man with an American drawl who had a good knowledge of finance. After a while, Hans would pretend to fall ill and be taken from the room, leaving me with the black leather case. They knew that if I was an imposter, I would be astute enough to open it and microfilm the documents. What an idiot I had been! The man I met wasn’t Der Bankvorsteher; the information in the case was almost certainly false. At least I believed it to be false! As soon as the first enquiry was made on any of those accounts, my cover would be blown. Kirk would know I was an imposter!
As these thought raced through my mind in the stillness of the afternoon, I reacted sharply as a shot rang out close to me, and a flock of birds flew out of the trees in panic. I ducked down in my seat, ostensibly to protect myself, wondering what to do next. Eventually, I raised my head in curiosity to find the large frame of Gates, the chauffeur, leaning on the window frame of the car
, looking down at me. He smiled at the fear in my eyes as I noticed the rifle in his hand, and he opened the hatchback window to throw it into the boot. Then he walked to the other side of the car, opened the door, and climbed in.
‘Oh, no!’ I complained bitterly. ‘You’re not going to abduct me again, are you?’
‘No, I’m not going to abduct you,’ he laughed. ‘I only came here to assassinate Lieutenant-Colonel Topham!’
I looked hard towards the back of the house where the martial arts squad was poring over Topham’s body. Gates didn’t mince words... that was certain! And if he said he had assassinated Topham... the man was surely dead!
Chapter Sixteen
The profession of newspaper reporting often involves a flurry of activity because that is the nature of the business. It’s the job of every newshound to make sure they’re always at the heart of the action. However, the activities which had taken place during the short term of this assignment had been too savage and outrageous for words. I considered the ultimate had been reached when Gates... a man I believed to be a servant of the State... killed a senior ranking officer at the Ministry of Defence and smiled at me as if he had accomplished a task which was of great service to his country. At first it was difficult to accept what had happened, but a final glance at Topham’s body was enough. I watched the martial arts squad carry it from the field of combat. The situation was very serious indeed. It was not my place to pass judgement on my peers but was it right for people to take the lives of others without anyone demanding the need or the objectivity? Was there any point in such death-dealing activities whereby everyone’s life was in danger? Worst still, the assassin was sitting right next to me!
I was surprised there was no pursuit from the mansion. No wild, exciting car chase as often happens in films shown in the cinema or on television. No act of vengeance by a stray guard within the vicinity. Death was an accepted part of the life of these people. They knew it was always carried out by a professional killer. Consequently, there was little point in allowing one’s emotions to erupt. Nothing could be done until the tables were turned.
‘Drive on and let’s get out of here!’ ordered Gates in a gruff, determined voice. His attitude was completely clinical towards the act he had just committed, lacking even the slightest twinge of conscience. I started the motor and drove away as quickly as possible. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why the Prime Minister brought you into the viper’s nest,’ he went on, his tone becoming much softer.
I glanced at him briefly before turning my attention to the road again. ‘It crossed my mind a few time, Mr. Gates. It crossed my mind! After all, the government has all kinds of agencies and powers to call to its aid if it wanted to resolve a particular kind of problem. Why pick on an innocent newspaper reporter when there are so many professionals? They’re far better equipped for the job!’
‘That’s the crux of the matter,’ he explained. ‘Once professionals are enlisted, some miserable mole puts out the word and every enemy agent is alerted. And believe me, they infiltrate everywhere. You see, if MI5 or another agency was called in, the bad guys known to us would melt away into the distance to be replaced by another set whom we don’t know. We wouldn’t know the new ones or where to find them. How then could we keep track of what was going on? It’s the old adage: “Better the Devil you know than the Devil you don’t know”. When we learned you’d been given the assignment by your newspaper... which was at the top of our priority list... we decided to run with you; use you as bait. It was a gift from heaven! I should imagined you feel angry about it, but that’s the truth. If they followed your trail, you would lead them off the real scent. Unfortunately, you’re too good at your job which led everyone into all sorts of trouble. State Security knew some eminent men and women were involved with International Three Thousand. It stands to reason. There are certain people in high-ranking positions who would do anything for a greater share of power. And there it was! The United States of Europe looming ahead... to be funded by money raised from the sale of Nazi war treasures The descendants of Nazi war criminals were determined to continue where their ancestors left off... in effect to control Europe. You might say it was reaching for the moon. Not so! The integration of the European Community has been anything but smooth. Each nation is jealous of every other one. They fight like cats and dogs for different advantages. How easy it could be for a well-organised machine to infiltrate and take over. During the transition period, all opposition would be removed. How can this happen? Well, we’re too soft, that’s why. We forget too easily and over-indulge in mercy. World War Two ended so long ago it’s hardly worth remembering the bad parts any more. Parts like the extermination of millions of people... mass murder! One of the men with ideas far above his station was Lieutenant-Colonel Topham. He was retired actually, but we offered him the job of rooting out the villains of the piece. He was known to be involved with International Three Thousand, so by appointing him to our elite committee we could keep an eye on him.’
I sighed with relief to realise Gates was on my side, and I continued to drive into London. ‘That’s why Topham wasn’t in the military lists!’ I muttered, fitting another piece of the jig-saw into place. ‘He’d retired, so his name wouldn’t appear on the serving register.’
‘In actual fact, he got himself in a fix trying to use both sides at once. You met him at Kirk’s house by accident, which caused us a big headache. In the end, we had to eliminate him to save your skin. He was much too much of a liability.’
‘Tell me about State Security!’ I pressed him to reveal a little more.
‘State Security, MI5, what’s the difference? They’re all pretty much the same the world over!’
‘I think the public ought to be aware of unlisted agencies and unlisted civil servants or police.’
‘Don’t be naive, Savage!’ he growled, scaring me a little by the quickness of his temper. ‘What good would it do? It would tie our hands. We’d have to be accountable for everything we did. Within six months, Britain would be infiltrated with Communists, Fascists and anarchists. By then the public would be screaming for someone to protect them. All in all, I think we do a pretty good job. If my agency was listed and I had to play the game according to the rules, you wouldn’t be alive today. Now there’s something for you to think about!’
I glanced at him briefly. ‘How do you make that out?’
‘When Kirk discovered Tania was a newspaper reporter it actually helped you. I mean, no newspaper would put two journalists on the same story and have them join the same movement together. Also, reporters from competitive newspapers would never work together on the same assignment. It was too far-fetched. They came to the conclusion she’d got her hooks into you and it was in the best interests of International Three Thousand to eliminate you. Do you remember the car which tried to run you down in the car park near her apartment... the one which ended up on the rockery? They thought they could run you into the ground.’
‘So you’re the one who put a bullet through the front tyre,’ I blurted out, as the answers to some of the questions began to unfold.
‘I saved your life although it was a close-run thing. While the heavy mob were employed to kill you, their colleagues were trying to find out what Tania knew. It was quite a surprise when you appeared and turned the tables on them. You’re quite handy at times when action’s required, aren’t you? After that, you fooled them with that story about your grandfather being a Colonel in the SS. It was a good move because it took the heat off you. They changed their minds about killing you.’
‘Do you know who killed Calvin?’ I asked, not expecting him to offer me an answer.
‘Calvin... the fat man at the Dog and Duck in Backchurch Lane?’ he replied casually. ‘Yes... I killed him.’
I jerked slightly at the shock of his revelation. ‘You killed him... with a metal stake? What did you do that for?’
He was beginning to accumulate a lot of information... of a highly secret nature. If released, it would have been against the public interest. Some people have a greater love of money than loyalty to their country, you know. He knew everything about you. It was simply a matter of time before someone paid him to reveal your true identity. We couldn’t afford that. I would have shot him with a pistol but it jammed. There was a metal stake leaning against the wall which they used to lever up a manhole in the toilet. I had no alternative but to use that.’
There was no point in condemning the man for his actions. He was charged with undertaking many unpleasant duties for his country. Who was I to take him to task when he had saved my life on more than one occasion? ‘You do know that Miss Grayson is probably one of them too. I enlarged the photograph in a locket which showed she wore a Star of David. But, in my opinion, she’s a senior member of the movement.
‘Very good, Mr. Savage!’ he lauded. ‘You fathomed it out well. Miss Grayson was the grand-daughter of Willy Graz, an officer on the list of those advising Adolf Hitler during the war. She was arrested at her office this afternoon.’
‘Was the grand-daughter? Why the past tense?’
‘She duped us a short while after her arrest... reminiscent of the old Nazis who refused to be captured. She committed suicide by biting on a cyanide capsule hidden in a cavity in one of her teeth. Her capture and death is a closely-guarded secret at this stage. You see, the whole thing is going down!’
‘Going down?’ I asked with mixed emotions, recalling briefly the night I spent with the woman after the incident in the shower cubicle. It proved to me how ephemeral were such alliances. For many of them, there was no tomorrow! I also recognised I was a death-wish to all women who slept with me. None of them ever survived very long afterwards!
‘Yes, we’re ready to wrap-up the whole thing soon... all over Europe, partly thanks to your help. If we can push Die Stunde back for a hundred years, posterity can take care of the rest. But it will never end, you know. The Germans have a national pride which won’t be quenched. You can split their country, expose their arrogance and belligerence one decade after another, crush them time and time again in battle, but they’ll still come back to try and conquer the world and create a Master race. The development of the European Community is the ideal instrument at the present time. If they’re thwarted now it’ll really set them back!’
