The Final Enemy. An Inspector Faro Mystery No.12.

by Alanna Knight

  The train was beginning to slow down. The Colonel sat back and gave him a brilliant smile. 'We are almost at our destination. Come along, Mr Faro. We have only minutes for you to solve my mystery. Surely, before we part, Scotland's greatest detective must have some clue to offer about the man's identity?'

  Chapter 25

  Faro was spared any further interrogation regarding George's parentage as the train slowed down.

  'Ah, we are there!' said the Colonel.

  Faro looked out of the window. The terrain with its pine forests and undulating hills and river did not immediately suggest the outskirts of a great city.

  'Stuttgart?' he said.

  The Colonel laughed. 'No. But this is where we leave for Mosheim. Unfortunately a railway line does not yet exist but it will in time. It is on the list of the Kaiser's projects but he has been persuaded against it by the Kaiser since once royal associations make Mosheim popular with the masses, she fears that their privacy will be destroyed.'

  Faro wondered how he could politely take his leave of the Colonel and insist on continuing on the train to Stuttgart. The Colonel had observed his bleak expression and realised that he did not look very enthusiastic at this change of plans. 'You do not wish to accompany us?'

  Faro smiled. ‘I was hoping to take a train to Heidelberg. I am meeting a friend there.'

  'A lady, perhaps?' The Colonel gave him a teasing glance. 'A romantic meeting?'

  Faro's enigmatic smile was rightly interpreted.

  'Can this impatient lady wait a little longer? I believe the Grand Duchess is very anxious to see you, to thank you personally for bringing George to her.'

  This piece of news made Faro groan inwardly. Meeting Amelie again, with George at his side, was something he had hoped to avoid.

  'It is inconvenient, yes?' asked the Colonel anxiously.

  'A little.'

  'But we will only delay your journey by a few days,' he insisted. 'And Mosheim is a place you should see. It dates back to Roman times, indeed the remains of a Roman settlement have been found here. Once it was a monastic town.'

  But Faro wasn't listening any more. How could he find a valid excuse to decline Amelie's invitation? Did she know he was coming? Would she be equally embarrassed? What would it be like for those closest to her to meet him?

  He cursed the resemblance between himself and George, evident to even a casual observer. Anyone seeing them together must guess the truth. Remembering the shock of seeing their mirrored reflections together, he wondered whether others were as observant. He was certain that Dieter had guessed, or was that the workings of his guilty conscience?

  'I had hoped to send a telegraph to my friend from Stuttgart,' he told the Colonel, who laughed.

  'If that is all, Mr Faro, I can assure you it will be taken care of. We have excellent facilities on board the train. The Kaiser has thought of everything for his passengers' and his own comfort.'

  Pausing, he added, 'I wish you to stay also. I have enjoyed our short acquaintance. And I am secretly hoping that a meeting with Amelie will jolt your memory regarding her visit to your country and the people she met. Perhaps it might provide some clues to the mystery concerning George.

  'I also hope that you will have a chance to call upon my sister Melissa when you are in Heidelberg. She will want to meet the good man who looked after her son so well on the journey from Scotland.

  'I have to make arrangements for his future, since he is unlikely to return to the Scottish college. I think perhaps the military academy but Melissa would rather he chose a less war-like career. He takes after her and wishes to be an actor, which seems a very strange choice for a male from an old Junker family.'

  Faro smiled. 'I can assure you he would do very well. He has a natural ability, from what I observed in the Shakespearean scenes put on by his school.' adding that he had been present as a visitor on that occasion.

  'Then your judgement is indeed a recommendation to bear in mind, Mr Faro. The boy is young enough and with his mother's career, which is doing so well at present, she must leave his education in my hands as his legal guardian. I have little to do with children, I am afraid.'

  Faro pushed to the back of his mind the darker side of Anton's acting ability that Dieter had stressed. The ability to shed tears at will, the screen for telling outrageous and convincing lies.

  At that moment, the door opened to admit George and Anton. As George rushed over and sat down at his side, Faro felt again the intensity of the Colonel's disconcerting gaze.

  Fortunately the two boys were full of questions. George was telling his uncle that he was longing to see his pet falcon again. There was a small menagerie at Mosheim, Faro gathered, kept for the Kaiser's shooting guests.

  Steps were provided for the party to leave the train and in the small station precinct a carriage awaited to take them through the town and on to the Kaiserhof.

  The Colonel pointed to a hillside with a dark forest. 'That is our destination, Mr Faro. It was once upon a time a Franciscan monastery, quite secluded. You will see it in due course.'

  The drive through the town was picturesque enough for anyone's taste, thought Faro. There was a fairy-tale look about the ancient half-timbered houses leaning towards each other across narrow cobbled streets and the wide market-place dominated by an equestrian statue of some early benefactor staring reverently towards a handsome and equally ancient church, unmistakably a one-time fortification. The atmosphere of Mosheim recalled illustrations from the children's stories of the Brothers Grimm. Here was a place where anything could happen, wildly romantic and remote as a distant planet from stern-faced Scottish streets where tight-windowed grey houses paid careful tribute to respectability.

  The passage of the royal carriage was enhanced by the ringing of church bells. They were not to greet young George of Luxoria however but to call people to Mass.

  Leaving the town behind, the horses began their strenuous upward climb on the last stage of the journey, along roads twisting up through the forest. Looking down, Faro saw a water-mill and a twist of river far below the treeline, the houses and church now reduced to the dimensions of a child's toy village.

  Suddenly the forest cleared a little to reveal glimpses of a small castle, romantic and quite unreal.

  So this was the hunting-lodge, the old castle Wilhelm's parents had discovered and renovated long ago in an area allegedly teeming with wildlife. Faro hadn't seen any. They remained prudently invisible, shy creatures like deer as well as fierce ones like wild boar.

  The Kaiser had invested in strong gates for privacy and behind them a drive swept towards the front entrance. The boys leaped out of the carriage and dashed up the steps to the door.

  It seemed that there were other visitors present since a small army of carriages lined the drive. Faro who was not looking forward to the unavoidable encounter with Amelie, was thankful that with others present, this would be a formal occasion.

  The two boys had already disappeared inside the lodge while a footman ushered the newcomers into a waiting-room, through a hall with walls overburdened with trophies of the hunt.

  Deer, wild boar and eagles in glass cases stared down on them. Stepping cautiously across a fierce-headed tiger-skin rug, Faro felt depressed by the presence of so many dead things.

  Watching his expression with some amusement, the Colonel said, 'Wilhelm tells us that your Balmoral is like this.'

  'It is indeed,' said Faro and left it at that.

  An equerry arrived, bowed and greeted the new arrivals. 'Her Highness is resting at present. She has been informed of your arrival and will receive you shortly.'

  The Colonel indicated chairs and ordered schnapps. As they sat by the sunny window Faro was not kept long in doubt of the identity of those other important visitors, who were just leaving.

  'Count von Bismarck,' said the Colonel.

  And Faro caught a glimpse of the legendary man of German politics, immensely tall and imposing as he came down the steps. Not
icing the Colonel at the window, he saluted him gravely and, stepping into the leading carriage, drove off, followed by his retinue.

  The Colonel sighed. 'A pity we didn't arrive earlier. I am sure he would have enjoyed a meeting with you. He is also a friend of Amelie, I expect he has business with her regarding Luxoria. Honest Otto they call him, since he has acted as broker between the European powers. He has built up a web of alliances and even enjoys a good press in your native land. On meeting your Queen Victoria, he was very impressed. Told everyone: "What a woman! There is someone I could have dealings with."

  ‘Twenty years ago, he made it his business to win over the German princes and created a unified Germany with Berlin as the capital. The Reich has become Europe's largest state, dominated by Prussia. And it is always growing. Bismarck is a Junker like myself and that helped him achieve greatness, so some say.'

  With a deep sigh he added, 'Alas, poor Bismarck.'

  'Why do you say that? He doesn't sound like a man who needs anyone's pity.'

  'Not on the surface, but I know a thing or two. Wilhelm isn't happy about him. They do not see eye to eye, Mr Faro. Bismarck is a politician of the old school, anti-socialist. Wilhelm has more modern ideas of extending our social security system. I am afraid when it comes to open warfare between the two, Bismarck may have to go. He will accept the inevitable with great dignity and Wilhelm will make it all very polite. That it is time for him to take honourable retirement.'

  The door opened. A woman appeared, leaning on her servant's arm; a woman with regal presence, tall and slender, quite lovely, Faro thought, but with the fragility of crystal.

  Her eyes sought him out, smiling.

  He went forward and, bowing, realised that his image of her all these years had changed. It was like an out-of-focus painting, the colours of which had been disturbed, their margins blurred.

  He looked up, confused.

  She smiled at him. Her lovely eyes were undeniably all that remained of his memory of the Grand Duchess Amelie.

  'Welcome to Mosheim, Inspector Faro,' she said and held out her hand.

  Chapter 26

  Amelie was used to hiding her emotions. That intimate glance of recognition and adoration faded swiftly and formality took its place.

  George ran to her side, led her to a sofa and sat with his arm around her. They talked together for a few moments, laughed and kissed while the Colonel answered Anton's numerous questions about sport and shooting and pet animals. Faro suddenly found himself in the midst of a family circle from which he was excluded by more than his inability to follow the voluble German of this reunion.

  Glad to retreat to the window and look down on the track through the forest towards the distant town, he knew he had served his purpose, his mission fulfilled. George was safe home again and he longed to be released, to breathe freely with no more anxieties in his life than catching the next train to Heidelberg.

  Watching the little group, he was relieved that meeting Amelie again had touched no chord of lost love. His brief role in her life had been over long ago, played out almost before it began.

  Was Amelie experiencing the same feelings of relief, ignoring him completely, involved only in the joy of having her son at her side again? Aware of his isolation, the Colonel approached.

  'Perhaps you would care to retire for a while, Mr Faro. A room has been prepared for you.'

  Faro shook his head. 'That is most kind, but I will not be needing it. I intend to leave shortly if you will provide me with a carriage to the railway station.'

  The Colonel smiled. 'We cannot permit you to leave us so soon, Mr Faro.' And watching Faro's expression, he said, 'You must be our guest until tomorrow. My sister is arriving with a friend and you may perhaps travel back to Heidelberg in their carriage.'

  He beamed. 'Will that not please you, no more trains for a while, Mr Faro? Besides, we wish to have your company for a little longer. We do not wish to lose such a good friend and one deserving a well-earned rest after his travels.'

  Smiling, the Colonel regarded him. 'A room and a bath at your disposal - surely that is tempting. And a suit of clothes,' he added tactfully. At that Faro became aware with some embarrassment of his dishevelled appearance, which had not perturbed him in the least until this moment.

  'There are always clothes in readiness for guests. Shooting parties are liable to be rained on, or have guests fall into muddy rivers,' the Colonel smiled.

  At least he did not mention being subject to assassins, Faro thought, rubbing his chin and conscious that he badly needed a shave. A bath and a change of clothes would be welcome before meeting Imogen again, he decided, thanking the Colonel for his thoughtfulness.

  The Colonel bowed. 'You are most welcome. It is a pity you will not have a chance to meet the Kaiser, he is absent at this time on a visit to Potsdam. He will be sorry to have missed you, since you are a devoted and trusted servant of his grandmother.'

  How they liked to dwell on that, Faro thought, as he was ushered through the hall with its hunting trophies, stags and wild boar, whose fierce gaze relentlessly followed his progress up the staircase. Inside the guest room they were replaced by walls hung with gilt-framed hunting scenes. Two of Mr Landseer's paintings of dead animals and birds suggested that they had originated from Balmoral, fond birthday gifts from devoted grandmother to favourite grandson.

  As he closed the door, Faro once again found it depressing to be surrounded by so much dead and dying. The room was warmed by a closed stove and the huge canopied bed was at least inviting. On it, in readiness for his use, lay clothes and fresh linen. Handsome grey breeches and a jacket trimmed with hunting-green, complete with sportsman's hat, the uniform of the hunting-guest, he thought, appreciating an entire wardrobe of accessories.

  He was delighted to find a full tub in the dressing-room, steaming warmly and ready for his use. Thankfully stripping off, he sank into it gratefully and decided that this was luxury indeed, peace and quiet and a hot bath. He closed his eyes.

  He awoke with a start to find that beyond the window the sky had darkened. It was now late afternoon. Seizing the voluminous bathrobe, he went back into the bedroom. A footman appeared, followed by a valet with razor and soap, a business-like towel over his arm.

  Invited to sit in a chair, Faro enjoyed one of the few occasions a policeman’s life offered. The luxury of what was in middle-class Edinburgh a pleasant daily visit from the barber. However, when a week's growth of beard was removed he felt suddenly naked and vulnerable.

  It had also removed his last hope of disguise; in despair, he realised that his likeness to George was there for all the world to see.

  He smiled sadly at his reflection as he dressed. A resemblance most fathers would have been proud of, but for him a cruel twist of fate, potentially fatal for himself and others.

  Trying to thrust aside such gloomy thoughts, at last attired in his borrowed suit - which fitted very well, apart from being a trifle too short in the sleeves and a trifle too wide in the breeches - he was considering whether or not to wear the hat with its ridiculous feather when a tap on the door announced the Colonel.

  'Ah! The new suit indeed becomes you, Mr Faro.' But Faro felt his gaze was more concerned with his now smooth and beardless countenance. If the truth came out on this visit, would the Colonel once again come to his aid?

  'Amelie sends greetings. She will dine alone with George this evening.'

  That was a relief, Faro thought.

  'She is still very frail, you know,' the Colonel continued. 'Wilhelm's physicians have done their best for her, but she may always remain something of an invalid. Our other visitors are expected shortly. My sister and a friend from Heidelberg, as I mentioned to you. It may surprise you to know that Amelie and Melissa have formed a deep friendship, united by the cruel treatment of Gustav. At one time Melissa hated her. It was not reciprocated since if truth were told, and it seldom is, that Amelie was relieved when her husband took a mistress. All that is past now, Anton an
d George and their respective mothers are now firm friends.’

  He bowed. 'Now you must excuse me as I have matters to attend to in Mosheim. Tedious, but there it is. I must apologise for leaving you to dine alone, but you will be well taken care of, I can assure you of that. Perhaps you would care to dine in your room here?'

  Faro considered that prospect very agreeable. The thought of being waited upon by an army of servants alone at the huge dining table he had glimpsed across the hall, surrounded on all sides by the reproachful gaze of dead animals, had little appeal. And he recognised, not for the first time, the need for solitude, time to sort out all that had happened since he had left Edinburgh.

  Silent-footed servants arrived. The lamps were lit, the stove replenished and it was with a feeling of great comfort that he sat down to the huge platter of food set before him. Roasted meat and vegetables, wine and a rich dessert of chocolate and cream. Delicious! But he was to pay a price for this over-indulgence. His stomach, used to spartan fare, and little of it in the last few days, rebelled. He went to bed, fell asleep and awoke in such agony he was sure he had been poisoned.

  His mind raced ahead. That was it! He had been invited to dine alone and someone had taken the opportunity of putting poison in the wine. Someone in President Gustav's pay.

  Then common sense took over. He realised these symptoms were those that had haunted him all his working life. Bad eating habits, acquired in long days with the Edinburgh City Police, had resulted in a digestive system that was the favourite subject of Vince's cautionary tales. Would that he had Vince at hand instead of merely the packet of remedial powders in his valise.

  He took one and decided dismally that it was useless and his suspicions had been right. A second dose and he began to feel relief as he lay back on his pillows thinking of the mad imaginings a simple attack of indigestion could bring.