The Ebenezer Papers

by Dawn Harris

  As I sat there puzzling over why he would have looked at such a book so often, I noticed something slightly odd. Some pages seemed to be fractionally thicker than others. Opening the book at one such page, I let out a loud cry of triumph. Which made the Inspector put his head round the door and inquire, ‘Are you all right, cariad?’

  Jumping up, I thrust the book into his hands and somewhat incoherently urged him to look at it. He glanced down at the cover. ‘A Book of Psalms?’ he inquired, puzzled.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Stabbing my finger at the book, I stuttered, ‘In....in.. the m-middle.’

  He opened it in the middle and raised his eyes, still baffled. ‘Psalm seventy-four?’

  'Turn a page or two.’

  He did as I asked and his jaw dropped. ‘Good God.’ Reading what was on the page, his faint smile rapidly turned into an enormous grin. Putting the book down carefully on the desk, he reached out for my hands and shook them up and down with great exuberance.

  ‘Well done, my lovely. That’s one man who won’t be taking his secrets to the grave. What made you look in that particular book?’

  'It's the only one he had on religion and there wasn’t a speck of dust on it. It was on the bottom shelf, right behind his chair, and hidden by a huge reference book, but when he sat at his desk, he could easily reach down and take it out.’ I showed him how the flora and fauna encyclopaedia had hidden it. ‘I almost didn’t notice it.’

  Picking up the book of psalms again, I said, ‘He made a good job of glueing the copies of the instructions from Berlin, and his own replies, over the psalms.’

  ‘All on wafer thin paper.’

  ‘Not a smidgeon of paper overlaps, but he couldn’t hide the different thicknesses of the pages, even though it is only a slight difference.’

  ‘You are a very clever woman, Mrs. York.’

  ‘Nonsense. I was just lucky, that’s all.’

  ‘I wish I was that lucky.’

  ‘You have so much else to do, Inspector.’ I wasn’t being modest; it was true. I could spend all my time, if I wanted, on one thing. He couldn’t.

  Thinking about Pratt, it seemed to me that he’d kept copies of Jean’s letters in an attempt to prove he was merely a messenger, and not a spy. As messengers were unlikely to end up on the gallows. He’d made a token effort to hide the copies in the secret compartment in his desk, where any policeman with an ounce of intelligence would find them. If the police believed that he was just a go-between, the search would end there. Which it might have done, if I hadn’t seen him with Muller.

  The orders from Berlin, and his replies, were an entirely different matter, as he well knew. Spies, if caught, got what they deserved, even in peacetime. Yet he’d still kept copies of those documents. Those from Germany were obviously passed on to him by hand in some way, as they always came through Muller, who invariably added a note of his own.

  Berlin’s orders were written in English, suggesting Ebenezer’s grasp of the German language was poor, despite the several months he’d spent in that country. They emphasised that he must keep Jean’s letters coming at all costs, using any means necessary. He was to allow nothing to interfere with the smooth running of this operation, and he was told to eliminate anyone who got in the way.

  Their aim was made very clear in their letters. They were happy to accept the low grade stuff Jean sent to Mosley now, but in time she would be told what information they wanted, and that she was to get it. If she refused, Ebenezer was to threaten her with the police, reminding her that passing secret information to any other person, as she had done for months, was treason. Punishable by death. And to make it plain to her that no-one would believe she didn’t know the information was going to Berlin.

  In one letter, Muller told Ebenezer to plant incriminating evidence in Charlie Jones’s flat that would implicate Mr. Taverner in Peter’s murder. The copy of Ebenezer’s reply had him crowing to Muller that the dimwits at Scotland Yard had fallen for it hook, line and sinker, and when Harold Taverner was found guilty, the case would be closed, and the police would never know what had really happened.

  But not one of the copies of Ebenezer’s replies to Berlin mentioned Inspector Nabber, Johnny or myself. In fact, according to him, everything was going according to plan. Writing in his small neat hand, he only ever told the Germans what they wanted to hear, always emphasising his own achievements He’d ignored his mistakes as if they’d never happened. Failure wasn’t an option for a Nazi spy. At the back of the book was a list of people to be got rid of, and it made me tremble. My name was at the top, followed by Tim, Al and Johnny.

  We did not find anything else of importance in the flat and I was back home by three, where I went out into our small garden to play with Tim. He loved to kick a soft ball about, sometimes so energetically he fell over, which made me smile. And when I accidentally fell over once too, he chuckled away merrily. The fresh air did him good, and when we went inside again, his cheeks were decidedly rosy. Later, I was just about to bath him when Inspector Nabber telephoned to ask if he could see Jean again at my house. ‘I can’t get there until nine.’

  I telephoned Jean and made the arrangement. She, not surprisingly, was worried sick. ‘Is he going to arrest me?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘Well, I’ve arranged to dine out and go on to the theatre. Don’t worry, I’ll say I’ve got a headache or something and leave early. I’d better make it a meal to remember. I might not get another one for years.’

  When the Inspector arrived, he told me he’d shown Superintendent Burns the Book of Psalms. ‘You should have seen his face. I thought he was going to have a heart attack.’ And he gave way to the heartiest of chuckles. 'The chief constable and the director of the secret service had to see it, of course, and it may take a few days to sort things out, but Mr. Taverner will be released without a stain on his character. I trust the experience will encourage him to keep away from dodgy deals. He owes his life to you, as I shall tell him.’

  I should have been over the moon, and I was very happy for Mr. Taverner, but my heart ached for Johnny, and the Inspector told me they’d searched every possible place within a mile of Ebenezer’s flat. ‘Tomorrow, we’re widening the search area. We’ll find him cariad, don’t you worry.’ I promised I would try not to, and forcing a smile, I showed the Inspector into the drawing room, where Jean was waiting.

  I left them alone, but it wasn’t long before Lang ushered the Inspector into the library, where I was trying to concentrate on reading the newspaper, without much success. I looked up, my heart in my mouth. The thought of Jean being in prison was not pleasant. Indicating he should take a seat, I asked what would happen to her.

  ‘Well, Mrs. Carmichael has been very foolish, as she well knows, but she is not a traitor in the true meaning of the word. The information she passed on mostly concerned the government’s views on what’s going on in Germany, and what they think of Mosley and the British Union of Fascists. She included their opinions on what happens at the BUF’s public meetings, how people react to it, and such things as how many Jewish refugees Britain can accept. But Hitler won’t have learned anything he didn’t know. Of course once they’d got her thoroughly in their clutches, they would have demanded top secret information. But, thankfully, forcing someone into that sort of situation takes a long time.’

  ‘Will she be arrested?’

  ‘No. Not my decision, you understand. But, as it happens, I’m in agreement. Arthur Carmichael is one of the cleverest men I know, and one of the most honourable. If he knew what his wife had done he would resign instantly. He clearly does talk to her about his work, but only about trivial things, never top secret matters. Frankly, he would be a great loss to the secret service if he did resign, and if Hitler continues in the way he’s going, we’ll need intelligent men like him.’

  He didn’t stay, and I remained in the library for a few moments, overcome with relief that Jean was not to be charged. On joining her
I was surprised to see she was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. She looked up as I shut the door. ‘I know, it’s not like me, is it. But I honestly thought I would be going to prison. Inspector Nabber asked me not to tell Arthur, and he’s right. Arthur would resign at once. And what good would that do?’

  ‘Will you be able to keep it from him?’

  She looked at me and gave a rather tremulous laugh. ‘Of course I can. I must.....’ And she went on, ‘I mean to be a much better person from now on. If it wasn’t for Arthur I would have been arrested and sent to prison, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Probably,’ I agreed.

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ She took a cigarette from the case in her handbag, put it into the holder she liked to use, and lit it. ‘Well, I won’t let him down again.’ Blowing a curl of smoke into the air, she said, ‘Oswald said the stories of people being beaten up in Britain were exaggerated, and I wanted to believe him. So I ignored it, until Emily was attacked. That’s when Arthur told me about Jews in Germany being kicked to death.’ She gave a shudder. ‘When I think of that happening to Emily, I feel sick. I’m going to do everything I can to help the Jewish refugees. Emily knows people who’ve got out of Germany, and what they’d suffered is just awful. Some are only children too. A while ago Arthur wanted us to take a couple of refugee children, but I refused.’ Exhaling more smoke into the air, she said, ‘I shall tell him I’ve changed my mind. It’s the least I can do.’ Given her lack of interest in children, I did wonder if she would regret it, but she talked about it for a long time and didn’t leave until about half past ten.

  I went with her to the door, watched her drive off, and as I came back indoors the telephone rang. It was Emily. ‘I’m so sorry to disturb you this late,’ she said, ‘but my parents have just told me something I think you ought to know. It happened late last night when they were walking home from a party, and it made me think of what you said yesterday, about the police searching disused buildings for Mr. Alverstone.’

  She stopped, and I urged breathlessly, ‘Go on, Emily.’

  ‘It may be nothing, but they went past the school that was in all the newspapers last month. The one where a bus smashed through the front of the building when the brakes failed....’

  ‘I remember,’ I said. In fact, I’d driven past it a couple of times. It stood on a corner next to a church, and luckily had been empty at the time of the crash.

  Emily went on, ‘Well, as they reached it, they saw a man cross the school playground to the children’s lavatories. They’re behind the school and weren’t touched by the crash. Anyway this man unlocked the door and went in.’ My heart instantly began to pound. Ebenezer Pratt had said Johnny was in a place where no-one ever went now. The police were checking derelict houses and industrial buildings, not locked up out-of-use school lavatories. ‘They thought it odd because it was past midnight, which seemed late for a caretaker.’

  I agreed that it was. ‘Did they see what the man looked like?’

  ‘No, it was too dark.’

  ‘I’m really grateful, Emily. I’ll telephone the police right now.’

  But Inspector Nabber wasn’t at home or at Scotland Yard, and I had to leave messages. I glanced at my watch. Jean wouldn’t have got home yet, but I rang anyhow, hoping to get hold of Arthur. He was out too, although expected back shortly. I left the same message with the butler.

  I’d given Al and Connie the evening off and they weren’t back either. I began to pace up and down the room, puzzling over who Emily’s parents had seen. Ebenezer Pratt was dead and Fritz Muller had returned to Germany. Was there a third Nazi I knew nothing about? I was only too aware that I ought to wait for Al, or the Inspector, or Arthur. But Johnny was in danger, and every instinct I possessed was nagging at me, urging me to go now. This very instant. I closed my eyes and took some very deep breaths. If I went alone I had to think and act sensibly. If Johnny really was there, his life could depend on what I did tonight.

  I went into my study, unlocked the bottom drawer of my desk, and took out the small silver pistol that had belonged to Archie. When we were courting and he was trying to please me, he’d taught me how to use it. I loaded it, put the safety catch on, and slipped it into the right hand pocket of my slacks.

  Dashing out to the garage, I grabbed the biggest torch and the heaviest spanner I could find. If the building was padlocked, a few bashes with the spanner ought to do the trick; and hopefully, I could shoot out any other kind of lock.

  I jumped into my Rolls and drove off towards the east end. The streets weren’t busy at this time of night and my route took me past the end of Emily’s road, but despite my jitters at the prospect of what I might have to face, I decided against asking her to come with me. Her family had endured enough unhappiness and I refused to risk adding to it.

  Inspector Nabber would come as soon as he could, and might even be there before me. A thought that instantly cheered me. If he wasn’t, then if Johnny was incarcerated there, I could rescue him and be away before this man put in an appearance. There really was no need to be frightened, yet the thought of facing yet another vicious Nazi made my skin creep.

  It was well after eleven when I parked the car near the church. Heavy clouds made for a dark and gloomy night, which the rather dim street lighting did little to alleviate. I walked past the churchyard, which was separated from the school by a high wall.

  Both the school and the playground alongside it fronted onto the road. I could see a small separate building behind the school, which I assumed were the lavatories. At the back of that loomed a huge warehouse.

  I hurried across the playground to the lavatories, and when I saw the door was padlocked I closed my eyes in relief, for it meant no-one else was here. I attacked it at once with the hefty spanner, not caring how much noise I made, and to my relief, one sharp blow did the trick. Then I opened the door with trembling fingers and went inside.

  CHAPTER THIRTYONE

  The place was in utter darkness and the only sound I could hear was the faint dripping of a tap. Shining my torch around the entrance I saw that the boys went along a short corridor to a door at the left, and the girls used a similar corridor on the right.

  I chose the boys side first, convinced now that this was a wild goose chase. If Johnny was here he would have shouted out. Nevertheless I had to make sure. The door at the end of the corridor wasn’t locked and pushing it open, I walked in. As I wrinkled my nose at the smell, something cold and spiky - which I later discovered was a lavatory chain - was thrown round my throat. My torch fell on the floor, and in the split second before the chain was pulled tight, I screamed. My assailant picked up the torch, without releasing the chain, and shone it directly on my face.

  ‘Liddy,’ Johnny whispered in stunned disbelief, as he removed the chain from my neck. ‘Is it really you? Or am I dreaming?’

  I was so thankful to find him alive that a huge lump welled up in my throat, and holding his dear face between my hands, I said in a decidedly shaky voice, ‘You need a shave.’ And gingerly feeling my throat, told him in a bantering tone, ‘I’m going to have some awful bruises tomorrow.’

  ‘Gosh, I’m really sorry. But why didn’t you call out?’

  ‘I didn’t think there was anyone here.’

  ‘And I thought you were Muller coming to finish me off.’

  ‘Muller?’ I exclaimed in surprise. ‘But his embassy said he’d gone back to Germany.’

  ‘That’s what they wanted us to think. Actually it was Muller who helped Pratt kidnap me. He disguised himself as a woman, complete with a wig, so that no-one would recognise him. Then I was brought here, chained up in one of the lavatories, and kept drugged.’

  ‘Drugged?’

  ‘To stop me trying to escape. Muller brought food once a day and I was forced to drink some vile stuff that made me sleep most of the time. Then, last night, as I lifted the cup to my lips, he had a fit of violent sneezing – he and Pratt both had bad colds – and I was able to tip the stuf
f down the lavatory. And I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours sawing through the chain with my penknife. I’d just got myself free when you arrived. Hands are in a bit of a state, mind.’

  He held the torch in his left hand, and I lifted his other hand into the light. It was raw and bleeding in places. ‘It must hurt like the devil,’ I said, instinctively holding it against my face for comfort, wondering why it had taken me so long to realise I loved him.

  He tried to hide his feelings by joking in a prim voice, ‘Girls aren’t allowed in here, you know.’ Only he couldn’t quite stop himself trembling. ‘But I’m devilish glad to see you.’

  ‘Are you?’ I spoke softly and leant forward to kiss him. It wasn’t the kind of kiss a mere friend would give, and the look in his eyes, even in the faint light from the torch, sent a delicious thrill through me.

  ‘That,’ he said huskily, ‘was worth waiting for?’ He took a long deep breath and whispered in a mixture of hope and anxiety, ‘Did you mean it, Liddy?’

  In answer I kissed him again, much more thoroughly, and as we broke apart, a voice sneered, ‘How very touching.’

  I spun round and saw Muller standing in the doorway, pointing a gun at us both. ‘You,’ I burst out in contempt.

  He strutted into the lavatory, letting the door close behind him, and announced in malevolent glee, ‘Well, this looks like being my lucky day. Now you’re here, Mrs. York, I can, as you English say, kill two birds with one stone. You have been a thorn in my side far too long.’

  ‘The police will be here any minute,’ I warned him.

  ‘Oh, I doubt that,’ he retorted, smirking. ‘Inspector Nabber would never let you come here alone.’ I didn’t answer, but I prayed Mrs. Nabber had been right when she said she was expecting her husband back at any minute. Muller, taking my silence as confirmation, came a little closer, still pointing the gun directly at us, his evil eyes full of menace. ‘That’s what I thought,’ he said smugly. ‘So I have time to make you pay for giving us so much trouble. Alverstone is going to die very slowly, right in front of your eyes. I’m a crack shot and know exactly where to put a bullet to give maximum pain without causing death. Now, move over there.’ He waved the pistol in the direction of the wash basins. ‘I don’t want any heroics.’