‘You’ve hurt yourself,’ said Trant.
‘I walked blindly into a door. I was drunk. Look, I don’t give a damn what you think of me, Major. Your people killed my husband’s dog.’
Best, then, to affect a deferential air. ‘He got away all right? He and the girl?’
She faced him across the desk, hadn’t yet been told to sit down. ‘You know damned well they did. We didn’t even have a decent chance to say good-bye.’
‘Then I think I should tell you, that your husband will be staying in Scotland for a while.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She was furious with them. ‘Make of it what you will. That more books?’ he asked, distracting her as one must now and then, and she was distracted, oh my yes.
‘Of course it is.’
But not wary enough. The books would be clean. No hidden messages, not today. ‘Like your library work here, do you?’ he asked.
‘If you wish me to stop, I will.’
‘No. No, nothing like that. The colonel would most certainly wish you to continue your valuable work.’
‘Then may I get on with it?’ Trant wasn’t looking directly at her, but concentrating on her bandaged forehead. He touched his lips as if in thought.
‘In a moment, yes. Please sit down. What I have to say won’t take long.’
A girl, a young woman in uniform, came in with some papers for him to sign. After he’d done this, Trant glanced up at her. ‘Ask Miss Sanderson to come in, would you, please, Corporal Bridgewood. She’ll want to be present.’
The Sanderson woman had been waiting out in the foyer: a thoroughly brutal looking forty-year-old who’d been taking a last drag at a cigarette and had then pinched the thing out, the build of less than medium height and chunky, the hair a tired shade of disinterested brown.
‘Mrs. Fraser, this is Miss Maureen Sanderson. Maureen, Mrs. Mary Ellen Fraser.’
The grip was that of a man, the eyes not blue, not grey.
‘Maureen’s one of ours, Mrs. Fraser. As I was only just saying, Maureen, we won’t keep her long, will we?’
‘Not long, Major. A matter of a few minutes.’
‘Good. Now, Mrs. Fraser, events have taken a turning here. You know, of course, that certain members of the IRA are still on the loose and haven’t yet attempted to collect the explosives they parked in the stable loft of yours.’
Could he please just get to it?
‘We have reason to believe they have made contact with some of the prisoners.’
‘Not through me.’
Could she lie so fiercely and still be brash about it? That cut on her forehead showed abrasions all around the bandage—a good three inches across and two in width. A nasty, nasty thing. Bulged a bit, too. ‘Our informants tell us there is another tunnel. The prisoners do have a plan to escape and have expended considerable effort in this regard.’
Their informants … ‘If so, I’ve overheard nothing of it.’
‘Oh? We rather thought you had, didn’t we, Maureen?’
The woman had found another cigarette and was lighting it. ‘Major, I know nothing more of any tunnel than the rumour you told me the last time I was here. The men wouldn’t talk about a thing like that in my presence. They’d be …’
‘But they talked about Bauer and the others, didn’t they?’
Letting him fluster her would do no good. ‘Major, I told you about them.’
‘About Bauer, yes, but not about the others.’
It had to be asked and he’d forced her to. ‘Is Bauer still allowed to walk around in there?’
‘Of course. Is there something the matter, Mrs. Fraser? I thought I told you we needed the names of all of those who were responsible for the hanging of that man?’
‘Hans Schleiger.’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve been holding out on us?’
‘I don’t want to be killed, Major.’
‘Then cease to go in. Stop if you wish and I’ll tell the colonel it’s all off.’
He wouldn’t, not really, and she could see this, was sickened by the thought. ‘Look, I really don’t know if Schleiger was involved. I … I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘Mrs. Fraser, are you carrying anything into Tralane that you shouldn’t?’
‘Of course not. Why would I?’
‘That would constitute an act of treason, would it not?’
Did he have to hear her answer? ‘Yes. Yes, of course it would.’
He’d not even sigh, would just let her have it. ‘Then you’ll have no objections if we look a little further. Corporal Bridgewood will accompany you and Miss Sanderson. That is all for now.’
‘Major …’
‘I said that was all, Mrs. Fraser. Please try to understand there’s a war on.’
The room was just across the foyer and one that he must use for interrogations. A plain table, two wooden fold-up chairs, a brown metal wastebasket, an ashtray and a window …
It was the Sanderson woman who said, ‘Please empty your bag on the table.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘We’ll do it for you.’
For the life of her, Mary couldn’t remember why she’d snatched her handbag at the last and brought it along. She seldom did unless she was having her period, hadn’t had that in a while …
The woman flicked her gaze over the lipstick that was never worn on visits to the castle. The change purse was gone through, her handkerchief opened and shaken out, that last letter from home perused.
‘You can leave these here. Now your shoes.’
‘Look, I’ve done nothing wrong. I won’t be subjected to this sort of treatment.’
Corporal Bridgewood turned away to lock the door, then stood in front of it, a bright young thing who was obviously uncomfortable about her duty but would do as ordered.
‘If you don’t do as you’re told, Mrs. Fraser,’ said Maureen, ‘we will have to strip you ourselves and can’t vouch for not tearing things if you should resist.’
This couldn’t be happening to her, yet was. Mary took off her shoes. The Sanderson woman went over them thoroughly.
She took off her overcoat, scarf and tam, and the woman examined everything, saying only, ‘You can pick these up afterwards when you get your bag.’
The jacket came next, its dark brown velvet crushed in those meaty fists. Then the jerkin Hamish had bought for her birthday, and the blouse he had liked so much, the skirt, the seldom-worn silk stockings and garter belt, each item being examined in turn.
‘Now are you satisfied?’ Mary heard herself ask.
The woman shook her head.
Off came the slip and she threw it at the bitch only to hear her say, ‘Now the rest.’
‘I won’t! I refuse! You’ve gone far en …’
Seized from behind, she was forced over the edge of the table and held down by the younger one. Rubber gloves were found, Mary struggling, kicking out as best she could and crying, ‘Don’t you dare put your filthy hands on me!’
The step-ins were yanked down, her legs spread, she stiffening as something hard was rammed into her vagina, then into her rectum.
The brassier was taken off, its padding slit.
The Fraser woman hadn’t like it one bit, was hanging her head in shame. ‘Get dressed.’
‘I have to go to the toilet.’
‘Then go on the floor and clean it up. From now on you’ll do exactly as we say.’
Bannerman gave her a moment to compose herself in the chair he’d placed directly in front of his desk. Signalling that the others, except for Roger Trant, should leave the office, he came round to stand in front of the woman. It couldn’t have been pleasant being searched like that. She was pale and shaken and badly frightened, her refusal to look up but a further indication of the hu
miliation she must be feeling.
But no matter. ‘My dear young woman, we have been keeping track of your progress for some time. Let me assure you that hanging is a very unpleasant business and that in your case it would be made far worse by a good deal of publicity and the presence of your husband. Now what’s it to be, hmm?’
Still she could not look at him.
‘I have nothing to say to any of you.’
‘My dear, we …’
‘I’m not “your dear,” Colonel. My name is Mrs. Mary Ellen Fraser.’
‘My dear, we are sorry for what has happened to you but war is war and from time to time certain things are necessary.’
‘Colonel, might I suggest …’
‘Roger, I will thank you kindly not to interrupt me.’
‘Of course, sir. It’s only that Mrs. Fraser was not completely searched.’
‘What was that? Goddamn it, I gave you strict orders. Oh blast it, man, you’ve made me tell her who was responsible!’
Trant stepped into view but she wouldn’t look at either of them, not yet.
‘That cut on her forehead, Colonel. Miss Sanderson neglected to remove the bandage.’
‘All right, all right! It’s true the IRA have been using me, but I don’t know much of what’s up, not really.’
The two of them must have exchanged glances, for Trant quickly stepped from view. She heard him strike a match, knew he must be lighting a cigarette, but it was Bannerman who said, ‘Let’s try Dublin for starters, hmm?’
Dear God, she wished he wouldn’t hmm at her! ‘I met no one. I did a bit of shopping, went to the library for Hamish, and had dinner at my hotel, then went to bed early and left first thing in the morning.’
All cut and dried, that it, and she still not able to face them? He’d fold his arms across his chest and settle back against the edge of the desk, thought Bannerman. He hadn’t wanted to order the body search, not with a woman like this whose husband, if he got word of it, would raise the bloody roof, but Roger had been adamant—they had had to strike while they could. ‘Please don’t be difficult, Mrs. Fraser. An inspector in the Irish Secret Service was murdered on the night you were “asleep,” as you say, in that hotel of yours. Morgan Davies was the father of seven children, all of whom are under the age of fifteen.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Colonel, but know nothing of this man.’
Even now, was it that she could continue to lie? ‘Of course you don’t. It’s the slug that killed him which is of interest. Markings on the bullet match those from two other brutal murders.’
‘I still don’t understand why you’re telling me this?’
By God, he wished she would look at him! A damned good thrashing was what she needed, bare backside and all! ‘Kevin O’Bannion, Mrs. Fraser. The gun was his. The Garda have the proof.’
Trant stepped in to keep the pressure up. Mary knew he was going to rip the bandage away. ‘Liam Nolan did murder the two women with whom he was staying in London, Mrs. Fraser. Jauncy Gilmore is the son of one of them and just happens to have a flat in Saint Stephen’s Green. Perhaps you know of it? Young Gilmore is acting as a purchasing agent for His Majesty’s Government. Travels a good deal in Eire and Ulster. Leaves his flat empty.’
He paused, must still be looking at the bandage.
‘But knows, Mrs. Fraser, that it might well be used when he’s absent and turns a blind eye because he has to, his rebellious sister Janet having a crush on a certain Liam Nolan.’
‘The girl, I should add,’ said Bannerman, ‘whose father had Nolan, but an urchin then, stripped and tied to the pump standard in his stable yard until Lady Prudence prevailed upon his lordship to have the boy cut down and taken to her bed.’
They were like priest and bishop at the trial of a wilful girl, both despising her and enjoying what they were doing. It would now be Trant’s turn.
‘Nolan has had a running, if shabby and intermittent love affair for years with Lord Gilmore’s daughter. No doubt he first seduced her at a very young age, though there is some doubt as to which of them seduced the other.’
‘Janet Gilmore was a headstrong girl. The hand that fed the urchin and nursed him back to health was rather badly bitten, I should say,’ said Bannerman, affecting the tired, rather bored air of the bishop.
‘Nolan murdered Lady Gilmore and her daughter, Mrs. Fraser. Before he killed them, I’m sure he told them what he thought of them.’
‘You said they had died in their sleep.’
‘Did I?’ exclaimed Trant. ‘A correction, then. You see, he did awaken one of them—couldn’t have done otherwise, not a man with a grudge like that. Lady Prudence made it half out of bed, and was found with her throat slit and her head twisted sideways against the carpet. Can’t have been pleasant, her hearing him saying such things. I gather there was a great deal of blood. Corpses do tend to drain when they’re left like that, and Nolan has been known to butcher hogs and game from time to time.’
She would have to find the will to look up at him. ‘And Janet?’ she asked.
‘Janet, yes. The girl was found stark naked and spread-eagled on her bed, Mrs. Fraser, but before he killed her, Nolan and she had sex. Then, and only then, did he go for the mother, so guess what he told that one had just happened?’
Bannerman could hardly wait. ‘On the night you were at that hotel, MI5’s Listeners in Dublin, Wexford, Cork and Dundalk picked up the clandestine signals of an enemy transmitter. Others in Holyhead, Aberystwyth and Milford Haven also found the sending very fast, even for a good Morse operator. There was considerable traffic at that hour, a lot of interference due to bad weather over the Continent, the result of which was that, though they recorded what Mrs. Ursula Tulford sent over to Berlin, they got only a portion of what was sent back. We absolutely must have the rest of it.’
It was Trant who, setting his cigarette aside, said, ‘You have a very clear choice in this matter. You can either cooperate, in which case you will be forgiven certain, shall we say, “indiscretions,” and perhaps even given a medal and a suitable rank in one of the services, or you will be taken from this office and placed under arrest for treason.’
She mustn’t cry, must just try to face them. ‘What is it you want of me?’
‘The message, of course,’ said Bannerman.
‘Liam Nolan, the Darcy woman, and Kevin O’Bannion,’ said Trant.
‘The confessions of Erich Kramer, Franz Bauer, and the other officers of Kramer’s U-boat. They hanged the Second Lieutenant Bachmann. That lover of yours put the rope around his neck, Mrs. Fraser. Kramer kicked the chair out from under him. Kramer, damn you!’
‘Stop it! Please stop it.’
They gave her a moment. It was Trant who said, ‘GHQ and the prime minister are demanding that an example be made of you. The colonel and I are giving you the opportunity to clear your name.’
‘Mrs. Fraser, we really must have the location of this tunnel they’ve been digging. We must have the rest of that message the Tulford woman received from Berlin.’
Could she not simply force herself to look up at them? wondered Mary. ‘My husband is never to know of this.’
Trant glanced at the colonel who indicated that he should take it from here. ‘Hamish won’t be allowed back into Ireland until it’s over. You have my word on this as an officer and a gentleman. He’ll be kept right out of it.’
Mary knew she couldn’t stop the tears but must she disgrace herself further? ‘I’ll be shot, won’t I? It’ll be a lot easier that way. Look, I know that’s what you people have in mind. No problem, Major. No need for all this talk of medals and commissions in some branch of the services. Just a bullet in the face or back and an end to the problem. Admit I’m right.’
‘What did you do to your forehead?’
‘I hit it against our bathroom mirror. I was angry with myself f
or having inadvertently caused Robbie’s death.’ Trant would tear the bandage from her now and would force Hamish to watch her hang. ‘Do I have your guarantee I’ll be killed, Major? Shot accidentally?’
Visibly shaken, he said, ‘There’s no need for that. We’re not inhuman. We do have our good side.’
‘Oh? Caithleen would have been set afire, Major. Parker was shot to pieces though I’m certain Jimmy knew he had been held to ransom and had taken no part in things. And Robbie … Why, Robbie was just a dog. A dog!’
‘My dear young woman, you have no other choice,’ said Bannerman quietly.
‘Then let me have a piece of paper and a pencil. They made me memorize it this time.’
Trant swept uncertain eyes over the bandage and nodded, though intuition warned him to look behind it.
‘Which part of the message did they pick up?’ she asked.
He let an exasperated breath escape. ‘Just write the whole of it down.’
And gamble, was that it? Gamble that if she lied, they’d not pick her up on it? ‘Mrs. Tulford did say the code wasn’t the one she was using.’
It was Trant who sighed and said, ‘Then neither she nor the IRA will know of its contents.’
‘The Nazis won’t tell me what it means, Major. You must know that as well as I.’
‘Then you must let them know the deal’s off unless they do.’
Shaking her head, she went back to getting the message down. ‘They’d only suspect that I was working for you.’
‘Convince them otherwise. Find out its contents.’
When handed the sheet of paper, Trant quickly scanned it, then gave her a look that could mean so many things. Triumph or doubt, praise or anger, even hatred, for he must despise her as would the colonel.
‘Now go and do your stuff,’ he said. ‘There’s a good girl. You’re one of us.’
‘And if Franz Bauer should suspect it?’
‘Then we must take our chances, mustn’t we?’
Betrayal Page 28
