Avenging Steel: The First Collection

by Hall, Ian

“Of course…”

  And off they toddled, Kahn leading the way, wringing his hands together like he was washing them under a tap. Alice discarded the list onto the seat she had vacated.

  I wasted no time. I took the small camera from my pocket, laid the list under the lamp and clicked. Wound on. Click. I swear it took no longer than ten seconds.

  With my mission completed, I then headed for the maid, determined to find out her story. That too just took seconds. Her name was Maria Breschlev, from Warsaw, Poland. Her story was one dimensional. She was a Jew, torn from her parents at age fifteen, and ‘employed’ by Kahn ever since. When she pulled her uniform down at the back of her neck, I could see the strikes of a switch, some old and brown, some fresh and mottled red.

  But of course, I had to remain impassive, although the urge to smash his face in when they returned from the garden was quite overwhelming.

  “I am done here, Colin,” Alice said in English. Then turned to Kahn. “I will return soon, and for goodness sake find somewhere more secure to keep the list. God man, a simple burglar would find it in seconds.”

  The streets were dark when we got outside, and we walked the first few blocks in silence. Then we began our ‘lose a tail’ procedure, just in case we were being followed. Constantly making our way north-east, we zig-zagged the streets until we came out near Warrender, in the heart of Bruntsfield.

  This was the dangerous part of our mission.

  I had discarded the beard and mustache a while ago, but I still carried the small camera.

  Add to that, we both had false papers.

  The bar in the Links Hotel was quiet, I hardly expected anything else. I ordered two whiskies, and joined Alice at a table near the window. We chatted about the newspaper for a few minutes, then Lilith appeared, ordered a Pimms, and almost immediately headed to the toilet. I now felt distinctly nervous. If we were rumbled here, we’d most certainly be shot. But of course, no one gave us the slightest of notice. Heads down, conversations muted, everyone just as scared as we were at standing out in the sparse crowd.

  “I’ll be back in a sec, honey.” Alice gave me a peck on the cheek and walked away. She now carried every piece of discriminating evidence in her handbag, the disguise, guns, camera, papers.

  A moment later, Lilith appeared, turned away, and headed into the back of the hotel.

  I almost sighed out loud.

  The burden had been passed. The poisoned chalice released.

  The secretive cell system was good for insulating us from possible discovery, but it did have one downside; you rarely got to see any one operation through to completion. As far as we were concerned, the list was old news, forgotten, well almost.

  In the newspaper office the next day I fully expected silence from the organization. What I got was the complete opposite.

  Ivanhoe, charged into the room.

  “Did Kellermann tell you he was Born’s nephew?” his face was flushed with the hurried traverse of the staircase.

  I looked from Ivanhoe to Alice, and back. “No, why?”

  “Go find him, now! Both of you. Go!”

  I waved my hands at the paperwork on my desk. “I can’t just leave this.”

  “Delegate it.” His voice lowered slightly. “Go. We’ve got snatch-squads all over. You have to get Kellermann.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we missed him!” Ivanhoe snapped. “We’ve got Born and Fuchs taken care of, others too. Then we find out Kellermann’s just as important; he’s Born’s bloody nephew for goodness sake!”

  He really was in a lather.

  “Where do we take him?” Alice asked. And a damned good question it was.

  “We don’t care. Snatch him, get him somewhere safe, and dump him there. Get back here and work as normal until you’re contacted.”

  And that’s why, at eight forty-five in the morning, we were high-tailing it to the King’s Buildings.

  When we asked at the desk, they pointed to Physics. We asked at Physics, and they told us a lecture theatre number. That was empty. “We have to go door to door,” I suggested. “You go that way, I’ll go this, and we’ll meet back here.”

  Alice nodded determinedly. “Got it.”

  Kellermann was two classrooms down. I wasted no time, just grabbed him by the arm and pulled him outside. “What’s going on?”

  “Looks like the Germans have your name on their list. We’ve got to spirit you away.”

  To my surprise, he didn’t object. He seemed to consider something, then his eyes focused. “I have to collect my papers.”

  I shook my head. “No we’ve got to go.”

  But he stood his ground. “The papers are the most important part of me.” he said through gritted teeth. “Without them, I will not leave.”

  Kellermann’s ‘papers’ were two briefcases full of notes, drawings, and official University print-outs. Gathered from three classrooms and his office, the collection took us a nervous thirty-five minutes to bring together. We walked out onto West Mains Road just as three German trucks roared up the hill towards us.

  “Quick, the Observatory!” I veered left, hoping my change in direction would look natural, heading towards the age-old red arch that announced the road up to the Observatory at the top of the hill. “It’s a dead end, but we can walk down the far side. If we get to the top, no one will find us.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Alice asked, her head turned away from the trucks.

  “Positive.”

  The trucks roared behind us, neither stopping nor following. I think we all breathed easier after that.

  “I think that’s a close shave.”

  And we all lessened the pace a bit, and strolled up the hill to the tree lined crest where the old Observatory stood.

  Flight through Edinburgh

  But of course, I didn’t bank on there being Germans up at the Observatory; two staff cars and a camouflage-painted armored car; the latter bristling with grey coal-scuttle helmets.

  Shaking my head at my own stupidity, we left the road, turned right, and quickly took to the open field, gently tracing the contour of the hill around the Observatory. We kept the top of the building in sight, and ourselves below the horizon of the German soldiers.

  Slowly we inched round the hill, then gradually back down to the main road.

  I could not help feeling we were going to get caught. Three suspicious characters with briefcases was not the image I was hoping to portray with German’s out in force looking for a runaway University professor.

  We eventually got down to Charterhall Road, and made our way west to Blackford Pond. Low pointy railings rimmed the park, and when we reached the first gate, I led us inside; anything to get off the road. I swear I was going to get a crick in my neck from turning at the noise of every vehicle, not to mention the point I just looked plain suspicious doing it. We sat at the pond for a while, Alice and I discussing possibilities, Kellermann sat very quiet, lost in pensive thought.

  “We can’t take him home.” I said, knowing it was never a possibility.

  “The Hotel?”

  “The Links?” I shook my head. “They might have to notify the Germans when they let out a room. I’d rather not risk it. Plus, it’s far too close to home.”

  Alice’s face reddened. “I wonder if they tell Jerry when we pay for a room?”

  I laughed despite my trembling fingers. “I don’t care.” I fumbled for her hand and clenched it tightly. The normality of ducks on the pond, and a few mums and children nearby calmed me. The birds had gathered close when we’d sat down, hoping for food, but now had swam away, disinterested in our dilemma. Kellermann looked blankly forward, clutching his heavy briefcase to his chest.

  “How about Portobello?” I asked.

  Alice looked up. “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “It’s Edinburgh’s sea-side. They have a beach.”

  “I hardly think a beach in this weather is going to be enjoyable.”

  “N
o, dearest, you don’t get it.” I pressed her hand again. “We need to get out of the public eye, and what better than to get somewhere where people go for a few days; a Bed & Breakfast.”

  Alice made a dismissing snort. “Do those places still exist?”

  Despite the doubt Alice had thrown my way, I stood up, now firmly resolved to the plan. “We need to get into the tram routes, get ourselves away from the chasing bunch. Biggles has to get to the sea-side.” I clamped my mouth shut, knowing I’d inadvertently disclosed my code name. I looked at my companions as they too stood; thankful no one seemed to have taken any notice of my slip-up.

  We kept to the side roads, walking past houses, keeping off the busier streets where the German trucks might be patrolling; up Oswald Road, then cutting into Kilgraston Road. The tall walls on either side hid us from the houses, but they did leave us exposed; if we were caught here, we had few places to run.

  But I knew Beaufort Road lay just a few hundred yards ahead; our tram route. I was shaking as I led the team onto the wider road. Looking both ways, I noticed the nearest stop, and strode confidently forth. Two German soldiers, rifles slung over their shoulders walked towards us, I immediately struck up conversation with Alice. “I hear they’re going to start the football again soon.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “I can’t wait to see Hibs again. Dad used to take m on Saturdays, you know, before he mobbed up.”

  The soldiers passed us, never paying the slightest attention. Despite the nippy wind, I was sweating, the briefcase handle slick in my hand.

  Soon, we stood at the tram stop, determined to jump on the first thing that came our way.

  13 Churchill - Granton Circle.

  “Perfect!” I said as it approached. “We’re going down to the sea.”

  The thirteen took us right through the centre of town, then down onto Leith Walk to Newhaven and Granton. I paid for three to Leith Walk, and settled into my seat. When we passed Iona Street, I got off, the other two following me. “Now we’re looking for a number twelve.” I said, staying at the stop.

  “And that takes us where exactly?”

  “Portobello.” I said smugly.

  Once on the new tram, I engaged the conductor. “Do you know Portobello at all?”

  “Aye,” he hung onto one of the short leather loops that dangled from the roof as the tram lurched, changing points. “No’ bad.”

  “I’m looking for a quiet B&B. Nothing special or pricey, but the emphasis on quiet.”

  He nodded, giving my question little thought. “Stay away from the Prom, then; that’s the busiest place, overlooking the sea, and such. Bellfield Street’s got a few nice places. I’ll give you a nudge when we get there.”

  I thanked him, and grinned at the pair behind me. “Then we get back to the apartment. I’ve got some cash to pick up and some shopping to do.”

  Bellfield Street is right angled to the main Portobello High Street, and runs north right onto the beach. It took us only fifty yards of walking to see a small B&B notice in one of the house windows. At the end of the street, a hundred yards on I looked straight onto the Forth estuary, and onto the hills of Fife beyond. The sea looked grey, the distant hills a shade lighter, but even I could feel the sea salt in the air as I breathed.

  “I’d quite forgotten how much I like the sea-side.” I said absentmindedly. I stood at the house’s gate for a second, my thoughts drifting to days on the sandy beach, making castles with bucket and spade, determined to fight the incoming tide, then watching the sandy walls turn into a muddy mess as the waves ripped at the foundations of its fragile walls.

  Mrs. Denholm the landlady nodded when we told her of our cousin, a refugee from Europe, needing a place to stay for a few days. “He’s a writer,” I said. “He’s researching a book, needs a place to rest his head. Get his writing juices flowing.”

  “Novels?” she asked with hopeful interest.

  “Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid.” Kellermann said, settling into his new role. “It’s all a bit boring. Science, stuff like that.”

  We settled him into his room. Small, yes, but it did have its own sink, and a front bay window. If you angled your head to the right you could see the sea. Okay, just a sliver of a glimpse, but it was there, nonetheless. “We’ll be back tonight or tomorrow with some supplies.” I said, not exactly certain what he needed.

  We left him sitting on his bed, and with a sudden air of relief, I tugged Alice’s hand towards the beach. At the end of the road, the whole vista opened up.

  Sitting on the short wall, I started to roll my trouser legs up.

  “What are you doing?” Alice asked, stifling a laugh with her hand.

  “I’m going paddling!” I grinned like a schoolchild.

  Dropping off the wall, the dry sand near the wall felt wonderful on my bare feet. “Come on!” I encouraged, partly incredulous that I was doing this in the middle of a mission.

  I stowed my shoes at the base of the wall, socks tucked inside, holding my hand out to Alice, now hiding her face with both hands in embarrassment. “I…”

  “Come on.” I said, “Take your shoes off and climb over.”

  She could hardly refuse.

  With her shoes now next to mine on the sand, she dropped into my arms, and I took the chance to embrace her. Soon the salty air mingled in our hearty kiss.

  From the excitement of our flight through Edinburgh, the solace of chilly waves lapping over our feet gave us the relaxing respite we needed. The last few days had been both stressful and traumatic, just the walk along the shore watching kids do the bucket and spade castles almost made me cry. Down here with my memories, the German occupation seemed a million miles away. I looked inland at the façade of Georgian terraced houses, facing out onto the best view in Edinburgh.

  But all dream sequences in Hollywood films come to an end, and ours did too. A rumble in my belly reminded me of the time; way past lunch. Retracing our steps to collect shoes, we soon found ourselves on a tram back up town. I had to get to the apartment, locate my cash stash, and get to a gent’s outfitters. I needed a couple of shirts, a few pairs of underwear, and socks for our new partner. I also needed to arrange the signal in the office window. That gave me an idea.

  “Can you nip into the office?” I asked. “We need to make sure our absence wasn’t a disaster.” I needed a bit of time alone; no one knew I still had money left over from the Troon operation. I intended to keep it that way.

  We agreed to meet in the Guildford Arms, a drinking den beside the National Archives Building, near the triumphant statue of Wellington. It was also a haunt of the editorial staff of the newspaper. There was a good chance she’d find someone to chat to until I joined her.

  With my purchases wrapped in brown paper, I entered to find the place busy, conversation high, I couldn’t believe Alice attacked me the second I’d set foot over the threshold.

  Out in public, in full view of a bunch of men from the newspaper.

  I got a full frontal kiss, tongue, hands on my cheeks, panting into my mouth. I could taste gin on her breath, its potent sting adding to the intoxicating passion of the embrace.

  I only registered the rising cheer when it became loud enough to raise the roof. I opened my eyes and looked round Alice’s head to see a group of people from the newspaper, glasses raised, looking in our direction. Yup, it sure seemed the half-secret office romance was now firmly out the bag.

  I disengaged myself, smiling reluctantly, my face hot enough to cook pancakes on. Standing together we faced our peers and drank in the congratulations barracked at us. The cheer morphed into ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’, and it wasn’t until the second verse that I heard Alice’s voice. “We beat the Italians in Africa!”

  I heard the words, but the content didn’t quite register. “What?”

  “We beat the Italians in Africa!” she repeated, her face puzzled that I hadn’t quite brought myself up to speed. “They surrendered! Churchill’s going to
be on the radio in five minutes!”

  I soon had a whisky in my belly, bought by the lads from the newspaper, who congratulated me on my ‘catching’ Alice, and a fresh beer in my hand, when the announcer introduced our absent Prime Minister. The bar was courting with a German reprisal if they got caught, but it was worth it. We crowded as close as we could to the radio behind the bar, all hushed; you could have heard a pin drop.

  Say what you like about Churchill’s politics, he had a fine turn of phrase.

  “Two days ago, in the heart of Libya, on the northern coast of the African continent, the Eighth Army, under the Command of Field Marshall Archibald Wavell, defeated a far superior force of the Italian Army. It is my pleasure to announce that Africa now belongs to the Allies, and we have captured over 100,000 Italian soldiers. This victory has been long in coming, but we announce it today to remind the folks back home, that their men still fight, and that one day we shall gloriously march down British streets once again.

  Whether it be in landing craft on the beaches, or in parachutes or gliders inland, our men will arrive in such numbers that the sky will be black, and the beaches shake under our feet. This British Empire, the men of which fight now in Africa, will push open doors and enter the homes of their loved ones, and once and for all the German curse will be removed from our land.

  People of Britain and Ireland… be steadfast in your resolve, be indefatigable in your belief, and be determined in your resistance. I make this promise to you, as sure as the geese migrate in the summer, we will return. We will return and heads will roll. We will return, and may God strike anyone who stands in our way!”

  The Scotsman’s front page ran with a late-written double headline; the takeover of George Heriot’s and whatever details of the victory in the desert we could find. Returning to the office that evening we drunkenly put the stories together, we knew we were going to get smashed by the German’s for our impudence, but we didn’t care. With a brazen attitude fueled by beer and whisky, we cocked our noses in the direction of the Castle, and for once wrote what we wanted.