Shadows of War

by Michael Ridpath

  He arrived there first, at about half past three. It was a cosy place, with wood panels and a roaring fire. He found a table and ordered some tea. A copy of a magazine named Truth lay on the table next to his. He picked it up and leafed through it. There was a particularly unpleasant article about how influential Jews in Britain, including the publisher Victor Gollancz and a bevy of bankers, had pressed Britain to come to the aid of their brethren in Berlin and declare war on Germany. Another criticized Hore-Belisha, the War Minister, for his previous business failures and his support for ‘co-religionists’.

  Conrad tossed the magazine to one side. Seeing views like this not only written but read by his own countrymen made him profoundly sick. He had seen first hand in Germany how anti-Semitic words could become anti-Semitic actions, and how even a cultured society could succumb to hatred and paranoia. Why couldn’t people in England realize that as well as the threat from the continent, there was also the threat from within their own society from poisoners who wrote articles like that?

  He looked around the room. The café was half full with respectable people respectably dressed. There was a foreign-looking gentleman with a white beard reading a newspaper in the corner. Then there was a middle-aged man with a beaked nose above a trim moustache drinking tea with a couple of women. Conrad thought he recognized the man: Captain Maule Ramsay, a Scottish Conservative MP noted for his anti-Semitic speeches. What kind of place was this that Mrs Scott-Dunton had brought him to?

  ‘You must be Millie’s brother. You look just like her.’

  Conrad pulled himself to his feet and took the hand of a dark woman with pale skin and shining eyes.

  ‘I’m Constance. Hello.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Conrad. ‘Can I get you some—’

  But Constance had already indicated to the waitress, whom she seemed to know, that she wanted some tea.

  ‘I’m so sorry about your sister,’ Constance said, taking the chair opposite Conrad. ‘I didn’t know her before we went to Holland together, but we got along famously while we were there. She was a lovely girl. It was dreadful what happened to her.’

  ‘Yes, it was,’ said Conrad. But it seemed to him that Constance herself looked more excited than shocked.

  ‘She was very fond of you. She spoke of you a lot,’ said Constance.

  Conrad was pleased to hear that. ‘I was fond of her,’ he said. ‘When did you get back?’

  ‘Yesterday evening. They flew me back – the Foreign Office, that is. I’ve had all sorts of interviews with mysterious Dutchmen, and Englishmen for that matter.’

  ‘Thank you for seeing me,’ said Conrad.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Constance. Her tea arrived in a Russian-style glass.

  ‘Do you mind if I ask you what happened?’ Conrad said.

  ‘No, carry on. Everyone else has,’ said Constance. ‘As your father probably told you, he and Sir Henry Alston sent us over there on a confidential mission.’

  ‘Father did say,’ Conrad said. ‘You met Lieutenant von Hertenberg?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Millie said he’s a friend of yours from Oxford. A charming man. Or at least he seemed so at the time.’

  ‘Theo is charming,’ said Conrad dryly. The man and the two women Conrad had spotted earlier left the tea rooms. One of the women nodded to Constance. ‘Do you know, is that Captain Maule Ramsay?’ Conrad asked.

  ‘Yes, it is. And that’s his wife; they often come here. The other woman is Anna Wolkoff, the daughter of the owner.’

  ‘I see,’ said Conrad. ‘Sorry, go on.’

  ‘Yes. Well, we spoke to Theo a couple of times, including the day before Millie was killed. We were staying in Scheveningen, by the sea.’

  ‘I know it,’ said Conrad. ‘We went there on holiday as children.’

  ‘Millie said. Anyway, that night Theo saw me and asked me to tell Millie to meet him early the following morning. He said she had to go alone and I shouldn’t come with her. He wanted her to meet someone – he didn’t say who.’

  Constance sipped her tea.

  ‘So the next morning I got up at the crack of dawn, actually it was before the crack of dawn, to follow Millie. She came out of the hotel and headed off towards the sand dunes. I kept a discreet distance behind her. The sand dunes were quite bumpy, being sand dunes, so I couldn’t see her very clearly. Then I heard a short sharp cry. Well, I was worried. I wasn’t sure whether to run towards her or away from her – it was still pretty dark. But I thought I had better take a look. And I found her on the ground with... with a knife sticking out of her chest.’

  Constance looked down at her tea as she said this. Her face was grim. Then she glanced up to check Conrad’s reaction. For a moment his mind conjured up an image of Millie lying in the sand, but it was too horrible to think about.

  ‘Did you see anyone?’

  ‘Not straight away. Nor did I hear anything. I ran over to see if she was all right, but...’ Constance lowered her eyes again. ‘She wasn’t. She was... dead.’

  Conrad sighed. Silence lay heavily around them, shrouding thoughts of Millie.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Constance said.

  ‘But then you saw Theo?’

  ‘Yes. When I went looking for help. He was heading towards the tram stop.’

  ‘Did you call out to him?’

  ‘No, of course not! He was quite far away. But more importantly, I thought he had stabbed Millie. I didn’t want him to kill me too! So I ran along to one of the hotels on the sea front and got them to ring the police.’

  This didn’t look good. ‘Are you sure it was Theo? You say he was quite far away.’

  ‘Pretty sure. He was tall, wearing the same kind of hat as Theo, and he walked upright like Theo does.’

  ‘But you didn’t see his face?’

  ‘Not clearly,’ Constance admitted. ‘I told the police that. And the men from the Foreign Office.’

  ‘So you are not absolutely sure? It could have been someone else?’

  ‘I suppose it could have been. But it looked like Theo to me.’ Constance smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry, I know he is a friend of yours. Or was.’

  Is, thought Conrad. Is. There was some doubt about Theo’s identification after all. ‘You have no idea whom Theo was bringing with him?’

  ‘No. None.’

  ‘Why didn’t Theo want you to come too?’

  Constance hesitated. ‘I don’t know. I thought maybe...’

  ‘Maybe what?’

  ‘Your sister was sweet on Theo. Didn’t you know that?’

  Bloody hell, thought Conrad. ‘No. I didn’t know that. Are you saying it was some kind of... assignation?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Constance. ‘It was just a feeling, that’s all. A guess. Perhaps Theo really did bring someone else along for Millie to meet.’

  ‘The secret service seem to think that Theo killed her.’

  ‘I know,’ said Constance.

  ‘But you can’t be certain that you actually saw him, let alone saw him stab her?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure it was him,’ Constance said. ‘And he is a German spy, isn’t he?’

  Conrad nodded. ‘Well, thanks for telling me,’ he said. Then a thought struck him. ‘Why did you follow her?’

  ‘Why?’ Constance repeated.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m curious. I’ve always been known for my nosiness. I wanted to know whether Theo really had brought someone to meet Millie, or if they were just, you know, meeting. An assignation. Also I suppose I didn’t like being left out.’

  ‘I see,’ said Conrad. But he wasn’t quite sure that he did see.

  Mayfair, London

  Conrad grabbed the pint of beer and the glass of gin and It and fought his way through the small pub in Mayfair to where Anneliese was sitting in a corner. He had known the place in the past as a quiet pub where they might talk, but there were no quiet pubs in London in wartime, even on a Sunday evening. At least they had been able to find a seat.<
br />
  Anneliese raised her glass. ‘To Millie,’ she said.

  Conrad smiled. ‘Yes. To Millie.’ They both drank.

  ‘I needed that.’ Anneliese put down her drink. Conrad had introduced her to gin and Italian vermouth soon after she had arrived in London and asked for something English from the bar. Afterwards he had realized it was a favourite of Veronica’s, but he hadn’t told Anneliese that. She was wearing her nurse’s uniform: the pub was full of uniforms of various types, although Conrad was still in his civilian suit.

  ‘I’m glad you rang me,’ he said.

  ‘Your mother wrote to me about Millie and I was shocked. I wrote her a note back and then I thought I must see you. I know how fond you were of your sister. I liked her; she always treated me well.’

  ‘Unlike Reggie?’ said Conrad.

  ‘Your brother is just ignorant,’ said Anneliese. ‘Millie wasn’t. She was fun.’

  ‘Yes, she was,’ said Conrad.

  ‘How do you feel?’ Anneliese asked.

  Conrad was flummoxed by the simplicity of the question. ‘I’ll be all right,’ he said. ‘This is war. People will die.’

  ‘Oh, Conrad, don’t be so bloody British! Of course people will die. And it will be horrible for their brothers and sisters.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Conrad said stiffly. He glanced at Anneliese. His chest was churning with a turmoil of emotions to do with Millie. He hadn’t sorted them out; he hadn’t expressed them. He hadn’t even wept yet. He had been angry with his father. With Theo.

  Anneliese waited.

  Conrad was tempted to change the subject. To make a joke. To avoid at all costs cracking the wall that he was erecting around those thoughts about Millie. To behave how an Englishman should. But Anneliese wasn’t like that; his relationship with Anneliese wasn’t like that. They had shared a lot in Germany, and she had sought him out then, when she thought he needed support and strength.

  It had been so good to hear her voice on the phone. It was good to be with her now, surrounded by a cocoon of noise and uniforms standing around their table.

  ‘I’m sad,’ he said, slowly and carefully, concentrating on not allowing his voice to crack. He was speaking quietly and in German: in the hubbub of the pub none of the servicemen around them would be able to hear. ‘I’m very sad. Millie had such a zest for life, such honesty, such enthusiasm. It’s wrong that she has gone. And it makes me angry. Very angry. So angry I can hardly think straight.’

  ‘Why are you angry?’ Anneliese asked.

  Conrad struggled for a moment to maintain his composure. ‘I’m angry because it is wrong that a young woman like her should die, even in a war. She’s not a soldier. And I’m really angry about how she died.’

  ‘Yes. I don’t understand that,’ said Anneliese. ‘Your mother said she had been killed while on holiday in the Netherlands. That sounded very strange. I remember you saying you were going away. Were you with her?’

  ‘No,’ Conrad shook his head. ‘I did go to Holland; I just didn’t know she was there as well.’

  Conrad told Anneliese all about Millie’s meeting with Theo, arranged by their father and Sir Henry Alston. He recounted what Constance had told him about how she had found Millie’s body in the dunes.

  Anneliese listened intently. ‘And you knew nothing about any of this?’

  ‘No. Despite the fact that I saw Theo in Leiden the day before he met Millie. And that I spent the night at Kensington Square with Father and Millie just before I left for Holland. She and Constance must have been on the next flight!’

  ‘No wonder you are angry,’ said Anneliese.

  ‘It’s not just that,’ said Conrad. He paused, took a sip of his beer. ‘I should have gone instead of her. Father asked me, but I refused, and so he asked Millie instead and she said yes. And that’s why she’s dead. So I’m angry with myself.’

  ‘You can’t blame yourself for that,’ Anneliese said. ‘You didn’t kill her. You didn’t send her.’

  Conrad shrugged.

  ‘What was she talking to Theo about?’

  ‘I’d better not say,’ said Conrad. ‘But you can probably guess. My dealings with Theo didn’t turn out too well either, although I didn’t think then that was Theo’s fault. At least I assumed it wasn’t. Now I’m not sure what the hell Theo was up to.’

  Conrad knew he shouldn’t tell Anneliese about Oakford’s peace talks, or the shooting at Venlo, which was still being inaccurately reported in the British newspapers. But perhaps he should reassess Theo’s profession of lack of knowledge of Major Schämmel’s identity. Could he trust his friend after all?

  ‘Damn Theo,’ Conrad said, his voice still low.

  ‘For not telling you?’

  ‘For not telling me. And for not protecting Millie for me. You know, this Constance woman says that Millie and Theo had some sort of romance going on? Since last spring when they met in Switzerland. He never told me about that either. And also...’

  ‘Also what?’

  ‘The secret service seem to think that he killed Millie.’

  ‘No! That can’t be right!’

  ‘Constance saw a man walking from the dunes to the tram stop. She thinks it was Theo.’

  ‘Thinks? So she isn’t certain?’

  ‘Not one hundred per cent. But close to certain. She seems to have convinced the secret service.’

  ‘And what do you think?’

  ‘I hope it wasn’t him.’ Conrad shrugged. ‘But he’s a spy, Anneliese. We can never be sure what he is really doing or why. I want to see him. I really must see him.’

  ‘Can you manage that somehow?’ Anneliese asked.

  ‘I don’t see how. I do have a way of getting touch with him, but I can’t just swan over to Holland again. I have to go back to the battalion on Tuesday.’

  Anneliese sipped her gin, thinking. ‘What’s happened to Millie?’ she asked. ‘Her body, I mean. Is it still in Holland?’

  ‘The Dutch authorities are keeping hold of her,’ Conrad said. ‘They have done a post-mortem, of course, but her body is evidence in a murder inquiry. The embassy is supposed to be dealing with it, but they seem useless. It’s all rather ghoulish. Mother can’t stand it, and it makes it impossible to arrange the funeral.’

  ‘Shouldn’t someone go over there to sort it out?’ said Anneliese. ‘You, for instance?’

  ‘Maybe I should,’ said Conrad. He nodded as he thought it through. ‘Good idea. I’ll talk to Father about it.’

  ‘What about this woman Constance? Who is she?’

  ‘That’s a good question. She was Millie’s companion in Holland. She is some sort of friend of Sir Henry Alston, who is one of my father’s fellow directors at Gurney Kroheim and a Conservative MP. He’s definitely pro-German, but then my father is pro-German. Hell, I’m pro-German. But I think Alston might be pro-Nazi, which is a very different thing. You know that as well as anyone.’

  ‘I do,’ said Anneliese.

  ‘I have my doubts about Constance.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We met at this place called the Russian Tea Rooms. On the surface it looks very respectable, but they had copies of Truth there – it’s an obnoxious anti-Semitic magazine. A kind of British Völkischer Beobachter.’

  ‘I’ve never seen it,’ said Anneliese.

  ‘Good. Don’t. Also, I spotted Captain Maule Ramsay; he’s a right-wing pro-Nazi MP, much further to the right than Alston. Constance seemed at home there. Her story doesn’t stack up very well; for example, she said she got up early in the morning to follow Millie to her rendezvous with Theo, but she didn’t really explain why she had done that. Or at least not satisfactorily. I’d really like to do some more digging, but I can’t. I don’t have the time.’

  Anneliese sipped her drink. Conrad felt a surge of warmth towards her. Talking to her had lifted some of enormous weight he felt bearing down on him. Only some of it, and only for a moment, but it had felt good to speak to her, and he was grateful that she had
made him do it. Naturally he was bloody angry, who wouldn’t be?

  She seemed different, a little less withdrawn, a little less wrapped up in her own misery, a little more like the old Anneliese.

  ‘Perhaps I could help,’ she said, putting her glass down and looking straight at him.

  ‘You? How? You can’t go to Holland to see Theo.’

  ‘No. But I could find out more about Constance. She was with Millie when she died. It sounds as if you think she might know what really happened. If I make friends with her, maybe I can discover what that was.’

  ‘But you are half-Jewish. And German. How are you going to do that?’

  ‘I’m half not-Jewish. And I know a lot about Nazis. If you are right about her, she might enjoy having a Nazi German friend.’

  Conrad smiled. ‘Anneliese, I really appreciate you doing this for me, but don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Anneliese. ‘I saw Wilfrid Israel last Saturday and asked him if I could do something for Captain Foley. Something secret to help the war. I haven’t heard back yet, but I really want to do something useful. And if I can’t do something useful for your country, perhaps I can do something useful for you.’

  Conrad realized he was talking to the old Anneliese. And he liked it.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘It sounds crazy to me, but if you really want to do it, have a go.’

  25

  Kensington, London, 20 November

  ‘I hope you can persuade them to release her, Conrad,’ Lord Oakford said. ‘It will be a great comfort to your mother to know that Millie is safely buried in St Peter’s churchyard.’

  ‘It will be to all of us,’ said Conrad. Although he knew they would all be relieved if he succeeded in bringing Millie back to Somerset, he also knew that the hole she had left in their family would always be there, just as her elder brother’s absence had hovered over them for the last ten years. His mother had been near to hysteria, more upset even than she had been after Edward’s death. Lady Oakford was usually the calm centre of the family, the stable counterweight to her husband’s moods, the source of common sense and sanity. Her raw grief, although it should have been understandable, was a shock for her husband and her son. Any activity was better than nothing.