The nurse put her hand over her ears and shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you. Lucien is a kind man. He’s a clever doctor. What you are saying is lies. Lies, lies, lies.’
‘I am telling you the truth, Nurse Bryant. Heinrich Beckman is a Gestapo doctor who drugged women, men too most probably, experimented on them, and then had them beaten and executed.’ The nurse stopped making the sandwich and looked out of the window. She was gripping the handle of the knife so tightly her knuckles were white. ‘During Mitch’s treatment,’ Claire persisted, ‘while he was under hypnosis, the years he spent in the prison came back him. He began to remember things that happened to him - and to other prisoners - and he remembered the doctor in charge of the prison, Heinrich Beckman.
‘That’s why he went back to the hospital on the day he was meant to leave Canada. Mitch knew Beckman would write a report to his commanding officer in England, and he wanted a copy of it. And it’s a good job he did go back. Beckman had written a fictitious account of what Mitch had said under hypnosis. He tried to destroy Mitch’s reputation by saying he was a traitor.
‘If I hadn’t been given proof that your Doctor Lucien Puel in Canada was an imposter, by the real Doctor Lucien Paul’s grandfather in France, Mitch would have been court marshalled by now and…’
‘What has that to do with me. I’m not German, I wasn’t in the prison - if there was a prison - and I didn’t kill Lucien’s secretary.’
Claire threw her hands up in exasperation. ‘His name is not Lucien Puel! He murdered the real Lucien Puel, killed him and stole his identity papers. That man in there, who you love and admire, is a murdering Nazi by the name of Heinrich Beckman! He had God knows how many people killed in the prison. Beckman murdered an innocent young doctor named Lucien Puel. And if you didn’t kill her, Beckman murdered his innocent secretary too!’
‘I didn’t kill her,’ Nurse Bryant whispered, her eyes pleading with Claire to believe her.
‘Mitch and I know you didn’t,’ Claire said, sympathetically. ‘But the way things stand at the moment, all the evidence points to you. Your fob-watch was found under the secretary’s dead body and your uniform had a hole where the watch had been torn from it. Don’t you see? The only way your watch could have found its way under the body of Beckman’s dead secretary was if he put it there. Nurse Bryant, if you don’t help us put this monster away, you will hang for the secretary’s murder.’
‘Where is the coffee?’ Both women jumped at the sound of Beckman’s voice booming along the passage from the sitting room.
Nurse Bryant looked at Claire and gasped. ‘Oh my God.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Lucien told me to check the basement and I haven’t.’ She ran across the kitchen, grabbed the key from the hook, opened the basement door, and froze. Turning on the spot and breathing heavily, she held onto the doorframe, Claire watched the colour drain from the nurse’s face. She looked in the direction of the passage and grimaced at the sound of Beckman’s heavy footfall on the wood floor.
As he entered the room Claire turned her attention to making the coffee. She gripped the edge of the worktop to steady herself. Pouring coffee into four cups she added milk and stirred.
‘Are the hostages comfortable?’ Beckman asked, laughing.
Nurse Bryant didn’t answer but laughed with him. Her laughter sounded forced, Claire thought, still stirring the coffee. She heard the nurse pull the door shut, lock it, and put the key back on the hook. Then there was silence. ‘I’ll take the coffee through to the sitting room, shall I?’ Claire said, turning and seeing Nurse Bryant with the knife still in her hand. ‘Nurse?’ Claire called, bringing the broken-hearted woman out of whatever labyrinth of unhappy thoughts she was lost in.
Her reply - a quick nod. ‘I’ll make the sandwiches,’ she said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Had the penny dropped at last? Had Nurse Bryant finally realised that Beckman had set her up to take the fall for murdering his secretary? If she hadn’t, Claire reasoned, she would have told Beckman that Mitch’s parents weren’t in the basement. Balancing four cups of steaming hot coffee on her mother-in-law’s best silver tray she left the kitchen and walked along the passage praying Nurse Bryant didn’t try to use the knife she was holding on Beckman. He would turn it on her and stick it into her as easily as he had his secretary.
As she approached the sitting room door, she became aware that Beckman and the nurse were behind her. ‘Were they all right down there?’ she heard Beckman say.
‘I, err,’ The nurse stuttered. Claire held her breath. ‘Yes,’ she said, at last, ‘they were all right.’
Claire entered the sitting room and pressed her lips together. Mitch raised his eyebrows as if to ask if there was a problem. Claire responded by lifting her shoulders and shaking her head very slowly, which told him she wasn’t sure. She put the tray on the sideboard, took Mitch a cup of coffee and, doing her best not to look worried, helped herself to a cup.
Nurse Bryant came into the room ahead of Beckman and put a plate of sandwiches on the sideboard next to the coffee tray. Taking one of the two remaining cups, she sat on the settee. Beckman appeared. He didn’t come into the room, he stood in the doorway staring at Nurse Bryant. He made no attempt to cross the room to retrieve his coffee, the only cup left on the tray. Instead, he kept his cold steel grey eyes on the nurse. Waiting for her to jump up and get his drink for him, Claire thought - and she wished the nurse would. Claire needed the nurse to behave normally towards him. She didn’t want Beckman to suspect the poor besotted woman had at last seen him for what he was.
Beckman was many things, stupid he was not. So, suspecting he had noticed the change in Nurse Bryant, Claire put her coffee back on the tray, picked up Beckman’s cup and took it to him. He dismissed her with a flick of his hand. She needed to distract him somehow - but how? By the hard stare he was giving the nurse he no longer suspected, he knew something had changed since the two women had been alone in the kitchen.
Nurse Bryant must have sensed Beckman was staring at her. She looked up and met his eyes with a stare as hard and as cold as his. She was no longer the gullible fool Beckman had once taken her for. She was a ticking bomb and Claire couldn’t risk her exploding.
With Beckman’s eyes still trained on the nurse, Claire returned his cup to the tray and picked up the coffee pot. ‘More coffee, Nurse Bryant?’ The nurse shook her head. ‘A sandwich then?’ Before the nurse had time to say no, Claire had lifted the plate of sandwiches. She pushed it towards her with a shaky hand. When the nurse held the edge of the plate to steady it, Claire let it go and turned to Mitch. ‘More coffee?’
‘Thank you.’ To the nurse, he said, ‘I’d like a sandwich if you wouldn’t mind?’ The nurse put down her coffee and got to her feet.
‘What are you idiots playing at?’ Beckman roared. ‘Do you think I am stupid? That I do not know what you are trying to do?’ He looked at Claire and grinned. ‘You are trying to turn the woman I love against me.’
Claire shook her head in disbelief. Beckman hadn’t shown Nurse Bryant one ounce of respect, let alone love, since they’d been there. She glanced at the nurse. Her face was as resolute now as it had been when she returned from the kitchen. Claire’s heart was pounding. Had she pushed the situation too far?
Out of the corner of her eye Claire saw Mitch put his cup on the floor at the side of his chair. He gripped the arms. She smiled inwardly. He was preparing to move quickly. She swallowed, took a breath to calm herself, and put her own cup on the sideboard.
‘The woman you love?’ Nurse Bryant said. ‘Oh, Lucien,’ she cooed, as only a woman in love would. Beckman’s eyes softened and he walked towards her. She threw Claire a scathing look. ‘Her?’ she snarled, ‘turn me against you? She didn’t. She couldn’t.’ Nurse Bryant put her arms around his neck, lifted her right knee and drove it into his groin. ‘You did that when you murdered your secretary and put my fob-watch under her body,’ Bryant screamed.
Beckman’s
knees buckled, but he didn’t go down. He lifted his hand with the gun in it. He was about to strike the nurse when Mitch, already on his feet, kicked the gun out of his hand. It went spinning across the floor. Both men dived for it. Mitch got to it first. Beckman jumped on him and pushed his face into the carpet. Mitch brought his elbow back and jabbed Beckman in the ribs. He fell backwards, the wind knocked out of him. Mitch rolled over and, making a fist of his right hand, thrust it upwards until it connected with Beckman’s jaw.
Beckman howled. He threw himself at Mitch. He put his hands around Mitch’s neck and squeezed. Mitch reached out. The carpet chaffed the back of his hand as he thrashed about in search of the gun. Gasping for breath his fingers found the gun’s hand-grip. In a frenzy, Beckman grabbed Mitch by the lapels and rabbit-punched him on the nose. Mitch’s head shot back and struck the floor. He cried out in pain, lifted the gun, and slammed the barrel into Beckman’s ribs.
The German rolled off Mitch. On all fours he scrambled to his feet. He put up his hands and took a staggering step backwards. He lost his balance and shook his head like a man who was drunk. He staggered again, stopping only when his legs met the arm of the settee.
Half sitting, half lying, his nose pouring with blood, Mitch pointed the gun at Beckman.
‘All right!’ Beckman said, panting.
Without taking the gun off Beckman, Mitch got to his feet.
Beckman lowered one hand, gasped, and clutched his side. Mitch approached him and Beckman screamed in pain. Turning his back on Mitch, Beckman began to lower himself onto the settee.
‘Don’t sit down!’ Mitch shouted. ‘Stand up!’
‘Okay!’ Beckman grabbed the arm of the settee. Then, using it as a lever, he hauled himself upright and toppled forward. Before Mitch could reach him, Beckman seized the nurse. Mitch lifted the gun, then quickly lowered it. Beckman was holding a small, very sharp blade at the nurse’s throat.
‘So,’ Beckman said, turning to face Mitch, holding the nurse as a shield, ‘are you going to shoot me?’
‘No,’ Claire said, ‘I am.’ She felt Beckman tense as she pressed the cold steel of her small Beretta on the back of his head.
Beckman twitched. He didn’t speak. No one spoke. Then Beckman gave a nervous laugh. ‘I searched you,’ he said. You don’t have a gun.’
‘I didn’t when I came in through the front door, but I did earlier when I came in through the back door.’ Beckman’s top lip curled in a snarl of disbelief. ‘When I set the hostages free. Oh, didn’t I say?’ Claire said, mimicking the German’s earlier sarcasm. ‘After I’d let them out of the basement I hid the gun in the flour barrel. If you hadn’t insisted on coffee, I wouldn’t have been able to retrieve it.’
‘You lying bitch,’ he hissed at the nurse. He tightened his grip on her and pressed the blade of the knife into her neck.
The nurse cried out. It was a shallow cut, but deep enough for blood to trickle down her neck onto the collar of her dress.
‘I do wish you hadn’t done that,’ Claire said, and shot him in the back of the knee.
Beckman roared. His head jerked back, his hands flew up, and the knife fell to the ground. Mitch picked it up. Claire, keeping the small gun aimed at Beckman, pulled the nurse from his grasp.
Beckman’s face was running with sweat and contorted with pain. He took a stumbling step towards her. ‘Don’t come any nearer,’ she warned. Lifting the gun, she aimed it at his head.
‘Schlampe Frau, ich werde dich töten.’
‘Kill you? Is that what you want? Sorry to disappoint you, Herr Doktor Professor.’
Beckman laughed. ‘These - games - you English - play.’
‘I’m warning you. Don’t come any nearer,’ Claire said. Beckman ignored her. She tightened her finger around the trigger of the Beretta and began to squeeze. ‘If you think I’m going to kill you you’re wrong.’ She lowered the gun until it was pointing at his groin. ‘I have no intention of putting you out of your misery,’ she said looking into Beckman’s eyes. ‘That pleasure will be the hangman’s.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The sound of hammering on the front door broke Claire’s concentration for a split second. It was long enough for Beckman to throw himself at her. He grabbed the gun and forcing it up, pointed it at his stomach. Using all her strength Claire tried to push the barrel of the gun down. Even with a bullet in him he was stronger than her. She brought her foot up and kicked him in the shin. She heard the bone crack, but he didn’t let go.
He wanted her to shoot him, but she was damned if she was going to let him off a trial and the punishment he was due. She held onto the gun. Mitch took his shot. And Beckman went down from a bullet from his own gun.
Claire and Mitch were helping the hysterical nurse from the settee when there was an almighty crash. The front door burst off its hinges. Men in uniform were suddenly everywhere. Chief Jacobs stormed into the room followed by representatives from the Jewish Council.
‘Take her downtown,’ Jacobs ordered.
‘Chief?’ Mitch said, holding onto the sobbing nurse’s arm. ‘Nurse Bryant was instrumental in the escape of my parents, and--’
‘What? The hostages aren’t here? Where the hell are they?’
‘At the hotel,’ Claire said.
Chief Jacobs looked at Claire in disbelief. He took off his cap and scratched his bald head. ‘So, she let the hostages go?’
‘No. I let the hostages go. Nurse Bryant covered for me. She knew they had gone, but she told Beckman they were still in the basement.’
The chief seemed to physically sag in the middle making him appear even more thick-set than he was. ‘We still have to take her downtown, Mrs Mitchell.’ He pulled himself up to his full height and looked squarely into Beckman’s face. ‘She is not only a material witness to everything this Nazi murderer has been doing in my city, while he’s been living the life of Riley,’ he bellowed, ‘she’s wanted for murder herself.’
Claire put her hand on the chief’s arm. ‘Chief, you might want to--’
‘Want to what?’ he barked.
‘Consider Beckman for the secretary’s murder. Nurse Bryant didn’t kill her.’
‘What?’ Chief Jacobs said, again.
‘She didn’t know the secretary had been murdered until I told her.’
Beckman mumbled something inaudible and grunted.
The Police Chief threw his hands in the air. ‘Okay,’ he huffed. ‘But we still have to question her. She was complicit in Beckman’s escape.’
‘Except she didn’t know Beckman was escaping until it was too late,’ Claire said.
‘Whether she was aware of what she was doing or not, is another matter. She stayed with him knowing he had taken your husband’s parents hostage.’
Mitch looked at Nurse Bryant. ‘Under duress?’ She nodded.
‘All right, all right,’ the chief said, shaking his head. ‘But we will have to take you to Police Headquarters, Miss Bryant. If, as Captain and Mrs Mitchell believe, you are innocent of the secretary’s murder, you won’t be charged.’
‘Thank you,’ Nurse Bryant whispered, sniffing back her tears.
‘You will, however, be charged as Beckman’s accomplice in the kidnapping of Mr and Mrs Mitchell.’ The nurse’s body went limp and her eyes rolled and closed. She looked as if she was about to faint. A policewoman leapt to her side and held her upright. Chief Jacobs looked at her sympathetically and sighed. ‘Because Captain and Mrs Mitchell have said you helped them, I shall have a word with the judge; ask him to take into account that you were instrumental in capturing the war criminal. Okay?’
‘Thank you,’ she said, again. ‘And thank you,’ she whispered to Claire.
‘Good luck,’ Claire said. Police officers on either side of her armed her out of the room. Nurse Bryant didn’t look back.
‘And you, Herr Doctor!’ The Chief of Police put on his hat. He was on surer ground now. ‘You will be facing a very different judge. Cuff him!’ the chief o
rdered.
‘Are cuffs necessary, Chief?’ the policeman asked, looking down at the disabled German.
Chief Jacobs flashed the young policeman a look of fury. ‘Reptiles don’t need legs, they crawl on their bellies!’
CHAPTER FORTY
The chief looked from Mitch to Claire. ‘Thank you, both of you,’ he said with admiration. He put out his hand to Mitch who shook it, and then turned to Claire. Holding the chief’s hand, she said, ‘And Nurse Bryant? You will put in a good word for her, won’t you?’
‘You can do that yourself. You two are heroes. Just wait until the citizens of Montréal hear what happened today. I shall call a press conference tomorrow.’ Claire opened her mouth to interrupt the chief, but he put up his hand. ‘Go to the hotel and see your folks. Have a well-earned rest, I’ll send a car for you in the morning.’
‘No!’ Mitch said.
The chief physically jerked. ‘No? What do you mean, no?’
‘No, we are not going to attend a press conference. We are not heroes, and we are not taking the credit for what happened here today. The Montréal Police Force caught a Nazi criminal while defusing a hostage situation. The family kidnapped are anonymous - and must remain so. The glory, Chief Jacobs, is all yours. We don’t exist,’ Mitch said.
‘But what about the guys who were here? They saw you.’
‘So, they saw me. It was my mother and father who were being held hostage. That’s all they need to know.’
‘Only a handful of your people saw me,’ Claire said. ‘If anyone asks who I am, tell them I’m a British copper working undercover. I’m sure they’ll accept that. Especially as they will be taking the credit.’
At the front door, the chief shook Mitch and Claire’s hands, again. ‘We could do with a copper like you in Montréal. You too, Captain Mitchell. Are you sure you don’t want to stick around?’
Chasing Ghosts Page 25
