by C. J. Sansom
The big room was cold, smelling of paint. Another painting stood on the easel; tumbledown houses on a steep street, a big square castle in the distance. As in all Natalia’s townscapes, the people on the streets mostly had their faces cast down or turned away.
Jackson was standing by the fire. The big man looked anxious, his lips pressed tightly together. ‘Thanks for coming at such short notice,’ he said.
‘Please, sit down.’ Natalia gestured to the threadbare armchairs round the fire. Often her tone was like that, formally polite. Then her slight accent sounded German, but when she spoke with emotion it deepened and sounded different, the vowels flattening and lengthening. ‘Something’s come up,’ Jackson said, a little uneasily. ‘Something really rather important.’
David asked, ‘Are Geoff and Boardman not coming?’
‘Not tonight.’ His eyes were fixed on David’s.
David took a deep breath. ‘Have we been found out?’
Jackson shook his head. ‘No, no, don’t worry. This is nothing to do with the work of our cell. It’s something else, some information that has come down from people at the very top.’ David glanced at Natalia. She nodded seriously. ‘It concerns someone you knew at Oxford, actually,’ Jackson continued. ‘A man called Frank Muncaster. Does the name ring any bells?’
David frowned, puzzled. ‘Yes. Geoff knew him, too.’
Jackson looked surprised, then said to Natalia, ‘Of course, they were at the same college.’
She said, ‘They didn’t think of that.’
‘It could help us,’ Jackson said.
David had a memory of Frank, sitting with him and Geoff in an Oxford pub; his dark hair long and untidy as usual, his thin face anxious and strained, afraid of almost everyone. ‘What’s happened to him?’ he asked quietly.
Jackson said, ‘I understand you and Muncaster shared rooms at Oxford. You were his best friend.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘What was he like?’
‘Odd, shy. Afraid of people. I think he had a pretty rotten childhood. But he was a good chap, never did anyone any harm. And he used to think about things, he had interesting opinions if you let him talk.’
‘You were his protector, perhaps,’ Natalia prompted.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘We know he looked up to you.’
‘Did he?’
‘We think so.’
‘He hung round with Geoff and me, our group of friends. When we went into the Civil Service Frank stayed on at Oxford and did a PhD. He’s very bright.’ Jackson and Natalia were both listening intently. ‘We’ve rather lost touch in recent years. We used to exchange letters, but now it’s just Christmas cards.’ He looked at Natalia. ‘Is he dead?’ David asked suddenly.
‘No,’ she answered simply. ‘But he is in deep trouble.’
‘How?’
Jackson said, ‘Muncaster became a geologist, yes? Some sort of research job at Birmingham University.’
‘Yes. He could never have held down a teaching job.’
Jackson nodded. ‘His father died in the Great War, I understand, and he was brought up by his mother near London, with his elder brother. Both went to a boarding school in Scotland.’
‘You know a lot,’ David said.
‘We need to know more,’ Natalia said. ‘He needs our help.’
David took a deep breath. ‘Frank didn’t talk much about his childhood. But I know his mother was under the thumb of some spiritualist con artist.’
‘What about the older brother?’ Natalia asked.
‘I don’t think he and Frank got on. He went off to America some time in the thirties. He was a scientist, too.’ David frowned. ‘Frank avoided talking about himself. There was some accident at his school, his hand got badly smashed up, but he never said how. I think he had a bad time there. I think he was bullied.’
Jackson looked puzzled. ‘Lots of boys get bullied at public school.’
Natalia interrupted quietly, ‘One who could not fit. Poor boy.’
Jackson continued, ‘Frank Muncaster’s brother is also a scientist, a physicist. He became a US citizen and for the last ten years he’s held a senior position at a top California university. He does work connected with the American weapons programmes. I don’t know what, but something important.’ Jackson paused to let that sink in, then added, ‘Back in October, old Mrs Muncaster died, and brother Edgar came over for the funeral. Mrs Muncaster’s house is being sold, we know that. Edgar may have wanted the money. He’s recently divorced, in need of money for the – what do they call it there – alimony, and it seems he’s developed a serious drinking habit.’
‘Has this information come from America?’ David asked. ‘Are they involved?’
‘Contacts in their secret services are,’ Natalia answered. ‘Though we also have information from certain sources here.’
Jackson stood up, slowly began pacing the threadbare carpet. Through the wall came an ecstatic laugh from the prostitute’s latest customer. David wondered what it was like for Natalia, alone here at night, listening to that. Jackson made a moue of distaste, then said, ‘The Resistance has links with the Americans. Not that they like us, most of them, though we may find them more sympathetic under Adlai Stevenson. But they don’t like Nazi Europe, either, and we’re a useful channel. Sometimes we help them get people over to the States – like a couple of Jewish scientists they wanted recently.’ He took a deep breath. ‘A fortnight ago somebody very senior in their Secret Services contacted us. Apparently Edgar Muncaster was brought back to America last month with a broken arm. He had something to confess to them.’
‘Confess?’
‘Yes. While in England he’d visited his brother Frank in Birmingham. There was a heated argument.’
David shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine Frank getting into an argument with anyone.’
‘Perhaps he was afraid of what he might do if he ever lost control,’ Natalia said sadly.
Jackson shot her an irritated glance. ‘We don’t know what the argument was about,’ he continued, ‘and the Americans won’t say. Nor will Frank Muncaster. But the Americans think Edgar may have spilled some beans connected with their weapons research. Whatever it was, it was enough to send Frank Muncaster into such a state that he ended up putting his brother through a first-floor window.’
The idea of Frank attacking anyone still seemed extraordinary to David. All his life he had held himself under rigid control. What could have made Frank snap? And what was he getting into?
‘An accident we think, the window was rotten, but Edgar was lucky to get away with a broken arm. Frank, meanwhile, started smashing up his own flat and raving about the end of the world. The upshot was that he was taken away to a mental hospital outside Birmingham, which is where he is now.’ Jackson shook his head, as though such behaviour were beyond him.
Natalia said quietly, ‘The Americans consider it important that no-one here gets hold of information about Edgar’s work. Not in our government, nor the Germans. We believe Frank hasn’t talked, yet.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘We have a man in the mental hospital, on the staff.’
‘Good God.’
Jackson smiled. ‘Like all these places it’s very large, over a thousand patients. This man is one of our many sleepers, quietly doing a normal job until, one day, he can be used. A male nurse, an attendant as they call them. A good man, experienced.’
‘He is looking after Frank,’ Natalia added. ‘Taking care of him.’
‘What happened to Edgar?’
Jackson said, ‘So far as we know, he is now locked up somewhere very safe in the States.’
‘Then they’ll know if he told Frank anything.’
‘Yes,’ Jackson agreed. ‘They will. They’re not telling us, but the obvious implication is that he did.’
‘My God. It could be about the Bomb.’
‘Or rocketry, or biological warfare,’ Natalia said. ‘The A
mericans call themselves the last guardians of democracy, but some of the things they have been working on are – terrible.’
‘The Americans want Frank Muncaster,’ Jackson said baldly. ‘Our man has managed, to a limited degree, to gain his confidence. Muncaster has of course never seen the inside of a place like that before and apparently he’s terrified of what they might do to him.’
‘What sort of thing?’
‘Electric shock treatment, or worse.’
David shook his head.
Natalia said, ‘We may be able to get him out.’
Jackson sat down again, looking at her. ‘Possibly. But we have to be careful just now, not draw attention to him. Of course if he does tell them whatever secrets Edgar may have blurted out they may just dismiss it all as lunatic ravings, but if he then disappears it might put a different complexion on things.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘The doctor in charge of the hospital, Wilson, fortunately isn’t the brightest spark in the medical profession but he seems to have taken some interest in Frank. He’s also related to a senior civil servant under Church, the junior health minister.’
David looked up. ‘Isn’t Church the one who’s pushing through the bill to sterilize the unfit?’
‘Yes, he’s an old eugenicist. Introduced a bill back in 1930. But not a great pro-German, apparently, a believer in the independence of British institutions.’ Jackson gave a hollow laugh. ‘Still doesn’t realize that battle is long lost. Now, our man says Muncaster is very withdrawn. Wilson hasn’t been able to get him to talk. He needs a friend to take an interest in him.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘And it seems, from his conversations with our nurse, that the only person he might trust is you.’
David felt a weight descending on him. ‘Doesn’t he have friends in Birmingham?’
‘He seems to have been very isolated. I don’t think his department considered him much of an asset. And the Americans want his brother Edgar kept out of it.’
‘I always thought Frank might go off the rails in the end,’ David said quietly. ‘But not like this. And weapons research . . .’ He looked at Jackson. ‘Does our government know anything about what happened?’
Jackson looked at him. ‘Do you think Muncaster would be sitting peacefully in a mental hospital if they did?’
David ran a hand through his short curls. ‘Jesus.’
Natalia leaned forward. ‘Will you help him now? Go up there, see him, re-establish yourself as a friend.’
David looked between them. ‘Then what? What happens to him?’ His eyes fixed on Jackson’s. ‘Surely the Americans will want him dead.’
Jackson shook his head. ‘No. Actually they say they want him alive, so they can question him. And this operation is under our control.’ He smiled wryly. ‘And if we wanted him dead, he’d be dead already. Our man is a nurse, with access to drugs.’
David leaned back in his chair. Even if Frank was safe – for now – Jackson’s words still chilled him.
Natalia looked at him. ‘We will not let him be killed. Not unless there is an immediate risk of the Germans getting him. And if they get him, then—’
David finished the sentence. ‘He’d be better off dead.’
‘Our man at the hospital has been trying to persuade Muncaster to contact you,’ Jackson said. ‘If we give him the word, tomorrow night you will get a telephone call from Frank, asking for help to get him out of the hospital. Then we want you and Natalia – and I think Geoff Drax, too, if he was a friend – to drive up and visit him. On Sunday. That’s visiting day. Get his confidence, give us some assessment of the state he’s in. You’d give false names to people who let you in, and pretend to have known Frank at school. Our man is making sure the hospital authorities don’t know you’re coming. You’ll be given false ID cards, you may be asked to show those at the asylum gates.’
David took a deep breath. ‘This is something big, isn’t it?’
Jackson nodded. ‘Potentially. Our instructions come from the very top. It’s not dangerous, not in the early stages.’ He smiled, a crinkly, confiding smile. ‘They’re showing a lot of confidence in you.’
David laughed mirthlessly. ‘The man on the spot.’
‘It happens. Once you join us. Do you think you can do this?’ Jackson asked.
‘What about my wife?’
‘She doesn’t need to know anything, any more than she does about what you do for us at work. You’ll just have to make something up to explain your absence on Sunday.’
David thought of Frank facing some SS interrogator. In the last two years he had sometimes thought of facing that himself. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’ll visit Frank.’
‘Thank you.’ Jackson stood up. ‘I must make some calls. And I’ll speak to Drax tomorrow. I’ll meet you both at the club tomorrow morning.’ He smiled, genuine gratitude in his eyes, as he pulled on his gloves.
‘Geoff didn’t know Frank nearly as well as me. He might be surprised to see us both.’
‘You could say Geoff offered to drive you, say your car is broken down.’ He turned to Natalia. ‘You could pretend to be Drax’s girlfriend. Good cover. It would help to have a second view about how he is.’
Jackson turned back to David. ‘Don’t ask Muncaster about what happened with his brother, just encourage him to talk and see where he goes. That’s important. Assess his state of mind. Natalia, by the way, is in operational charge on Sunday. If anything unexpected happens, you take orders from her. She will have a gun, just in case of trouble.’ He smiled. ‘And she’s a crack shot.’
David looked at Natalia; she nodded quietly.
‘Everyone all right, then?’ Jackson spoke with forced cheerfulness. ‘See Muncaster, then take a look at his flat, our man will get hold of the key. Then phone me from a call-box.’
‘All right,’ David said. ‘Poor old Frank,’ he added.
‘Indeed.’ Jackson nodded. ‘It’s up to us to help him, sort this out.’ He paused, then spoke again, changing the subject. ‘I see Beaverbrook met with Speer and Goebbels in Berlin today.’
‘But not Hitler,’ Natalia said.
‘No.’ Jackson smiled grimly. ‘Last year, I went with an FO delegation to Germany, visiting the opening of the Führer’s new art gallery at Linz. All this wonderful stuff, art treasures looted from all over Eastern Europe. Someone told me Hitler had been for a private view the day before, they saw him trundled along in his wheelchair, shaking so much from his Parkinson’s disease he could hardly focus on the pictures properly, let alone give the Nazi salute.’ His face clouded. ‘I met him once, you know.’
‘Hitler?’ David asked.
‘Yes. I was with the Foreign Secretary, Lord Halifax, when he visited him in 1937. He had terrible bad breath, and kept breaking wind. Loathsome man. Big mad eyes. Could see him using them to work a crowd, though.’
‘Maybe he was ill even then.’
‘Yes.’ Jackson smiled tightly. ‘And badly ill now. And we have Stevenson elected in America. Perhaps things are starting to change at last.’ He walked to the door, got ready to leave; they always left separately. ‘It’s very cold again. I do hope we don’t get bad fog this year. Well, goodnight.’ He went out and moments later David heard his heavy footsteps descending the stairs.
David stood up. He had never been alone with Natalia before. She said, ‘Mr Jackson is so English. Always a comment about the weather.’
‘Yes. He is. Very public school, as we say.’
‘His life is extremely dangerous.’ She must have caught the note of dislike in David’s voice.
‘Yes.’
‘I am sorry for your friend. I knew someone who was ill in that way. He lived in great pain.’
David sighed. ‘Frank wasn’t always unhappy. He just didn’t—’
‘Quite belong in this world?’
‘Yes. But he has a right to be in it. All of us do. That’s what we’re fighting for.’
‘Yes, it is.’ He saw a tear form in the corner of her eye and he had a sudde
n urge to go over to her, take hold of her. Then he thought of Sarah, waiting at home; he had told her there was a flap on at the office and he had to work late. Now he would have to tell her yet more lies. He looked away from Natalia, to the picture she was working on. ‘Where is that?’
‘Bratislava, in Eastern Europe. Once the city was ruled by Hungary, then it was part of Czechoslovakia, now it is the capital of Slovakia. One of Hitler’s puppet states.’ She looked at the painting, the people trudging along the narrow streets. ‘When I was growing up there the city was cosmopolitan, like most of Eastern Europe. Slovaks, Hungarians, Germans. Many people were some mixture of all three, like me.’ She smiled her sad, cynical smile again. ‘I am a cosmopolitan. But then the gods of nationalism rose up.’
‘Were there many Jews there?’
‘Yes. I had many Jewish friends. They are all gone now.’ Then David said abruptly, ‘I must get back to my wife.’ Natalia nodded her head slowly. He turned and walked out.
Chapter Eleven
ON WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, Frank had had another meeting with Dr Wilson. Ben walked him over to the Admissions Block again. He had come to like the young Scotsman more, he was kind to him, and Frank had seen enough of him to realize there was nothing of the world of Strangmans in his make-up. Yet there was still something about Ben, something he couldn’t put his finger on, that Frank didn’t trust.
In his office the doctor was working on some files. He motioned to Frank to sit down. ‘How are you?’
‘All right, thank you.’
‘The police have been in touch.’ Frank’s heart lurched with fear. ‘There’s still no decision about whether to prosecute. They can’t get hold of your brother, either. The case seems to be in limbo. If it does come to court,’ he added reassuringly, ‘we can make a defence of insanity. But I wish your brother would contact us. We can’t think about transferring you to the Private Villa until we have a trustee appointed to deal with your money. In the meantime you’ll have to stay on the ward.’
