Dominion

by C. J. Sansom

  They all climbed down. David helped Frank, who was shaking. They stepped into pitch darkness, onto what felt like a gravelled driveway, tall trees on either side just visible as shapes outlined against the sky. It was very cold; there was a smell of wet, freezing air. No lights were visible anywhere.

  ‘David,’ Frank whispered urgently. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘No talking,’ the captain snapped. ‘Follow me.’ The three soldiers had surrounded them, their rifles held at the ready. Beside David, Ben took a deep breath. The thought flashed through David’s head: they’re going to shoot us. We’ve caused them so many problems they’ve decided to get rid of us, somewhere quiet out in the country. Or perhaps they’ll keep Frank alive, interrogate him, find his secret. If Hitler’s dead everybody’s calculations will change. He looked at the dim outline of the captain, marching steadily ahead of him. He didn’t like him, there was something cold and implacable about the man.

  They were led down the pitch-dark driveway, footsteps crunching softly. Then the shape of what looked like a large country house loomed ahead, and David glimpsed tall chimneys against the sky. They walked slowly on towards it.

  A slit of light appeared, as a door in the side of the house opened a fraction. ‘Aztec,’ the captain said, quietly. The slit widened. David’s party was led up a short flight of stone steps and through the door. They found themselves in a long corridor lined with pictures, blinking in sudden light. A young man in khaki uniform with a Union Jack sewn on the breast pocket was posted at the end, a rifle over his shoulder. The corridor windows were all heavily curtained, the sort of thick material David remembered from the 1939–40 blackout. In the distance he heard voices; this place was big, probably owned by some aristocrat who had come round to supporting the Resistance. A telephone rang somewhere in the depths of the building. It was answered quickly.

  The man who had opened the door was elderly, tall and thin, dressed in a white shirt and black waistcoat, like a butler. He looked them over, then stepped forward with a smile. ‘Welcome, gentlemen. Mr Fitzgerald?’

  David stepped forward. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Could you take Dr Muncaster upstairs please? Mr Hall, could you come with me? Your account of what happened in London is needed.’

  ‘All right,’ Ben said. ‘See you soon, Frank.’ Ben followed the man away down the corridor. The captain accompanied them. The man with the Union Jack on his uniform stepped forward, addressing David and Frank in a friendly tone with a strong Welsh accent: ‘Come with me, please.’ He turned to the uniformed men. ‘You chaps, go outside and someone will show you where to park your truck and bunk down.’

  He led David and Frank down the corridor to a hallway with a wide central staircase. Through a half-open door David glimpsed furniture covered with white dustsheets. Another man in a uniform with a Union Jack and a rifle joined them. They walked upstairs. From behind a closed door nearby they heard a murmur of male voices; another telephone rang somewhere. David guessed this place was some sort of headquarters. The reports of Hitler’s death would be causing a flap.

  David and Frank were shown into a large bedroom, again with heavily curtained windows. There was a double bed and a pair of camp beds on the floor. ‘Keep the curtains closed please,’ the Welshman said, his tone still amicable. ‘There’s a toilet just up the corridor. We’ll have some food brought up. Mr Hall will join you later. I’m Barry, by the way.’ He was the first person they had met since their rescue who had given them his name.

  ‘Can you tell us where we are?’ David asked.

  ‘No, sorry,’ Barry answered apologetically. ‘Not now. Is there anything else you need?’

  Frank said, ‘I’m supposed to have my – my medicine, to help me sleep. I need it. Ben knows about it.’

  The Welshman nodded. ‘I’ll have a word with him.’ He smiled. ‘Have you heard the news?’

  ‘The rumours that Hitler’s dead? Yes.’

  ‘It’s more than rumours. German radio say Goebbels is the new Führer. Maybe things are going to happen now, eh?’

  When he left the room Frank sat down wearily on the bed. ‘What d’you think of that?’ David asked.

  ‘I don’t know if I believe it.’ Frank scratched his chest. ‘I feel bad. I can’t stop thinking about Geoff, seeing him on the ground. And Sean and Eileen. I nodded off in the truck, but the pictures that came into my mind . . . He put his head in his hands.

  David sat beside him. He looked at his watch; it was past one in the morning. He felt exhausted, and suddenly angry with Frank. Was it any worse for him than the rest of them? David knew that what had happened tonight would affect him for the rest of his life. Assuming he survived. He looked at the top of Frank’s head, then thought, he didn’t volunteer for this the way the rest of us did. He put a hand on his arm. ‘We’re safe now.’

  Frank looked up. ‘Are we?’

  There was a knock at the door and Barry returned. He had a tray with sandwiches on it, and also a glass of water and a bottle of pills. Frank’s eyes lit up. ‘This what you need?’ Barry asked.

  David said, ‘You had this stuff here? You knew we were coming?’

  ‘We thought you might be. We know it’s important Dr Muncaster has the – what is it – Lar-something.’

  ‘Largactil.’ Frank eyed the bottle with an addict’s greed. Barry opened it and passed the glass and two pills to Frank, who swallowed them eagerly and lay back on the bed. ‘I’ll feel better in a few minutes,’ he said. ‘Then I’ll sleep.’

  David thought, he may not be physically addicted, but he can’t do without them.

  Barry looked at David. ‘I’d get a bit of sleep yourself now if I were you. Will you be – er – all right with him?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ David answered sharply.

  Barry left. Frank lay on his side and after a minute his breathing became deep and regular. Wearily, David took off his boots, then the army tunic. He switched off the light, then walked over to the window and parted the curtains slightly. It was pitch dark outside, only the stars visible high in the sky, the suggestion of a treeline in the distance. There was a stone terrace directly below. Then a soldier with a rifle stepped into the slit of light and gestured at him angrily to close the curtains. David thought, there must be guards all round this place. He felt his way over to one of the camp beds and lay down. At least it was warm in here; the room had central heating. To the sound of Frank’s regular breathing, he fell asleep.

  He was woken by Ben switching on the light. He looked haggard. David sat up and, putting a finger to his lips, pointed at Frank. Ben stepped quietly over to the bed and looked down at him, then came over to David. ‘He’s out for the count,’ he said quietly.

  ‘They gave him his pills. He wasn’t feeling too good before. We’ll have to get him off them when we get away.’

  ‘If we get away.’ Ben sat down wearily on the other camp bed. He looked at his watch. ‘Christ, it’s near four. They’ve been questioning me all this time, trying tae work out how those Special Branch bastards found us. There’s raids going down on Resistance suspects all over London, despite the fog. A few people have been picked up but it seems it was us they were looking for.’

  ‘I think that little boy put them onto the O’Sheas.’

  ‘Aye, likely.’ Ben lowered his voice. ‘The people who questioned me were all military. They’re pissed off by all the trouble this mission’s caused. They don’t seem too happy with us.’

  ‘All we’ve done is follow orders.’

  ‘They seem to think we’re more trouble than we’re worth.’

  ‘I was scared when we were taken off that truck,’ David confessed. ‘I thought they might shoot us. You did too, didn’t you?’

  ‘Aye. I thought they’d decided to get rid of the problem.’

  ‘Are we still going to the coast?’

  ‘They won’t say. Nor where the fuck we are.’

  ‘I took a quick look outside, co
uld only see some sort of terrace. There was a guard outside, he made me shut the curtain again.’

  ‘There’s people with rifles all over the house, and a guard posted in the corridor outside.’

  ‘Are they going to move us on?’

  ‘Fuck knows.’ Ben looked across at Frank. ‘Poor wee bastard, he’s best off out of it all for a while.’

  David said wearily, ‘I was thinking earlier, I wonder if this is any worse for him than for the rest of us?’

  Ben said, ‘I think life is worse for him than for most people. In the asylum, you know, some of them were quite happy, just living there. Though others just pretended to be. But Frank hated it.’ He looked at David seriously. ‘I know you think I’m a bit hard on him sometimes, but in the loony bin you have to make it clear who’s boss. It just reflects the system, keepin’ people under as cheaply as possible. It’ll be different after the revolution.’ A misty, longing look came into Ben’s eyes. ‘I didnae like it much, reminded me too much of when I was inside.’

  David looked at him curiously. He realized the chippy young Communist was becoming a friend. ‘You said you were in prison when you were young. What was it for?’ he asked.

  Ben glanced at him doubtfully, then said, matter-of-factly, ‘When I was seventeen I got found in bed with my best mate. He wis sixteen.’

  ‘Oh.’ David was astonished. He thought queers were girlish, effeminate, like a man who had worked in the Dominions Office and been sacked when they’d cleared out possible security risks a few years ago. Involuntarily, he leaned away. Ben saw the movement and smiled sarcastically.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. I’m one of those. The Glasgow magistrates threw the book at me, and ma family disowned me. They were all Presbyterian Orangemen, poor as fuck and blaming it on the Irish.’ He shook his head, smiling sadly. ‘There wis five of us kids in three rooms, the babies had to sleep in drawers at night; there wisnae anywhere else to put them. My sister accidentally shut the drawer on ma wee brother Tam one night. He near suffocated, he wis always a bit slow after. I wis the clever one, no’ that it did me much good. A year in a reformatory and six strokes of the birch.’

  David couldn’t think of what to say. He remembered the scars he had seen across Ben’s back. ‘The birch,’ he said quietly. ‘My father had clients who were sentenced to it. He used to say it was barbaric.’

  ‘Disnae sound much when you say it, does it, the birch, but when you’re strapped to a rack with nothin’ on and they bring that bunch of knotted canes out, well, I fucking wet myself. Still,’ he added bitterly, ‘it toughened me up, as they say.’ He looked David in the eye. ‘And we have to be hard, if we’re to fight for something better.’

  ‘I know.’ They fell silent. Then David asked, ‘Did they say when Natalia’s coming back?’

  ‘They didn’t tell me nuthin’.’ Ben smiled sarcastically again. ‘So you and she got together, then? I saw you both as you came down the stairs.’

  ‘Yes,’ David answered quietly. ‘Yes, we did.’

  Ben shrugged. ‘It’s all right by me, pal. I’m the last one to cast aspersions. Natalia’s a tough one. I admire her. She’s been on some hard missions. I wouldn’t get too many romantic notions, though,’ he added.

  David shook his head wearily. ‘I don’t know what notions I’ve got any more.’

  ‘It’s like that, bein’ on the run. Nae anchor, nae certainty about anything, nothing familiar. Sometimes you cling to people, take pleasure when you get the chance. It’s no’ a great way to live.’

  ‘No. That’s true enough.’

  Ben looked at him seriously. ‘That’s why I’m glad I’m a Marxist. I’ve got something bigger than me, a truth to hold on to.’

  ‘A belief, at least.’

  ‘If you like.’

  David said, ‘All I want’s an end to this savagery.’

  ‘Don’t we all?’ Ben stood up. ‘Anyway, I’m away for a piss, then I’ll try and get some sleep.’

  David couldn’t get to sleep again. The terrible events of the day before kept spinning round in his mind. A few feet away, Ben had begun to snore lightly. His confession had been a total surprise. David thought, nothing in the world is how I believed it was, none of the safe certainties were true, ever.

  After a while he padded over to the door in his stockinged feet and opened it gently. Outside, a young man in the ubiquitous khaki uniform with the Union Jack on the breast sat on a chair, rifle over his knees, half-asleep. He blinked, sat up straight and looked at David.

  ‘I need the toilet,’ David said quietly.

  The guard jerked his head to the right. ‘Second door down.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  This corridor looked modern, plasterboard walls, perhaps added to the house recently. David went to the door the guard had indicated. The lavatory looked as though it was a recent addition, too, just a little windowless cupboard room with a toilet and washbasin. As he went in he heard male voices murmuring. They seemed to be coming from low down, by his feet. He knelt and bent his ear to where the toilet pipe joined the wall and found he could make out the voices. There was some sort of conference going on, perhaps in the next room. There was a mixture of accents, arguing in loud tones. David made out the voice of the captain who had brought them. ‘It’s got too dangerous. We have to abort the mission. We tell the Americans it’s too risky.’

  ‘Then what happens to Muncaster and the others?’ A Liverpudlian accent.

  ‘I still say we could get this secret of Muncaster’s out of him ourselves,’ said a languid upper-class drawl. ‘Might be useful, whatever it is; if Germany collapses and Britain becomes properly independent again, we’ll be doing our own weapons research.’

  The captain again: ‘Don’t be so bloody silly, Brendan. That would really piss the Yanks off. We’re going to need them now more than ever.’

  ‘What do we do with them, then, shoot them?’

  The captain raised his voice: ‘Those people have risked their lives to get Muncaster here. We can absorb them within the organization. But Muncaster – given his mental state – I don’t know.’

  ‘If the decision’s to get rid of him, we might as well get what he knows out of him first,’ the man called Brendan retorted.

  ‘How can you even talk about it?’ The Liverpudlian accent. ‘An innocent man?’

  ‘A potentially dangerous man—’

  The Liverpudlian: ‘Look, the Germans don’t know anything about the pickup.’

  ‘And if we go ahead and they’re caught . . .’

  A new voice, cold and flat: ‘They’ve got suicide pills. Except for Muncaster—’

  ‘Well, we know the options.’ The Captain spoke with a touch of weariness. ‘We’re not going to agree. The ultimate decision is out of our hands. The briefing meeting’s at half past six tomorrow, so I suggest we get some rest, but think over the options carefully. There’ll have to be a decision first thing, there’s going to be a hell of a lot to decide over the next few days, with Hitler’s death announced.’

  David heard murmurs, chairs scraping, a laugh, a door slamming. Then nothing. He stayed crouched over by the toilet, his fist in his mouth, trying to contain his rage, his eyes full of tears. They were pawns, just pawns. But then he thought, it was war and they were soldiers, volunteers. But not Frank.

  There was a sharp rap at the door. The guard’s voice, loud. ‘You all right in there?’

  David heaved himself to his feet, went and opened the door. The guard looked suspicious for a moment, then sympathetic. ‘Blimey, you look rough.’

  ‘Yes. Constipated. Not really eaten properly recently.’

  He went back to the room. Ben and Frank were still asleep. David thought of waking Ben and telling him what he had overheard, but Frank might wake as well and he didn’t know how he would react. He would wait until the morning. He lay back down on his camp bed, shaking with anger. He knew he wouldn’t sleep now.

  At shortly before seven, by his watch, David heard pe
ople moving in the corridors outside. It was beginning to get light, though with the heavy curtains drawn the room was still dark. Frank and Ben were still asleep. David got up, stretched, then padded over to the window. The meeting to decide their fate would be going on now. He parted the heavy curtains and looked out.

  The beauty of the scene outside made him catch his breath. Wide lawns stippled with frost dropped away to a reed-fringed lake with still, clear waters where ducks swam, leaving a broad wake behind them. A red sun was just clearing the trees, and there were fragments of pink-tinged cloud in the blue sky. Beyond the lake, more lawns rose towards thick woodland, a mixture of trees, some with bare branches, others evergreens. The impact of the sharp colours was almost physical after the last few days in the smog.

  Behind him he heard Ben stir. Ben went to look at Frank, then came over to stand beside David. He looked at the view and whistled. ‘That’s somethin’, is it no’?’

  ‘Where are we?’

  There was a sharp knock at the door. As David and Ben turned, Barry, the Welshman they had met last night, came in. He was tired-looking, unshaven. To David’s astonishment, he was followed by two young housemaids in uniform, black skirts and blouses, white pinafores and caps, each carrying a large tray loaded with food.

  Barry nodded. ‘’Morning.’ He looked at Ben. ‘You need to get Dr Muncaster awake. Have some breakfast and a quick wash and shave, then we need you downstairs. Spruce yourselves up a bit, there’s some shaving stuff in the toilet up the hall.’ He went over to Frank and looked down at him. ‘Will he be all right to answer some questions?’

  ‘Leave him,’ Ben said sharply. ‘I’ll get him up. He’ll be fine. We’d better be with him, though, or he’ll get scared.’

  Barry nodded. ‘All right.’

  ‘What d’ye want to ask him?’

  The man looked at them seriously. ‘It won’t be me, mate. Some of the bigwigs have been talking about the next step for you people. You’ll be talking to them. Come on now, girls, leave those trays.’